Oh Crap!

I thought my days of taking mental notes about poop were over.  Just last week this assumption was validated.  During my 13 year old's annual physical, the pediatrician asked about her bowel movements.  I happily turned that question over to the authority on that subject- my daughter.

It was such a nice feeling.

Yeah, I typed "was".

Enter stage left Claire, the pug.  Cue God laughing.

Since moving to the South, Claire has experienced moments of uncontrollable stink bombs.  Not long after moving, Claire baptized the house and it made baptism by fire seem preferable.  A trip to the vet, some anti-poop medicine along with antibiotics, and all was well.

Unfortunately, Claire's digestive system took on the ebb and flow of the tides.  Things would be fine for weeks and then a shitstorm would stir up again.  It got to the point that her farts sent feelings of impending doom straight through me.  FYI- pugs are flatulent little beasts, so I had doomsday anticipation often.  

Like any good parent, I have been keeping record of these said occurrences hoping to figure out any pattern.  Today it was back to the vet with data, pug and a Ziploc bag of said stink bombs. (Side note- Ziploc's plastic and seal really do deserve that Good Housekeeping seal of approval for keeping everything, including smell, contained).  

Thankfully, Claire's issue is pretty normal.  Just like humans, animals can upset the balance in their digestive system and experience an overgrowth of bacteria.  While explaining this, the vet watched my pug doing her best imitation of an excited greased pig spinning around the room.  "Mrs. Barile," she continued, "We do find that dogs with highly excitable personalities tend to experience this this upset more often."  I had to bite the inside of my check to keep from laughing.  As we discussed changes to her diet and adding a probiotic, I could not help thinking:

The vet just insinuated that my dog has a shitty personality. (This is in the literal sense of course; Claire is a sweet and benign soul. I just like the many layers of word meaning.  They amuse me).

My other weird thought happened after I had to sign for Claire's anti-diarrhea medication.  It is a controlled substance and I couldn't help but wonder why constipation is a sought after high.  It has been several hours post appointment and I still can't figure it out.  Maybe the aftermath of Claire crap has killed off some of my brain cells.

  

Snow Daze

I am not a complainer by nature.  It is simply not my style.  Do not get me wrong.  I occasionally vent; but, for the most part, I try to accept what is going on around me with grace (or resignation, take your pick). That being said, I have found this winter particularly rough.  I know, I know, I live in the northeast.  I expect cold and snow and ice and sleet.  It is winter. I just find it to be a little harder to deal with this year.  The cold has been extreme and the jet stream keeps tossing snow/ice our way.  The cozy hibernation feel of early winter (warm beverages by the fireplace) has given way to cabin fever and way too many glasses of wine by the fireplace.  Add two very active children into this mix and it is understandable why I need a Spring intervention.

That being said, some parts of winter have been fun. I think the hard part about winter is you have to really work for your fun.  It is not as easy as running outside with a picnic lunch, a box of sidewalk chalk, and bubbles.  It takes more tactical planning.  Is it snowing?  Above freezing?  Is there ice on the road?  I have spent many evenings combing blogs, Pinterest, Facebook status updates, and magazines for things to do with the kids.  It is exhausting. So, to save some of you from the same exhaustion, I have compiled a list of a few things we have done this winter.  They have been fun and have put smiles on our faces as we weather the weather.

Things to do in the house (for when weather is below freezing/storming or for when you feel too lazy to get out of your pajamas):

Movie Time- We love movies all year long; but, during the winter, I pull out the stops and make it an experience.  For instance, I let the kids do things like eat popcorn outside of the kitchen (totally in violation of a major house rule).  They spread out their sleeping bags on the floor and I put on the fireplace so the room's only light comes from the glow of the television and the fire.  If you are sick of all the movies you own, many local libraries have movies you can borrow.

Hidden toys- At the risk of sounding mean, I will confess that I take some of the toys my kids get for holidays and birthdays and hide them.  I don't take what they obviously fall in love with the minute it is opened.  I take the things that did not get a super enthusiastic reception and put them in my closet.  Boy, do those toys get a hero's welcome on a day we are stuck in the house, and as an added bonus, I get some much needed sanity as they happily play with their "new" things.

Cardboard Boxes- Break them down and store them someplace.  They don't take up a ton of room and reassemble in a snap.  Pull the boxes out along with some markers and don't expect to hear from the kids for a while.  Perhaps you can have them design the boxes as cars and when they are done put on a movie for your own in home drive in.  FYI- Shoe boxes make great houses, treasure chests.  If your kids don't like the designs on the outside, you can wrap them in plain paper.  Now they can design without some logo in their way.

Holidays- Make a fuss over holidays like Valentine's Day.  Have them make decorations for the house, cards for the family, a special dessert for the occasion.  This year I was a Valentine's Day convert.  All the colorful decorations we made was a nice break from the gray, white, and black dreariness of the outside. Look for those silly holidays online like Pancake Day or work together to make up your own holiday.

Balloons- The awesomeness of having these bad boys on hand happened by accident.  Alice wanted to make a paper mache Earth for a school space project.  I got some balloons for the planet's framework.  The next thing I know the girls are laughing in the living room playing volleyball.  In this vein, I saw a neat idea on Pinterest.  Someone made a set for paddles by gluing thick craft sticks to paper plates.  Balloon ping pong, anyone?  We have not tried this yet.  Perhaps on Sunday when more snow is in the forecast.

Music and Audio Books- Music and dancing is a good way to get some of that pent up kid energy out. Freeze dance is a favorite but sometimes they just make up their own games or adventures to the tunes. Again, the library is a great source of kiddie music or check out Pandora online.  Last year I became sold on audio books (topic of a future post).  Some of the recordings are really great, complete with sound effects and character voices.  I also try to have a hard copy of the book to help the girls focus.  Alice (the reading one) enjoys following the words while Angela likes having the pictures in front of her while hearing the story.

Teaching Time- I have been teaching Alice how to knit this winter.  She knits with a loom and on knitting needles.  Now is a great time to share your passions with your children.  Think of a way to include them in the things that you enjoy.  It is a sneaky way to get more chances to do what you love to do.  On weekends Alice will sit next to me on the couch while we both knit together.  Quality bonding time all around!

Crafts- This is the topic of another future post.  I love crafts and my kids do too.  And here is the best part- you do not have to be artistic or uber creative to do crafts.  There are tons of kits out there in craft stores with easy things to do. Additionally, check out the nonfiction section in your local library's children area. There are some wonderful books with detailed instructions on how to do tons of things.  Most of these activities can be made with things you have on hand already.

Games- Board games, card games, video games.... surprise the kids and play with them.  You will have fun, so long as it is not Chutes and Ladders (hate that game; it really is a layer of Hell to me).

These are just some of the things we have done so far this winter.  Feel free to add your winter indoor fun in the comments section.  

Knitting Hugs

A few months ago, a friend of my husband contacted him with a request for me.  M is a nurse who works in the pediatric NCIU at a local hospital.  Although we had not met in person, M and I had become friends on Facebook due to our love of knitting and books. 

The kiddies were in bed and John and I were (gasp) relaxing on the couch.  He was catching up on his Facebook news feed while I was knitting.  John broke the silence.

“M wants to know if you could knit some blankets for the babies in her unit.  She felt odd asking you directly.”

“Why would she feel odd asking me that?”  I asked as I looked up from my project.

“It is for the babies who don’t make it,” he replied.  “Apparently, a lot of people get weirded out at the thought and refuse to make the blankets for them.”

I have to admit that I felt a bit weirded out at the prospect myself.  Usually, I knit something out of happiness- a birth, a “thinking of you” gift.  It seemed wrong to connect my knitting to something as dreadful as the loss of an infant.  And then, my sense of obligation kicked in.  A while back Angela had to stay in the hospital for epilepsy testing.  Everything turned out fine, but those were probably two of the most stressful and anxious days/nights of my life.  While we were there, one of the nurses came in with a handmade blanket for Angela.  It was love at first snuggle for her.  When I saw the joy that blanket brought to her, I made an internal pledge to knit something for the hospital. 

When the universe is so direct, one has no choice.  It was time to repay my debt.

“Tell M I would be happy to do it,” I told John.  “Have her email me the specifics like yarn type and size.” 

About a week later, M emailed me and I headed to the store to pick up some yarn for the blankets.  I looked at all the baby yarns with a heavy heart and finally selected a super soft and cuddly light pink.  When I got home, I looked through my knitting encyclopedia for a suitable stitch pattern.  I knit up my gauge swatch, did the necessary math, and wrote my pattern.  I put the project away and got caught up in the hustle and bustle of my typical day.  Still, even the rushing to dance and helping with homework, did not distract me enough from my thoughts about the family that would receive this blanket.  It upset me that sorrow would greet something I crafted loop by loop.  Then, a profound realization came over me that lifted my sadness and replaced it with a sense of purpose.  It is only in our modern times that death of a loved one has become such an isolated event.  It is odd how in this time of seeming interconnectedness we have actually become more alone.  Death used to be more of a community thing.  Mary did not go to prepare her son’s crucified body alone.  Other women came to assist her and to provide comfort.  Just as there used to be community quilting bees for happy events, those women would also prepare burial cloths.  And then, another thought came to me.  I was not creating a shroud for a lost baby.  Rather, I was creating a hug for that baby’s family.  I was providing them not only with a tangible reminder of their departed angel but with a sense that they did not have to shoulder their grief alone.  Somewhere out there was someone who acknowledged their loss.  There was someone who saw that their child’s birth and brief presence on this earth deserved acknowledgement through a handmade gift.

The other day M informed me that the two pink blankets I crafted went to a set of micro preemies.  I prayed for the family and went to the craft store for some more yarn.  I need to knit some more hugs.

Nice to Know I Am Not the Only One

More often than not, I am the primary audience of my children's oddities. The result...sometimes I feel like I am losing my mind. Consequently, I was happy to learn from my sister that David, her husband and the girls' uncle, was on the receiving end of a few Angela-isms.

Last Sunday, Alice had a dance competition. My parents, being the awesome folks they are, took pity on John and me and agreed to watch Angela for the duration of the competition. As much as Angela loves both dance and her sister, I doubt she would happily watch about five hours worth of performances. David came over to my parents' house to lend a hand.

Over the course of the day, Angela and David had some interesting conversations. For instance, out of nowhere, Angela informed her uncle that she does not like boys. When he questioned her further, she told him, "I don't like them because at school they are always stepping on my feet."

However, the true gem of the day occurred when Angela got her uncle a glass of water. He was very appreciative and thanked her for her thoughtfulness. In response, Angela proceeded to tell her beloved uncle, "it is poison."

Don't worry....it wasn't...

Regardless, if someone just told me that boys were on her shit list, I would not have accepted anything from her if I had a penis.

Good Question

Sometimes kids ask really good questions.  For example, on our way home from school, Twisted Sister's "Burn in Hell" came on.  After listening it for a few minutes, Angela asked who was singing and what as the name of the song.  I answered her and waiting to catch some hell for not having the new Sofia the First soundtrack on the sound system.  Instead I got the question: "Why are they so grumpy?"

Damned if I know.

Homework Dangers

As a former teacher, I would define homework in many ways. I never thought I would ever use the adjective "dangerous" in conjunction with it. Then again, motherhood has caused me to change my definition of so many things.

The vocabulary list from Alice's reading resource teacher seemed so benign at first glance. Periodically, Alice is given lists of words to read with me. Many of these words are unfamiliar to her, so it is a way for her to put her phonics knowledge into action. If Alice does not know the word, she typically asks me its meaning right after she says it aloud.

We were halfway down the sl- word column when we came to the word "slug".

"Mommy, what does 'slug' mean?" Alice asked.

"It means to hit," I replied.

"Like this?" Alice gave me a light tap on my chest.

"No," I answered. "A 'slug' would be much harder."

"Oh, you mean like this?"

BAM!

Thank goodness, I don't have heart issues. I am convinced the blow she gave me might have instigated a cardiac episode.

"Alice," I yelled. "What the heck made you think that would be the appropriate thing to do?!" The bellowing coupled with the daggers shooting out of my eyes made Alice quickly see her error in judgement. She jumped from her chair and threw her arms around my midsection all the while apologizing profusely.

I hugged her back and asked for her to release me so I could stir dinner (translation: Mommy needed to walk away, get her annoyance under control, and catch her breath- literally). Upon returning to the table, I sat down and did a quick scan of the remaining words on the list. Since they seemed "safe" and that chest protection was unnecessary, I managed to finish helping Alice with her homework unscathed.

Later that evening, I told John what happened.

He thought for a moment and told me, "You should have told her a slug is a bug that will die if you sprinkle it with salt."

Damn.

I hate hindsight and multiple word meanings.

So, Is She Going to Hell?

Whenever I spend extended time with my youngest I have flashbacks of my drinking days from my twenties.  In particular, it brings back memories of when I was the designated driver.  We have all experienced that seemingly surreal feeling of being the one sober person on a raft in the sea of inebriation.  That is how I feel multiple times a day as I navigate the world with my almost four year old.

Here is some evidence of Angela's drunkenness:

1.  Uncontrollable giggles for no reason.
2.  Unclear speech (subject matter and elocution)
3.  Instances of "beer muscles" (taking on a much older playground bully for hogging the slide)
4.  Having a good friend drag you away from impending altercation before fists started flying (thanks T)
5.  Random nakedness

The above example occurred today in the basement of the local Presbyterian church.  Yes, you did read that correctly.  Today, while waiting for her older sister to leave her Daisy meeting, Angela decided it would be a good idea to moon the other moms awaiting their daughters.  This happened all the while she giggled uncontrollably.  Talk about a mortifying sober friend moment.  Regardless, like any good sober friend, I pulled my daughter's pants up and apologized to the other moms for blinding them (Angela has inherited mom's overly pale skin).

I wonder if AA will accept a member who has never had a drink into its ranks...

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.