Car tricks

My kids are good at many things (of course I think so; I am their mom), but one thing they are really good at is puking in the car.  They have perfected the talent or the ironic capability to time this puking so that it occurs only in one of three situations: on the way to work (or church) when we are running late, on the way to a function requiring dress clothes, and on the way home in 5:00 traffic.  Today, it was the latter.  Bonus points to Keeton who also successfully covered his new wool peacoat in the remains of his lunch.  Ella loses points for waiting until we walked in the house and then covering her new velvet coat in the same, said lunch.

 And what is with the car seat companies who make these seats where the straps and buckles don't come out?!  I'm freakin sitting on the floor in the garage in my work clothes in 20 degree weather attempting to pry the screws (8 of them, to be exact) out of the back of the pentagon secured back cover of this seat and then finally, after I've removed them, I remember from the last puking in the car incident--oh yeah...straps don't come out...crap, that will be about another month before I can drive without the sun roof open...

 Oh-did I mention Jeff is working late tonight?  So, I get all the coats (washable, thank God), the clothes, the car seat cover all in the wash and Ella has stopped crying and then both kids tell me they are starving.  Yeah--I am NOT...wonder why.  Do we have any bread, saltines, Cheerios or Sprite...nope, of course not.  Pancakes it is...at least I figure if they come up I can handle that better than other options (mac and cheese, hotdogs). 

 I get dinner started and Keeton is crawling all over the brand new sofa in the family room.  I know I am mean, but I haven't had nice, new furniture (that doesn't come in a box) in Keeton and Ella's combined years, so I get a bit possessive and we set up camp on the floor with sleeping bags and prepare for a long night...

Christmas tears…I mean, trees

As you recall, Jeff took great pleasure in torturing Keeton with the monkey mask prior to Halloween.  Now that we've moved on to another holiday, it's apparently time to find a new way to incite tears. 

 Per tradition, we set out early Black Friday morning to shop for a Christmas tree (yeah, everyone else was shopping for electronics).  This year we were prepared--we knew the height of tree we wanted, the diameter, and even remembered rope to tie it to the top of the SUV.  In fact, our preparation made for a quick in-and-out selection at the tree lot (no--we don't cut down our own trees).  Of course, with Keeton and Ella running around hundreds of trees precariously perched against walls we sort of felt the pressure to be efficient.  After selecting our tree,  Jeff and a tree lot employee tied it to the top of the car (that's why we go to this particular lot--they help tie the tree). 

 I have to preface the rest of this by saying that our kids are kind of used to things not going quite as planned when it comes to large items tied to the car.  For example, in April we ran to Menards (roughly a mile from our house) and bought a twin mattress for Keeton.  We had no sooner left the parking  lot (where they refuse to help you tie anything down) then the mattress went flying off the roof of the car, skidding solidly behind us in the road.  We made it home that day, about 1 1/2 hours later (remember-1 mile) and I'm pretty sure that my hands were permanently cramped for several days from holding the mattress down through the open windows.

So, here we are--another opportunity to demonstrate our prowess of tie-downs.  As we set off I anxiously watched through the moon roof for any sign of tree shifting--so did the kids.  At first, Ella seemed humored by proclaiming the tree was falling.  Then Jeff said that if the tree fell we were in trouble because we'd have to stop and get it.  Hmm...food for thought.  As we crossed the bridge over the river he pointed out that if the tree fell now we'd loose it forever in the river...silence...then huge, sobbing, cries from the back seat.  I looked back to see Keeton's mouth twisted into a painfully sad shape with fat tears sliding down his face--I'm pretty sure I've never seen him look that sad.  "No, tree...my tree" he was wailing, as if the tree and he had been best buds forever.  I have to admit--Jeff and I started laughing--and then we saw Ella, also sobbing, her little nose and eyes all red. 

 Is it awful that we found such humor in this scene?  Of course we allayed their fears of the tree becoming barge kindle and we made it home just fine.  I am sure hoping they don't think this thing is going to be around past January 1st.  We may be the first people to ever have to get a rebound tree...maybe a silk version?

Ella turns 5…

I can not believe it--I really can't.  I don't even know which part of Ella turning 5 is the hardest for me to comprehend-that I can so clearly remember the night we went to the hospital 5 years ago in the snow, me refusing to bring in my bags in case they sent us back home; the fact that Ella is starting kindergarten this August, the idea that 5 years has literally flown by my face not even taking time to wave?  I guess it is all of it.  Anyway, Ella has really grown into a sweet, sensitive, yet highly dramatic little girl, so appropriately we themed her very first "friend" birthday party with "Princesses and Princes".  My wonderful neighbor and friend, Shelley, helped me make all the decorations on Friday night for the Saturday party and thanks to her awesome Frog Prince and plenty of hairspray, glue, sparklies, and food, the party was a success!



The Princes and Princesses decorate their fairy cookie wands.

 

Aren't they regal?

  

Kiss the Frog (or if you are a prince, pin the crown on the Frog).

 

Princess Ella blows out her candles.

Halloween

Today is the day after Halloween--a  thankless holiday on the account of its temptation to eat candy to the point of being gluttonous and to keep my kids so high on refined sugar and chemical preservatives that I need to eat more candy and drink more wine.  A vicious cycle--

 This year our neighborhood has filled in quite a lot.  We've added several streets and many houses, most of the houses occupied by a few kids who like my own, couldn't wait to go collecting all the candy they could stuff in orange bags with jack-o-lantern faces.  We started gearing up for Halloween about a month ago, knowing we'd see an influx in trick-or-treaters and that we'd probably be planning some sort of get-together with the neighbors--a kind of

First on the list was to find costumes.  I've definitely spent too much on costumes in past years--and in the spirit of this year's economy being in the toilet, I was delighted and secretly proud to have FREE costumes fall into my lap.  While at my aunt's house, the kids came upstairs with paper monkey masks on--a freebie from the movie theater promoting some monkey movie.  They were surprisingly realistic and actually pretty funny, so I decided that with the help of brown sweatsuits, we'd be in business for Halloween.  I found the brown outfits without too much trouble, and told everyone who asked that we were going "cheap" this year--none of those $50 costumes for us!

That all changed when Jeff started tormenting Keeton with the monkey mask.  Even a cute, smiley monkey face can become scary and demonic when it is used to wake you up from a peaceful  sleep...aka, Jeff's form of child abuse.  He wouldn't claim it as such, of course--he thought it was hilarious, every time he did it, every morning.  Keeton, on the other hand, cried and covered his face with his hands (Home Alone fashion, except over his eyes).  So, no monkey for Halloween--Keeton wouldn't even come near the mask which found it's new home in our coffee cabinet, mom's domain.

 When the kids got an invite to a costume party I knew I couldn't send Ella  in her monkey get-up and Keeton in a brown sweatshirt.   What could I claim he was?  I entertained the UPS man for a few minutes and then at 10:30 p.m. conceded to having to purchase costumes.  Finally, I settled on bumble bees--a yellow tunic top striped black for Keeton complete with stuffed-felt wings and a tie on hat, and a tu-tu like dress in yellow and black for Ella.  There.  Done.  No more guilt.

So, the kids fared well at the party, except for anytime anyone with any type of mask came in eye-range of Keeton.  Assume the pose--hands up and over eyes.  Cry--run for an adult--any adult. 

Halloween night arrived and I was exhausted before it began--I knew we didn't have enough candy the second I saw the first mob of Hannah Montanna's and Keeton was already anxiously eyeing anyone who appeared to be wearing a mask.   All in all, it went well though--and guess what Keeton put on this morning?  Yep, the monkey mask. . .

Sign of Endearment

The sign hanging in the garage reads:

$70 tickets

3 hour drive

1 argument

& we still made it on time

 Actually, that would be somewhat inaccurate (other than the ticket thing).

Jeff and I went to Chicago to see a White Sox game this weekend and I once again realized that couples who live and drive in Chicago together on a frequent basis must have VERY strong marriages prescription meds.  Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we don't have a great marriage (and we obviously aren't on strong meds), but I do find myself questioning every time we go to Chicago for "relaxation", we were on that lead us to think it was a good idea, and then I usually start calculating whether I could make it on one income.  We (he) NEVER take the right turns, we (he) ALWAYS end up sitting at a standstill on Lakeshore and we  (he) ALWAYS end up having to maneuver the masses on Michigan Ave.  To be fair, I hate driving in Chicago too, and it is much easier to ask, "Why did you listen to me?!" than to drive  and end up saying, "I took the wrong turn". This particular trip also had the joy of a nice quarrel over parking (so you see, the sign is a lie--there was way more than 1 argument in this three hour period!).

After a stressful trip there, however, I guess we got over it--or at least Jeff saw it as an opportunity to possibly get on t.v. at the game.  At the White Sox games you can make posters to confess your love to players and whatever else you feel the stadium of 400,000 people plus t.v. viewers need to know about you. You already saw what Jeff wrote,now proudly displayed in our garage for neighbors walking by to see--again, I find myself wondering...

Just kidding.

Number one fan. . .of what?

We had dinner with my grandmother tonight following Ella's soccer practice.  Remember my earlier comment about how much I enjoy taking Keeton in public after a full day of daycare, work, and no dinner...yeah, he was a blast.  Anyway, we stopped at McDonald's on the way home and went  back to my grandmother's to eat.   Ella likes to make sure there is always engaging dinner conversation going on--tonight her pick of topic was what baseball team my grandmother liked.

"Do you  like the Cubs or the Cardinals? (Those are the only teams in Ella's mind)."

 "The Cubs," mommom replied.

Ella looked at her like maybe she had been switched at birth or something.

"I don't like the Cubs!  I like the Cardinals!"

Mommom asked, "Because your daddy and grandpa like the Cardinals?"

Ella (all indignant) says, "No.  The Cubs stink."

"What other baseball teams do you like?" (Again, refer to earlier comment on Ella's knowledge of the existence of other teams).

"I don't like baseball."

 Alrighty then.

Marrying them off at an early age

Jeff told me in the car yesterday that Ella had decided she was going to get married and wanted to know who she was supposed to marry.  Overhearing this conversation, Ella was completely prepared to discuss the topic – very matter-of-factly.

 

Me:  So, you want to get married?

Ella:  Uh huh.  Who should I marry?

Me:  Well, preferably a nice boy who is smart and makes a good living (Jeff sort of throws me a glance at this one—not sure what it means).

Ella:  Can I marry Keeton?

Me:  No, you can’t marry your own brother.

Ella: Why?  I looove him!

Me:  That’s just the way it is, sisters can’t marry brothers.

Jeff:  Unless you live in Kentucky (he states my sarcastic thoughts).

Ella seems to ignore Jeff’s comment—I was afraid we were going to have to start a geography lesson next.

Ella: Can I marry a friend?

Me:  That would be fine...

Ella: Can I marry Ethan?

Me:  Sure!  You can marry Ethan.

Ella: I want to call him and tell him he is going to marry me tomorrow.

Unfortunately, we didn't have luck informing Ethan of his "proposal" or arranged marriage, if you will, but Ella reminded me again this morning that it was on my to-do list. 

 Arrange marriage of four year-old daughter...check.

Saving moms sanity from life sized mice and overpriced pizza

Since I am kind of feeling like "mean mom" today (day number 3 out of 4 that Jeff has had to work late and I'm not "chipper"), I thought I'd share an idea that could save other moms and dads sanity and money, and did I say sanity?   Chuck-E-Cheese, the place kids go to get a carb/soda high while using their greasy-pizza fingers to touch all sorts of loud, electronic games that my children will then touch, thus becoming  contaminated by other kid's greasy finger germs is pretty much what hell would be like for me.  My nerves go on overload as I try to keep track of where my kids are (usually one is fending off another, bigger kid whose parents have apparently told him to "make sure you get all those tickets other kids don't get!" even though my kid hasn't even finished his game), or worrying about the aforementioned germs from the ball pit.  Then, there is the NOISE!!  And if the noise itself wasn't enough, the teacher and responsible parent in me has to hold back from telling other people's kids to stop running, stop swearing, stop stealing my kid's tickets...

 When it is FINALLY time to go, you get the pleasure of standing in obscenely long lines while kids shove tickets one at a time through a slot which then adds up the precious commodities to then be used to purchase....JUNK.  Ella can spend some VERY long minutes deciding which plastic ring, stale tootsie role or five cent tattoo she can purchase with her 100 tickets (read $20 in token money from me).  Yep, I can't stand this place.

 SO, without further delay, parents, this is what you have to do.  This only works if  you haven't already been suckered into taking your kids on a regular basis, though. 

Ella:  Can we go to Chuck-E-Cheese?

Me: (All apologetic) No, honey.  You know it is invitation only.  You can only go if someone invites you to a birthday party or something like that.  It isn't just open.

Ella: Oh, I forgot.  Can Aunt (insert any aunt, grandma, grandpa name here) take me?

Me: Sure!  If they were invited.  Let's call and see!

 And so goes my scheme...

Just froggy

Today was one of those crazy, hectic days where nothing goes as planned.  When Jeff and I left for work today our one goal was to not leave the house after we got home in order to try and conquer the pile of dishes, the pile of laundry, the pile of toys in the middle of the family room floor, and the piles of dog poop in the back yard.  Unfortunately, Jeff got called into work tonight, so it is 8:39 and I just got the kids to bed which means there are still many piles to be dealt with.  I did, however, get to that last pile on the list--actually that would be plural piles.  So, while I was scooping away in the backyard the kids were being even worse than the dogs about staying in the yard (the static collars work great for the dogs...I believe they would be illegal for toddlers, however).  At some point as I was hunched over the shovel, plastic baggie at my side, I noticed what I thought was a hunk of dog business, so I looked closer and the "poop" moved; that was no poop, it was a little brown frog!  Our whole neighborhood is infested with these frogs.  They live in the window wells and are apparently also free roaming in woodchips.  The kids have been on a mission to catch one, so feeling bad that I had been snappy  since I picked them up from daycare, I played cool mom and caught the frog in Ella's bug lamp (which I caught a butterfly in for Keeton just two days ago...I am getting good!).  Of course, Ella and Keeton were just giddy over the capture and named him Kermit, on the suggestion of our lucky neighbor who arrived home just in time to meet the new "pet".  Kermit was released by Ella before bedtime, because I told her he'd be sad in a bug light with no other froggy friends (and I promised to catch her another one soon). 

Angelmarie photography

I wanted to post my very good friend Angel's web site here.  Angel is stepping out in the world of professional journalistic photography and we think she is truly talented!  Angel has taken the kids' pictures since they were babies...at first just with regular film (do you remember--the kind you actually had to develop)?  Anyway, she was awesome with film, which I think is hard, because you really have to see the picture in your mind and now that she is digital she is even more fabulous!  Her web site is www.angelmariephotography.com -- take a look!

A rough(ed up) day for the boys

Keeton had a rough day today.  It started with him waking up and climbing into bed with us (that isn't all too unusual).  Somewhere around 5 he woke up crying, flinging himself all over the place.  I know the time because I looked at the clock annoyed (I feel bad about that, now) thinking that I only had one more hour before my alarm went off.  So, around 5:45 he starting screaming and holding his left ear...anyone who has kids knows why...

 So, we were up at that point.  Jeff took him downstairs to rest on the couch while I got ready for work.  Jeff ended up being the lucky guy to tote both kids to the ped's office since I had a meeting in the afternoon.  We both knew Keeton had an ear infection, but when Jeff called to say his eardrum had actually burst (he had fluid coming out of his ear), I felt like the crappiest mom ever...

Not only that, but some bully-two year old literally mauled Keeton while Jeff was signing him in at the doctor's office--he has scratches all down his face, and just barely missed Keeton's eye.  I asked Jeff how that could possibly have happened and he said the kid was there with many other siblings--too many for mom to watch effectively and was essentially picking on any kid within his range of motion.  I guess he punched a kid right after he scratched Keeton. 

 So, Keeton got antibiotics and a baggie full of Neosporin for his face.  Jeff got a dinged car door--yep, leaving the office, a girl got out of the car next to Jeff and whacked her car door into Jeff's car. He was mad and once in his car, rolled down his window to point out to the girl's mom (who apparently "hid" in her car pretending she didn't see anything) what had happened. Getting no response, he drove off...

Not a good day for either of the guys, and I have to admit the whole thing left me with the question of why parents don't own up to their kid's behavior and at least get them to apologize for their actions, rather than acting as if they are completely in another world.

Buying “anything” takes a long time

Tonight we had to make a trip to Kohl's to spend a gift card that was due to expire Saturday.  Lately, taking Keeton anywhere is a monumental pain in the. . .

So, we are always so excited to go somewhere with him--especially in the evening, after a full day of daycare, a full day of work for us, after pulling him kicking and screaming from the swingset where he had no intention of leaving and putting him in the car to go to a store where we just need to buy "something", "anything".  In otherwords, there is no plan and we try to never go anywhere without a plan, mainly because plans are much faster, in and out situations.

 So, we get to Kohls' and Keeton is in high spirits--ready to dash across the crowded parking lot; who cares about cars?  I am already seething by the time we get to the doors, but figure I might be okay--Kohl's has those shopping cart/stroller combo-deals and they have seatbelts!

 Amazingly, both kids want to get into a cart, so off we go.  They were completely entertained as Jeff and I pushed them down the aisles--laughing and screeching (but happy screeches, so those aren't a battle I fight).  This lasted until we reached the toddler department (approximately 4 minutes).

Now we are shopping like the contestants on the old tv show "Shop till You Drop"--as though there is some timer ready to go off in 70 seconds, signaling us as the losers--consilation prize is two cranky toddlers.  Jeff took Keeton to the toy section so that Ella and I could find the "something",  "anything" quickly.  After settling on a dress for church, we made our way to the toys, then to the shoes, then to women's...still  no Jeff, no Keeton. 

Eventually, I hear them coming (Keeton, anyway).  I think we are leaving and Jeff sees the dress.  He makes no comment; he doesn't like it...it is too "long" (huh?  remember that when she is 16).  So, dilemma--buy the too-long dress or go back to battlefield, with the timebomb (Keeton) in tow. I suggest we scrap the buy "anything" plan and get the kids underwear--Ella needed some and Keeton might one day decide he doesn't  like diapers.

 After 10 minutes trying to locate the kids' "underwear with characters on them" section, complete with Jeff's annoyed comments about the layout of the store, we are once again off to the check-out.  Check-outs are my nightmare.  If hell is a place of one's biggest annoyances, it might be checkouts where I am trying to contain multitudes of whining toddlers.  Keeton and Ella plop their underwear selections (Diego and Minnie Mouse, respectively) on the counter, Keeton runs down a few aisles (Jeff takes chase), Keeton tries out a few straws on some coffe-like travel mugs (this is why you are supposed to wash things first--toddlers slobber on them in checkout lanes), and we finally pay and leave.  And yes, I did stop him on all the above activities...

In the car I sigh a relieved breath and realize it only took us and hour and a half to buy "anything", not bad.  Looking back to the kids, Ella has opened her underwear and has one pair on her head--"Look!  I have underwear on my head!"  Of course, Keeton does the same, but he just plops a pair on top of his head--no intricate fitting of leg-band elastic over the ears like Ella has done.

 Jeff and I laugh and Ella, annouces, "I am a booty-head!"  Then, "No, I'm a butt face!" 

Hmm, maybe we shouldn't egg her on...this could come back to bite us in the proverbial booty...kindergarden is one year away, but the kid has a scary memory.  I can only imagine the teacher phone call on that one...

Overhauling

Bear with me as I redesign this site.  I finally remembered (or painstakingly forced myself to relearn) how to log back into my cpanel and use my ftp software to upload new themes and change a few things.  Anyway, you may see some "raw" links and I won't have picures appropriately sized (maybe not even posted) for a few days.  Thanks for the patience!

Daddy kicked me, but it only hurt a little

Ella was super excited today to go to the soccer store and pick out pink and white soccer shoes and shin guards for soccer starting this week.  Of course, Jeff was in his element, too (shoes, sports, what more could he ask for?).  The very instant we were back in the car she had to put on the shin guards.  They look kind of strange when paired with Crocs, by the way.  I kept looking back at her, with her pink and silver guards -- feet propped up on the back of Jeff's seat, thinking how quickly she grew up.   Before we could make dinner she had all the soccer gear on and Jeff took her out to the garage to kick a ball at her shins (yes, really, he did and please don't call child protection).  Even though we've been prepping Ella for "soccer reality", meaning that she will probably get kicked or shoved, we are pretty sure that her easily bruised ego and sensitive nature will cause her to burst promptly into tears the second another kid does any of the above.  So really,  Jeff's intentions (a little barbaric as they may seem) were to show her that her shin guards will help her legs not get hurt if she gets kicked.  I guess it worked, because Ella proclaimed that, "Daddy kicked me, but it only hurt a little."

Adding on

I thought everyone might be interested in knowing that in a few days we are adding an addition to the crazyiness (i.e. Bloom household).  Mollie, a 2 year old English Setter is on her way from Wisconsin...yeah, because life isn't hectic enough without more dog hair, more dog toys, half chewed stuffed animals stolen stealthily from the kids, and more sad doggy eyes to peer at us as we try to enjoy a peaceful dinner (well, nevermind...there really is no such thing here anyway).  However, I have to admit that Mollie's pictures sort of did us in and there is something dutifully loving about a dog--especially, I can imagine, a dog who has never really had anyone to take care of her or stare at, drooling on their legs at dinner.  So, we are starting a new adventure & we will keep you posted.  If you want to see pictures of Mollie, you can find her here: http://www.englishsetterrescue.org/adoptable-dogs/A1680.html.  We'll keep you posted!

Quicky Updates

It has been a really busy summer…the kind where you aren’t even sure how you were busy, you just know you were.  A quick update, since I haven’t posted in a while:

Keeton is finally talking more!  I know it is hard to imagine, but I was kind of worried about it…I know, me worried.  He at least says “Daddy” now, which just absolutely does one over on Jeff, which is why Keeton is currently snuggled up on the couch with Jeff at 11 pm.  He came downstairs, totally ready with his cute-sleepy face and went right for “Daddi…”;  It obviously worked!

Ella had fun staying with Keeton at Grandma and Papa’s house while Jeff and I were in Floriday last week.  She told my mom that she missed us, but we were in her heart…seriously, where does the kid get this stuff from?! 

The only other news is that we *might* be adding another addition to our family…

Nope, no babies, but maybe another four-legged fur-ball.  We are considering adopting an English Setter from a rescue.  I know, we might very well be crazy, but Jeff sort-of sold me on the idea, and I’m a firm believer that if it is meant to be it will pan out.  So, if the good Lord wants us to take in this dog, then He will make the arrangements work.  We shall see!

Okay, it is late, so I promise I won’t wait another 2 months to post!

A man of few words…

As you all know, Keeton doesn't talk much.  He really doesn't need to with Ella.  So, we've taken it upon ourselves to dress him in t-shirts that speak for him...



More to come!

More…

Ella’s poses…

Karate or Drama Queen, you decide.

Yes, we went to High School  Musical, The Ice Tour...something worth posing over (in Ella's book)!

A week without Daddy…

Jeff has been out of town this whole week (feels like a whole year) and so I have been playing single-mom.  Thankfully, people take pity on you when you look haggard enough and act like you are going out of your mind (I'm just kidding...kind of).  Seriously, I've had a lot of help this week.  I had to add, however, a  comment Ella made to her pre-school teacher.  Apparently, in the midst of doing something, probably completely unrelated to Daddy, Ella blurted out, "You won't see my daddy again."  Just like that, matter-of-factly.  Her teacher, of course, thinks something horrible has happened to Jeff (which, of course, nothing has...in fact no one should feel sorry for him and his mini-vacation).  Kristi, our babysitter, had to explain that, no, he was fine and yes, we were still married--he was simply away for a week.  Ella truly is a drama queen...not sure where she gets it from (no comments, please)!

Another reason I can’t wait for summer…

I have been noticing lately that Ella has this  obsessive realtionship with her socks.  She takes longer to put on a pair of socks (correctly) than she does to get dressed in general.  The "hem" (is that what they are called on socks?) has to be across her toes in a completely straight line with no bunching of any sock material that may otherwise interfer with the alignment of the sock on her foot.  If the sock just happens to shift during the course of the day Ella will immediately stop and, in a tone similar to that only of an injured puppy, she will shriek "MY SOOOCK!" and fall to the floor as though the evil sock has rendered her foot useless.  This happened the other day while we were getting out of the car at my grandmother's. Ella could barely make it up to the door between limping on her "good" foot and sobbing about her sock.  The same drama occurred while in Target...all  I can say is, I am looking forward to summer...flip-flops!

Reflection

I was going through my junk mail box today and as I deleted multiple offers and solicitations for everything from clothing to various miracle weight loss pills, I came across a forward that I had long since forgotten.  The e-mail is written by Anna Quindlen, a Newsweek columnist and author.  I don’t know what made me re-read this e-mail today; sometimes I think the Lord works in funny ways, because the message in this forward was so relevant and timely…as if it had been hanging out in the junk mail folder waiting to be re-discovered at just the right moment.

Quindlen begins her essay describing her three, now self-sufficient young-adults and comparing their metamorphosis from childhood to present to “the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.”  I love that image—the idea that the “baby” is still there, yet just faintly visible is a comforting thought to me, as a parent who is beginning to struggle with the concept of my children leaving the baby phase.

The essay continues on, summarizing a mother’s drive to read every parenting book and article, the need to feel as though we’ve done everything in our power to consume all possible advice on child-rearing.  Memories of my all too frantic and frequent worries come to mind—the fear one of the children would choke during the night, the fear that they would injure themselves while learning to walk (which happens, it is just a matter of when), the fear that something would be wrong with them, the fear that Ella’s tooth would turn black, the fear that Keeton would never talk…all of these fears…how much time have I wasted worrying about what might be rather than concentrating on what definitely will be—that my children won’t be children forever and that I should enjoy each stage and moment.

 Just yesterday Jeff pulled two photos out of our diaper bag that our babysitter had found.  In them, a one year old Ella poses for a moment, staring at the photographer as if to say, “I’m busy, take the picture, already.”  I said to Jeff, “I can’t believe she was ever that small,” and Jeff said, “I remember that shirt.”  What we were really saying was, “three years has passed us by so quickly and we hope we “got it” all.” 

It is easy to get tangled in the “have to dos” and the “want to dos” of day to day life and in turn-- rush through the seemingly monotonous activities of each day.  There are many nights where I look at our house, neglected in upkeep over the course of a busy week, and want so much to skip the bedtime story to in turn pick up the kitchen and go to bed.  Quindlen says of rushing through her own evening routines, “I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.”  Herein lays my biggest mom guilt.  This is the message I need to be continuously reminded of.  I look at Ella, now four and Keeton, almost two, with amazement, bewilderment, pride, and yes, sadness.  I wonder when the last time was that I held each of them “cradle” style…there must have been a last time, but I don’t remember it.  Keeton’s baby book is woefully empty and we have hardly any video of him over the last two years.  Ella is a little girl…when did she get so big?

I needed to read Quindlen’s article today.  I needed to be reminded that worry is a time-drainer, that the kitchen can wait for the bedtime story, and that my children will turn into amazing young adults in spite of whether I miss an article in Parent’s magazine.  Tonight I am going to spend more quality time with my kids and I’m going to "get it all" , at least for a day.

Suckered

Keeton:

Keeton is into not sleeping...and he is really good at it.  Every night Keeton goes to bed like a little angel, but I know better and he does too.  We have this conversation every night:

Me: Night, night sweetheart.  Now, you go to sleep and stay in your bed ALL night (and yes, I do this in a loving tone).

Keeton: Smiles and blows me a kiss...says nothing.

Me: Okay, I'll see you in the morning (aka 12 a.m.).

Keeton: Nothing, no promises on his part.

We both know that after about five peaceful hours, and just after I've entered REM, he will start screaching and shaking the rails of his crib.  Seriously, for anyone that sleeps through an alarm clock...I've got to copyright this sound.  I (or Jeff) will, as if on auto-pilot, drag ourselves from our warm bed to get him, put him in bed with us and then try to go back to sleep amidst Keeton's wild sleep patterns. 

Alarm goes off at five, and the first word on my brain is "sucker".  That would be for me, because once again I have failed in "just letting him cry" and go back to sleep.  And frankly, I don't avoid him crying it out  because it breaks my heart or makes me feel like less of a mom; I do it because I NEED SLEEP!  So every morning I vow to not fall prey to the nightly bedtime visitor.  I promise myself to stay strong, to just say no, to teach my son patience and self-soothing.  And then...it is midnight, and I am SOOO tired...

Thundersnow and Wintery Mixes

Okay...I really have no excuse for why I have so slacked off on this blog, but I am jumping back in the game (much unlike my commitment to do the same with going to the gym...I make that one every Sunday night and promptly break it by 5 a.m. Monday morning).  Anyway, this post isn't so much about the kids as it is about how much  I really, passionately, fiercely HATE Illinois weather!  I can probably count on my fingers the VERY few times I've said aloud, "Wow, today is a nice day!" Notice I didn't even say "great" or "fabulous"..."nice" seems to be the best anyone can hope for here in good ol' IL.  Sunday started off frigid (which was my excuse for not following through on the gym thing...) and ended with thundersnow.  Yeah, THUNDER and SNOW...TOGETHER.  Only in Illinois.  Monday is was fog like something out of one of those B class horror movies. Tuesday was torrential downpours (no thunder though, go figure). Today we had sleet/snow/wintery mix.  Wintery mix is apparently another word invented for Illinois weather because not even the meteorologists know what to predict around here..."today we will have some sleet, or maybe rain,  or thundersnow...let's just call it a wintery mix."

Tooth Woes

Today was judgment day - for Ella's grey tooth, that is.  A little bit of background - Ella is our injury-prone child.  She sported a gorgeously greenish-blue shiner for her first birthday (courtesy of the spastic dog I mentioned) and by the time she was 15 months old she had manged to chip out a good portion of one of her front teeth, literally in a matter of two seconds.  We were on our way out the door to go to an appointment and in leaving the house, Ella fell off the ONE step we had in the house at the time, flat on her face, and that was all it took.  Of course, I was devastated and could think only of getting her to the doctor or dentist.  Jeff will tell you that I "freaked out" searching on my hands and knees for what was (I came to later understand) a very minute tooth fragment. 

Fast forward 2 1/2 years and many bumps and bruises later.  Ella's tooth thankfully seemed fine...it never "died" as we had feared and I hardly noticed that little chip anymore--actually, it had become sort of humorous as an indicative summary of Ella's early toddlerhood.  We were visiting my dad for his birthday back in October and Ella slipped on the hardwood floor, of course smacking her face right into it.  I have developed this reflex as a mother that when I hear the kids crying a "I'm hurt" cry, my mind seems to take over my body for just a second, in which time I seem unable to move, and I automatically start envisioning the worst.  Ella's mouth was bleeding, and as I've learned with all mouth wounds, they bleed a lot.  Because there were many people I didn't know at the party, I tried to control my own "freaking out", especially since Ella was pretty hystarical herself. 

Once everything calmed down, we determined that she had just bitten her lip and that she was fine.  I chalked her hystarics up to being around people she didn't know and being very tired.  That was that.  Until about three weeks later when I noticed her tooth darkening...my worst tooth fears confirmed.  The dentist said there wasn't much to be done unless it became absessed and that they would evaluate at her upcoming appointment, which at that time was two months away.  Anyone who knows me, knows that I can FIND things to worry about when nothing is at hand, and now I had something to obsess about for two months.  I read up on baby root canals and teeth abstraction.  I pictured Ella's kindergarten picture: Ella with her missing front tooth. 

Today was the appointment I had been anxiously waiting for.  As I waited for the receptionist to call me back to talk to the dentist I again started seeing a gappy-toothed Ella.  Finally, I was called in and the dentist said, "Everything looks great!"  I bet the other parents could hear my sigh of relief in the waiting room.  He said the tooth's root is fine and it is just bruised.  I am so relieved! 

I really don't know why this was so stressful.  I am sure tons of kids go to school with grey or missing front teeth and it doesn't scar them for life.  For whatever reason, it did make me very anxious, so now that this worry is over, I'm sure I'll find a replacement very soon.