And Just Like That, Two Holidays (Almost) Down: The Epic Thanksgivukah Post

Well, nothing like Thanksgivukah to really rush you right through the year, right? Sheesh! And then I panicked a little when I looked at the calendar this morning and realized we only have three weekends until Christmas.

Wait, WHAT?

But in the spirit of Living in the Moment:

We lit the candles the first night (which fell the night before Thanksgiving, making Thanksgiving technically the first "day" of Hanukkah. Leave it to the Jews to make it confusing, believe me). And this is what happened. It's a little hard to make out Lucy's expression. But I think you get the idea.



I definitely could not have predicted Lucy's reaction to the menorah in all its glory. This year there was a lot less wonder and awe and a lot more screeching, all from Lucy who demanded to "Get down!" so she could "Blow out the candles and sing Happy Birthday!"

Let's contrast the above photo with the one below (from last year). Such sweet darlings, right?



Before I got all Pity Party about how much harder everything is lately in the land of Twin Two Year Olds, I recalled this little gem:


Ellie was the exact age that the twins are right now. I think you get the idea.

Someone is always mad about something.

Ha ha ha. Kidding.

Mostly.

Back to 2013: Everyone eventually (mostly) calmed down and we finished lighting the candles.

Earlier in the day, I attended Ellie's first grade thanksgiving "feast" and then picked her up from school and we did a bit of shopping for our feast.


Along the way, we were excited to see all the Hanukkah displays. You know those giant blow-up holiday decorations you see all over the suburbs? They now make Hanukkah versions (and no this is not necessarily an endorsement, just an observation). And you know, I've lived in the New York/New Jersey area for over thirteen years and this kind of sight still slays me. Growing up, I always felt like the odd man out who celebrated Hanukkah and now it's just the norm (this photo was snapped at Bed Bath & Beyond).

Ellie and I had such a fun afternoon that Thanksgiving Eve/first night of Hanukkah. Have I mentioned how much I'm enjoying age six? Oh sure she still has her unreasonable moments but she is just maturing so nicely, has such a clever sense of humor and fun disposition. Being out with her is almost like being with a friend-a young, short friend. Anyway, I think you get the picture. Her thoughtfulness really impresses me too.

To wit: We spent a good amount of time in the Target toy aisles trolling for last minute Hanukkah items for her siblings and she genuinely wanted to get everyone something they would like. She would have stayed there all afternoon shopping for other people if I'd let her. Only once or twice did she point to something she might like, but it was very casual and off-hand and not at all insistent or whiney or Buymethatrightnow!

And thank goodness I did have Ellie with me because I am pathologically indecisive and pretty much a horrific shopper. I over think everything. Ellie however, is no-nonsense and was full of wonderful suggestions about Matchbox cars (Harry) and Spiderman action figures (Leo). Lucy is the real question mark this year, as she doesn't really play with toys as much as she plays with people. And since we all know she's going to steal anything Harry likes, maybe I should just get two of everything I get Harry and call it a day? (Kidding of course.)

Not until we were driving home did Ellie wonder aloud if she was getting a Hanukkah present. Darn it! I KNEW there was something I forgot to do! I teased, smiling at her playfully in the rear view mirror. She played along. She knew better.


Up went the decorations this weekend, and the return of Harrystoptouchingthelights!


Thanksgiving Day dawned early as they always do. It quickly turned loud and crazy (don't be fooled by this relatively calm scene).


I got it in my head to make a Toll House Pie this year (it's basically just a giant chocolate chip cookie inside a pie, how can you go wrong?). Ellie heard the words "chocolate chip" and was immediately on board.


Best Thanksgiving Pie. Ever. The End.




I always look forward to watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and this year did not disappoint (yes, that's a few of us watching the parade, in case you were wondering-you can see they're all riveted, although I also think I managed to catch it during a commercial (of which there were many). But really, each year the kids seem to be more and more interested in the actual parade which is fun. Someday, we will all go.


Ellie set the table.


The Meal. The great Thanksivukah mash-up.


Surveying the spread. Harry gave those mashed potatoes a good poke.

Right before the meal, we went around the table and asked everyone to say what they were thankful for. With no prompting whatsoever, Harry said he was thankful for Lucy and then Lucy said she was thankful for Harry. And you know what? It really doesn't get any better than that.


And here is something else to be thankful for. A cheese plate from one of New York City's finest restaurants, eaten in the comfort of my own home. In fact, I think I was in my pajamas when I finally got around to enjoying this little beauty. Talk about grateful.

There are so many things to be grateful for this year: Health, happiness, our extended family, friends, our home and of course a wonderful family of my own that I never in a million years imagined having. They overwhelm me every day, and yet they bring me more joy than I've ever known, to say nothing of all the laughter. Those are fair trade-offs to me.



Here's hoping your Thanksgiving (or Thanksgivakuh) was a great one and that you have plenty to be thankful for too. Wishing you a holiday season full of light and love.

The "Everything" Store

There was a time when Sunday mornings meant one thing: Thrift Store.

It's hard to even conceptualize a time in my life when I could wake up when I wanted to (!), start my day with a run and a leisurely cup of coffee, and have no one but myself to worry about. But once upon a time, that was true. I'd cruise out to 82nd avenue where a few of the best thrift stores in Portland, Oregon were, or if I was feeling especially adventurous, 162nd Avenue. Sundays, after all, meant everything was an extra 25 percent off, to say nothing of whichever color tag they discounted that day.

I love SO many things about thrifting. I love the challenge, I love the element of surprise--what will I find today? I love the aspect of nostalgia, of coming across little things that remind me of my childhood or people who have come and gone from my life.

Every once in a while I still get the itch to go "thrifting." It's complicated because it's not the kind of thing you can rush, and the only decent thrift store I've found relatively nearby is still a good twenty minutes away. Our weekend errands are not usually what I would call "leisurely" and they almost always entail dragging a kid (or four) along on. I brought Leo and Ellie to a thrift store a few years ago and it was a confirmed disaster--we spent way too much time looking at broken and in some cases altogether scary looking toys. Neither one of them would stay in the same place and they were touching everything.

But it dawned on me that at 5 1/2, it might be time to try again with Ellie (Leo would probably be fine now too but we've been trying to give them plenty of time apart on the weekends whenever possible as we've been deep into Def con Level Nine with the sibling rivalry lately, not sure why).

So last Sunday, Ellie and I set out to Goodwill in Springfield, New Jersey.

"What kind of a store is it?" Ellie asked me from the back of the mini van.

"Well, it's kind of...an everything store!" I replied, knowing the tone in which I delivered this information was key. "Imagine a store where you can find almost anything, and you never know what you're going to get. It's sort of like...a treasure hunt!"

Ellie's eyes grew wide. "Are there toys?"

"Yes," I answered weakly.

When we arrived at Goodwill I appeased Ellie by going straight to the toy section. Luckily she was unimpressed and agreeably moved onto the clothes. She immediately began scanning the racks for me, asking me what size I was. Bless her heart, she held up one hideous skirt after the next, asking me if this one or that one was "fashiony enough?" You have to give her credit for trying.

In the end, she was the best thrift store shopping buddy I could have asked for. She was patient and kind and complimentary, albeit perhaps a bit too enthusiastic (everything I held up to myself in the mirror she pronounced "Oh Mommy that's SO pretty on you!").

And I think there was something special about sharing this little pastime from, well, my past, with one of my children. At some level, I feel like when I shop at thrift stores (OK, stop snickering) I reconnect at some level with the "Old Me," the one who had lots of outside interests and plenty of time to actually indulge myself in them. In the end, I wound up buying something for literally everyone in the house but myself (I'm not complaining, sometimes that's just how it goes when "thrifting" and you just have to be very zen about it).

But I think you'll agree that Ellie garnered the best "score."

Because one picture of this gorgeous little beauty (the dress!) just won't suffice. With that second shot, I was trying to get a better view of the flower appliqué. Instead you get blurry Harry and some bonus homemade cardboard glasses/goggles.

I can't be sure of the date but I'm guessing from the look of it 1970s? I need to get a good look at the

label (Saks Fifth Avenue) and do some serious Googling.

Red is hands down my favorite color (especially on my little girls!) but it took me a while to figure out what I loved so much about this dress.


Of course! It's almost exactly like the dress worn in "Annie."

It made me extra happy that Ellie was so excited to actually wear this dress. I think she latched on to the fact that it's red and she knows that's my favorite. Lately, whenever we're in a store she'll point out the red items to me. But several times in the past I've bought things for her and brought them home, only to be met with a look of disappointment or disinterested shrug (I'm hoping that was a snippy four-year old phase--almost six years old is, dare I say...quite entertaining, she's morphing into quite a little considerate companion these days).

And this morning she practically skipped to school (the red cowboy boots were her idea) wondering aloud, "I wonder what Miss M. will think of my dress?"

Yesterday as we set off on a walk to the park she noticed a flyer on the ground by our driveway, it was a notice saying that a Goodwill truck would be in our area picking up donating items.

"Look, Mommy!" she said pointing to the Goodwill logo, "It's the everything store! When can we go back there?"

Folks, my parenting work is done.

What I Wish I Knew: The Mom Edition

My mom seeing me off to sleep away camp, circa 1983. My dad sent me this picture a few weeks ago and it was like an early Hanukkah present. I saw it and immediately burst into (happy) tears. I'd never seen it before, yet after staring at it for a few moments was able to piece together exactly when and where it was taken. Isn't memory a funny thing?

In many ways, as the years go by, it gets easier not having my mom here.

Of course I miss her. But the proverbial It is What it Is springs to mind. And thankfully, the grief is no where near as raw as it once was. With every year that passes, she gets farther and farther away. For this I feel equal parts heart broken and pragmatic.

In the old days (read: before I had children), I often pined for the things we used to do together. Now that I'm nearly forty years old, I'm not embarrassed to admit that my mother left a huge, gaping hole in my social life when she died (or at least, the social life in my mind, since we lived 3,000 apart). Of course I missed her, her very essence, but I also longed for our afternoon walks at Laurelhurst park; Saturday matinees at the art house theater, followed by chocolate chip cookies and lattes at Grand Central Baking. She was more than my mom. She was a confidante. She was almost always the first person I went to for counsel and advice (back then the "hard stuff" now seems blissfully benign: research papers, and roommate conflicts were my biggest concerns back in 1999.)

As delightful as a Saturday matinee sounds right about now, I have found myself missing something else about my mom lately.

Her wisdom. And her experience as a mom.

Of course, it's easy to romanticize it all. If she were here and I went to her with a question or seeking advice about one of the babies or the kids, surely we'd be in full agreement and she'd say just the right thing! Because we all know that adult daughter/mother relationships are never complicated or fraught in any way.

HA.

I just have so many questions. There were so many things I never asked her, because at 27 years old? Having children seemed a lifetime away, if not improbable all together.

My longing for her ebbs and flows. I can go weeks-months even, without thinking of her much at all. I mean of course I think of her, but they are mere flashes of memory. Or I'll see a movie or book and think, She would love this. And then other times, at little mundane moments, pulling sweatpants up on a chunky thigh, wiping a baby's little heart shaped mouth, reading a book that I loved as a child (Corduroy--which Ellie recently announced she "doesn't like anymore"), downloading a photo sent by Leo's teacher of him proudly holding an "A" spelling test--these are the moments I get a little stabby feeling in my throat. She's gone. She missed out. On all of this. And she's never coming back. And it's so unfair that it's almost unbelievable. Strike that. It is unbelievable.

Lately I think she's been on the forefront of my mind because Ellie and I have been...having some disagreements.



In addition to Ellie's kindergarten portrait, the Thanksgiving projects started rolling in last week. And it's official. This year, Ellie is "Thankful for herself."

God bless her, really. If you knew Ellie, you would understand that this statement truly does summarize her, at age five. She is a little force, that one.

She also rolls her eyes at me. Often. She grows impatient with my inability to get her chocolate snack biscuits RIGHT NOW (and, unintentionally, feeds on all of my guilt over the babies and feeling like I can't ever pay enough attention to anyone, that invariably someone needs something they're not getting...sigh). She commands me to "Stop talking!" when I explain to her why we can't do something right at that moment. (An example: Why can't we go to the birthday party now? Hmm...well, because it doesn't start for another six hours?) I know! I'm such a stickler!

She asks mind-numbing questions like "Why do I have to get dressed for school?" And when I calmly and quietly begin to explain why she roars "I know! I know! Don't tell me to do it!"

Part of me wants to strangle Ellie. And part of me wants to slam the door on her, hide in the bathroom and call my mom and ask her: Was I like this (secretly I am pretty sure of the answer)? OK I know I was no peach as a teenager, that I remember, but five years old and already with the attitude?

Of course, Ellie can also be incredibly sweet and kind and loving. She draws hearts with the word "Mom" in the middle and stuffs them in my pockets. She can never get enough about snuggles and can't understand why she can't sleep in our bed every night like she did when we were without power for ten days after Hurricane Sandy. Sometimes I catch her gazing across the kitchen table at "her babies" with more affection and love than I would have ever thought possible (though she did confess to me the other night in the midst of a particularly vocal tandem crying jag "It's hard having babies...but I love them." Well there's one thing she and I are in full agreement of).

Happy and surprised to see Mommy at a recent school pick-up.

Why does any of this matter? Why do I care what my mom would say? Who knows if she would have anything to say that would help. Hell, maybe I just want commiseration. Oh Mom. You wouldn't believe what Ellie did this time. She would probably get some amount of satisfaction knowing that what goes around comes around-moms of snarky little girls unite!

After Leo was born, I was pleasantly surprised by how whole I felt, once again, for the first time since my mother died. Somehow, becoming a mother myself made me feel complete, awash in a glow of purpose and strength, feelings I hadn't had in years. And with every baby, more fulfillment, though always tinged with disbelief: She isn't here to see them, to share this, to share them, with me. But it seemed that looking into their little blue eyes (yes, three out of four kids have blue eyes, just like my mom and unlike me) grounded me. Gave me purpose and forced me, to be brutally honest, to think of someone other than myself.

I walk solidly, mostly confidently with this band of little people, this family I have that surprises me almost every single day. Becoming a mother of so many has made me more decisive, less wish-washy, less prone to grief and regret than I was as a twenty-something in mourning. But all of this will never keep me from wondering, what could have been.

Scenes From a Tuesday: the Confidence and the Pride

So, remember how I was all "Lucy's so whiny."

Look at these giant babies in their big kid stroller waiting at the pediatrician's office yesterday! (Foreshadowing)

Yeah, she has an ear infection. Yes, another one. Sigh. Thanks big kids, for dragging every germ and booger in from the outside world. On the positive side, these babies are building up immune systems of steel, I suppose? Hope?

I have to say, this whole third and fourth kid thing? I don't want to get over confident here but it just feels nice not to worry about every little thing the way I did with #1 and to some extent, #2. Lucy had a cold. It lasted a long time. It didn't seem to be getting any better, in fact it was getting worse. Add in the whining and I finally called the doctor. With #1 I would have likely been at the pediatrician's on the second or third day of said cold.

Even yesterday, when the doctor briefly mentioned tubes (not that they were needed but that we'd have that conversation after a few more ear infections--Lucy's had three) I did nothing but shrug. By the way I thought it a bit ridiculous for the doctor to even mention tubes but I think she did it because she knew I had experience with them (Leo) and I did ask how many ear infections Lucy has had (seems like a lot for someone her age but I remember Ellie seemed to have more than a few early on, too) so maybe she thought that's where my questioning was headed. Oh and don't worry, I'm not too overconfident: I check to make sure they're all still breathing before I go to bed at least once a week.

***

We went to Ellie's favorite indoor playground yesterday (at the mall which depresses the hell out of me but hey, we finished at the doctor and there were still several hours before Leo got home and it was either that or go home and be annoyed by how messy the house felt and fight the War of the TV with Ellie). Sometimes just getting out of the house is half the battle and there we were, four of us out in the world and ready to make the most of a Tuesday.

While Ellie played, the babes and I took in the scene. No popcorn at the refreshment stand so Lucy opted for a cell phone baggy (it came with the big kid stroller) and Harry, an empty breast milk container.

I marveled at how times have changed in just a few short months. Before Christmas we came to this same playground and the babies either slept bundled in their cars seats within the Giant Ridiculous Stroller (Lucy) or nursed (Harry). Now, we're (sort of, almost) getting to the point where where we can go places and I don't need to nurse someone.

After fussing ensued I took both babies out of the stroller (which was a bit of a balancing act and took some thought and imagination, believe me). We took our spot on the carpet and watched the big kids zoom around. Ellie met a little girl named Maya ("that's my mom's name!" I heard her squeal at top volume from across the playground). And then immediately the two girls were at my side with Ellie making the introductions. And just like that, they were off again, playing "Alien." Or something.

I was proud of Ellie yesterday. Well, first I was happy for her. Often when we come to the playground, two things happen:

A) there is no one there but us (the trouble with the suburbs and a not very bustling suburbs I might add, coupled with the fact that we are hearty stock who often go to the park when others would not).

or

B) Ellie is too friendly and frightens all the other children away. Seriously. Ellie, bless her little heart, she tries so hard. Sometimes too hard. She wants to give hugs to people she just met.

But she played it relatively cool yesterday and she and Maya hit it right off and before I knew it they were doing "crazy slides" and concocting that good old game of "Alien" (which seemed to be a variation of "Tag" that also included a lot of pulling on clothes and a bit of wrestling).

But there was a third little girl who was a little younger than Ellie and Maya. I could tell she sort of wanted to play with the girls but wasn't sure how to. She would walk up to them and seem to start to say something and then stop. Maya had no patience for her and kept playing. Ellie would stop and wait a beat and when this younger girl did nothing she shrugged and went on with Maya. Then Third Wheel's Mom did something that I thought was a leetle odd: she approached Ellie and Maya and asked them to play with her daughter. Hmm. OK, not my style but to each her own.

But that's when the pride comes in. Ellie really did try to include this little girl. She would pause before running off with Maya, motion to her, encourage her to climb the slide with them or get in the boat. Mean Girls terrify me and it's one of the things about having daughters (daughters plural? OMG daughters!) that scares me. And believe me, four year olds can be mean. I've seen it already and well, let's nip that in the bud right quick, shall we?

In Full Swing

Well, school seems to be off to a good start.


Gratuitous photo having nothing to do with school but ohmygoodness look at my boys!


I haven't heard much from Leo's teacher (which, sigh, means I haven't heard much). But yesterday was the first day of assigned homework and Leo did it right off the bus, with no argument (which probably means today will be a fight since I am committing the mom's sin of saying something went well).

When I was working, homework was always hit or miss. The aftercare teachers would usually do it with him, but sometimes they'd forget, or Leo would refuse. And I always felt like #1 Working Mom when I got the end of the week report and there were several gaps in the homework section. So we'll see how it goes since I'm home for now. I'm making him do it right away, and THEN he gets to go outside and play his weird game of torment/reward the dog with a tennis ball (don't ask).

Yesterday was Ellie's first day of ballet/jazz. She's taking it at a local community center rather than at the "dance school" where she went in the spring. I love this center. You know what else I love? Instead of having to pass through the "dance boutique" that taunts little girls with pink tutus and sequined dance dresses (of which she has several, don't worry she is not deprived in this area), I was greeted with a gently worn ballet shoe bin. You toss in your "old," too small ballet shoes and take a "new pair." Love it.

This is the same center where Leo takes swimming and where Ellie will also take tumbling/gymnastics and swimming (which starts today). I'm not sure who had more fun at dance class, Ellie or the babies. Those babies were the bell of the bench outside the dance room. It was the nannies and me (which...hmm...this is a whole new world for me). There were a couple of moms too but it was heavily nanny. In typical form, Harry was fussing and then all out crying at one point. My new friend Anita the Nanny swooped in and took Harry into her arms (with my permission of course). He fell silent immediately and just stared at her with amazement. As did I.

The babies seemed to love all the attention (seriously, I guess it's been a while since they've seen baby twins around there because every few minutes another mom/nanny/community center employee would peek into the stroller and say "I heard there are some twins over here?") Lucy, her usual social self smiled and cooed and "chatted" with anyone who would make eye contact. Harry fussed and slurped his bottle and nursed in his usual sloppy way, spit up all over me and then was happy as can be, grinning and "talking" to his new found audience. Who needs Gymboree when you have the dance class waiting bench?

Ellie, meanwhile could not stop talking about the little stamps she got on her hand (two green stars) at the end of dance class. Excited really does not begin to cover it. For the rest of the day, Ellie would just say, apropos of nothing "I'm so excited I got to go to dance class today" and "I just love my stamps." There was much consternation at bath time about whether the beloved stamps would-gasp-get washed off.

This morning the first words out of her mouth were to Erin: "Mama! I get to go to swim class tomorrow!" That's when Erin informed her that she actually got to go swimming sooner than that, because tomorrow was now today. "I get to go TODAY?!" she squealed.

The unbridled enthusiasm (for the littlest things) of a four-year-old really does put it all into perspective.

Getting to Know You and Can You Feel the Love?

Tiny personalities are emerging.

Of course it's a little early to make sweeping generalizations but so far?

Harry:
Is definitely the more challenging baby (sorry buddy). He loves eating (he easily nurses three times as much as Lucy does), is a snuggle bug (adores laying on a warm chest or a good good shoulder or being carried around in the crook of your arm). Has a serious, almost "old soul" look about him. So far my favorite description has likened him to a Borscht belt comedian, circa 1950 (thank you for that, Renee). He's also a fan of creating lots and lots of laundry for his Mommy, though the spit-up situation has gotten much better. But when he's hungry? He has no shame and it's as if he's never eaten. He will gladly try to nurse your shoulder or your neck. Or Lucy's head.

Lucy:
If Lucy had an anthem it would be Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds." She is the original Chill Baby. If Lucy was your first baby? You'd say, what's the fuss? This baby thing is No Big Deal and you'd have a dozen more. She eats, she looks around the room, she makes adorable little faces with her big E.T. eyes, she forms a little "O" with her delicate little mouth, and then you put her in her bouncy chair and she falls back asleep. For hours. In her sleep she slowly and gracefully kicks one of her dainty little legs in the air as if in her dreams, she's riding a miniature, newborn bike.

Leo and Ellie continue to be model older siblings. The biggest issue so far is that they seem to LOVE THE BABIES TOO MUCH.

I know. I really need to be quiet, right?

Ellie:
Accepted that I can't spend three hours putting her to bed every night. She's embraced the new routine. She bolts to get me a diaper when she sees me rounding the corner to the changing table--"Mommy, do you need me to get a diaper?"
She loves to cover the babies with blankets and help rock the bouncy chairs (which she learned to do via Grandma Jerry--you do it with two fingers). Last night, when Erin went to lie down with Leo and Ellie waited patiently in her room for her turn at books with Mama, Ellie heard crying coming from our bedroom where I was alone with the babies, trying to organize a tandem nursing session. She opened the door and quietly asked, "Mommy are you doing OK with the babies? Are you having fun?"

Leo:
Has embraced the crying. He no longer leaves the room when the screeching duo chorus begins. He just looks at the babies with concern and reminds me "Babies crying! Babies eat, Mommy!" (By the way, did you know that Babies "eat boobs?") (Leo said it, not me.) He's also a big fan of kissing and hugging and loving on the babies, sometimes a little too much (again, I know, I need to be quiet since so far neither big kid has voiced one single frustration about the babies). The worst thing you can say about Leo and the babies? He feels compelled to kiss their hands and face, precisely where I ask him not to kiss.

Such problems.

Breathing is Not Optional. Neither is Dance.

Recently it’s become hard to breathe. Don’t be alarmed, apparently this is perfectly normal when you’re, you know, growing two humans.

28 weeks

I’m not sure if it’s how “they” are sitting or if it’s just a matter of squashed organs (mine). It’s just a tad demoralizing to be out of breath while sitting at a desk. Bending over to pick up anything (toys, keys, the odd Pillow Pet) has become highly unpleasant. And let’s just say I’ve become quite selective about what really needs to not be on the floor (ah, the slippery slope of lower standards).

Add to this the fact that suddenly I seem to drop everything (or maybe I’ve always been this clumsy and I’m just now noticing it?).

But you know what’s funny? I know myself well enough to know that someday, I am going to miss this.

In other, lighter news, no one is probably shocked to learn that the dance class Ellie started about a month ago is a big hit.

Saturday mornings, she sets a weekly world record in how-fast-can-a-little-girl-put-tights-on. That’s how excited she is.

It's a joy to see.

How Does a Personality This Big Fit In Such a Little Body?

1. My friend Amy sent me a wonderful mix which includes two Beatles songs. That, coupled with my recent download spree of a bunch of the Fab Four’s songs on iTunes has transformed Ellie into a confirmed Beatles devote. She’s announced they are her “favorite band.” One of their songs comes on rotation and she says "Guys, they're my favorite band, you know." No one is allowed to sing along to their songs but her. If there is anything cuter than a 3 ½ year old girl crooning along to “Love, Love Me Dooo” from the backseat of the car, I’m not sure what it is.

2. Ellie has become Miss Compliment. She likes your sweater. She likes your scarf. She likes your necklace. My favorite compliment was given in the bathroom at the grocery store (yes, Ellie loves to visit the bathroom at Shoprite-ugh). A few weeks ago she announced in a small but confident voice to the the Shoprite employee sporting the requisite crimson red Shoprite blazer “I like your jacket.” The woman didn’t hear her at first and Ellie just kept repeating herself (as Ellie is apt to do) until the woman finally realized what was happening. She just stared at Ellie, with an expression that seem to say You Have Got To Be Kidding Me. Believe me, I’m not complaining about this recent turn of events. I far prefer the compliments to the Corrections.

3. We had our first “solo” play date last week. Ellie’s friend R. invited her to play and since I happened to not be feeling well, R.’s mom even offered to do pick-up and drop-off (isn’t that every mom’s secret wish? A kid delivery service?) It was a roaring success. Ellie was there from 1 p.m. until dinner time. As darkness fell outside, it was strange not having Ellie home, knowing she wasn’t upstairs napping (those days are long gone). No, she was just a few miles away, having a little life of her own for a few hours. We had R. over to our place this past weekend. Hosting kids without moms (not to mention sending my kid to someone else’s house!) just seems so big kid. Sniff.

4. Speaking of big kid: The sass. The back talk. It’s BAD. I am chalking it up to three and half. That's what it is, right? RIGHT? Cause if not, I might just need to start researching kindergarten boarding schools. It’s hard to know how to handle it. And she is Queen of getting the last word in. Seriously she does not know when to stop.

5. Bed times have become maddening. Most nights she is in and out of her bed at least five times and often isn’t settled down and asleep until close to 10 p.m. This is not OK! I tell myself it’s a phase and it will pass. I start out the bedtime process patient and sweet but by the tenth “tuck-in” I find my blood pressure rising. Then I feel like a Giant Jerk when she calls for me that one last time:

Ellie: Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?

Me: YES? (snarling and exasperated)

Ellie: Um, I love you.

Then there was the time a few weeks ago that Ellie knocked on our bedroom door, long after the fourth or fifth "tuck-in" to wish us a “Happy Holidays.” Hilarious and yet … Go to bed!

Of course it’s not all hilarious and cute (believe me). Two nights in a row she’s chided me for kissing her. For kissing her. She even went so far as to request a wipe (you know, to wipe off the kisses). Meanie.

Humpty, The Corrections and a Monday List

Well here we are again. Another week down.

Things continue to be busy and exhausting, but good.

-Leo has moved on from “Hey Diddle Diddle” to “Humpty Dumpty.” When he says the latter, it comes out sounding something like Duddy Duddy. Ask me how long it took me to figure that one out. I had a realization the other day though. Leo continues to have the patience of a saint with me when I can’t understand him. And when I do finally “get it?” It’s like Christmas and a birthday and kittens and puppies all at once. It’s just the best feeling ever, for him and for me. It’s like every little accomplishment or milestone when it comes to Leo: they are celebrations and never taken for granted.

-Ellie had her winter concert last week. It was as adorable as expected and no surprise, required tissues (for me, not her). The little class of three year olds marched in all wearing matching Santa hats. Ellie wore her exquisite red velvet dress with the faux white fur color that looks straight out of “White Christmas,” courtesy of Grandma Jerry (seriously, I wish I could find one in my size). A few kids broke from the line to hug parents in the audience but Ellie remained stoic, opting instead, to exclaim “Miss Jamie! [her teacher] My mommy is here!”

-I’ve decided that living with a three year old is an exercise in constantly being told you are wrong. Because according to Ellie, it’s not tuna, it’s tuna fish. The stuffed animal I gave her after she asked for him at bedtime the other night, he’s a bear, not a lamb [she was right, I confess]. And don't forget to use an absolutely exasperated tone that sounds more like thirteen year old than three year old. Thankfully, Ellie still tells me that she is “tendering” to do something. I still vow to never correct her and tell her it’s “pretending.” And I might cry when she stops saying “tendering” because I find it so adorable.

-On a positive note, Ellie is suddenly Little Miss Compliment. She likes my hair (when worn down). She likes my scarf and my glasses and my new boots. She likes Erin’s headband and Miss Jamie’s sequined skirt. It makes me smile.

-Leo had a note in his backpack about a new program at school wherein “Finn” the dog (a Labrador) will visit various classes and the children will practice reading to him. I love this idea and can’t wait to hear how it turns out. I promise to report back.

-I am still in denial about all the holiday baking I have to do. This weekend is going to have to be IT. Where are my elves when I need them?

When All Else Fails: Hump Day List

Halloween is over and it’s apparently Christmas, did you know? At least according to Midtown Manhattan. The Radio City Christmas tree is up and and the pretzel/hot dog vendors have their little carts regaled in Santa hats and twinkling white lights. Life is passing by at an uncomfortable speed and I want to put the brakes on and enjoy, because no question, October to December is my absolute favorite time of year.

In other news, the only realistic blog I have in my right now is bullets, so here goes:

-Ellie continues with the nightly bedtime hilarity. It seems that every other night she plumb passes out with the help of her ballet shoes music box and a long backrub. But the nights that she doesn’t? She is often in and out of our room a half a dozen times with various comments and requests. Mostly, she just has to tell us again that she loves us, which, as I’ve said before, how can you argue with this?

-Monday night, however, she ventured beyond the second floor and scared the heck out of me when the little stealth Ninja silently, snuck up on me as I washed dishes at the kitchen sink. She said “Hi Mommy.” And when I gasped and jumped three feet, I thought she was going to burst into tears. She couldn’t figure out how she could have scared me.

-Thirty minutes after the sneaking-up-on-me incident, Ellie knocked on our bedroom door to give Erin her watch (which she had found in the bathroom). This was after she tried to stuff it under our door. It just cracks me up how she knocks on our door.

-Ellie now has homework. She’s three. I think it’s a little silly but oh well. Apparently many of the parents have requested it. It’s just little worksheets. She knows a lot of her letters and numbers but the actual writing of them is definitely new to her. But she’s very excited to settle down on Saturday mornings to do it and bonus: when she’s doing it Leo wants to do his, so that works out well.

-Leo has an amazing imagination. He sees “stairs” in the shape that he’s bitten pizza. The other night he declared the tortellini he was eating for dinner looked like a pirate hat (and you know what? He was right). And of course, he put the little tiny tortellini pirate hat on his head (not all of his imaginative observations are food related, I assure you, these are just recent ones).

-Leo says “bless you” when someone sneezes. He’s really quite a polite child. I love it. He’s also started saying “Here you go” when he gives you something.

-In shopping news, how cute is that whale sweater up there? I spotted this at Forever 21 (not a store I frequent, in fact I have never even been in one) which I ventured into on my way to work this morning. This sweater reminds me of 1983 and I love it. Unfortunately the extra small would be huge on Ellie but mental note to check back there again when Ellie is a little bigger.

Take Your Ellie To Work Day

Ellie came to work with me today.

She was very impressed by all the "high buildings" and loved seeing the swarms of taxi cabs (she's a fan of the "Taxi" song). But ultimately, I think if you asked her she would say the highlight was definitely the candy corn on my desk.

Look at that concentration. You could power a small city with that intensity.

She kept asking for "just one more" (she is the absolute queen of just one more).

At the end of the day she announced she was taking one corn home for Mama and one for Leo. The corns lasted about two blocks.

TGIF!

I Love Three. I Hate Three.

Oh, Ellie. Really, what is there to say?

Monday night my three year old almost made me cry. I was tired. I was hungry. She was more tired. Bed time was, well, a disaster.

She told me she didn’t like my skirt. She told me not to touch her. She didn’t want to wear her Pull-Up with the Princesses on it. She wanted to wear one of Leo’s old ones with the robot. Then she didn’t. She wanted books. She didn’t want books. She wanted one particular book that happened to be in the basement playroom which I was not going down two stories to get. Even I was not that desperate.

Oh and my new favorite? "If you don't get me my kitty cat nightgown [just an example, it could be any unrequited request] I'm not going to be your friend!"

Then she wanted Band-Aids. And more Band-Aids.

Last week she called me into her room thirty minutes after “Lights Out” to inform me that there was “a hair in her bed.”

Last night she was concerned she wouldn’t be able to go to sleep because she had the “hook-ups.” I did not have the heart to correct her and was relieved to finally have something to laugh about.

My mistake is, I try to reason with her. She’s three. There is no reason. I need to remember this. I try my best to remain calm when she ruffles me. I remind myself that she’s tired, hungry, fill-in-the-blank.

I think it’s the sass that is truly shocking to me. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was thirteen years old! The tone of voice. The looks. The little stink eye. Where did she learn this stuff? Ignoring doesn’t seem to be working. I think I need to bring out the bigger guns though I’m not sure what that means.

And then. Then I remember the absolutely mind blowingly adorable things she does and says. She is a big fan of completely non sequitur “Mommy, I love you” announcements (not that there ever has to be a reason to tell someone you love them, of course). Yesterday on the way to school she announced that this album and books “make me very, very happy.”

Lastly, she has taken to spontaneously hugging Leo (and him, her, though truthfully, I’m not sure who instigates it. My hunch is it’s probably Leo, but she tolerates the love, which is a new and heart warming development.)

And I know that even though it doesn’t seem like it sometimes, I know that someday, I will miss three.

Catch-Up

It’s been a while, so here goes:

-Can someone tell me where the whine button “off switch” on Ellie is located? Oh my goodness. I have had to dig deep for patience this week (having a cold hasn’t helped my mood or my fuse, I’ll admit it). This girl is emotional. Things need to happen right! Now! And things need to happen her! Way! Or else. All I can say is yikes. And also, sigh.

-Leo lost another tooth and this one is (um, was) in the front. And yet again, there is no tooth to be had. We think it happened when he was eating an apple and well, you know the rest.

-Suddenly, Leo answers almost every statement with “Where?” For example, if I say, Leo, it’s time to go to school. He’ll say: “Where?” I have no explanation for it though we’ve all had some good laughs over it. (And let me be clear, it’s not that he doesn’t hear me. He just asks “where” about everything. For now).

-Ellie makes the most adorable little speech gaffes and I usually don’t have the heart to correct her. She tells me she’s “tendering” (pretending). She reminds me “I care if my macaroni is cold” which seems to mean the opposite (that she actually doesn't care). The other day we saw a teenager breeze by us riding what Ellie announced was a “scootboard” (skateboard). I corrected her and then immediately regretted it. “Scootboard” is way cuter.

-I am astounded on a daily basis by her vocabulary. Yesterday as she watched with fascination as I attended to a little home improvement project. She asked me “Why does it have that screw?” How does she even know the word screw?

-I am currently obsessing over lunch boxes. Leo really needs a new one. Ellie does not but I fear the wrath of Leo got a new one and Ellie didn’t so I probably need to just bite the bullet and buy two. The irony is that Leo could care less about a new lunchbox and he’s the one that actually needs the new one. This is probably the one I’m going to get (in mariner blue/shark) but I’m not sure if Leo will be able to open it on his own. I’m also not sure how much this really matters. Ellie has requested a “Princess” one but I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear her and probably get her the pink one with the butterfly.

I also really like these and this one in particular (it works because along with "Where," Leo recently discovered robots):

And for Ellie:

My hesitation is keeping them clean. I like to be able to throw a lunch bag in the wash in case of the inevitable leaks, and you're not supposed to wash these. Hmm.

-Speaking of shopping, I just need to tell someone about these.

How cute would they be with some tights and a little dress? Maybe if I tell people about them I won’t want to actually buy them.

-I’m about to be home with the kids for ten days. Daycare is closed all of next week for "teacher prep" and Leo’s school starts the day after Labor Day. I’m excited. We have some play dates planned. Some day trips. Both kids have their annual physicals. It’s all mundane stuff but it’s things I miss when I’m working. Oh and I have grand farmer's market ideas and hope to cook some actual meals (rather than Trader Joe’s defrost jobs (notthatthere’sanythingwrongwiththat).

-I have all kinds of cleaning and organization projects in my mind that I’m positive I won’t accomplish but it’s fun to dream. It’s also fun to eat breakfast outside (which Leo asks to do almost every morning during the week) and stay in your pajamas until noon on a Tuesday and we might just do that too.

Thursday Listiness

1. After a long string of muggy days of 90+ temperatures, we finally have a reprieve. Summer came too fast and hard for me this year. I can handle this misery in August because I know that pumpkins and caramel apples and cinnamon candles are just around the corner. In June? The heat just makes me crabby.

Sure, Leo doesn't mind the heat. As long as he doesn't have to actually do anything except of course be, you know, cool.

2. Ellie continues to astound me with her little one-liners (more like six or seven or eight liners, really) and her marquee-worthy personality. I know this is not exactly newsworthy or interesting to probably more than a handful of people but, when your first child doesn’t speak for three years and your second child doesn’t stop speaking, well it’s just remarkable to me on a daily basis. Just as remarkable: Leo's uncanny ability to communicate everything with a limited vocabulary.

3. Case in point: Last week Ellie developed a terrible, three-pack-of-Marlboros a day sounding cough. I kept her home and took her to the pediatrician (the day after an all-nighter where she literally coughed all night, in our bed). I assure you that I brought her into said bed because there was absolutely nothing else to do (I am many things but I am not the Family Bed Mom).

4. Well, she was miserable in her crib and she was miserable in our bed. There was just no comfortable position or destination, it was one of those nights where you really question everything: parenting, the meaning of life, why you ever made any decision..you get the point. As a very wise person once said, "the days are long, but the years are short." But when you're a parent and your kid is sick, the nights, they are the longest.

5. And then she woke Leo up around 1 a.m. with all the hacking and crying and carrying on and then it was truly horrific. But bless little Leo who has become quite the compassionate little Florence Nightingale. At one point when my judgment was truly impaired (what do you want? It was 1:14 a.m.) and we were all in the bed together, Leo tried to pat Ellie on the back in an effort to appease the cough but she roared back at him like a little banshee and would have none of his sympathy. In the end, Ellie and I slept in Leo’s bed and Leo and Erin slept in our bed. Don’t ask. We all (sort of) made it through the night.

6. The next morning, the sun came up and poured through the kitchen window, the coffee was made and its comforting aroma permeated the house. The kids got dressed in crisp t-shirts and shorts and had their faces and hands washed. And all was OK again. Proof that everything truly does look better in the morning. Even when you don't sleep. Much.

7. Ellie has not let us forget the novelty that was the whole “go into your room” experience. The actual cough is long gone but she has developed an excellent fake cough which she dusts off around 8:30 every night when she starts asking to “come to your room. Because I have a cough Mommy.” Hack, hack.


8. There’s been a development in Leo’s language and I can’t say I’m bragging too much about this one. “Bad Dog” has been replaced by “Poopy Head.” Yes it’s true. And as annoying and irritating and ridiculous as it is, I admit I’m a teeny bit impressed. Why? Because really, have you spent time with any typical five year old boys lately? I hate to generalize but I think it’s fair to say that most of them pretty much love anything scatological. Calling someone “poopy head” is in my estimation, about as typical five year old behavior as you can find. If only there was a category for “gross out humor” on Leo’s report card. He’s practically advanced. Ah, my boy.

9. In more Leo news, summer school seems to be off to a good start. The extended year program is through the district and runs the month of July, from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. After that Leo takes spends his afternoons at the daycare/aftercare program where Ellie is (known as "Little School" in our house.) He has the same teacher and aides and I think it's essentially the same program during the school year, just abbreviated. One change is that because of the timing (the bus was coming to the house way too late for me to get to work in time), I've been taking Leo to school myself. It's a small change but I find myself enjoying it. It's more time together in the morning and less time for Leo on the bus. Also, I get to see the teacher and the aides every morning as well as some parents. As a working parent it's hard sometimes, I feel like my kid has this whole other life independent of me that I don't get to be a part of. Don't get me wrong, I like that, but to a point. I was worried about how he would do at drop-off. He used to cry and cling to me when I brought him to school but we've seen a huge shift this year. He still looks disappointed to see me go but he lets me leave without a fight. And so far, (knock on wood) no tears. He's really maturing.

10. Lastly, the new look for the blog. Love it? Hate it?

All Good Things

This morning, I feel like Ellie.

"I wanna go back to the hotel room!"

That was her refrain last night, all the way down I-95 and across the sparkling Tappan Zee Bridge, as we returned home from our annual weekend (one night, does that qualify as weekend?) sojourn to our beloved Mystic.

No one wanted the weekend to end.

Who would? Let’s see…lobster rolls at Abbot’s, exploring a local playground, swimming at the hotel pool for Erin and Leo while Ellie snoozed in the car followed by dinner with friends (fire roasted fresh clams and mussels washed down with chilled Rosé) topped off with a playdate with two of the most patient Jack Russell terriers I’ve ever met. Then it was back to the hotel room to sink into the multi-pillowed bed for a night cap of Mickey Mouse on-demand.

The next morning began with everyone’s favorite way to start the day: a breakfast buffet. Yes, that meant unlimited scrambled eggs for Leo and yes, his head almost exploded. Then it was more swimming at the hotel pool and on to the Mystic Aquarium, where Leo made a friend.


I know the second shot is blurry but I couldn’t help but include it. You see he’s getting tickled by the bird, who tiptoed behind his neck. Clearly, Leo adored the bird sanctuary, where you hold up a stick with bird seed and some kind of irresistible mush and the birds flock to you to snack. One of the aquarium volunteers spotted Leo and approached him with this trained bird who is exceptionally friendly and tame and well, I think the pictures say it all.

Another big hit was the beluga whale, who Ellie serenaded (sorry whale but you bring new meaning to the term captive audience) endlessly with her favorite song, “Baby Beluga” to. But the piece de resistance was the discovery of…wait for it…a pink baby beluga stuffed animal at the aquarium gift shop. I know! You can imagine the squeals of delight with that one. Ellie hasn’t put it down yet.

Late afternoon was spent at the Seaport. It was a cool but muggy, overcast day and we arrived so late that it was practically deserted, which was surprising and lovely. We rode on a steamboat and a horse drawn carriage tour of the grounds. Then the kids explored the excellent boat playground.

We made the mistake of arriving to the little children’s museum ten minutes before closing time. Leo was not happy to leave there and serious tears ensued, but we rallied.

All in all the kids were wonderful this weekend, really. I hate to sound so surprised but I am really starting to see a bit of a shift, with both of them. Leo still has his impulsive ways and likes to give me daily heart attacks (where's Leo? He was just here!) but all in all, they are just getting to be such kids now. They listen better, stay with us when we’re walking in public and also, they kind of get along with each other, seem to even be little friends who (much of the time though trust me, not all) seem to enjoy each other's company.

Perhaps the biggest development in the Becoming Kids Department: they are really playing together now. It’s more than just hayrides. They’ve moved on to these elaborate story games. Admittedly Ellie is the leader in the language department (“OK Leo now you go there and hide or the bear is going to get you”) but Leo most certainly contributes, and it’s fascinating to watch the two of them communicate, sometimes non-verbally but also in spoken word (have I mentioned that Ellie almost always understands what Leo is saying, even when Erin and I haven’t the faintest clue what he’s saying?). Hide and seek is big (the sliding glass doors on the closet in the hotel room where the awesomest, apparently, for hide and seek). The two of may have discovered Narnia in that closet and at the very least built a village out of extra pillows and laundry.

I wanna go back to the hotel room!

Well Excuse Me

Thank goodness for last night’s season finale of "Glee", which knocked me out of my cranky, brow beaten mood, a gloom that even a glass of Shiraz couldn’t resolve.

The cause of my temporary meloncholy? Bedtimes with Ellie have become knock down drag out exercises in delaying the inevitable. At nearly three she is very set in her ways (I know, so original) and has definite ideas of how things should be done. She’s never been a huge tantrumer but I can see she has the potential for real talent in this area if she decides to put her mind to it.

She has to step into her nightgown, not have it come over her head. She has to get her own Pull-Up from the pantry and that includes opening the door herself, don't even try to open that door. She has to attempt to put the toothpaste on the toothbrush even though every night she ends up handing it over to you and saying Can you help me Mommy? She has to read books before brushing teeth and don't ever dare suggest a different order to the proceedings.

Starting to get the idea?

Monday night we had a stand-off over the fact that she would not come upstairs for bath time when asked to do so repeatedly. The punishment: she missed the beloved bubble bath and believe me, she did not let me forget it. A "Rain Man" worthy monologue ensued for the rest of the bedtime routine. While Leo splashed away with Erin across the hall, Ellie quietly and repeatedly requested a bubble bath. "I want to take a bubble bath. But I wanted to take a bubble bath!" But I stood firm.

Last night’s fury was aroused when I had the audacity to retrieve the wipes from the second bathroom, rather than allowing Ellie to do so. Well I had some nerve, didn’t I?

I know all of this is exacerbated by the simple fact that she’s exhausted. But it’s so hard when I only see her for an average of four hours a day during the week and 1.5 of those hours are spent bargaining and haggling and deal making over something as simple as bedtime. And then I feel guilty for losing my patience with her when I only get four hours a day with her.

Did I mention that she also rarely naps at daycare? Hmm, the might explain why she’s been known to sleep half the day away on the weekend. In short, she’s whipped. Or is it wiped? Whatever.

But in lighter moments, she can say the sweetest things at the end of the night, after said bargaining and haggling and deal making is over and she’s ensconced, finally, in her little pink bed with the Scottie dog sheets and the pastel striped blanket.

“I really love you Mommy. You’re my best big girl.”

Some nights she asks me to blow her a kiss so she can catch it. Oh sure, some nights she also wails at me that she doesn’t want to catch a kiss. One night she actually screamed for me to come back to her room so she could return the kiss that I’d given her.

Don't let the innocent smile fool you.

But last night was different.

“I really, really…” Ellie began, then drifted off. I didn’t catch the last portion of what she’d said.

“What Sweetie? I can’t hear you,” I said, leaning over her, expecting to hear something about how she “really loved me” or how I was “really her favorite mommy.”

Oh no, that wasn’t it.

“I really, really…wanted to get the wipes,” she sniffed.

All I Have

Oh, hello!

It feels like it’s been forever, even though it hasn't. I think it's because I’ve been cheating on this little project with another decidedly not so little project. So yes, distracted is the word du jour. My mind has been charging through in overdrive. There have been loads of delicious little anxious moments and middle of the night wake-ups that involve a bounty of tossing and turning and ceiling staring. Questions range from Can I Do This? to Who the Hell Do I Think I Am? (perhaps my personal fave) to I Have No Choice. OK so the last one is not a question, that much I do know.

So. Not to be vague, but I kind of have to be for now. I am that superstitious.

In other news, Bullets. What can I say? It’s all I have. Right now.

-Summer seems to be in full swing. Oh well. Spring, it was nice knowing you for all of, what, 4.2 days? Here in New York City we’re in full-on jungle fever. It could seriously be Vietnam out there (although admittedly I’ve never actually been to Vietnam but hey, I have the ability to imagine torturous humidity when I am indeed experiencing it). Thank goodness my hair seems to have recovered from the big Haircut Mistake of March 2010. I can finally put it back into a pony tail or (yippee!) pigtails! And I know what you’re thinking and no, I am NOT too old for pigtails.

-Last weekend I took Ellie to her first official birthday party where only she was invited—it was for a little classmate of hers at school. Held at a nearby park, there was pin the tail on the blow up donkey (which Ellie insisted was a unicorn because of the pointy hat), and a giant kind of scary inflatable ball that the little kids could climb into (I know) and I was positive someone was going to be suffocated at some point during the party. I jumped at my chance to get my hot dog on (yes I’m one of those vegetarians who deigns to eat hot dogs—real hot dogs made from turkey lips and cow nose and all that).

-In short, the party was general, fun preschool mayhem (as they should be at this age). And it was also at this party that I discovered Ellie is afraid of clowns. Like, really, really terrified, run-screaming-from-said-clown-with-tears-and-a-bright-red pink-face, afraid. This clown was painting faces which I thought Ellie would adore but alas, the clown was too much to get past. Ellie did warm to him later in the party when he made balloon animals and um, other things (Ellie took home a pink balloon “flower.”)

-I also had a pretty big realization at the party: little boys can be really annoying, even when they have 46 chromosomes. I know, newsflash, right? Those balloon animals I just mentioned? The little boys at the party (ranging from nearly three to five or six) took great delight in popping those balloons, literally right after that poor clown made them. And I even thought to myself when I heard that balloon animals were on the agenda, Well it’s a good thing Leo isn’t here because he wouldn’t be able to handle those.

-Oh that clown. He was either heavily medicated or had the patience of a saint or had plans to go home after the party and drink and entire bottle of wine. I'm betting on option #3.

-Party realization, continued: You know those annoying little 46ers I just mentioned? The balloon poppers? They reminded me of how I can be really hard on Leo. I try not to let it show, but I know it does sometimes and I need to really watch it. He might not notice it now, but there will come a day when he will.

-And I tend to jump to the conclusion (as I’ve written here before) that all of Leo’s infuriating, exasperating behavior is because of the Old Faithful Down syndrome, you know, Down syndrome, the reason for all that sucketh.

-Because you know, if Leo didn’t have Down syndrome, he wouldn’t feel the need to stomp in the ginormous mud puddle that he created in what used to be my beloved flower bed (it was nice knowing you, butterfly bush). If he didn’t have Down syndrome he wouldn’t refuse to get into his car seat at the end of the day and instead climb into the passenger seat or scurry to the back of the minivan and dance around and shake his behind (true story—I’m still trying to figure out who taught him/showed him how to shake his booty).

-Right. It’s all Down syndrome’s fault. Because little boys (or little girls for that matter, I need to do a whole other post on the Bargaining and Deal Making and Discussion that exists when you live with an almost three year old girl) couldn’t just be maddening and annoying Why-is-Mommy-banging-her-head-against-the-wall? inducing little creatures, all on their own, without the help of some silly little syndrome.

Today in Tooth History

Ellie had her first dentist appointment today.

Look at that focus and concentration (not to mention those cheeks!). The hygienist gave Ellie an instrument to "hold" so Ellie could "help" her. Brilliant.

We’ve been talking about it for several weeks. She’s a big fan of the doctor (don’t ask me why) so a doctor for her teeth was apparently even more intriguing. The whole ride there, every time I stopped at a light Ellie would ask, is this the dentist? Is this the dentist Mommy?

The Dentist Barbie Ellie got to hold, along with the Princess toothbrush they sent her home with didn’t hurt the cause.

She did great. Nothing against Leo, but it is just so incredible to take a child to the doctor who is not terrified or uncooperative. She slid into the giant dentist chair like it was a daily event. She held her mouth open willingly and happily.

It was no surprise when both the hygienist and the dentist noted Ellie’s, um, pacifier “influenced” mouth. I quickly told them she only uses “Bobby” to sleep. It’s fine, the dentist said, but it would be good to quit by the time she’s four (so as not to risk damaging her jaw and permanent teeth but let’s face it, my whole family needed braces—the kids are both doomed, paci or not). Maybe I should be more proactive about this but honestly, she adores those stupid Bobbys and they are firmly only allowed in bed/for sleeping. They bring her such comfort and pleasure. My feeling is, if it's not hurting her or anyone else, what's the point in freaking out? Life is too short, you know?

In other news, I just got word from Leo’s teacher that Leo lost another tooth this morning (really folks, does it get more exciting than this?).

You have to love a teacher that emails you this kind of information: “It happened during physical therapy. The nurse had him put it in a small treasure chest that she gives the students for that purpose. I taped it into his communication book so it wouldn't get lost. He has been telling everyone all about it!”

So this brings Leo’s lost tooth total to three consecutive missing bottom teeth. I'm just going to have to start calling him Gummy. He lost his first tooth last July or August and it’s just now coming in. And to say that it's coming in is pretty generous. It's barely visible.

That’s it. For dinner: Caramel apples!

And if you'll excuse me, I have a Tooth Fairy to notify.

"Mommy, Are You Happy?"

Ellie has a new favorite question.

“Mommy, are you happy?”

She mostly says this when (I can only assume) she senses I’m losing patience (this is an especially common inquiry during the bedtime routine, after the tenth request for water and the fourteenth request for a fallen “bobby” (pacifier) or for “cream for her bottom” or another bandaid for another invisible boo-boo.

And I want to scream, No! I’m exhausted! And hormonal! And hungry! And most of all tired! It’s so, so scary. That she knows me that well and can tell. She’s not even three yet. I can’t get over how sensitive and intuitive she can be at such a young age. Frankly, it terrifies me. If this is three, what will thirteen look like?

And of course I feel guilty. Like, is it that obvious that I’m frustrated? I mean, I think I keep it together pretty well and I actually pride myself on being quite patient (most of the time). Most of the time (there it is again), I master the art of Keep The Voice Calm And Monotone and Don’t Yell Unless Someone Is In Real Danger.

Yesterday morning on the drive to school, Ellie and I were jamming out to the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse soundtrack (don’t ask). It was a glorious spring morning with ample sunshine, just a touch of chill to the air, and the promise that it would reach the precisely right temperature without ever getting uncomfortably warm (that’s coming this weekend, apparently).

Ellie was kicking her legs to the music and nibbling happily on a strawberry fruit bar (her fave), one chubby hand wrapped around her apple juice cup.

It never ceases to amaze and delight me how little it takes to make children happy sometimes, how they delight in the simplest little pleasures.

“Mommy I like this song!” she announced.

“I like this song too Ellie,” I said. “It makes me happy.”

“Oh,” said Ellie, flashing me a huge grin. “And it makes me happy too. Mommy are you happy?”

This is when I got a little teary. I blame the children. It’s uncanny and I admit, often ridiculous. I’ve always been a little prone to the waterworks but since having babies, I know that the amount of crying (OK, tearing up) at the littlest, most mundane things, borders on the absurd. I tear at Leo “reading” a picture book. I tear when Ellie twirls around like a drunken sailor in her little pink cordoroy skirt, announcing “I’m a ballerina!” I tear at those fleeting moments when Leo and Ellie are sitting, hip to hip in the giant Costco cart, giggling and shrieking with delight at some hilarious exchange said in their secret language.

And I tear at the sight of my happy little girl, kicking the seat in the car, eating a fruit bar and listening to Mickey Mouse.

Don’t let the tears fool you. I am happy.

Unplanned Hiatus, A Return Thanks to Chemistry and Also: the “S” Word. Again.

What have we been up to? I’m so glad you asked.

You may have heard that it snowed (how many times am I going to say that this winter?) While nothing compared to the inundation that the DC-area has seen, last week was pretty impressive.

There have been snow men.

And of course, snow elephants.

And the Loch Ness Snow Monster made his home on our snow covered patio furniture.

There were a lot of Hayrides.

I came down with a wacky, miserable illness that I feared was going to land me on “Mystery Diagnosis” or “House.” Thankfully some good old pharmaceuticals stepped in and seem to be doing their job.

Leo continues his love for "Curious George: The Movie." I’d like to take this opportunity to publicly thank the compassionate librarian who took pity on me and let me re-check out the Curious George DVD (apparently that’s strictly forbidden). I had to pry that DVD out of Leo’s little hand when I went to renew it (and then discovered you’re not supposed to renew DVDs).

Leo discovered Peter Pan (the Disney version). Pirates. That’s all he needs.

I’ve started going to the library every Saturday and bringing home a heaping grocery bag of picture books for the kids. I know, I’m a little late to this. I think I got turned off on the library because I made the mistake of taking the children there to pick out books and they just aren’t ready for that yet—too overwhelming. Or maybe I need to up my medication to be able to handle taking them there. Kidding.

Ellie’s attention span for books has exploded in the last couple of weeks.

She wants to read the same book again and again and again. On repeat right now? The Max and Ruby books. They are adorable, I’ll admit. A way more palatable book-TV tie-in then that Dora girl.

What else? Let’s see.

Ellie got a haircut.

We plan on keeping it short for as long as she’ll tolerate it. I always thought long hair for a little girl would be a given, but Ellie’s not crazy about barrettes or pigtails, so for now, bob it is. She’s a little bit Coco Chanel, a little bit Ramona Quimby. It really suits her personality too.

Leo...

did not get a haircut.

To be fair, we have tried everything. Promises of ice cream cones while cutting hair, ice cream cones while watching "Dora" and getting a haircut, trips to the toy store after hair cutting. Nothing. I joke about it, but it really is troubling. I want him to look well-kept. Also, I hate that it is so upsetting and distressing to him to even consider a haircut. I cannot overemphasize how terrified he gets. I'm not sure how long we can go on my secret late night haircuts. I emailed Leo's teacher today to see if we can talk about some strategies. I guess it's sensory. Maybe his O.T. can help? Is there behavioral therapy for hair cuts?

Oy. Back to lighter topics.

The snow doesn't close our playground.


Ellie and I took a walk on Sunday afternoon.

She walked about two blocks before she announced “Uppy.” We went home to get the stroller, but the walking was fun while it lasted. When she’s not exhausted she can be a great little listener. It just never ceases to amaze me how she attends and follows me and stays close to me.

Ellie’s school (and Leo’s aftercare program) moved to a new location, about four minutes down the road. It’s a much nicer location and they’ll have a huge playground and garden once it warms up, but logistically, I’m not thrilled. It means I pick them up ten minutes later than I used to, and they’ve tightened the rules about lateness, apparently they’re going to start charging when they didn’t used to. I’m at the mercy of my bus (the 5:20) and the New Jersey Turnpike. Not a great combination.

I was worried when I learned the new bus Leo would be taking to the aftercare program would have him riding for almost an hour after school (OK, confession, I had a near freak-out). But then Erin calmed me down as she always does and made me look at it from another angle. We talked about whether it was so terrible for Leo to have a little time to decompress? He’s go-go-go all day at school. Hell, maybe he’ll even nap on the bus (the horrors!). A moving vehicle is the only way I can ever get him to sleep during the day.

So, yes. The one hour bus ride. At first it was feared, but now I think it's almost (almost) serendipitous. It's all about perspective.

I wonder, if he falls asleep on the bus, could they cut his hair?