Update- Just Because

Irish guilt has been rearing its ugly head lately. I have been remiss about keeping up with my blog. I promised myself when I started this that I would do at least an entry a week. I wanted a way to keep up with my writing and to record the ins and outs of mommyhood for the entertainment of the masses. And then the reality of motherhood hit. Potty training, colds, fevers, driving to and from school, breastfeeding, cooking, cleaning (not that you can tell)...the list seems to grow by the minute (along with the piles of laundry in my basement). Consequently, the writing goes by the wayside. Lord knows my cyber-silence is not due to lack of material. If anything, the material comes too fast and furious to process it (let alone write about it). Yep, life with a three year old and a seven month old definitely keeps my days (and unfortunately my nights) busy, so I decided to post some snippets of the last few weeks. Enjoy!

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  Angela is teething and gnashing her gums on anything that comes her way. Just today Angela grabbed the pug's leg while she was distracted by a rawhide. I was amused by the "chain of chewing" but the best teething story so far occurred when Angela chowed down on Alice's hands. Alice looked at her sister gnawing on her hands and happily declared, "Mommy, I'm delicious!"


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  Alice, our resident nudist, ran to the door to greet her father who had just come home from work one evening. Upon seeing Alice, John asked, "Alice, why are you naked?" To which Alice replied, "Because I took my clothes off." You have to love how toddler logic works.


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  While driving the girls home one afternoon, Alice and I were chatting. During our conversation, Alice declared, "Peanut's scared." I asked what Peanut was frightened by so I could help her. Alice replied, "Dinosaurs." I had to pause for a bit after that one to take in the enormity of just how non sequitur her comment was. On the plus side, at least I can wholeheartedly promise that I can manage to protect my youngest from bands of roving dinosaurs. Unless, of course, Alice means old people. If so, then I am screwed.


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  I am happy to report that Alice's potty training has finally clicked. While John and I were finishing dinner, Alice bolted to the bathroom. After a minute or so, we heard the flush and Alice's triumphant shout, "I made poopie in the potty!" She dashed back into the kitchen for her praise. After hugging her, John asked, "Do you have a nice clean butt?" Alice said, "Yes". She then bent over and spread her butt checks to show him that indeed her butt was nice and clean. We both nearly spit our food out from laughing so hard. It was good to learn that our daughter has become adept at wiping herself. It is also good to learn that certain questions are better not asked when we dine out.

Potty Training Sucks- Part Deux

Alice has been doing really well with her potty training. Actually, she has been doing so well that the teachers at her school felt it was time to abandon the Pull Ups and bring on the panties. Even I felt emotionally ready for the transition. Cut me some slack. I am a postpartum woman. I am still a little hormonally charged. Anyhow, this past Monday was the day I took a deep breath and hid the few Pull Ups I had left in the closet. When I got her dressed for school, I put on her favorite Cinderella panties. When she asked for her Pull Up, I told her that the Pull Up fairy took them away and that there would be no more Pull Ups only panties. She was not too thrilled but she let me put the panties on and pull her leggings over them.

Success!

Until her nap time anyhow. The teachers at her school put a Pull Up on the students for their rest period and once Alice got that absorbant puppy on her butt she was not letting it go. She refused to let the teachers change her or to go to the potty. When I got her home, I convinced her to let me put on some panties. She wet a few, but before bedtime she managed to use the potty and to keep her panties dry.

Success!

Until today anyhow. I guess I should be happy that she wore her panties all day today without a major battle. Still I am disappointed that I had to learn the importance of packing socks along with changes of pants and panties. I know I have no real control over this whole process. I think that is the most difficult part of not only potty training but parenthood in general. When it comes down to it, you really don't have any control over anything. Yes, you can make rules and have expectations. But, in terms of development, the kid runs the show. It doesn't matter how often you model a behavior or talk about something. Your kid is the one that has to figure it out for himself or herself. It is so hard to stand back and let things happen according to a timetable that is not yours. With all this in mind, I shall head to Target tomorrow and purchase at least 10 pairs of black leggings. This way when I change yet another soaked pair of panties and pants, I won't have to worry about matching.

Foot Fetish

Angela is now a little over five months old. Thankfully, she is evolving out of "baby blob" mode. I love my children and have loved them at each level of development. However, I have to confess that I am one of those freaky moms that doesn't really LOVE the newborn stage. Sure they are adorable and I love building a bond with this tiny little creature tugging at my breast. But, let's face it, the cycle of eat, sleep, poop, repeat gets kind of old really quickly. Personally, I start to have fun with my little ones when they reach the 3-4 month marker and now that Angela has entered the five month realm things are really taking off for her and me. She laughs and smiles. She recognizes us. She prattles excitedly when she accomplishes something new or when her sister enters the room. For instance, the other day, she gave a good left hook to the blue elephant dangling above her. The laughs and smiles that followed made my day.

I love spending time just watching her facial expressions as she takes in the world: the look of "What the hell is that?" when she saw a cow for the first time; the expression of love and happiness when her sister enters the room; the coy grin with which she dazzles my fellow walkers with as we take our respective morning constitutionals. Most of all I love her looks as she discovers something new about herself- be it about her body or her abilities. Finding her toes fulfilled both of these criteria. I don't think I will ever forget the moment she first really noticed them. She was sitting in her Bumbo chair chewing on her hands and watching her toes move. She was mesmerised by them. You could see by the expression on her face that she was thinking, "Hmmmm...what are those things? They look kinda interesting. Mom just ran her fingers on them. Wooo...that makes me laugh." A few jerky arm movements later, Anglea managed to capture her elusive prey. A squeal of delight erupted from the little one (much more palatable than the usual eruptions that emanate from her I have to add). A look of triumph such as I have seen on Olympic athletes as they win the gold came upon her face. She had scored victory over those wiggly things.

Now, more often than not, you will see Angela happily holding her feet. Since she is teething, she is also experiencing her first dilemma. Where should she put her hands? Crammed in her mouth to relieve pressure on her gums or should they be wrapped around her feet? I am happy to see that she has found a compromise that works for her- one in each place. Although it has been several weeks since her toe finding, I am still struck by the sheer joy she experiences from them. They have become her ten new best friends. The first time I put socks on her, she was so despondent. Thankfully, it was easy to make her happy again. I took off the socks. I wish it could always be that easy to please my kids. Watching Angela with her feet made me realize that kids have the right ideas about living- take joy in the body you have, always maintain a sense of wonder in it and the world around you, and sometimes your friends are closer to you than you think.

Makes you want to run around barefoot, doesn't it?

You Can't Make This Stuff Up...

I used to think that teaching was the absolute perfect profession to read or hear the oddest things. Nothing like a pop quiz or a well aimed question to a daydreaming student to get their creative blood flowing. Parenthood has blown this belief away. I guess the saying, "Kids say the darndest things" is trite for a reason, which leads me to this afternoon and my now daily chuckle:

Walking into the living room, I notice Alice naked from the waist down.

"Honey, where are your panties?" I asked dreading the answer. Alice has become great at taking off her panties after peeing in them. I scanned the room seeking the telltale wet spot on the carpet.

"Here Mommy." Alice pointed to her play kitchen. She then walked over and opened the oven door where her Pixie Hollow panties were wadded. "They're cooking," she added.

"You are cooking your panties?"

"Yes, they're cooking."

"O.K. Ummm...let me know when they're done."

"O.K. Mommy."

I walked from the room totally befuddled- amused as all hell but befuddled nonetheless.

Potty Training Sucks...

I have been feeling like a competent mom for a while, so I should have known something would come up which would give those feelings a good kick to the curb. Enter potty training. I just feel like I am doing everything wrong with this one. Did I start too early? Too late? Am I being too easy going in my approach or too forceful? Reading for tips on the Internet only results in more questions, confusion and feelings of inadequacy. Thankfully, even in the midst of all this angst, there have been things to laugh about.

I am happy to report that Alice has kept her panties clean more often than not; unfortunately, she is easily distracted. If something fun is happening she ignores her body signals until it is too late. Because of this, whenever she has an accident, she has to help me clean it up. I don't do it as a punishment but as a lesson that the things we do have consequences. As her clean up responsibility, she has to rinse her panties out in the sink and wring them out. Apparently, Alice has really internalized this lesson. Last night as I was cleaning up from dinner Alice walked into the kitchen and took a dishcloth. This is nothing new. She uses them as blankets for her stuffed animals or as towels for when they go to the "beach". A little while later she came into the kitchen with her legs stretched to avoid touching her wet panties and asked me to help her get clean. After finishing that task, I asked Alice to show me where she made pee so I could clean it up. She took me to the spot and there it was- the kitchen towel was drenched from its absorption of her puddle. It is amazing how quickly disappointment can turn to pride.

Uh Oh, I Ran Out of Curry Powder...

I love how Alice is such an adventurous eater. Whereas many of my friends bemoan their children's steady diet of chicken fingers, hot dogs, and buttered noodles, I don't have that issue. Alice eats according to the mantra "the spicier, the better". When we order Chinese, Alice winds up eating more spicy pork than John. She enjoys her fajitas with habereno sauce. She devours her daddy's steak pizzaole. However, if I had to pick her favorite cuisine, I would have to say it is Indian food. This love actually began in utero.


Most people laugh and look at me with expressions of disbelief when I say that, but it is true. Chicken curry was my primary food craving when I was pregnant with Alice. Yes, like most pregnant women, I loved ice cream, but for some inexplicable reason chicken curry was like a drug for me. The sauce and spices caressed my taste buds and created feelings of euphoria within my swollen body. When you feel as big as an overheated, beached whale (the joys of being pregnant in August) any feeling of euphoria is pretty scarce. Needless to say, because everything felt better after a serving of curry, the waiters at our favorite local place became like family and tracked my pregnancy with the same interest as my real family.

Not long after Alice was born, we went back for some curry, and despite being postpartum, it still tasted wonderful. It was after digestion that things got a little weird. When I went to nurse Alice after dinner, she attacked me. I was used to enthusiastic nursing but what ensued was particularly intense. I still don't think that my nipples have forgiven me. I remembered thinking, "Wow...did I not feed her enough today?" I chalked it up to a fluke but when it kept happening whenever I ate Indian food I realized how my pregnancy craving manifested itself.

As Alice aged, her love of Indian food evolved. Not long after the typical foray into solid foods (rice cereal, strained fruits and veggies and the ubiquitous Cheerios), I decided I would never deny Alice a food that she expressed interest in. If I felt it could be easily chewed or gummed, I gave her a sample. This horrified my mother to no end. She was convinced I would give the child a stomach ulcer or something to that effect. My argument that children who live in (fill in the blank) country most likely eat this among their first foods and live to tell the tale did not sit well with her.

Which leads me to one of my favorite Alice memories of her sitting in her booster seat at our Indian place. I remember her looking at our meal from her vantage point and smacking her lips, so I decided to give her a sample. I placed some basmati rice and cut up chicken curry on her tray. Her eyes lit up when she tried it. Whenever her tray became empty, she would make little noises to get my attention. She even added kicking legs to make sure I noticed her empty tray predicament. The wait staff watched in awe as little Alice devoured the rice and little pieces of chicken drenched in curry sauce. When they brought us our check, they presented Alice with a shot glass of mango lassi. They were curious to see what would happen. The consistency was a little thick so I fed it to her with a spoon. Alice took a bite, smiled, and then proceeded to down the whole glass. The waiters gathered around our table, picked her up, and hugged her. Actually, they still hug her every time we go out to dinner there. The only difference now is we order Alice her own plate of food. Someone does not share nicely.

So That's Why He Married Me....

Alice has been a bit befuddled by the emergence of her first freckle. She keeps pointing it out to me. She is convinced it is a "boo boo" and I should kiss it and make it better. I tried explaining to her that she now has a freckle. I even showed her my freckle covered arms to make her feel better. The lesson did not completely sink in. Alice is now convinced she has a "sprinkle". By default I guess that means I am covered in sprinkles. Now I know why my ice cream loving husband married me. Who can resist a woman covered with "sprinkles"?