Kate the Princess (it hurts just typing that)

Kate and I went to Santi-Cali-Gon today with the girls, just to do a little pre-shopping. Apparently everyone has figured out the Friday pre-shopping thing, because it was craziness. Anyway, the girls know how I try to avoid any "Princess" things for Kate. I don't know why, exactly. I just think kids come naturally endowed thinking that they run the show all the time and so we don't need to provide them a label that justifies that. I'm not opposed to the Disney princesses (at least no more than the next mom who has listened to one of those movies 80 times).

So, the girls thought it would be super-fun to have Kate try on a tutu. She didn't like the first one, and I was relieved. Turns out it was the wrong color. The new purple one has been worn with pride much since then. My friends naturally bought it for her, and we took it home.

When we told Daddy about it later, I asked Kate what she'd brought home from the fair and she said, "tutu."

Daddy said, "Why do you need a tutu Kate?"

"Because I a princess," she replied.

All those years of strict parenting down the tube. Now I have to decide: Embrace the princess or retreat quickly?

Oh Kate.

Poor baby. When I went in to get Kate this morning, humming in bed as usual, I noticed a distinct smell. Vomit. Everywhere. And I'm guessing that it was from early in the night, because it was well distributed and cold. Poor thing. So I grab her, toss her in the tub, while I start to wash off the sheets, etc, and throw them in the wash. Of course, as she's standing in the bubble bath, diarrhea. So, I grab her out of the tub and put her on her potty seat, where she waits a few minutes until adding to her tally. Now I'm cleaning the tub while she sits on the seat, because she still REALLY needs a bath, and now our tub does too. What a morning.

She's doing well now... no more incidents, but we didn't test with much until lunch. She was whimpering some after I put her down for a nap, but when I went in to check, no mess. Poor thing.

Sam's been quite a trooper, helping me grab things this morning and being a generally good boy while Mommy deals with Kate. I admit I feel much better post-nap!

My son, the helper

I know this is bragging, but really isn't that what the theme of this entire site is anyway?

Today my son got an email (through me) from his child care provider (and good friend) Jo. Here it is:


Sam,

Yesterday you were so smart in suggesting that you watch for Carson’s bus (when I was going back and forth while feeding the little children). I know you had help other days, but I forgot to ask you yesterday and am so glad you thought of it. You are such a big helper! Today when I was watching for Carson’s bus, I missed you! Thank you for all your help with holding a bottle, getting trash bags, watching for the bus, etc.

Love you!
Jo

BMB: Bad Wife

In addition to bad mom moments, my days are often punctuated by bad wife moments. Yours? Of course not.

Today, in all of the wildness that is caring for a sick child, we sat down to eat lunch. Sam said a very nice prayer, which he had to start twice due to my knocking over the curious george book mid-sentence and kate yelling "George! George!" I lift up my sandwich to take a bite and open to the first page of George, when the phone rings. Of course, it could only be one person. Stuart.

I admit, I'd been waiting for him to call all morning to tell my tale of woe and I was anxious to get lunch over to make it to coveted nap time.

So I answered the phone: "OH, hello Stuart! How are you doing today? I love you so much!"

No.

"Do you, like, think of what could be the worst possible time to call us and then pick up the phone to dial? It seems like you always call as soon as we sit down for lunch or put someone in bed. Stuart? Stuart?"

Fortunately (or unfortunately) it was Stuart who caught this tirade at his thoughtful call home. But man, what a way to greet someone. Poor thing. After a quick apology, we did chat and he got to talk to the kids, but I've since called to add some more groveling to the batch. Good grief, Jaime.

BMB: Oh the horror: Halloween, Part One

(I refer to this as Part One, because with more than 2 months until the big day, I am sure there will be more posts about this favorite of kiddie holidays.)


Today's bad mom trait: I don't like girly costumes.

Last year, Kate was a quite adorable ladybug. Easy, cuddly, and cute. But this year, as we start to see the costumes pop up at some of our favorite kiddie stores, I noticed that the big girl costumes are all, well, girly. There are basically three choices: fairies, princesses, or butterflies. They are all pastel and glittery, and come with either the essential wand, tiara, or wings. Ugh.

It sounds cute, when someone else talks about their little butterflies and candy cane fairies, but it just seems SO... foo foo. Kate's not a foo foo girl. I don't think.

I want her to be a kitty cat (with whiskers, but not with glitter, and not to be confused with the "pussy cat dolls" of skanky pop-culture variety) or maybe a pirate girl to match her brother's pirate theme. She's not old enough to choose, is she? Maybe Dora? That's not too bad, and definitely doesn't include sparkles. Unless she's Princess Dora.

I think I'm in for it.

A social and video game hound

My son has officially been possessed by the video game bug. He and his father spent every spare moment this weekend playing Indiana Jones Wii. At first I embraced it-- good for problem solving and hand/eye coordination, as well as bonding time between father and son. By Sunday night, though, I thought if I heard that Indiana Jones theme song one more time (the one I thought was so fun and clever before), I would whip that game right back to the ark itself.

He was also quite the social butterfly this weekend, attending not one, but three birthday parties (counting Grandma's). I'm becoming quite the expert on gifting to 5-6-and 7-year-olds, but some of those girl things still elude me. I mean, what is the Littlest Pet Shop, and how old is old enough for Hannah Montana? And if someone forbids Barbie purchases, does that include the High School Musical barbies, or not?

On a Kate note, she's becoming so big that I hardly recognized her in the pictorial directory pictures we took Friday. One thing that she does that I think is particularly cute right now is if a friend falls down, or me, or Sam, she says, "O-tay, Sam?" "O-tay, Mommy?" See, she has a sensitive side.

Bad Mom Blog: The 5 Second Rule

Every mom and college frat boy knows the 5-second rule: When food drops on the floor, or any undesirable surface, you have 5 seconds to pick it up before any nastiness is transferred rendering the food inedible. In fact, I even heard a factoid on the news about how some scientists (moms I'm sure) proved that there is some validity to the rule because germs can only transfer from surface to surface so fast-- much longer than 5 seconds, but I can't remember the exact number.


There is some variation in the 5 seconds required for location, food absorb-ability, and general preference. For example, dropping a sucker in the sand is bad because of absorption, but worse is the sucker in the ashtray. Or on the floor of the McDonalds bathroom. You get the idea.

Well, with the first child, even 5 seconds is unacceptable. No dirt must enter the mouth of my child, despite all of the crib chewing, lovey loving, and general exploring. But with the second, 5 seconds is avoided completely by the upgrade: the head-turn.

My youngest child, Kate, eats things off of the floor all of the time. I try not to notice, by a quick turn of the head. She adds a difficulty factor to this in her loves of mooching and throwing.

It all came to a head Tuesday night at Fazoli's. Everyone knows it's 99 cents kids meal night on Tuesdays at Fazoli's, and we were there in force. Kate loves the breadsticks, but kept dropping them on the floor. Then she thought it was fun to throw them on the floor. I think it adds flavoring. At first, I turned my head. But when it became a constant entertainment, I had to intervene with the "Let's eat at the table" comment. She doesn't care. Then she slides it cleverly off the table with a defiant look, and I am forced to throw the breadstick remnants away which leads to the inevitable crying. Ugh. That's the point of the head turn-- avoid the crying.

So, later, as if the throwing isn't enough. Kate shows up from visiting the coloring table with a new breadstick. Where did this mystery breadstick come from? They don't have the friendly old lady passing them out anymore (cost cutting measure), so it's not that. There are several tables nearby, and a helpful lady who told me, "She didn't have that when she walked by a minute ago." But it didn't look dirty, and no one looked mad, so I just hoped for the best. Sam told me that she got it from our table, and I chose to believe the best.

You all feel better about your parenting and worse about mine now, right? Well, no one's sick. Yet.

One last OOF

We took one last Wednesday trip to Oceans of Fun yesterday. It was the perfect trip-- it was about 78 and overcast, and at times ours were the ONLY kids in the entire kiddie pool complex. It was so idyllic and were it like that every day, I'd probably enjoy it much more.

The kiddies loved it, despite their blue lips and shivering out of water. I took a couple of cell phone pics, so you know the kind of outstanding quality that will be provided, but they are pics nonetheless. Sam's eating his picnic lunch (PB&J) and Kate and Chloe are discussing world events...

BMB: The Bad Mom Blog

About this time, historically speaking, I began writing a blog just for me, which I referred to as my Bad Mom Blog. I wrote for about two years in it. I guess I thought I wanted to keep these entries more focused on me and my parenting experiences than on the kids themselves, so I'd keep them separately. Well, my blogging energy (and time) has since dwindled to the point that I am not maintaining both. Rather than dumping all of the posts (there weren't many), I decided to fold them into this blog.

So, Sam and Kate, as you look back at this blog (a.k.a. the only real baby book you'll have), know that I added these thoughts of mine back in for a reason. You now get a special, insider look at what it was like raising you. Maybe you'll laugh. Maybe you'll think, "Wow, that is SO like Mom." Maybe when you have kids you'll look back and realize, as I have, that the emotions are parenting are universal.

All former Bad Mom Blog entries are listed with a BMB prefix in the title for your reading pleasure. Skip them if you wish.

Love, Mom

SO big

You know how you play that game with babies: "How big is Kate?" "SO big!"

I think we should consider a 5-year-old version.

How big is Sam?

SO big that...
...Curious George and Clifford are cartoons for babies. (the books are okay though)
...being denied Wii privileges is a major tragedy.
...I pick what I want to wear and will not be oppressed by your crazy rules about matching.
...I am sometimes too cool for cuddling.
...I know more about Star Wars than my mom.
...my parents are no longer always right. (I know, i thought that was a teenage thing too!)
...it's cooler to be included as the youngest of the big boys than to be the oldest of the little ones.
...I don't understand what's neat about showering or bathing daily.
...I don't need to explore my world because I've already picked the best parts.
...I explore via DS.
...my mom is feeling nostalgic about my little boy growing up!

Myself

Such independent children I have. Kate's latest and most common comment is now: "I do it myself." Everything, myself. Shoes, caps on water bottles, combing hair, getting dressed, and changing her diaper.

Yes, she thinks the world would be better if she could change her diaper by herself. I informed her that God, in fact, did not make her that way, and that if she wanted to do it "myself" then she would need to use the potty like a big girl.

You'll find most all of my parenting is centered around how life would be much better if she would use the potty like a big girl, so this is just putty in the hand, baby.

(She also really likes saying, "Oh man." If she doesn't like something, or has to leave too soon, or not wear her brother's underwear, "Oh man" is the proper response.

The Birthday Boy

I thought I'd share this picture of Sam on his birthday. At chuck e cheese, no less. Doesn't he look excited??

I'm not sure what his deal was, but I think he was just focused on all of the games he could be playing. Either that or he's contemplating life-issues.

Maranatha Pictures!

Pictures are worth 1000 words, so here are a few of ours.

My Happy Girl

Playing at the beach... both kids loved the beach this year and the weather was great. However, Kate had different plans for Sam's sand castle than he did. (Kate-zilla!)

Kate loved Matt and Meaghan. Maybe a little too much. Doesn't it look like Meaghan's ready to make a move: "You better get your own man, girl!"

We placed 2nd at the sand castle contest this year. Theme: Olympics. We built the stadium (with pool) , the rings, and a torch. Sam was thrilled that we "finally" won. After two years. Wow. That's persistance.

Ah, the sunsets.

Sam got a lot of rides from Doug and Stu back from the sunset each night. He had some model number for each of them, and would steer them using their heads. It was big fun for him, but I'm not privy to all of the details.

Aren't they cute!?! We'll keep this one for their teenage years, just as a reminder...

Kate was a swinging champ this year. She caught several different friends with her tangled web of innocent "'mon. Swing." requests and had them pushing for hours. Sam was a pretty good sport, but Doug, Matt, Daddy were her usual conquests.

5 years old!

My first baby turns 5 years old today! Because his birthday is mid-week this year, we aren't having any party until Saturday. SO, for those of you who read this, if you want to leave him a birthday message as a comment, that would be super! I'll read them to him tonight.

We did go to donuts for breakfast this morning and Sam ran in and told (no longer) Cranky Sue that "I'm 5 today." And as is usual of late, Kate echoed, "I 5 today. I 5 today". Another customer looked at her and said, "Are you 5 today?" "Yep," she said. Oh well, I guess you can be 5 twice.