From the Offices of Granola, Holiday Mix and Oatmeal Cookie Central and "Uppy Uppy Uppy" and also: SNOW

You may have heard that it snowed. Why, yes it did.

We built a snow man. Leo was beyond excited…

even though our snow man was more like a snow bump. Or snow lump.
He didn’t mind. There was plenty of snow-at least a foot, but it was so powdery. Just not snow man snow.

It sounds corny I know, but it warms my heart how much joy Leo gets from the tiniest things, like a snow man/bump/lump. He is the eternal optimist and has the sweetest little soul. I just have to remind myself of this fact when he crawls into the back of the minivan and laughs at me and refuses to get into his car seat and I want to strangle him.

Here's an illustration: This is Leo doing his homework on Sunday night. The happiest little boy to do homework ever.

And, the fruits of my labors, otherwise known as “how I spent my Saturday before Christmas.”

These are just some of the homemade goodies for the many teachers, therapists, aides and bus drivers in our life. There are about twenty more bags that just didn't make it in the photo.

I admit, I got a little crabby and manic during the whole process. I kept thinking to myself, so THIS is why people give gift cards! But now that all the little baggies are stuffed and the labels are made and the ribbons are tied and the cards are written, it feels worth it.

And re. Miss Uppy Uppy Uppy, Ellie still seems under the weather. She took three hour naps both Saturday and Sunday but was up at 6 a.m. and in our bed this morning, which is never a good sign. And her new favorite phrase is “I want to go to your room.” Poor Noodle.

This morning when I left her in tears at daycare I told her we just had to get through one more day. Tomorrow is her holiday concert at the daycare (I’ll be bringing my tissues for that one) and it’s also surgery eve, as Leo goes in for new ear tubes and his adenoidectomy on the 23rd.

Tomorrow was going to be my one day to do everything I needed to do before spending the next twelve days straight with all kids all the time (I'm off work for almost two weeks--notice how I do not call it a "vacation"), but alas, it looks like I will have a partner in crime as I clean the house and finish up with the last minute Christmas and grocery shopping.

I can think of worse things.

Bye Bye Hanukkah, Hello Weekend and Princess Enabling

Poor Ellie. This was so not the Hanukkah picture I was going for. Tonight is the last night though, so the pressure is on to, um, document it a little better than this. We'll see how it goes.

Back to poor Ellie. And Leo. What a week it's been. The weekend couldn’t come soon enough, for any of us. Last night, thanks to traffic from an accident on the way home, good old daycare pickup was at 8 p.m. They had to make my children grilled cheese sandwiches. Sorry, but I don't usually plan on having them there until after bedtime. Ugh. And yup, cue the mom guilt. I know it’s no one’s fault and this kind of thing is rare (has only happened one other time since September) and they will have no memory of this (I hope) but still, it is a long, long day for two little people and I can't help but think it takes its toll. And so I feel guilty. And I know, I know, guilt might just be the most useless emotion out there, but it’s also so easy to go there! And so hard to resist it.

I let Ellie sleep as late as I could this morning (not an option with Leo-our little rooster is up by 5 a.m. most mornings, sigh) and was prepared for more tears at drop-off since I knew she was tired and is still fighting that cough, but she actually smiled and squealed when we pulled up to daycare this morning, saying "there's my school!" It's heartwarming and humbling how resilient children are.

We have a mellow weekend planned, well as mellow as a weekend could be when it involves baking about six dozen cookies, and making about five pounds of Leo and Ellie’s Famous Holiday Mix (it’s not as hard as it sounds, it’s basically Chex Mix with red and green M&M’s) and compiling all of that into the requisite cute and appropriately decorated containers as gifts for the village of teachers and therapists. I know gift cards are what they really want and what everyone is saying we're "supposed" to get them but we just can't swing it this year.

Basically, it’s the calm before the (good) storm and the next holiday and the next round of relatives (Hi Grandpa! Hi Grandma! (they arrive from Oregon for five days on Dec. 26).

And speaking of storm, did someone say snow? Up to ten inches are possible in New York City and probably even more in our parts. Leo’s played in the snow before but last winter Ellie was still too little to really enjoy it. A few weeks ago we got a dusting and she was giddy, so I can only imagine what a real snowfall will make her do. I have to say, as long as I can get to the store tonight to finish up all my baking supply shopping, I wouldn’t mind being snowbound for a day or two.

Or the whole storm could just totally blow over and be nothing. You know the way things can go with these “Winter Storm Warnings.”

In other news, this little item just fell into my lap for Ellie (and to be fair, Leo will love it and I'm sure fight Ellie for it).

Just, I know, don’t ask.

As much as it pains me and goes against almost everything I stand for, I’m going to go ahead and give it to Ellie for Christmas/Hanukkah/whatever. All the princess crap just grosses me out but I fear that the more I fight it the more she’ll want it. It will be like my cousins who were denied sugar at home and so went on sugar binges at friends’ houses. I don’t want poor Ellie to feel the need to princess binge.

Breaking News

The best report card ever for Leo arrived today.

From his speech therapist:

"Leo is developing a sophisticated sense of humor."

It brought tears to my eyes. I've always felt you have to be smart to have a sense of humor. I know plenty of people with 46 chromosomes who lack the ability to laugh at the world, to be clever. I haven't doubted Leo's intelligence for a long time, and I certainly don't need to have someone else tell me how funny Leo is. I live it every day, but still. It's always nice to hear it from someone else.

I am so proud of my guy.

Five for the Fifth

An inappropriate photo for a Hanukkah themed post. They love their $1 Target Santa hats. Sorry but I couldn't resist.

Why, hello!

Finally, a moment to touch the stone here.

Tonight is the fifth night (I think, right? It's strangely confusing to figure out) of Hanukkah, so here are five bullets:

1. The results of Friday’s ENT visit are that as an early Christmas (we celebrate that one too in our house) present, Leo will be getting a new set of tubes and saying goodbye to his adenoids on December 23. Yup, Merry Christmas Leo! Sorry, guy, but hopefully it will greatly improve his health and reduce the amount of antibiotic treatments. I think we’re on round number three in the last four months…not good.

2. The ENT appointment was not as bad as I had expected although I think my thighs are still sore from clenching them to hold Leo’s legs and prevent him from kicking our dear doctor where the sun don’t shine. And I’m sure Leo with his nasal cavity numbing spray and the tube with the light on the end of it but have a different opinion of how bad the appointment was. Luckily Ellie’s view of the whole procedure was blocked by the doctor so hopefully all that Leo screaming won’t traumatize her for life (don’t ask me what it will do to Leo).

3. The kids are really enjoying lighting the menorah this year. Leo calls it “dora” and the first night Ellie called it “birthday candles.” Last night the kids got their first gift (hey they don’t know that some kids get a gift every night and we plan on drawing out that innocence as long as possible). Upon opening, they swooped around the house appropriately.

4. Leo’s teacher is Jewish and I think she’s definitely pushing Hanukkah more than teachers in the past have. I know that this week they’re learning about Kwanzaa though so maybe they’re just actually giving the holidays equal treatment for a change. I’ve lived on the East coast for about ten years now and it still shocks me a little that I don’t feel like an alien because I celebrate Hanukkah. People actually put menorahs in their windows and decorate for Hanukkah. There is a Hanukkah section at Target for goodness sake. Sorry, Hanukkah rant over.

5. The whole “finish your Brussels sprouts and you’ll get your Hanukkah present” line—it totally works. Last night Leo ate an entire bowl of rice and beans in exchange for his present. This is a boy who could probably happily subsist on scrambled eggs, cheese quesadillas and grapes.

It's just a shame Hanukkah only lasts eight days.

Sick Kids and Broken Sumps Pumps, Alternatively Titled: It's FUN to Be a Grown-Up!

You know it's bad when your kid's teacher calls and suggests that perhaps you should keep your kid home the next day. Apparently Leo spent all of Thursday hacking all over everyone, not eating his lunch, yawning and just being generally miserable. By the time she called me (early afternoon) she conceeded it would be too late for me to get him before the school day ended. And so I scrambled at work trying to make arrangements for today. And Ellie could use a day off too. She still sounds like the Marlboro Man.

And because the last hour of my day at work wasn't stressful enough--trying to finish three stories in an hour and delegate my work for the next day (and did I mention today is my holiday work party? That I am missing FREE margaritas?). Seriously. Anyway, as I was saying, if that end of the day stress wasn't enough (because if I don't leave by a certain time then I miss my bus and I'm late picking up my kids, my kids who are already the LAST kids to get picked up). It's like a gigantic domino set, the whole schedule thing. If one thing falls, they all do.

And then, home to the sump pump alarm which had been going off all day and night which I think Erin and I had sort of been hoping would just "heal" itself.

For those of you who don't have the pleasure, in layman's terms, a sump pump keeps your basement dry. Northern New Jersey, where we live, is prone to flooding. Big, major, awful, thousands of dollars flooding. And so we have a sump pump. Well, did you know sump pump batteries die? I didn't. And did you know that when you buy a replacement battery, you also have to buy BATTERY ACID to pour in that new battery?

Lucky Erin got to tromp out in the 22 degree wind storm last night to good old Home Depot to buy the goods, which included yes, a box of freaking battery acid. We worked together to pour it into the new battery and shortly before midnight (yawn) we were back in the working sump pump business. Pfew.
***
And so today instead of free margaritas and co-worker gossip I am taking Ellie in for her follow-up wheezing exam (please no nebulizer, please) and will throw Leo in for good measure (to be checked out by the ped for his horrendous cough). And if that wasn't fun enough (two sick kids to the ped), let's also go to the ENT! He had asked that I call him the next time Leo is "junky" so he can properly check out the adnoids. All I can say is this procedure involves a numbing spray and something (a tube? a scope? going up the nose or down the throat or something equally awful). Leo is going to LOVE that. I mean really, kill me now, OK?

We WILL be stopping off at the wine shop on the way home.

Unbeknownst to Leo there is numbing spray in his immediate future (don't ask me how I'm going to swing that ENT apointment with both the kids since Leo's going to need some serious restraints) but for now, Leo is a happy clam, sitting on the couch watching "Dora's Christmas Carol" for the seventy-millionth time. He's doing his second favorite thing in the world, eating scrambled eggs. Sure it's technically a sick day, but at our house, we call this, falling into a barrel of schmaltz.*

*I believe this is Yiddish for swimming in chicken fat, which at one time was considered a delicacy. I know, I know, kind of gross. It was something my grandma and mom said when someone was really, really happy. At least, for the moment.

Of Visitors and Nebulizers and Snow Man! and Soy Corn Dogs for Snow Suits

Busy times. You’d think I’d completed all my holiday shopping or better still, that I’d been busy crafting or making everything by hand.

Um, no.

First the good. My wonderful friend Jennifer (mom to the adorable Lily, one of Leo’s many prospective future fiancees) came from Portland for a long weekend. Thanks to my incredible partner, I came and went from home as I pleased, shirked pretty much all domestic and kid-related responsibilities and played New York City tourist with Jennifer all weekend.

We spent our days admiring the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, gazed at the holidays windows of Sak’s and Bergdorff’s, watched skaters twirl and fall at the exquisite skating rink at Bryant Park.

We walked about eighty blocks in one day, from Times Square to the tony shops on Fifth Avenue to the Plaza Hotel to SoHo, where we finally collapsed at a really bad bar for some extremely weak drinks (trust me, I’m an expert). Saturday we “did” suburbia. The Short Hills Mall, Target, my favorite kid’s resale shop. There was a delicious home cooked meal (thanks Sweetie), scallops sauteed with tomatoes and Brussels sprouts. And wine. Lots of wine.

Meanwhile, Ellie had a nasty, two-pack-of-Marlboros-a-day-sounding-cough all weekend (yes, while I was out shopping and boozing it up, you can go ahead and say it). Monday morning I just knew if Ellie went to daycare that I would inevitably get the call. I kept her home and although she sounded pathetic, she was in good spirits. An afternoon appointment with the pediatrician (because everything might be swine flu, I admit it, I’m a little paranoid) found some wheezing, which the doctor did not like. She assured me on the continuum of wheezing it was very slight, but still, I guess they don’t play around with two-year-olds and breathing problems, which is fine with me.

Probably no surprise that Ellie did not enjoy the nebulizer treatment, which involves a creepy looking mask and a mysterious, smokey looking medicine wafting through said, mask. There were tears and tears and many tissues and a hysterical crying I haven't heard since the newborn days. I’d like to make a public thank you to that poor nurse who helped me hold Ellie down while we tortured her with the nebulizer, for she had the pleasure of hearing me perform “Old McDonald,” “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” “I’m a Little Teapot”…anything to appease a shaken and miserable Ellie.

The doctor sent us away with a prescription for an inhaler and an exorbitantly expensive “pediatric mask” that goes with the inhaler—and of course it wasn’t covered by insurance—why would it be? It is, after all, deemed “medical equipment” (cause most people buy “medical equipment” for fun).
***
In happier news, last night Leo said a new word: “Snow man.” He seems to be in the midst of a vocabulary explosion, lot of new words and better pronunciation of existing words. He now says a pretty clear “thank you,” as opposed to the old “day,” which seemed to be his version of “thanks.”

And this morning. One of those mornings in which by the time I get to work I feel like I’ve put in a full day already. As I looked out the dark window at 5:55 a.m. (thanks, Leo) while the slushy, snowy, freezing rain mixture pounded away, I contemplated if there would even be an open daycare to take Ellie to or if Leo would have school (the two are related since the daycare just announced it would close when our town’s schools close—cue me having a panic attack about his news but that’s a whole other conversation).

It took bribery with a soy corn dog (Leo’s idea, trust me) to get Leo into his snowsuit. Then Ellie was up and she took one look at Leo in his winter finery and demanded “snowsuit and hot dog!”

Two words probably not commonly associated with each other, which means, totally normal in our house.

Overheard

I was making dinner last night, Leo was having a post-day care tantrum so I put him in a time-out (which he miraculously actually stayed in). Ellie did her best to assuage the situation:

Ellie: You crabby Leo?

Leo: NO! (growling)

Ellie: You crabby Leo?

Leo: NO!

Ellie: You crazy Leo?

Leo: NO!

Ellie: Do you have a boo-boo?

Leo: NO!

Ellie: You not talkin' to me?

Leo: NO!

Ellie: You love me?

Leo: NO!

Well, you have to give her credit for trying.

And in case you were wondering, Leo was hugging Ellie three minutes later (as soon as Diego came on).

Irresistable Turkeys (and Native Americans and Pilgrims)

I realize we've moved on to those OTHER holidays, but I just had to post this.

Leo made all of this at school. Clearly they didn't get the P.C. memo, but hey, I'm not arguing with the cuteness factor.

Photo Evidence: "No WAY!"

Someone better call Molly Ringwald.

'Cause she's missing her pout...

and I think Leo stole it.

Or maybe Barbara Eden in "I Dream of Jeannie," minus the smile and the genie bikini top.

Keep in mind if these pictures had a soundtrack, they'd be saying "No WAY!" (because the pout and the crossed arms aren't complete without that little gem).

Sorry about the underwear shot Leo, but think with all the "No WAY"-ing we've been putting up with, I've earned the right.

A Glimpse From the Merry-Go-Round

I missed my mom this Thanksgiving, no big shocker there.

At some point during the day my thoughts turned to her as they do on every holiday or important occasion. But I also had a strange (and by strange here I mean good) thing happen over the long weekend.

I was on the merry-go-round on Sunday with Ellie at our local zoo. Ellie was riding the polar bear (her choice) and bobbing up and down and looking appropriately wide-eyed and a little terrified. A lovely harpsichord rendition of “Jingle Bells” played continuously in the background. Erin’s mom, visiting from New Orleans, was watching the four of us (Erin had Leo) and waved to us from the sidelines with all the excitement and enthusiasm a grandmother should display.

The merry-go-round was going pretty fast and the music felt, as so much holiday music does for me, a little melancholy, a little bittersweet. I got a little teary (OK, not that unusual for me).

I don’t know if I was just caught up in the emotion of the moment or what, but every time we whizzed past Erin’s mom, waving and smiling, I swear I saw my mom too. I saw her hunched over in her khaki L.L. Bean trench coat, her frizzy shoulder length brown hair, her fair, freckled skin, wearing her comfortable, expensive European walking shoes and waving to us all. It felt like she was there.

When I talk about missing my mom and wishing she was here to see the kids, people often say “Oh she sees them” or “She knows. She's with you.” And it kind of annoys me, because, really, how does anyone know? I mean, I know people mean well. And I’d certainly like to believe they’re right. Because aside from the memories, the belief that she is still here, in some small way, it’s all I have.

Sunday on that merry-go-round, It really did feel true.

No Way

I am still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that there is a Christmas tree in my living room right now. Wasn't it just summer? Wasn't I just talking about playing in the sprinkler and eating Popsicles in the backyard? One minute we're all sweating in the heat of August and the next thing you know it's time to get the holiday decorations out.

Kids, I swear, are little time suckers.

Don't get me wrong, I love them, but boy do they make the hours and days and seasons fly by. But at the same time, it can seem like an eternity to get from 3 p.m. to bedtime. One of those mysteries of life.

In other news, Leo learned a new expression: "No way!" It's his go-to phrase these days, a one size fits all answer to most any question not pertaining to scrambled eggs, Dora or playing outside. He's even learned to cross his arms and scowl, a la a cartoon character (Grumpy? of the Seven Dwarves? He does bear a striking resemblance).

Ellie has spent much of the weekend telling everyone in the house to "Lay down!" and announcing: "I'm your teacher" and "I'm your doctor."

And those boots I was salivating over last week for Ellie? In a low moment, I bought them. The good news is, her little 2-year-old opinion saved me $47 as it seems we have officially entered the realm of If It's Not Pink or Red or Dora Then It's NO GOOD. Hmph. Call me a snob but I HATE the character crap. The boots are getting returned.

We are barreling our way through the lovely, long weekend. There have been luxurious, rush-free mornings spent in PJs, over large breakfasts. There's been parade watching (on TV), backyard playing, shopping and napping. It's a delight to not have to make anyone do anything quickly because really, what's the rush?

Welcome to the Neighborhood and Thanks

We have a new neighbor.

She's 13 weeks old.

Very soft.
Sharp little milk teeth.

She knows how to make two little ones smile.

It's hard to take life too seriously with the likes of these guys surrounding you.

Partner, kids, family, friends, a new puppy neighbor.

I have a lot to be thankful for.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

The Haircut that Launched the Pity Party

We finally broke down and gave Leo a haircut this weekend.

Here's a "before" shot.
Don’t let the smile fool you. Just a few hours after this picture was taken Leo was transformed into a terrified, hysterical, maniacal little person, convinced he is Under Attack.

I’ve mentioned before that Leo has a thing about getting his haircut. The last time he had an official haircut, like, by a professional, he kicked the hairdresser in the face and ended up leaving with a very unfortunate crewcut. I’m pretty sure Leo’s picture is up at that salon with the words “Do Not Service” close by.

Really, the word “ballistic” just barely begins to describe Leo’s reaction to a haircut. Both Erin and I have to hold him down while one of us does the cutting or buzzing (we thought using clippers might help but apparently they are just as terrifying as scissors). This task falls to Erin because she’s a way better hair cutter than I am.

The scene on Saturday night was bad. Really, really bad. I’m talking, gasping for air and foaming at the mouth and screaming-so-hard-he-had-no-voice-left bad. And I’m sure you’re thinking well for god’s sake just let the poor boy have long hair! But there’s a whole mess of issues that go along with that, namely I feel like our kids have enough stacked against them. They need to be well-groomed. And just to be clear, I think longish hair on boys is fine, it's just difficult to keep Leo's longish hair in good shape.

Back to that scene on Saturday night. And what must have poor Ellie thought? She stood in the doorway cringing in silence. I hope she wasn’t taking notes on how to behave for her next styling session.

Who knows why haircuts affect Leo so. Is it sensory (isn't everything sensory these days?) Is it all those years of being poked and prodded by various insensitive ENTs? And what must Leo think of us? His parents who are coming towards him with sharp metal objects?

I’ll be honest about the haircutting fiasco/trauma. It depressed me. I know there are kids without Down syndrome out there who don’t like getting their haircut but I doubt there are many who act the way Leo does at age five. Most days, I really do go along on my merry way, fine with things. And in many instances, Leo truly is the “easier” one of our two kids. And I also know that if pitching a full-on fit for a haircut is the worst thing you can say about a little boy than it's not all that bad.

But sometimes, the littlest things (a haircut? Really?) are just so shockingly hard. And then I look at these pictures of Leo playing in the leaves on Sunday.




As his grandpa has said before, Leo really enjoys his life.

The end result (I know, I know, but it's the best I could get) it's a cute little "Ceaser" cut--think George Clooney).

And I try to remember that the good far, far outweighs all that bad, shockingly hard stuff.

Portrait of the Glasses Thrower or Let's Make a Mountain Out of a Molehill!

Leo's Kindergarten Portrait, October 2009

The conversation with Leo's teacher Mrs. L. went well yesterday. To make a long story short, Mrs. L. said she would not have even mentioned Leo's behavior on the playground to me if it weren't for the potential that another child's glasses could be lost or broken. She said Leo is so fast (so stealth, my boy!) with the throwing that it's easy to miss the event altogether.

More than one child in Leo's class wears glasses but for some reason Leo insists on only picking on this specific child. And to make matters worse, this child says nothing when Leo throws the glasses. The only reason the staff knows it's happened is they look over and realize Oh, that child has no glasses!

So now, as much as I would not be laughing if Leo did break the child's glasses (and I got a bill from the parents) I'm finding it hard not to find some humor in the situation.

The aggression that was mentioned? Mrs. L. thinks Leo is trying to get the attention of his peers. He wants them to play with him. And I suppose because of his speech/language issues, the only way Mr. Bruiser feels he can communicate with them is physically. Kind of sad, but honestly, this is reassuring to me. I love the fact that he wants to engage his peers, now we just need to work on not, you know, alienating them and destroying their possessions.

Regarding the aide's comment about "seeing a change in Leo," well I'm not so concerned with it now that I've spoken with Mrs. L., who spends seven hours a day with Leo over the aide's one hour. And I'm with Cate that she seems a bit melodramatic about the whole thing. As Cate asked, "Does she think Leo is starring in a Lifetime movie?"

A funny Lifetime movie, that's for sure.

Retail Therapy

Taking a break from the Leo stress.

But just to update a bit: there have been more developments (OK I obviously lied about the taking a break jazz).

The teacher answered my note yesterday inquiring if she'd seen a change in Leo's behavior with the news that yes, he seems to be more aggressive on the playground. Then she asked how he is at daycare. His 1:1 aide (she's there for an hour a day, from the time he gets off the bus through snack and homework time) wrote a note saying Leo has been less cooperative than he was previously [what, like last week?] and gives her trouble about going to bathroom. As an added bonus, he's been throwing toys (I felt like he stopped this two years ago. When did it start up again?)

Awesome.

The aide's final sentence was a stab through a mother's heart:

"Leo is a sweet boy, but I see a change in him."

Part of me is thinking, what the hell? That statement seems a little extreme. A change? Like in a matter of a week?

I'm tempted to check with the others at daycare, to see how Leo has been for them (it's occurred to me that this 1:1 aide might bug the you-know-what out of Leo and that's why he's resisting her). At the same time, I don't really want to borrow trouble with the daycare. If they felt the need to address Leo's behavior with me, they would, I'm sure of it. And yes, I'm the mom who's convinced that every note in Leo's cubby is a letter saying they just can't handle him anymore and we'll have to find another aftercare program for him. I live in constant fear of it, really. As my brilliant friend Amy once said "Isn’t it hard, to never feel like you can just be purely joyful? I always want to acknowledge my fears before someone else does."

What it is that Leo is struggling with (and therefore what we are struggling with)...Whatever it is, I don't know what it is.

How's that for profundity?

Is it a communication issue? Speech? Boredom? Frustration? On the one hand I feel like his speech is taking off. On the other hand, he's acting out. One mom I spoke with recently said she thinks when our kids advance in one area they sometimes regress in another. So, one step forward in speech, a step back towards bullying? I hope not.

His teacher is calling me this afternoon.

In the meantime, in an effort to completely change the subject:

I'm trying to be good. But I really want to get Ellie these.

If only real life was always as simple and cute as toddler boots.

Aargh, Oy, Heavens to Betsy and a Note From the Teacher No Parent Wants to Get

I don't even know where to begin. I've started about fifty posts in my head in the last week but not one has actually become something.

Everyone is slowly on the mend from their various sicknesses (I guess, knock wood). But yesterday morning started with a bang and the hits just kept up on coming. Then there was the call that came later in the day from daycare to come pick Ellie up and the trip to the doctor (with both kids, always fun) to see if she had pink eye (she didn't). But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Ellie awoke at 5:30 a.m. which is code for I Don't Feel Well And Should Probably Stay Home From Daycare (she's normally the teenage sleeper of the house--I wake her booty up at 7:30 almost daily).

Staying home with a little sniffly cutie would have been all well and good except I had a BIG work deadline looming. And honestly, aside from the runny nose and sort of watery eyes, she was fine. Once she woke up and moved around a little and had something to eat and drink, she was in good spirits, her usual chatty, jokey, semi-cooperative self.

So yesterday morning was the usual flurry of ridiculous activity when both kids wake up early. There was me upstairs, speeding to get ready while Leo and Ellie were parked in front of "Sesame Street." Leo protests whenever I put it on (he apparently thinks he's too cool for it) but almost immediately gets sucked into it once a cute Muppet or two appears. Poor Ellie rarely gets to watch it so I try to sneak it in for her at least once a week. I mean, someone has to teach that girl to read, right? (joke).

It was sweet, because Leo knows Ellie loves Elmo. As soon as an Elmo segment came on, Leo called to Ellie, "Ey-yie! Ey-yie! Elmo! Elmo!" and pointed at the screen with excitement, as if she wasn't sitting right there watching the exact same thing he was. But she patiently and enthusiastically received his order to Enjoy Elmo: "Yea Leo, yea. Elmo."

Meanwhile, as I was doing my hair (sounds way more complicated than it is, trust me) I heard Leo calling something to me from the bottom of the stairs, a breakfast request I was pretty sure. It sounded like "duh-duh" which could mean a lot of things--pancakes or French toast, most likely.

When I got downstairs I realized what Leo had been saying, for there on the coffee table in the living room sat a Trader Joe's mini cheese pizza, still in the wrapper but out of the box. This means he had taken a chair, scooted it up to the refrigerator and found his desired meal.

It was barely 6 a.m. but my first reaction to frozen cheese pizza for breakfast was Why the Hell Not? I mean, whatever gets you through the morning, right?

The best part of the Leo Frozen Pizza Incident was that later in the morning when I grabbed a box of tissues from the shelf where we keep the paper recycling, I realized that Leo had actually taken the pizza box and had the forethought to put it in the paper recycling bin! My little environmentalist.

And also, my little bully, apparently.

How's that for a segue? Yesterday I received a note from Leo's teacher in his communication book:

"Two days in a row Leo has taken the glasses of another child at recess and thrown them in the bushes. He has been spoken to about this and asked to apologize, which he has. Yesterday he lost "Center" [free-play] privileges, tomorrow he'll have to sit out recess. Please discuss this with him at home and let him know this is not acceptable behavior."

Not acceptable behavior? I'll say! Where's my hugging teddy bear boy (that's what Leo's pediatrician calls him--I love our doctor but he is definitely the type to say things like "Downs kids are so sweet and cuddly)? Where's my guy who is the first to rush to the aid of his crying classmate (true story, from several past teachers and even his current one, well, before the Throwing Glasses Incidents of 2009).

We've definitely been noticing some increased aggression coming from Leo. We had a good stretch there for a while with the sibling rivalry. It seemed that Ellie's talking and ability to "bargain" with Leo was making things better and less, well, violent. But now, we seemed to have turned another corner. Ellie is getting bigger and her vocabulary is exploding and she is more and more of a "threat" to Leo and his things every day (at least that's how I perceive how it might be for him).

There's been way more pushing and shoving and yes, a return of the growling. And he's even started hitting me a bit. There are apologies and time-outs and then two minutes later the behavior is repeated.

Of course I wrote back to the teacher about my embarrassment and concern and general horror at the whole glasses/recess event. I told her I was open to suggestions on how we might handle Leo's not so welcome new "tricks."

Gah. Not good.

Feeling Quiet

There hasn’t been much to report as of late, hence the quiet.

Maybe 31 for 21 wore me out, maybe I’m just plum out of good ideas or words, but I’m feeling quiet.

Not that’s it’s been quiet around here. Oh no. Is it ever? But I’m not complaining.

We’ve had a few unseasonably warm days. Sunday was sun-kissed (see above).

How often do people do art projects outside in November on the east coast?

Leo had a great time.




He really gets into his "medium" and is quite the "textural" artist.

Don't be fooled by the photos. Leo was a Holy Terror pretty much all weekend. I love the guy and I know he wasn't feeling well (sinus infection, again...exploring the idea of adnoid removal since every time he gets a cold he ends up on antibiotics because it won't go away, any experience with this? Care to weigh in?) but I can't tell you how many times this weekend I felt like the harried, clueless parent on an episode of "SuperNanny." He's taken to putting Ellie in a sort of headlock. Oh she's no innocent victim and does her share to egg him on, don't worry, but I mean it when I say Never a Dull Moment.

Ellie, on the other hand,


let's just say her attention span is not quite as long. Also, as I've said here before, she's not a fan of getting things on her hands. Throughout the painting project she kept asking me for a "nappin" (napkin).

In other not quiet, news, Ellie continues with the gems. A few from this weekend:

Upon being asked to get dressed so we could go in the backyard and play, Ellie (a completely nude Ellie, I should add) responded: “I’m gonna stay inside where it’s nice and warm.”

Yesterday morning as I was helping her get dressed for school:
“I feel happy.”

Can’t argue with that one.

Halloween (Part 3, The Main Event)

Let’s put it this way. Halloween 2009 will forever be known as the Halloween that Leo went from Trick or Treater to intruder.

Oh sure, the mood was light and festive. The air was balmy and humid—it was unseasonably warm (I wore flip flops!) and the kids thankfully, didn’t need coats. There was a light drizzle but nothing serious (though don't tell that to my frizzed out hair).

But this was not a night about my hair. This was a night about Leo and Ellie. WIth an emphasis on Leo. Because basically, Halloween is Leo’s dream. I mean, think about it. He gets to dress up in a costume (which he does nearly 364 days a year or would, if given the chance), this year he dressed as his favorite thing of All. Time. A dog. And as if all of that wasn’t enough, he gets to trick or treat, which is basically going to meet people (another one of Leo’s favorite things). And by the way he could care less about the candy (so, bonus for Erin and me!).

We tried to get Leo to say Trick or Treat, but the best we could get out of him was “How-een!” So when people answered the door, that’s what Leo said. And then he would try to hug everyone. Every last one of the candy bearers was offered up a hug (don’t worry, we discouraged it at every turn, reminding him to “shake hands” and “give five” but really, you try to keep a hugging dog down).

It was toward the end of the hour that Leo made his move. A group of young, hip-seeming, incredibly friendly people (trust me, I bet they are newly arrived from Brooklyn) answered the door (I remembered them because our neighborhood is not what I’d call “hip,” so these people stuck out to me). They were extremely appreciative of Leo’s dog suit, which made me instantly love them. And they didn't have kids but were really into the whole trick or treating thing which I just thought was sweet. Leo must have felt the love too because first Leo was on the porch and then he was going in for the hug and then he was…in their dining room.

Let’s just say by this time I was ready to be home, where the pizza was ordered, the Netflix envelope was torn open (“The Little Mermaid, a Halloween classic, right?) and Ellie discovered the art of reclining and sucker eating.


And I was told to PLEASE stop taking pictures.

And Leo modeled the basis of any good dog suit.

I normally don’t trust a man in tights, but this time, I’ll make an exception.

When Did She Become a Person?

Ellie is such a little person these days. I just can’t get over the things she says, how aware she is. How many opinions she has. Oh, the opinions!

And she is such her own person.

Warning: Much Ellie kvelling ahead. This post is probably only suitable for grandparents but feel free to read if you’re feeling patient.

Ellie does not like to get dirty. This fact in itself is proof positive that kids come out of the womb with their own preferences. Because as much as I’m a “neat” person, I will admit that my kid is sometimes that one at the playground with the runny nose or muddy knees. Sure we come home and clean up but out and about? Sometimes I’m just too busy to notice.

But, Ellie: she is always asking me for a napkin while eating. Sunday the kids and I made banana bread. She carefully and precisely peeled six bananas (mushy and sticky and overripe, hence, banana bread material). You should have seen the look of horror on her face when she was left with the sticky hands. A perfect little pout of fear, like, what am I supposed to do with these yucky hands?

You can sort of make out her hesitation in the photos. And the only one where she looks truly comfortable is when she’s touching the butter. She loves butter. Straight. Don’t ask me where she learned to eat it like that.




A few other observations (which I remind you again, might only be of interest to me in the sense of “Blog as memory book” and Ellie’s grandparents, so feel free to skip:

The other morning I decided to drop off some overdue library books before school. I was rushing and pulled out perhaps a tad faster than usual, to beat the next car and Ellie called to me from the backseat, “You OK Mommy? You OK?”

And my she’s bossy! And a dish towel thief to boot! I can’t keep a dishtowel hanging on the oven door to save my life because to Ellie, dish towels are not merely dish towels, oh no, they are dolly blankets.

Yesterday afternoon as she and Leo played, she decided it was time to put Leo down for a nap (Oh how I wish!). She ordered “Lay down Leo! Lay down!” and followed him around with the dish towel, trying to cover him. The funny thing is, Leo actually listened to her. She might be the only person in the house he listens to on a regular basis.

And I can see her imagination brimming with possibilities. Saturday morning she (purposefully, it semed) dropped one of her dolls on the floor. She walked over to me and said “Mommy, baby fall down. She got boo-boo. Need ice.” (Ice in a little plastic baggy is, apparently big at daycare for multiple maladies).

And lastly, and perhaps most hilarious of all, Erin was teasing the kids the other night as they were being loud and silly (the usual at our place). Erin said to Leo and Ellie: “You guys are crazy!”

Ellie’s response: “No! I’m Ellie!”

Last night’s bedtime was a bit of a battlefield. Ellie used to be the “easy” one to put to bed. Now? Unless she is exhausted, actually, make that even when she’s exhausted, she’ll give us every excuse in the book why it’s not time to go to bed. “I have to go potty!” (Always.) “Read more books! I want water right now!”

But the best was when, after crying for a good, solid five minutes, I finally went into her room to see what could be done to console her.

“I need tissue Mommy. I’m all wet,” she said, patting the front of her pajama top. “I cried on myself.”

Oy. Pour salt in my guilty mom wounds. She cried on herself.

Did I mention that this language thing is both a blessing and a curse?

Halloween (Part 2, Leo's)

I couldn't have asked for a better schedule on Friday. Ellie's party/parade was in the morning and Leo's was in the early afternoon. In hindsight I wish I'd brought Ellie to Leo's parade. She would have loved it. Leo's school is big: 500 kids. All dressed up. All. Of. Them.

Leo didn't see me at first.


Apologies for the crummy photo editing hatchet job here. Didn't want to show Leo's teacher or the other kids in the photo without permission. This is Leo's who am I supposed to be looking at? face.

Oh! Mommy's here!

Soon it was time to go inside for the party.


Now that is a dog who enjoys a cupcake. Seriously though, Leo has an almost pathological love for cupcakes. (See above. Is it a beard? Is it a cupcake?) I am talking addiction.

Leo got to skip taking the bus to after care/daycare. We picked Ellie up before 3:30 and headed home, almost three hours earlier than most days.

As a special bonus, we had a house call from Leo's teacher shortly after we got home. At the party, she had offered up the class' jack o' lantern (seen above) to us and dropped it off on her way home. Apologies for the messy house and pantsless two-year-old (I'm looking at you Ellie) Mrs. L., but it was fun having you. Leo actually shocked me--normally he hates seeing school people out of context but he grabbed Mrs. L.'s hand as she stood in the doorway and practically pulled her inside (I don't think she'd intended to come in, the poor woman had just survived a full day of teaching elementary school on the Friday before Halloween, if anything she should have been on her way to happy hour).

So it was a short, pleasant visit with Mrs. L.

Then it was on to dinner, books, bath and

bed.

Think he was tired?