A Little Whine and Cheese

Because everything is better with cheese. . .

Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming August 16, 2009

Filed under: Family, Kid Stuff, Pictures, Quick Hits — Sars @ 6:42 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

Whine: It’s August in Texas, which means that every day by 8 AM the concrete (and interior of my car) is at least 475 degrees Fahrenheit.

Cheese: I don’t need an oven to cook my frozen pizza, now do I?

 

Some of you may have noticed that recently things around here have been quiet. Eerily quiet. Which may lead some of you to wonder what in tarnation has kept me away from my very important job of entertaining you. Please accept my humblest apologies.

In order to sum up the last two months without inducing extreme narcolepsy, allow me to utilize my good friend Mr. Bullet Point to give you an update.

In the last few months I’ve . . .

 . . .  read at least 30 books. With words, not pictures, and lots of pages (although I’ve read my fair share of the picture variety, too). Highlights included Agatha Christie’s The Man in the Brown Suit and Apart from the Crowd by Anna McPartlin. Lowlights included  Pooh Counts to Ten and The Tortoise and the Hare (mostly because anything you read more than twelve times in two days tends to get just a tad repetitive tad repetitive tad repetitive.)

 

. . . spent hours playing Speed Scrabble. Sometimes by myself. Now that is just sad, isn’t it? I will say that making a giant, 100-letter crossword, although time consuming, is pretty fun. (See below.) I think ERGOT is my favorite.

Apparently I have serious problems with boredom.

Apparently I have serious problems with boredom.

 

. . . found myself on a relaxing lake-cation/family reunion in the north woods of Wisconsin. If this sounds unglamorous to you, you’re crazy. Jetskiing, waterskiing, and tons of free babysitting. And up there your cup of water doesn’t boil when you accidentally leave it outside on the porch. I meant to post a series on this, but felt guilty about blogging when after three weeks I still hadn’t unpacked my suitcase. You’ll have to settle for a picture for now.

We LOVE Wisconsin! Although we are not sure why Mr. Dad is making that face. . .

We LOVE Wisconsin! Although we are not sure why Mr. Dad is making that face. . .

 

. . . welcomed a new nephew into the world. Baby Charlie arrived August 7th–little brother to Avery (aka Aves the Brave). He is seriously, way cute in a little, sleepy old man way. (Picture coming soon, I promise.)

 

. . . witnessed new feats of strenth and ingenuity by my children.  Lil’ Sis has learned to shut doors. Big Sis has learned to lock them. Big Sis can now single-handedly assemble a 50-piece jigsaw puzzle. I am not kidding. Then she takes it apart and eats the pieces. Also not kidding. Lil’ Sis’ communication skills have kicked up a notch, too.  She can use whole sentences now, as in “I want a bite.” and “Give me that.” She also finds crossing her arms across her chest while she stamps her tiny mary-janed feet and screeches quite effective. (And since I am the worst mother EVER I find this hysterically funny.)

Do NOT be fooled by their innocent faces.

Do NOT be fooled by their innocent faces.

 

. . . been working on a VERY SPECIAL new project–because my life was not  complicated enough, right?

That purple rock is the real reason I haven't written in two months. . .

That little purple rock is the real reason I haven't written in two months. . .

 

So there you have it. Our life for the last few months in a nutshell. I know some of you will be clamoring for details about that new family picture up there, so stay tuned. Or should I say To Be Continued. . .

 

P.S. Here’s a Gold Star for Jenni, my 7th grade BFF and current Facebook friend, just because she needs one today.

 

Dear Whine and Cheese June 26, 2009

Filed under: Dear Whine and Cheese — Sars @ 3:57 pm
Tags:

Whine: I’m on the tail end of my annual sunburn. While it no longer hurts for me to wear clothes, I have hit the awkward full-body-peel stage. So now I am obsessed with removing my own skin. That will look good on my “What I did on my Summer Vacation” essay in the fall, won’t it?

Cheese: This one is extra cheesy. Hubby and I are going to celebrate our 9th anniversary in style. Paris? You ask. Perhaps a night at a little Bed and Breakfast? No. We want to celebrate in style. At the Water Park. Come on, it’s 3,000,000 gallons of water, people, what’s not fun about that? Besides, we’re on a budget.

 

In honor of Mr. Dad’s and my anniversary, and since we here at Whine and Cheese are such big fans of marriage (GO, Marriage!!) we wanted to grace you with our advice for a happy marriage, gleaned from years of studious research, and possibly a little bit of trial and error.

 

Dear Whine and Cheese,

There is this boy in my calculus class that I have my eye on. He seems like a nice guy and he looks awfully cute in his football uniform. Do you have any advice for me about how to get him to ask me out? 

Sincerely,

Lovestruck

 

Dear Lovestruck,

If I were you I’d bide my time. Perhaps he is not quite ready for all you have to offer. In fact, wait about eight years. Have your friends keep tabs on him when you are off at college. Then finally get frustrated with his laid back approach and give him your number. He’ll be so relieved that you finally noticed him that he’ll call the next week. You’ll be married within a year.

Yours Truly,

Whine and Cheese

 

 

Dear Whine and Cheese,

My parents are always telling me that I should know what I want in life. Now that I’m thinking about marriage, what should I look for in a husband?

Sincerely,

Makin’ a List

 

Dear List,

You are very wise to take these matters so seriously. Here is my list, in no particular order.

A good man:

Will take over at the wheel when you are stuck on a busy downtown street and cannot parallel park. He will also not laugh too hard at your incompetence.

Gives you his last taco when he knows you are really, really hungry.

Knows the correct answer to the question “Do I look fat?” (Which is, incidentally, “You define beauty for me, so of course you don’t look fat.” OR “I love you at any size, but of course you don’t look fat.”)

Will miss the last five minutes of a triple-overtime championship game (he has it on dvr, of course) to talk to you if you need him.

Likes your friends. Sticks up for your friends when their boyfriends are being idiots. Knocks some sense into his friends when they are the ones being the idiots.

Knows how to change a diaper, make a bottle and entertain a baby. Trust me, this comes in handy.

Will tolerate your television and movie preferences, even getting sucked into an episode or two of Project Runway, before realizing that his masculinity is draining out of him and then going and buying a second tv.

Can plan a good date.

Has figured out how to wire cable into the garage, so he can go out there and “work, ” conveniently whenever the Rangers are on.

Knows how to navigate a Major Meltdown (yours, not his): hugs, listening, ice cream, hugs, more ice cream, and possibly a nap.

Knows your drink order at Starbucks.

And finally, (this is the most important one). Looks good in a pair of cowboy boots and can dance a mean two-step.

 

Hope you find a man that checks all your boxes.

Yours Truly,

Whine and Cheese

 

 

Dear Whine and Cheese,

What are your secrets for a happy marriage?

Sincerely,

Hopeful

 

Dear Hopeful,

Learn to apologize, even though you’ll rarely be wrong. Give him a hug and a kiss, even when he doesn’t deserve it. Laugh at his jokes, even though they aren’t funny. Let him help you, even though you absolutely don’t need him to.

One day you’ll realize that you’re wrong more often than you thought, he’s more deserving than you can imagine, his jokes are actually pretty funny and a little help here and there isn’t so bad.

Either that or marriage has turned your brain into mush. Doesn’t matter, you’ll be happy either way.

Sincerely,

Whine and Cheese

 

Gold Stars June 8, 2009

Filed under: Family, Gold Stars — Sars @ 11:04 am
Tags: , , ,

Whine: Big Sis and I are currently in the middle of an intense round of Potty Survivor, trying to determine who will, in fact, Outwit, Outplay, and Outlast. She’s been sitting there for 45 minutes now, not going.

Cheese: I got my laptop fixed so I no longer have to keep the power cord twisted in a perfect sailors knot in order for it to charge. Which means that I can write this from the floor of the hallway next to the bathroom while I wait for my million dollar prize (or just a filled-up potty.)

 

In case you were wondering and thought I had been devoured by wild bears, I have not. I actually was on a trip to see my family in Michigan. The trip was fun and fabulous, but also exhausting and more exhausting. We had such a great time, I wanted to give out few Gold Stars from the trip.

 

1. To my littlest Sis, Laura, who is now Dr. Laura. Although I am not surprised that you graduated from medical school, I am still incredibly awed and proud. You amaze me and I love you.

2. To my other Sisters. For sharing your clothes with me (still), for going along with my hair-brained schemes (like cake decorating and flower wrapping) and for pacing the aisles of the grocery store with me for a really loooooooong time. And for being terrific Aunties to my kiddos.

3. To my Aunt Linnaea (and Uncle Chris,too). I shouldn’t have been surprised to discover our many common bonds, but it was fun to bond over itineraries and leftover cake anyway. Thank you for sleeping in your camper so that we could have your bedroom. Now that’s what I call love.

4. To Mom and Sir. Thanks for sponsoring the party and for enjoying it. Thanks for flying up here with me, Mom, even though it almost killed us both. Thanks for heading up this crazy family.

5. To G&G. For wonderful backseat driving, perfect apple pies and lots of baby snuggling. I love having you in my life and my kids’ lives.

6. To Dad and Pam. For a lovely 48 hours. For the fun zoo trip (albeit a cold and rainy one). For picking asparagus and rhubarb from the backyard and serving it for dinner. For letting us invade your house and lives, even for just a little while.

7. To my Cousins. For hanging out. For hugs on the rug. For making sure we had what we needed, including Diet Coke. For having cute kids. For donuts and coffee and a ride home.

8. To the Nieces and Nephews. You are really cute kids. And my really cute kids happen to think that you guys are terrific. Because you are. Thanks for being sweet and fun and kind and adorable. We miss you already.

9. To the Really Nice Lady working at the Citgo in Kalamazoo at 2 in the morning. For letting me use your cell phone because mine was dead and I was lost in the middle of the night with two kids in the back seat. You were certainly an answer to a desperate, freaked-out prayer.

10. To Mr. Dad. For making the trip up, even though you could only come for less than two days. For all you do to make my life easier (I sure notice it A LOT when you’re not around) like diaper changing, kid entertaining and (yuck!) pest control. For waiting patiently when I get lost in a book (or two, or three) until I am ready to re-enter the outside world again. You are a really nice guy. Except when you force me to eat or sleep or interact with people. Then you are a big jerk. But I suppose I love you anyway.

 

Of course I could give out Gold Stars all day long, and I know this is not an exhaustive list, but the Great Potty Standoff is over (for now) and Big Sis just used a Clorox wipe instead of a Baby wipe, so I’d better go before her skin falls off. . .

 

The Four-Step Plan May 14, 2009

Filed under: Kid Stuff — Sars @ 2:49 pm
Tags:

Whine: I discovered the hard way that Lil’ Sis is cutting her molars–she was fussing and crying and then just took a huge bite out of my belly. That’s gonna leave a mark. 

Cheese:  If I told you how fabulous my  Mother’s Day weekend was, you’d never let me post another whine again.  Suffice it to say that when Monday rolled around I was well-rested, fully showered and fed, and I had cute toes to boot. Of course I was exhausted, starving and stinky by Monday night, but at least my toes were still cute.

 

The children and I walked to the park last night. I’m tired just thinking about it. We were gone for almost two hours. Lil’ Sis rode in her push car and Big Sis walked alongside disappointedly. Except when she was pushing Lil’ Sis downhill, letting go and laughing maniacally.

We had fun at the park, courtesy of Uncle Tickle, Aunt Chelle and Elizabear, who met us there. Uncle Tickle actually likes the park (I know, I don’t understand either) and played lots of chase and forced a reluctant Big Sis to at least try the big kid swings. (They compromised and she swang on her tummy.)

So on the walk home, Lil’ Sis asked for a glass of milk. And I, of course, refused to open my magic portable refrigerator and pour her a glass. ’Cause I’m mean like that. So she proceeded to ask me again. Again, I told her that we would get one when we got home. She asked for a glass of milk exactly thirteen times on the twenty minute walk home. And at one  point, she stooped down on the ground and with the stick she was holding, laid out the steps we would need to take in order to get a glass of milk.

Pointing with stick. First we will get three cups.

Pointing to the next step. Then we will pour the milk.

Pointing again. Then we will get three cookies.

And finally. Then we will watch a movie.

I agreed that her plan was a good one, which quieted her for approximately seven steps. And seeing as how we were still interminably far from home (like five whole houses), she stopped, touched the stick to her forehead and said “I’ve got to think.” (Or more accurately in her toddler Texas accent  “I’ve got to faink.”) She stooped down again and with all the accuracy and confidence of a seasoned coach prepping his team for the championship, reiterated the plan again. 

You’ll be glad to know we finally made it home and had our cookies and milk. Although when I attempted to deviate from the plan by bypassing a cookie for myself, she was quick to correct my misstep. If only I could get her to faink of a four-step plan for going to sleep at night, I’d have it made.

 

Formula for Destruction May 4, 2009

Filed under: Kid Stuff, Uncategorized — Sars @ 3:13 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Whine: My grande iced latte (a rare treat) did not last very long at all. Darn all that pesky ice! I shoulda gotten the venti–and the extra shot of hazelnut.

Cheese: SHE WALKS!! SHE WALKS!! SHE WALKS!! Lil’ Sis has officially taken her first steps. She looks a little like Frankenstein’s monster, lurching forward, arms stretched out in front of her, but we are so very proud of her. She’d still rather crawl, but pretty soon she’ll figure out that her destruction potential will increase exponentially when she walks. And then my life will officially be over.

 

There comes a time in every mother’s day when she must count the cost of parenting. Not the physical cost of child birth, child rearing and carpooling. Not the monetary cost of diapers, wipes and all that whole milk. Not even the emotional cost of first steps, skinned knees and broken hearts. No, she must count the cost of the destruction that is sure to follow any attempts on her part to do anything.

I have noticed a pattern in my own life. If I could possibly monitor my children all day, every day, everything would turn out fine. On the other hand, if I were to ever need to use the bathroom, prepare a meal or heaven forbid, sneeze, I can pretty much be assured that in the nanosecond that I turn my back, my children will destroy anything and everything they can get their hands on. My children are sweet and lovely, mind you. They are fairly well-behaved in public and not completely defiant.  But they are also just very NORMAL.  Which means they like to discover things on their own, especially when I am not looking, and whether they work alone or in tandem, this often means trouble.

So, like most mothers, before I do anything, I tend to run a quick cost-benefit analysis. I use the formula below, designed after much research, to help me assess both the time and money it will cost me to both complete the task and to clean up the destruction that entails. 

DP=3T + $.25T

DP represents the destruction potential in time and money.

T represents the actual time required to complete the task.

 

Assume that the destruction done during T will require three times as long to clean up (i.e., 3T).

Also assume that the destruction will cost you approximately $.25/minute you are occupied.

 

I failed to use this formula the other day when accepting a phone call from a friend. We chatted pleasantly for about twenty mintues. I sat in the living room and the children were playing in the adjacent room when I heard a CRASH! Big Sis had climbed to the top of the trash can and knocked over a glass picture frame onto the ground where Lil’ Sis was patiently waiting to eat it or crawl on top of it with her bare knees.

I screamed, excused myself from the conversation, and ran to the kitchen.

I know what you’re thinking. Surely, a broken picture frame did not take you that long to clean up. Of course not. But I had to get the kids and their tender little hands and feet out of harms way, so I shut them into their bedroom while I cleaned up with the shop vac. You know where this is going, don’t you?

In the twenty mintues it took me to clean up, Big Sis (aided and abetted by Lil’, I’m sure) emptied the entire contents of two toy baskets and half of her closet onto the floor. When I came to release them from their confinement, I couldn’t even open the door, there was so much debris strewn about. It took me at least another twenty minutes to shove all the stuff somewhere (because, of course, company was coming over), and will take me another twenty (or sixty) minutes at a later date to reorganize the stuff that I indiscriminately shoved back into the closet.

If I had used my formula, I would have known in advance that a twenty minute conversation would cost me a minimum of sixty mintues in labor and $5 in replacement costs. I still would have taken the call (love ya’ ,MJPW!), but at least I would have known.

Feel free to use my formula and make adjustments based on the number of mobile children you have and their personal penchant for destruction. The formula also works for naughty pets, especially dogs. (I know a dog who would eat a whole loaf of bread if you left it on the counter. Ahem, Annie P.) Also, you can multiply by a higher number if the task you are contemplating is urgent, life-threatening or of a very personal nature (e.g., using the bathroom, applying makeup). I’m sure your children (and/or pets) are as lovely and delightful as mine, they just have a natural inclination to learn by breaking, and we adore them anyway.

 

Episodes in Freaking Out: Swine Flu Edition April 30, 2009

Filed under: General Stuff — Sars @ 4:05 pm
Tags: , ,

Whine: Stupid, freaky, weird swine flu. Why’d you have to come to Fort Worth?

Cheese: Big Sis is really into ‘exercising’ these days. This consists of putting her hands and feet on the ground and sticking her bottom as far in the air as she can. Let me just tell you, this is hilarious. Is that what I look like when I exercise? Nevermind. Do not answer that.

 

Swine flu. Until yesterday, my thoughts on the dreaded virus amounted to nothing more than a puncline. Then Fort Worth cancelled school-for at least ten days-and my freakout began. When I found out, my kids were with Grandma (aka Grandma Cookie) for the evening. At that moment, all I wanted were my kids with me so I could hold them, make sure they were ok, and then possibly disinfect them from head to toe, maybe not in that order.

I have since regained the capability of rational thought (due in part to seeing that both my babies are very healthy), but the “outbreak” got me thinking about all the random and weird things I fear. And since you all serve as my personal confessors, I will share a few with you today:

 

1) I am afraid that one day I will run over my mailman. Or anyone else. But especially my mailman, as he has a walking route and could very easily slip right behind my car, escaping my notice, which is easy to do when your backseat is filled with children who think they are birds. Very loud birds.

 

2) I am afraid of missing out on anything. Some of my friends make fun of me because anytime we are discussing television or movies, I know about every show that comes up (and possibly every one that has ever existed from 1986 to now.) I tend to keep up with pop culture and gossip for that very reason. I am also usually the last one to leave an event and the last one to go to sleep at a slumber party, even if this means that I stay up until 1 or 2 or 3 am, and then get violently ill the next day from sleep-deprivation. (Although last time I did this, my sweet hubby let me sleep in and brought me donuts and a latte. He’s such a cute little enabler.)

 

3)I am afraid of parallel parking. This is actually a rational fear because I am terrible at parking.

 

4)I am afraid of being bored. Truly afraid. The idea of being bored feels to me like a giant elephant is sitting on my chest and squeezing the air out of me. So I don’t stay in one place very long, which leaves for lots of great “ideas” and quite a few unfinished projects. But now when I’m bored, I just think of things I could be blogging about.

 

5)I am afraid of hair. Not the hair on my head or yours, but the loose hairs that gather up in corners with the dustbunnies or in the shower drain. Touching those random globs of hair makes me gag and I generally refuse to do it. Lucky for me, I don’t have much hair and don’t shed all that much, cause if I did, I might just shave my head.

 

What are you afraid of?

 

Dear Whine and Cheese April 27, 2009

Filed under: Dear Whine and Cheese — Sars @ 3:33 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Whine: Lil’ Sis (now almost 15 months) is still terrified of walking. She is not, however, terrified of climbing perilously on top of the piano. Go figure.

Cheese: On the way home from happy hour (the Sonic kind, of course) I had the audacity to take a different route. Big Sis heartily objected. I righted our course and she told me exactly how to get home. Although I have a terrible sense of direction, I’m pretty sure from this point on I will never need a GPS.  

 

Here at A Little Whine and Cheese, our mission is to provide information to enhance your life. We are happy to share our hard-earned expertise  (i.e., personal experience from possibly just the last week or so) with you by answering your questions.

 

Dear Whine and Cheese,

Does a car seat lose its effectiveness if it is not, in fact, actually buckled into the car?

Sincerely,

Oops

 

Dear Oops,

Of course not. That is, obviously, assuming that your car is so full of junk and baby paraphenelia that said car seat is wedged tightly in between the diaper bag and the baby stroller and the bag of recycled plastic bags you’ve been meaning to return to the grocery store. Highway crash tests reveal that the more stuff you can cram into your backseat, the safer your baby*. Unless of course you are talking about machetes and live grenades. In that case, you should definitely buckle the seat in.

Sincerely,

Whine and Cheese

 

 

Dear Whine and Cheese,

Am I a complete imbecile if I cannot sew in a straight line?

Sincerely,

Feeling Destructive

 

Dear Feeling Destructive,

No. Sewing machines were designed by men way back in the 1700s for the single purpose of making women belive that they had lost their ever-loving minds. The invention still holds remarkable power for creating insanity in women, but said power can be easily broken by realizing that you can purchase whatever it is you were trying to make for half the price at Old Navy.

Sincerely,

Whine and Cheese

 

 

Dear Whine and Cheese,

My one-year-old says the same word for both “Grandma” and “Cookie.” Should I be concerned?

Sincerely,

Somewhat Suspicious

 

Dear SS,

Your suspicions are warranted. I suggest installing a “Granny Cam” into your child’s diaper bag so that you can surveil what is actually happening while he/she is staying with Grandma. Most likely you will see a very clear correlation between “Grandma” and “cookies.” I will say, however, that your video evidence  and/or a stern talking to will have very little punitive effect on Grandma, as we all know that their DNA is made of processed sugar and zero desire to say no. On the bright side, she might feel bad enough to give you some cookies, too.

Sincerely,

Whine and Cheese 

 

 

Dear Whine and Cheese,

I would really like to get a new cell phone, but there is nothing wrong with my old one. Can I really justify getting a new phone?

Sincerely,

Kinda Bored

 

Dear Kinda Bored,

Your dilemma is a familiar one, as phone technology constantly changes and improves, keeping up with the Joneses (or Macs, if you know what I mean) becomes increasinly difficult. Here is my recommendation:  Run into the local bagel shop for a quick breakfast, toting one or more of your kids. On the way out  ”accidentally” drop your phone in the parking lot and drive away. When you return to innocently retrieve your “missing” phone, you will find it mangled and unusable. Your husband will then authorize a trip to the phone store, and you will have your pick of the newest phones. Problem solved.

Sincerely,

Whine and Cheese

 

 

Thank you for joining us today for our Dear Whine and Cheese column. Feel free to leave more of your questions in the comments section for future columns.

 

 

*That is patently untrue. Duh.

 

At Least I’ve Got Good Benefits April 2, 2009

Filed under: Family, Kid Stuff, Pictures — Sars @ 3:25 pm
Tags: , , ,

Whine: Two children. Six weeks. Five ear infections. Eighty doses of antibiotics. One bottle of kiddie Motrin. One bottle of something else. . . . (I mean Sprite, for goodness sake. What kind of mother do you think I am?)

Cheese: SPRING! It’s here. In Texas, these are the BEST DAYS ALL YEAR. I had almost forgotten there was a whole ‘nother world out there. Filled with non-television-ways to entertain my children. Too bad it’ll be over by May 1st and we’ll have to head back inside lest we all melt directly into the sidewalk. But that’s ok, because today IT’S SPRING. Which is why I took my kids to the movies and sat inside today.

 

As a SAHM (isn’t that a sassy way to say stay-at-home-mom? I don’t really think so either, I’m just too lazy to type it out) I often get asked The Question. It used to bother me when someone asked me. Mostly because I would look back on my day and have absolutely nothing to show for it. I’d have no idea where those twelve hours of my life had gone. It both confused and terrified me to wonder what had happened to that day in my life. But, alas, after doing this for almost four years, I have found my answer. If someone asked me today, I think the conversation would go something like this:

 

Innocent Questioner: (trying very hard not to offend but still very curious) So, what is it exactly that you DO all day?

 

Me: We go to the doctor.

 

IQ: No, really. I mean, I think I’d just go crazy being at home all day.

 

Me: Yeah, me, too. Good thing I’m never at home and I’m always AT THE DOCTOR.

Or on the way to the doctor. Or on the way from the doctor to the pharmacy. Or sitting up in the middle of the night taking someone’s temperature and wondering how early I can call the doctor. Or sitting at home within arm’s reach of my phone waiting for the doctor to call to tell me when I can come in and see the doctor.

 

IQ: (looking baffled and not sure s/he believes me) Oh.

 

I’ve been told (and I’m sure this is correct) that this stage, too, will pass. I’m sure it will. Only to be succeeded by the  drive-them-to-school-and-sports-and-music-practice-and-the-orthodontist-and-because-they-forgot-their-lunch phase. Where are we on developing those alternate fuels, anyway? I’m going to be broke.

But don’t worry, I hear that they eventually get their own drivers’ lisences. Then they drive themselves places. (Still on your dime, of course). But at least then we can finally sit at home and enter the oh-my-gosh-she-hasn’t-called-where-is-she-is-she-in-a-ditch phase, which I’ve heard is the phase that actually never ends, even when they’re 65. 

This mothering gig is never going to end, is it? Oh well, at least I have good benefits:

Show Me Those Baby Blues

Show Me Those Baby Blues

 

You Too With the Baby Blues?

You Too With the Baby Blues?

 

Since You Don’t Have a Baby Book. . . March 10, 2009

Filed under: Deep Thoughts, Family, Kid Stuff, Pictures — Sars @ 10:57 pm
Tags: , ,

Whine: Been fighting a major case of the Weepies all day. (see below)

Cheese: A year ago today (at exactly this moment, in fact) Lil’ Sis (finally) made her long-awaited (and long-overdue) entrance into our world and our hearts.

 

SPOILER ALERT: This post may make you cry. Especially if you are a Mommy. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

 

I have to admit, I’m using you guys. It’s true. While you folks at home are sitting there thinking that I blog for your entertainment, I’m sitting here thinking that maybe if I blog enough of what’s going on, it’ll ease the tidal wave of guilt I feel over neglecting my children’s baby books. At least Big Sis has something written in hers besides her name. I’m not even sure I’ve written Lil’ Sis’ name in hers. 

So this little blog is my place to keep track of which kid did which thing when so that some day when they ask me those all-important questions like “what was my second-favorite toy when I was thirteen months old?” I can possibly throw together an answer with at least a kernel of truth in it. I have a deep-seated fear that one day they will all end up in therapy because I didn’t remember/write down/scrapbook enough of their childhoods for them.

But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m probably not doing this for them. At least not mostly. I’m doing this for me. I need to chronicle every little hysterically-funny thing they said. I need to desperately hold onto ever picture of every outfit and every glance and gesture. I need, in some form or fashion, to commemorate what this rite of motherhood is doing to me. To my heart.

It’s breaking it.

They make you love them so much you think you might actually just implode from all the sweetness. But then in a moment, they’ve changed. And each change brings a new side to this little person, this little part of you, that you never knew before. And you’re so happy to celebrate the milestones: the smiles, the coos, the walking, the talking, the throwing food onto the floor seventeen times in a row. But you kinda miss the old stuff from yesterday, too, even the spit up and long nights and washing mashed peas out of hair, again. And all the new stuff just serves to remind you that you don’t get to keep them after all. That if you do your job well, they leave. So forgive me if today I’m just a little bit melancholy, my baby just turned one. (Does Hallmark make cards for that?)

 

For Lil’ Sis on your first birthday:

I love that “passive” labor with you took 10 hours and “active” labor took 45 mintues and TWO epidurals.

I love that when you were born, you were the biggest baby in the maternity ward that night. (9 lbs 8 oz; 22.5″) and my OB congratulated me on the birth of my “third grader” and had to flip the end of the bassinet down in order to stretch you out and measure you. 

I love that you look exactly like your Daddy.

I love how for the last twelve months, you’ve been content to ride around on my hip in a sling (even when we went bowling.) 

I love that you lunge out of my arms in a fit of squeals and giggles when you see your Big Sis.

I love your sideways grin and that you say “cheese” for the camera.

I love the way your red-hair curls just a little in the back (especially when Big Sis styles it with a little bit of Elmer’s).

I love that you attack me with kisses when I least expect it.

I love that your first word was “bath” and that you will crawl to the tub from any room in the house upon hearing the word. 

I love reading books, singing songs, taking walks, feeding ducks, playing chase, and having snuggles with you.

I love to see how God designed you. The way you look and think, the things you like and don’t like, the person you already are all show me a little side of him I had never known before.

I love to see how you are growing and changing into who you are and will be.

Thank you, Lil’ Sis, for coming into my life and turning it upside down. I love you.

 

Chloe's First Day

Sideways Cheese

 

How Do You Spell Sucker? M-O-M March 4, 2009

Filed under: Kid Stuff — Sars @ 1:11 pm
Tags: ,

Whine: Foolishly entered the mall for lunch/shopping sans diaper bag, which of course guaranteed that at least one of my children would need a diaper change. So Big Sis ended up shopping The Gap completely commando. (Like this.)

Cheese: Not only did we make it through The Gap clean and dry, Big Sis actually used the mall potty to go #2 (after she used her pull-up first, of course).

 

All along, I’ve been telling myself that Big Sis just wasn’t ready. That her mind-body connection is just not as strong as other kids. That she would one day, maybe a little later than your average kid, magically discover the hidden processes involved and ‘poof’ be potty trained.

Not so much.

On one hand, I was right. It does take her longer to learn a new physical skill than her peers. Jumping, dancing, and even coloring all came a little later to her. And I’m usually ok with that. She’s way ahead in other areas: the kid loves maps so much, she could probably tell you the route from here to Kansas if you asked.  But ask her to jump on her trike and ride down the street–you’ll get a blank stare.

In fact, she took quite a while to learn how to actually go pee. And so it was no surprise to me that she was taking a while in the other department. I thought I might just have to send her to Kindergarten in a pull up. I mean, how do you motivate a kid who has a better poker face than a brick wall? When Mr. Dad (whose fault this is anyway, as he is the original brick wall) finally discovered the magic formula for her, she started going. On the potty.

So here I was believing that she wasn’t ready, that she’s just a little girl and I really shouldn’t rush her, and she really could do it after all. But here’s the thing, in cases like this, it’s really hard to tell when the not-quite-sure-how-this-potty-thing-works stops and the yeah-I-really-couldn’t-care-less begins. And that’s motherhood. You root for your kids and believe the best about them because that’s your job (and because they’re so darn cute and wonderful, too).

But sometimes rooting for your kids means telling them they can (and have to) move on to the next thing whether they like it or not. That the next thing is wonderful and awesome and way more fun than this thing we’re doing now. That although it’s hard and scary, it’s worth it to grow up. It’s difficult to know when to coddle and when to push. When to believe them that they really can’t do it and when to ignore your inner sucker and make them do it anyway. But that’s the mystery of parenting, and if I’ve erred on the side of being too soft, I’m ok with that because I’m learning too.

We are still navigating the end of the Diaper Era, but I see the dawn of Time of the Big Girl Panties on the horizon, and it looks wonderful.