Be Brave

In the wake of September 11, I had to find new reserves of courage.  Many family members and my soon to be husband worked in buildings that were on lists of potential targets for terrorist attacks.  I taught in a school that literally was in the shadow of the George Washington Bridge, another possible target.  Even worse, my intended had just sold a project that required him flying to Ohio for a few days every week.  This was hard to reconcile with the images of the hijacked planes drilling through the towers.  Yet, I had to somehow find the courage within me to send John off every week with a kiss and an "I love you.  Have a nice uneventful flight."

In the wake of the shootings last Friday, I need to find new reserves of courage again. 

I have to find the courage to send my children off to school.

Monday morning was tough.  I pulled up to the front of the drop off lane.  The aide opened the car door.  Alice unfastended her seatbeat and stepped out.  Her "Bye Mom" and my usual, "Have a great day.  I love you" filled the air.  The car door shut- the unsaid signal for me to drive away so another car could take my place.  I drove away and burst into tears the second I turned out of the school's driveway.  My heart litterally ached for all the parents who lost their children on Friday not long after doing what I just did.

And then on Tuesday night, Alice said something that reinforced why I needed to be brave.

Tuesday was one of those hustle and bustle days filled with school, play, homework, and a party.  The Girl Scouts in our town threw a holiday party for all the Daisy troops.  The girls were told to come wearing their holiday finery.  There were mulitple stations with different crafts.  There were tons of delicious looking snacks.  There was music and singing.  I dropped Alice off and did some errands until the party was over.  As we walked to the car, Alice buzzed with excitment and joy.  "Mommy," she said, "I had the BEST DAY EVER !"  I smiled and listened to her extol about the wonders of her day- the practicing for her school's holiday sing, playing with her friends after school, the party she just attended...the list went on. 

I listened, all the while smiling at her joy.  Later that night, after bedtime kisses, I realized that this is why I had to find courage to let her go out into the, oftentimes, scary world.  Yes, like many of us, I did contemplate finding an isolated corner of the world and hiding out after Friday's news.  I saw on Facebook several people considering homeschooling.  However, when you think about it, the "BEST DAYS EVER" do not happen in isolation.  They happen in places like malls, movie theaters, high schools, colleges, and elementary schools.  They happen because we are out in the world with our friends and loved ones.  Although I had made an unspoken promise to protect my children when they were first placed in my arms, I also vowed to give them the opportunity to have as many "BEST DAYS EVER" as possible. 

I know this is not going to be easy; but, if I have learned anything from my parenting experiences so far, nothing about being a parent is easy.  I just have to follow the immortal advice: "Keep Calm and Carry On" and add another piece to it: "Be Brave." 

  

Communion- It Does the Body Good

Since Alice started CCD this year, John and I have become much more consistent about going to church.  It is nice to be back.  I am not a born again or anything like that; but, it is nice to carve out some time out for quiet contemplation weekly.  Still, despite these generally positive feelings about church, I still find going to be a little stressful. 

Angela is a crapshoot. 

Unfortunately, my strong belief in God does not mirror my faith in weekly mass being uneventful.    This uncertainty began three years ago during Easter mass.  During the profession of faith,  Alice pledged her alligence to Satan.  Just a few weeks ago, Angela split my lip during the kiss of peace.  I bent down to give her a kiss on the top of her head and she jumped up at the same time.  My lower teeth rammed into my top lip and split it open.  There is nothing like dashing through a church with blood shooting from your mouth. 

Regardless, ever the optimist, I go to mass each week wondering if this will be the beginning of uneventful mass attendence.  We did not make it through this week without an incident.  Thankfully, this one was more humorous than bloody. 

Little Ms. Chatterbox (Angela) noticed all the people in front of us lining up for communion.

"Mama, where are those people going?"  she asked.

"They are going up for communion," I answered.

"I go?"

"You walk up with me like you have done before, but you cannot receive communion until you are older," I informed her.

She looked thoughtful for a moment while she watched the people returning to their seats.  "Mommy, communion made all those people big and strong."

I chuckled and told her that it might have sprititually but not bodily.

I Think I Learned the Universe's Lessons

I find it funny that despite being out of the classroom for six years I still associate certain times of the year with the writers I covered.  Late Fall and early winter was always when I would teach the Transcendentalists to my sophomores.  The backdrop of colorful leaves and brisk winds seemed fitting for discussing Nature and its power over the Soul.  Additionally, nothing screams the need to simplify life as much as the hustle and bustle of  holiday preparations.

The last few months of 2012 have caused me to think more and more about these two men and their messages.

In October I had my gall bladder removed.  Thankfully recovery was smooth and uneventful.  However, the pain, the fear of not getting a diagnosis immediately (did I mention the agonizing pain?), made me realize how much I take my body for granted at times.  I expect it to do what I want it to do when I want it done.  Losing that for a short time made me realize how fragile we all are.  Each step we take without pain is a blessing.  A surprising realization from this time was learning how much folks really do like me.  I was stunned by all the phone calls and visits from people stepping up to lend a hand be it making dinner for the family, doing laundry, or picking the kids up from school.  I felt so humbled by this outpouring of love.

Hurricane Sandy hit.  Nothing like a Mother to knock some good sense into a person.  When power returned and I could see the true extent of the devastation of many communities, the message of what is truly important resonated throughout my being.  I am so proud of the way communities have banded together to help out their neighbors.  I have no doubt that the shore will come back and be better.  Perhaps, the better will be in large part from this stronger sense of community and a new understanding between the distinction between needs and wants. 

Finally, the horror that unfolded in a small Connecticut town.  I cannot watch the news without crying.  Earlier in the day, I was at the local public library looking for some good early reader books for Alice.  While I browsed the titles, I became friends with a little two year old girl.  For some reason she decided I was worthy of her friendship.  I think it was because I was sitting on the floor at her level and I smiled when she walked by.  Much to her mother's mortification, Ella kept bringing me toys so I could have something to play with too.  Ella left and a  little boy around four began to orbit me.  He saw I had a Sid the Science Kid book in my pile.  He very sweetly asked for my help in finding some other ones for him.  Ever the teacher, I got him the books and we talked about a few other titles he might like. 

How could someone hurt a child? 

This is the stage when they look at you without judgement.  If you smile at them, they see you as a friend.  If you have a few kind words to share, they love you.  If you help them find a book, they view you as a hero.

How could someone destroy this?

I realize, too, that the intensity of my reaction stems largely from the fact my girls are in the age bracket of many of the victims.  My heart aches for those affected families.  Since yesterday  I have called on God many times to give those poor people strength.  They are living a parent's worst nightmare.  I cannot imagine life without the girls.  John and I joke around that we look forward to college because the house will finally be quiet and clean; but after watching the news yesterday, I sat in the house relishing the mess and the volume.  I hugged and kissed the girls more than usual.  Therein is the most powerful lesson of all...my family is my life.  Perhaps this gets lost in periodic sleep deprivation, tantrum cycles, whining, reprimands and the like, but the girls (and John, of course) are different chambers of my heart.  I cannot imagine life without the unit working together.  Obviously, we as a nation, need to figure out what we can do to make sure these outbreaks of violence stop.  As we figure out the path to take, let us not forget to hug those we love a little tighter.  Make sure to kiss a little more.  Say "I love you" more frequently. 

Thoreau and Emerson were right about so much...as was Robert Fulghum:

"And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out in the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together."




   

Magic Word

Angela is on a half day schedule with preschool.  The result- I have one of my partners in crime around for the afternoon.  I actually like having her home with me for part of the day.  For the most part, she is pretty chill.  Angela really enjoys her solo downtime.  She has the television, the toys, and me all to herself.  Sometimes I almost forget that she is home.  I think most of my mom friends would agree that the joy of the youngest child is their self sufficiency.  This is hyper developed due to the never ending quest of keeping up with their older sibling (s).  I also find that Angela's play is much more imaginative than Alice's was at this age.  Again, this is due to the example of her older sister, whose flights of fancy not only require a passport but a visa too. 

All of this reinforced itself Wednesday afternoon.  I was in the kitchen putting various ingredients into the slow cooker for dinner.  Angela came into the kitchen with a handful of toys.  She had a toy pet carrier complete with a stuffed bunny inside, a pirate ship, a resin figurine of Max (the dog from The Little Mermaid) and Tiana ( from The Princess and the Frog).  From what I could gather, the bunny was locked in a cave containing treasure.  In a blend of altruism and greed, Max and Tiana were trying to rescue their friend and get the treasure.  Unfortunately, a magic spell was placed on the cave and the daring duo could not penetrate it.  I suggested that perhaps the friends use a magic word themselves to break the spell and open the cave.

Angela agreed with my suggestion.  She arranged Max and Tiana at the mouth of the cave and had the two utter the most powerful magic word that she knows-  "Please!"

It is nice to know that all my demands for politeness are sinking in.

Let's Keep This Treasure Buried

Having both girls in school, at least for the morning, has spoiled me a bit.  I can shop alone (gasp).  I can browse, contemplate, and compare to my heart's content.  Shopping does not need to be a blitzkrieg anymore.

The other key reasons why I enjoy solo shopping is the lack of embarrassment.  I keenly remembered this reason last Friday while standing on line with Angela at Kohl's.  We had reached the front of the line and we were waiting for the next available cashier.  I glanced down at Angela who had become unexpectedly quiet.  She was happily picking her nose.

I gently pushed her hand away from her nose and reminded her that, "We don't pick, honey."

Angela looked up at me. "But, Mommy," she implored as she showed me her finger.  "I found treasure."

Brevity

I finally relented and let Alice join the mini company at her dance studio.  I do not have anything against dancing.  She has been doing it for three years now.  I was initially reticent because I wanted her to experience other activities too.  Now that she is in school full time, and has homework, her free time is very limited.  Four hours of dance a week seemed a bit much.

Until her ballet teacher talked to me and explained (rather passionately) that Alice really belonged with the company dancers.  Hearing this from her (and not the owners who would gain financially from Alice's program switch) caused me to amend my initial stance.  I filled in the paperwork and registered Alice for her new dance program. 

Later that evening, I read over the policies and code of conduct paperwork.  I saw that Alice had a new dance uniform.  Good-bye leotard and tights combo.  Hello dancer shorts with sports bar.  I have to admit I cringed a little when I read the clothing (or lack thereof) requirements.  Now, the logical and cultured side of me understands the need for such brevity of attire.  How else can a teacher or competition judge assess form and position?  I do understand the aesthetics of the thing.  But, then there is the mom side of me.  That part is internally screaming, "UGH....SHE IS NAKED....I CAN SEE A BIT OF HER BUTT CHEEKS...UGH!!!!!"

Nevertheless, being the rules oriented person I am, I went to a local dancer supplies store and got the required uniform.  Since this store caters to child and adult dancers, I asked the saleswoman for a bit of help finding Alice's top.  She combed the racks and pulled out a very minuscule gold lame top.  I am not really sure why she thought I would go for this one.  I do not think that the Uggs, cargo pants and Pugs and Roses t-shirt I was wearing gave off the vibe that this is a woman who purchases gold lame things.

"Do you have anything less tacky?"  I asked.

Thankfully they did (and the saleswoman laughed at my question).  I walked out of the store with the requisite tiny pieces of cloth.  At least I can take solace in the fact Alice is flat as a board.  There are no charms to display- for now.

Intervention Time

Last Friday morning started off like most weekday mornings.  I dropped the kids off at their respective schools (on time, whew!).  I decided to hit the gym.  Power yoga was on my mind.  My travel mug of tea was the perfect temperature for red light sipping.  The sun was shining.  I was singing along with songs from the currently playing CD.  And, then, the horrible realization- I was singing along with one of the Yo Gabba Gabba albums.  Did I mention that the girls had been out of the car for about 15 minutes by this point?

I quickly switched to the heaviest metal station Sirrius has to offer, but it was too late.  The damage was done.  I began to think about all the ways "kid" stuff has infiltrated my "adult" life.  I was surprised by the sheer number of items that erupted in my mind as I created this mental list:

I am ecstatic when I see a birthday invitation from Bounce U.  This joy does not come from the fact my kids love the place.  Rather, it is due to the fact that they allow adults into the bounce houses.

I have been known to go into the playroom to shut the television off only to become mesmerized by an episode of the Disney show "Good Luck Charlie".

I encourage my children to do crafts because I enjoy them.  Paint?  Glitter?  Decoupage?  Bring it on!

I relish tea parties.  I will even break out my semi good teapots and cups for a tea party every so often.  I will also make little dainty snacks for them.

I have been known for building forts out of cushions and old tablecloths.  When John complains about the dishevelment of the house, I blame the children.

I love cartoons.  In addition to my comprehensive knowledge of the literature cannon, I know all the episodes and songs to the Backyardigans' various seasons.  I know the motifs which play in each Phineas and Ferb episode.  I could probably build an argument for the sexual frustration of the Yo Gabba Gabba creator.  Admit it, you too have thought that the red monster looks like a giant dildo/penis.

Bubbles fill me with glee.  I enjoy blowing them, popping them and watch them float.

Rocket balloons rock.  Alice and I will often shoot some off in the backyard.

Although I have not reached the mastery of husband, I do enjoy Play-Doh and creating fun things from it.

I have been known to break out crayons and coloring book during a long phone conversation.  In this vein, a new box of crayons makes me giddy...the smell, the pointy goodness....yikes, I sound like a drug addict.

I still see a pile of potential from a mountain of blocks.

There is nothing so wonderful as a long empty smooth driveway and a bucket of sidewalk chalk.

I have a hard time saying no to butterfly hunting expeditions.

I too love finding a little hidey hole and looking at books or magazines.

I do not immediately bring cardboard boxes to the recycling center.

There's more...lots more, but I think you get the idea.  In a way, it is comforting.  It is nice to know that you are never too old to continue to have a happy childhood.

Middle Names

Angela is very curious about every one's name; and, I mean every one.  Thank goodness I do not have a social anxiety disorder because a simple trip to the grocery store would require a heavy dosing of medication.  Sometimes, when she is in a particularly silly and playful mood, Angela will ask the family members what their names are.  She realizes it is a game and giggles as she asks, "What your name?" for the millionth time.  I guess one day I was feeling particularly silly and playful.  I decided to stump her by introducing the concept of middle names.

We were in the car.  I heard giggles from the backseat before a little voice piped up, "Mama, what your name?"

"Angela, you know my name," I teasingly reminded her.  "Do you know your name?"

"An ga ga," came the quick response.

"Do you know your middle name?" I countered.

Silence.

"Your full name is Angela Margaret Barile.  You were named after your great grandmothers and so was Alice.  Do you know what Alice's middle name is?"

Without missing a beat, my little peanut answered, "In Wonderland."

Although it has a nice ring to it, I had to regretfully inform her that "In Reality" it is Louise.

A Shitty Post

There are many times when I think God is laughing at me.  There are times, however, when he does show some pity for me.  This mix of amusement and compassion was definitely present on Thursday afternoon while I was in the women's restroom at Kohl's.  As you read, the humor will be very apparent.  God's mercy evidenced itself in the fact that no other women were present to hear it.

It is wonderful having two children who are potty trained.  Still, I find I spend a great deal of time while running errands in the bathroom.  While looking in the toy section of the store, both Alice and Angela announced they needed to use the bathroom urgently.

Since Angela is still relatively new to the whole bathroom situation, I went into the stall with her and let Alice do her thing in the stall next to us.  While I waited for Angela, I heard very loud grunting next door.  It looked like yet another time to teach yet another topic that I never thought I would need to teach- bathroom etiquette.

"Alice, keep the grunting to yourself," I admonished.

"But, Mommy," Alice replied, "It's stuck."

I was tempted to tell her to "use manners" a la Beavis and Butthead, but I did manage to restrain myself.  I just sighed deeply in response.  Finally, I heard a plop from Angela.  Next, a plop emanated from Alice's stall.  "Thank goodness," I thought to myself as I helped Angela wipe and flush.

"Hey, Mommy.  It looks like a dog."

"Oh, Lord, help me."

Yet More Reasons My Hair Is Turning Gray- Besides Genetics

"Too smart for her own good." 

I used to wonder how an overabundance of intelligence could ever be considered a bad thing.  In an age when stupidity seems to reign supreme, one would think some smarts would be a major plus.

And then I gave birth to Angela.

I am oftentimes amazed at Angela's astuteness.  Take for instance, a mere half an hour ago.  I was putting clean sheets on Alice's bed.  Angela was upstairs in her own room.  I kept hearing her door open and shut.  Nothing drives me more batty than kids playing with doors.  All I could picture was Angela's finger caught in the door jam.  Damn, when did I turn into my mother?!  Anyway, I let the first openings and closings go before issuing the warning.  No sooner did the words leave my mouth then I heard another round of open and shut. 

"Angela,"  I hollered.  "Quit it with the door!" 

Before I drew my next breath, Angela was behind me trying to look innocent.

"Mommy, I didn't do it."

"Oh, really?"  I said sarcastically.  "Then who did it?"  Her sister was downstairs dancing to a Yo Gabba Gabba CD.  Checkmate...get out of this one kiddo.

"My hand."

Lord, help me.  I think this kid is going to be a politician.

Fashion Critic

Needed background: Angela loves the Fancy Nancy books/character.  Lately, she continually asks, "Do I look fancy?" multiple times a day. 

This morning John came down the stairs to head off to work.  I thought he looked rather handsome in his executive attire, so I asked Angela, "Do you think that Daddy looks fancy today?"

"No, he looks bleach," she replied complete with tongue out and nose wrinkled up.

I told John not to worry.  It was a sign he looked good.  If she complimented his outfit then he should go change.  A pink boa and tirara, items that would garner Angela's fancy thumb's up, would not be appropriate office attire.

Backseat Conversations

Alice is a nonstop chatterbox.  Heck, she even talks in her sleep.  I know this because she sought the warm comfort of Mommy and Daddy's bed after a disturbing nightmare last night.  Interestingly, my peaceful sleep was not interrupted by her entrance.  I woke up a few hours later when she started talking about brushing her teeth (?!) while she was asleep.  As if my peaceful moments were not limited enough by Alice, now Angela has become much more conversant these days (Lord, help me).  Thankfully the girls spend a great deal of their time talking to each other.  Consequently, I am privy to some mighty odd chats.  I am not sure why, but many of these "did I hear that right?" moments happen while we are in the car.

Today was no exception.  We were driving back home after church.  Angela was babbling away to her sister.  "Alice, do you like my dress?"

"Yes, Angela.  I like your dress," Alice replied.

"Alice, do you like my eyes?"  Angela asked.

"Yes, Angela.  I like your eyes."

"Alice, do you like my...Mommy, what this?"  I turned around to see Angela pointing to her eyebrows.

"They are eyebrows, honey," I answered.

"Alice, do you like my eyebrows?"  Angela continued.

John and I chuckled a bit at this peculiar question, especially when Alice answered it seriously.  "Yes, Angela.  I like your eyebrows."

The inquisition continued.  "Alice, do you like my butt?"

"No," Alice said shortly.

Angela looked quizzically at her sister.  The negative answer threw her a bit, but not for long.  The next (and hilarious) question came.  "Because it is stinky?"

I did not hear Alice's answer.  John and I were laughing too loudly.

Bits and Pieces

These are some of the bits and pieces of the last few days that I just want to record so I remember them:

Alice broke out into "It's a Grand Old Flag" as we drove to camp yesterday.  She then recited the Pledge of Alligance.  Apparently, it has changed a bit.  I think I heard her say something about "invisible witches" and someone named "Elizabeth". 

The theme of her day came is Wydaca Heroes.  One of the crafts this week involved her making a book about one of her heroes.  I was sweetly taken aback when I read the title "My Hero Angela".  Its pages were decorated with pictures of them playing (not a good time to be hormonal).

Angela took on an older boy at the playground who was teasing another older girl.  She told him that she was going to eat his butt.  While I am encouraging her to try new food, I do draw the line at cannibalism.

Angela fell asleep on our way to pick up Alice from camp.  She proceeded to snooze in my arms at the park.  I wish words or pictures could convey the sweetness of this.  The weight of her body snuggled into my arms, the gentle snores, the way the breeze caused her hair to tickle my face.  I watched Alice run around with a friend and realized that snuggle moments like this are becoming fewer which made that current one seem even more special. 

Puggie running out of the playroom wearing one of the pink dress up ballgowns and an elaborate necklace.  Angela, who has difficulty dressing herself, apparently had no problems decking Puggie out in a fabulous outfit.  Kudos to the dog for putting up with such treatment.  She got a handful of carrots for her troubles.

Requirements for a Good Mate

If my daughters ever ask me what to look for in a good life partner, I will tell them that you need to find someone who has a good sense of humor and a strong sense of self.  These qualities are particularly essential if children are part of the family equation, as evidenced from the scenarios below:

Example of Why One Needs a Good Sense of Humor

John and I have a tradition of bringing the girls to Five Below and having them pick out gifts for our birthdays, Mother's Day and Father's Day.  Not only is it hilarious to see what they pick out; but, it is even better to hear their rationale for the presents.  The latest trip to Five Below was for Father's Day. Alice and Angela agreed on a super soaker for John (along with a stuffed Spongebob Squarepants, a set of electric blue headphones, an unheard of movie and a lollipop).  Given the enjoyment it gave him in the pool, I have to say their selection was spot on and it was five dollars well spent.  In particular, he took great delight in dousing Angela's butt which was peeping out from her little boy shorts.  She mostly found it funny, but at one point, she got frustrated as it kept breaking her concentration.  Seeing this frustration, John, of course, only sprayed her even more.  Angela reached her breaking point and yelled, "Jackass" at him.  Our reaction was probably not the best one.  We cracked up.  There is nothing like a three year old calling her dad a "jackass" on Father's Day.  I guess it is only fitting.  She crawled into bed with me on Mother's Day just to moon me. 

Example of Why One Needs a Strong Sense of Self

On weekend mornings, the girls like to snuggle with us in our king sized bed.  It sounds cozy and sweet.  However, it loses those feelings when one realizes it is around 6 in the morning.  Weekend snugglefest is our way to snag a few extra minutes in bed.  Sunday morning John was a bit more grogy than usual (late innings on a Yankee game).  He stretched and yawned when the girls hopped into bed.  The yawn must have sounded melodic to Alice's ears.  Afterwards she commented, "Daddy, you sound just like a princess."  Yep, nothing like having your masculinity called into doubt even before that first cup of coffee.

A Random Day

Gosh, it has been so long since I posted on this blog.  Lord, knows it certainly is not due to lack of material.  Yep, nothing like being greeted by your three year old mooning you on Mother's Day.  "Happy Mudder's Day, Mommy.  Look at my butt."  See, this is totally blog worthy material.  Unfortunately, the random busy nature of my days take over and destroy my writing/thinking time.  Here has been the day so far:

7 a.m.- woken up by Alice who I swear is a Golden Retriever in human form.  No one who is 100% human would be that energetic and cheerful in the morning.  "It's good morning time, Mommy!"  Bed bounces.  "Angela is crying for you."  Thankfully, hubby is up and gets the three year old for me.  Three year old is in major snuggle mode which would be sweet if she did not feel so hot.  Fever is now on day three.

7-8:30 a.m.- breakfast time.  I have to admit I love how every morning I ask Angela what she wants for breakfast and she replies, "I can't think."  I then list everything we have that is suitable for breakfast.  She rejects every offering until I reach the last thing.  She then tells me she wants the first thing I said was an option.  Both girls request dresses for their attire (how did I get such girly girls anyway?).  The drive to school is detoured about two times due to road work.  I am stunned when Alice starts to sing along to the Go-Go's "We Got the Beat".  Thank Disney for my shock.  I drop Alice off and take Peanut with me to the grocery store (fever= no school for her).

8- 9:30 a.m.- thanks to the hands free phone in the new car I can call the doctor en route to the grocery store.  Get an appointment for 9:45 a.m.  Reassure Angela that it is fine she has no pants on (she is wearing a dress).  Run into store for few needed items.  Got to love speed shopping while pushing the stroller.  It should seriously be an Olympic sport.  I then dash home to use the bathroom and put the perishable stuff away.

9:45-11 a.m. At the pediatrician's office on time...whew...Angela is all smiles and energy which now makes me look like a psychopath for requesting a sick visit.  Nothing definitive so we have to wait and see if the fever/cold morphs into anything more serious.  On the plus side, I found $20 in the elevator.  We then went to the dollar store for some fun.  We leave with $5 and two bags of fun stuff.

11-11:50- Angela watches television while I do some stuff around the house.  We leave to pick up Alice from her kindergarten enrichment class and drop her off at the town's kindergarten.  Whoever told me it was called "stay at home" motherhood lied.  It is "stay in car" motherhood.

12:30- 2:30 p.m.- Lunchtime for Angela and me.  Clean up pee pee accident (hers not mine, thankfully).  Snuggle.  Sand the spackled bits in the master bedroom.  Amused when Angela offers to read to me while I am in the bathroom.  I guess she figured if it helps her along it might assist me. 

2:50- dismissal from kindergarten.  In the car again.  I let Alice play with her friends for a bit as it is finally not raining and Angela who fell asleep in the car is still passed out in the stroller.  Angela does wake up when I put her in the car.  I then have to listen to tantrum about not wanting to go home and wanting to go home.

3:30-6- Make chocolate covered bananas with kiddies, break up about three fights between them, reprimmand Alice for about 10 different things, reviewed numbers with Alice, made vanilla pudding, cut up apples for apple butter which is cooking in the slow cooker...and now I am in the present time.   Off to feed a hungry pug and kids...better post this before something else comes up.

Bathtime Bubbles

I love the fact that Angela and I have conversations- real conversations that actually make sense.  Now is when the real fun begins as I learn more about how she views the world.  Sometimes I am surprised by her mature understanding of things and other times ....well, words fail me because all I can do is laugh.  An example of this occurred tonight during bath time.

Image- happy little naked girl splashing in the tub.  A HUGE fart (with accompanying bubbles) is heard.

"Angela, was that you?" I asked smiling.

"Mommy, my butt burped!"

Yep, that is a moment the experts don't mention in all those parenting books, which is sad.  At least, for me, those are the moments which make the job worthwhile.

Things I Love

This is more a post for me.  My kids do many things that put a smile on my face (and stuff that makes me wonder why I am missing handfuls of hair; but, we will save that subject matter for another posting). I know all to well that one day they will no longer do these things either due to maturity and/or boredom.  John and I often bemoan how Alice no longer pronounces "cookie" as "coomie" because it was just so freaking cute when she said it.  I realize that new silly things will take the places of the former ones.  However, I fear that if I don't record this current list of silliness, the memories may, at best, become a hazy recollection or, at worst, be forgotten.  So, pardon the selfishness here and bear with me.

I love...

how Angela needs to wear a "pretty dress" at all times.  Right after her feet hit the floor in the morning, she is in the boxes of dress up clothing looking for something to wear.  And it is not just the dress.  She works the accessories (crowns, fairy wings, magic wands) too.

how Alice still pronounces "music" as "musquick".

how both girls love to dance with each other and how Alice tries to work on ballet/tap/jazz moves with her sister.

how Angela calls the play walrus in the bathtub a mermaid.  His name is apparently Petey.

how Alice loves doing arts and crafts and is constantly making new things for my fridge.

how Angela calls the dog "Pudgie" instead of "Puggie".

how Angela pronounces her name- Angelahaha

how Angela cannot pronounce her name properly but has no trouble saying the word "gingerbread".

how Alice gets so excited if I let her set the table in the evening.

how both girls enjoy helping me bake/cook (although this sometimes can create some of those missing handfuls of hair moments).

how both girls try to run and hide when they hear the garage door going up (indication John is home from work).  However, they are so excited to see him, they quickly leave their spots to give him a hero's welcome.

how I will sometimes find Angela in the glider of her room with a book on her lap entertaining herself.

how Alice is learning to read and how often she surprises me with a word that I didn't expect her to know.

how after I read Angela her book before bed she will say, "The end" and then say, "My turn."  She then "reads" me the book.

how both girls are pretty good about saying "please" and "thank you" regularly.

how Angela likes to run and hide from John whenever he goes to give her a bath.

how Alice thinks that every morning John would forget to put on his pants if she didn't remind him to put them on.  (I particularly love how John goes along with this ruse every morning).

how they give each other big hugs after being separated for a time.

how both girls look out for each other.  It warms my heart because I know how great it feels to have someone in your life who constantly has your back. (Thanks Megan)

The Nursemaids

Yesterday I finally admitted defeat and raised the white flag to my foe of the last few weeks- a sinus infection.  Unfortunately, motherhood has changed the format of my sick days.  Prior to children, I would retire to bed for a novel reading/frequent napping cycle which would last about 24 hours.  Now, with a 5 year old and a 2 year old at home, that is a mere pipe dream experienced while doing laundry, emptying the dishwasher, driving kids too and from school....you get the idea.

Still, after picking up Alice from Kindergarten, I was beat.  The chills seemed to penetrate my core.  Exhaustion weighed my body down.  Kids or no kids, I needed to lay down on the couch with a blanket (or twenty) and a cup of tea nearby.  The girls looked a bit confused when I headed into the living room and stretched out.  I explained to them that mommy was sick and had to take medicine to get well.  And with those words, Alice and Angela became my nursemaids. 

If laughter is indeed the best medicine, I overdosed on it.  Alice, my future CEO (read: VERY bossy child), solicitously covered me with a princess sleeping bag.  She got me a glass of water and repeatedly offered me an apple.  All the while, she kept barking orders to her sister.  "Angela, get Mommy a pillow."  "Angela, get me a toy to give to Mommy."  Following each order, Angela, in true younger sibling fashion, shouted, "NO!"  She would then go and do what she wanted to do in order to restore my health.  These actions included sharing her pillow pet with me and providing me with imaginary tea and soup (both where delicious by the way).

I have to admit I kind of enjoyed the novelty of my little ones caring for me.  I wondered if I were getting a glimpse into the future in some ways too.  I could imagine grown up Alice and Angela arguing over my aging body regarding my care.  It also solidified for me that these two are a force to be reckoned with when they decide to work together for a common goal.  Now that I think about it, I better get to bed.  I don't want to incur their wrath by being sick one second longer than they deem acceptable.