A Little Potty Humor

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I told Zachary that I would take him to Inflatable Wonderland when he was potty-trained. (I am sure he was just barely 3 at the time, but as you can see, I was already to the point of throwing bribes to the wind.) Though he had been to other "jumpy jumpy" places around town, as we like to call them for the sake of simplicity, Inflatable Wonderland was going to be that special place that would only be entered upon his successful completion of this very important developmental milestone. It didn't work very well as an incentive, however. Instead of enticing Zachary to actually do SOMETHING to BECOME potty-trained, he simply reminded me, every time we passed it in the mall, that someday he would go there when he was potty-trained. And, each time, approximately 5 seconds later, his mind would already be on something OTHER than being potty-trained. Eventually, as the months came and went with very little progress in that department, I decided in MY mind that we would probably NEVER be going to Inflatable Wonderland. "Woe is me," I'd think to myself. "I guess I'll have the first child to enter college in a Pull-Up."

Then comes the end of my long, sad story. Miracles do happen! Just recently, Zachary, literally, woke up one day COMPLETELY POTTY-TRAINED!!! After all those months and years of madness spent trying to get him to this same end, he did exactly what his pediatrician told me he'd do: He did it when HE was ready!

I am still counting the days since this miracle took place, but now I'm sure that it's the real deal. Zachary is 100% potty-trained! Not one single accident since Day 1, and we're well into the double digits. So, amid my joyous dancing and singing of the Hallelujah Chorus, one of the first things Zachary said to me was, "Now we can go to the jumpy jumpy place at the mall because I'm potty-trained!" Of course, he didn't forget. And I assured him that, YES, we would be going there very soon.

There was just one little dilemma: I didn't know what to do about Ashley. I wanted this trip to Inflatable Wonderland to be a really special reward for Zachary, but how could I leave her out? After all, she has been way ahead of him in terms of potty-training progress until, well, April 14th, to be exact. (Which, by the way, will probably now remain burned in my memory as one of the best days of my life...the day I became a believer.) Ashley is not far behind. I just didn't think it would be right to let her come, too, on the account of being almost potty-trained. However, with her birthday coming up, I thought Zachary might not mind too much if his sister got to join him for that reason. Of course, I hadn't said anything about this to Zachary. But somehow he just knew...

Last week, Grandma came over after work to go out for ice cream with us. One of the first things she said to Zachary was, "Zachary, I heard you're potty-trained! Are you going to go to the jumpy jumpy place at the mall now?!?" Ashley was standing there in the living room with us and her face lit up with excitement. "I want to go to the jumpy jumpy place at the mall!!!" Zachary turned to her and said, in complete seriousness, "No, Ashley. You have to stay with Grandma, because you're not potty-trained. Only I get to go to the jumpy jumpy place at the mall because I am potty-trained." And as if to add insult to injury, Zachary added, "Happy birthday to you, Ashley!"

Ouch!

Mommy's Little Helper vs. Mommy's Little Helps-Himself

This morning, I awoke to hear the following conversation between my kids, who were cheerfully discussing the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches they wanted for breakfast:

Zachary: "Ashley, bring me a chair so I can get the bread from on top of the refrigerator."
Ashley: "I don't think so. Mommy can help."
Zachary: "Then I'm going to climb on the treadmill and then on the counter so I can get it."
Ashley: "No. Mommy can help."

And that's about the point when I got up, walked into the kitchen and calmly suggested, "Yes, Mommy can help."

Bad Karma Strikes and I Claim My Place in the Family Infirmary

I exposed my sick child to other people and their children today, so I guess I deserve to claim my spot in the family infirmary now. After all, what goes around comes around, right? I have had quite the headache for the past several hours now and am feeling pretty sick at my stomach, too. After watching Zachary throw up all day, though, is it any wonder why???

Poor Zachary has not been able to keep anything down all day. After cancelling our lunch plans, Zachary was very sad when I told him we'd be staying home instead of riding the Zilker Park train as planned. After each episode he had of throwing up, I'd say it again, "I promise we'll go next week when you're feeling better!" But that did not ease his troubled little heart. At one point, while sitting on the floor next to the toilet, he offered this impassioned plea: "Mommy, I have tried EVERYTHING I can think of, but the sickness is just not going away!" Who likes to see a kid have to work so hard, and despite all his efforts, feel like he has failed? Not me. I know there will definitely be times where I have to put my foot down and keep him home when he is sick, but I didn't feel like this HAD to be one of those times. He wanted to go so badly, and he was even wearing his little train conductor's hat and bandana and looked so cute, I figured we could give it a shot. I packed up an extra shirt and towels just in case and we headed down to the park, but not before Zachary eagerly offered a prayer that he would not throw up and have to miss the train.

After arriving at the park, we bought our train tickets but had a little time to play at the park before its departure. Zachary was all over that park and seemed to be happy despite not feeling well. We played so much that we almost MISSED our train. We boarded right as the conductor yelled, "All aboard!" and took off in a matter of seconds. We were lucky that we made it. That was close! It was a beautiful day outside, but the wind was blowing pretty hard, so I spent half the time shielding my eyes and mouth from the flying dirt and grit, but the kids enjoyed themselves. Zachary was sad, though, that we didn't see Woody this time (a man who hangs out along the route playing his guitar and harmonica.) Apparently, Woody was a significant part of what made the train so fun the first time and the reason why Ashley insisted on bringing their harmonica (though I made her leave it in the car.) We played a little more in the park before Zachary found a spot atop one of the slides and laid down. I told him, at that point, that we needed to go home so he could rest. We managed to get through our outing just before Zachary's stomach began acting up again. On the way home, I tried to supervise his next episode while driving along the toll road. I came prepared, though, and he was covered in a towel and the car was spared. He looked pretty bad at that point, so I asked him, "Do I need to take you to the doctor?" He replied (weakly), "Don't be so rude!"

We made it home and Zachary rested all afternoon while I worried about what more serious ailment he could possibly have than the innocuous 24-hour stomach bug that Ashley had over the weekend. I was looking up appendicitis when a friend suggested that a way to tell if a kid has that is to straighten out his leg and push firmly on his heel as though I'm trying to push his leg into his pelvis. Does that not sound HORRIBLE?! At the time, Zachary was sleeping, so I waited until he woke up to inflict more pain on him. First, I asked him if he felt better (he said "yes") and asked him if his stomach hurt, while I pressed lightly on it (he said "no") and then I straightened his leg and inflicted the torture, which only resulted in Zachary throwing up all the water he had drunk over the 2 hours prior. He was holding NOTHING down. I hate to see anyone so sick.

Chris got home around 5:30 and after a few minutes, I went and lied down to see if I could shake the headache that had crept in over the course of the afternoon. He was so good to watch the kids while I ended up sleeping all evening. I didn't feel much better when I got up a few hours later, but maybe this will pass by the morning. Worse than taking care of sick kids (or husbands) is caring for them when you are also feeling yucky. So, with that, I'm going to sign off and get myself ready for bed and pray that this is gone when I wake up.

Mindbender

If it looks like barf and it smells like barf, I have no trouble identifying it as barf. But if it doesn't LOOK like barf, and it doesn't smell like ANYTHING, but your kids says it IS barf...do you believe your kid and treat him like he's sick? I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around that one.

This morning, Zachary seemed to be feeling fine, but a short while later, I found him hugging the toilet and saying that he already barfed 3 times: once in the bathroom, once in the living room and once on himself. First of all, I had to go LOOKING for it, and when I did, it just looked like water and I cleaned it up. Despite myself, I went ahead and sniffed at the clear wet spot on his shirt and was puzzled that it smelled just like water.

We had plans today to meet a friend downtown for lunch. We were just going to meet at McDonald's since that's what is most kid-friendly and she works nearby. I figured I'd take advantage of an opportunity and take the kids to ride on the train at Zilker Park, which is just down the road from where we were meeting, afterward. As long as the "barf" episode was an isolated one, I figured we could let it slide (no pun intended) and continue on our way. I bathed the kids, asking Zachary every few minutes if he felt alright and if he still wanted to go on our outing. He seemed fine and said he did. I dressed Ashley first and then went back and got him. His face looked a little pale, but I dressed him and told him to go put on his shoes. That's when Episode 2 occurred. I witnessed it with my own eyes, so I called my friend, cancelled our lunch plans and told the kids we had to stay home today. Of course, by THAT point, Zachary seems like himself again and is sorely disappointed about having to miss the train.

So there's my dilemma: If I hadn't already called my friend to cancel, I might have kept those plans, too, but I guess it's better that we not get our friend sick or risk Episode 3 occurring in a public eating establishment. On the other hand, I'm going against my better judgment and am taking the kids to ride the train anyway. I'll pack an extra shirt and a towel in the diaper bag, and what's the worst that could happen? Guess we'll find out...or, hopefully, we WON'T. Am I terrible?

Jesus is my Autopilot?

After ignoring Ashley's pleas for me to put on It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, I reluctantly accepted the fact that my nap on the couch was over. I might as well let her watch it since continuing to endure her climbing all over me was not the better option. So, I put the DVD in the player and went into the kitchen to check on some brownies that were in the oven. I washed some raspberries and returned to my spot on the couch. Zachary and I were enjoying the raspberries when the DVD stopped on the menu screen. Both kids began a little chant for me to go start the movie for them. My mouth was a little full at the time, but I told Zachary to go press "play"...only it sounded more like, "Pless play!" They thought I had said, "Let's pray," and before I knew what was going on, both kids bowed their heads, folded their arms, and began, "Dear Heav'y Fodder...Jesus Cwist...Amen!"

See? They ARE learning!

Meet My Kids: "Crash and Burn" and "Sick and Twisted"

We had quite an eventful weekend at our house, and since I have been neglecting my blog again, I figured you all (all 2 of you?) would want to read about it. I don't have any pictures this time, but maybe that's why I'm not putting it off like I usually do. So here goes!

Chris spent all of Saturday at school putting in his hours for Law Review after discovering, Friday night, that his project deadline was this weekend and not next weekend. Fortunately (fortunately?) the kids and I were all suffering from colds last week, so we didn't have any plans we were intent on keeping. Though Zachary and Ashley didn't seem to be lacking in energy, I certainly was, so spending the day at home and recuperating was fine by me. I really don't know what I did all day other than try to keep up with them, do a little cleaning around the house, and, in general, move at a snail's pace.

I had no idea when Chris was planning on getting home, but as the day grew longer, I was feeling a little better and was itching to get out of the house. I decided to make a trip to Target to pick up a couple of things. I just needed to summon my inner Executive Director in charge of Ever Accomplishing Anything to get my body moving...and I needed to feed the kids dinner. So, I put a pot of water on the stove with plans for something quick, easy, and gourmet: good ol' mac & cheese. Well, I disappeared for a few minutes to check some email or do something else equally necessary, and in those few short minutes I was neglecting my children, Ashley decides to advance her education in the field of What Happens When I Touch the Hot Stove? This was the first time either of my kids had ever had a burn (Zachary was more of a scholar in the field of Testing the Effects of Gravity on Various Parts of the Body as you might recall.)

Having been inexperienced in childhood burns up to this point, I went in search of my trusty little book full of helpful advice and written by our very own pediatrician, Toddler 411. That might as well be the doctor's name, since all of her expert medical advice is contained therein. It sure comes in handy when I don't really want to pay for an after-hours call or actually have to make an unnecessary appointment. During this time, Zachary was being a great big brother and announced, "Hold on, Ashley, I'm going to go find out about burns! Zachary to the rescue!!!" He was in the computer room, so I half expected him to google it. After leafing through the book, I still wasn't sure what I needed to do. She had burned just her fingertip (perhaps 4 fingertips, but only one was obvious.) The skin was red with a layer on top that appeared a powdery white. (Toddler 411, p. 346: [Third degree] burns may look white.) Was this a third degree burn?!? I was almost convinced it was...but only because it was my kid and I had to be a little paranoid because of that.

Remembering that the doctor's office had recently extended its hours, I made the call. It was closed after all, and I was instructed to either call 911 (if it were a real emergency) or call the nurses at the hospital and pay a $12 surcharge. No way I'm going to pay $12 bucks to talk to a nurse! Those people should be happy to have someone like me to entertain them with my (OCCASIONAL) motherly cluelessness! That is why it's great to have a nurse in the family. I called my sister in Boston to find out if Ashley was going to need a skin graft, or if perhaps she was going to succumb to this macaroni & cheese burn. It took awhile to get a response after being put on hold for what seemed like forever. It was so exciting--like talking to a real nurse! (Insert big smiley face here just for you, Wendy!) My sister had to first consult the internet and then my cousin who works in radiology (both experts in the field of stove-top stuff, I'm sure.) It was nice just to have the moral support on their end, but my sister finally recommended that I just pay the $12 to be told that, no, Ashley did not need to be rushed to the ER where the charges for talking to triage nurses skyrockets from $12 to about $112.

I can see the ridiculousness of my plight now, but it seemed serious at the time. I watched Ashley practically begging me to amputate the burned appendage to ease the pain. Oddly, she was slapping the effected hand with the other. She wanted the pain to go away that badly. I did run the finger under some cool water for about 5 seconds until I decided she didn't like that. My sister convinced me to get a backbone and get that finger back under the cold water. I was glad I took her advice, because it seemed like some relief came the second time around. While she might not be as experienced in critical pediatric finger burns, she is a great cardiac nurse and, over the phone, mind you, single-handedly saved me from having my very own little heart attack. How can I ever repay her? (Feel free to humor me by sending suggestions to my comment box.)

After Ashley had had enough of the cold water, she was still pretty upset. Somewhere between touching the stove and this point in the story, she had also managed to trip over my leg and fall on her face...on the wood floor. Hence the name: Crash and Burn. Blood was coming from some inconspicuous part of her mouth, as I learned only after cleaning up a previously unidentified spot in the bathroom. She'd had a hard night. I held her in my arms and rocked her until she fell asleep and I could no longer leave to go to Target.

Around 8:30, Chris finally got home. Ashley was so fast asleep, I noticed, that she had rolled off of the bed and onto the floor and went right back to sleep. I took the opportunity to take Zachary out for some special one-on-one time with me at Target. What is so special about that, you ask? For one, it occurred when he normally should have been in bed. For two, I made up my mind that I was going to let him walk instead of ride in the basket, and for three, I wasn't going to yell at him for touching things. I was going to let him just enjoy being a kid with a fun mom instead of a grouchy one this time. (In my defense, I think I AM a fun mom usually, but shopping with kids?... Need I say more?) For, like, the ONE thing I really needed to get (which, by the way, I didn't end up buying), we stayed until closing time. He got to peruse the toy aisles almost to his little heart's content. When I was ready to move on and he didn't follow, I didn't have a cow. I stayed fairly nearby so I could hear him when he called out for me, "Mommmmmmy, I'm lost!" This happened quite a few times, so I figured as long as I was within earshot, it was time for him to learn how it feels to be separated from me in a store. All kids need to experience that once or twice before they can genuinely appreciate not being lost.

After our shopping adventure was over, we made a late-night run to Sonic on the way home. That was at Zachary's request, and I knew that, to him, it would mean the difference between a fun time with mom and a truly special time with mom. There are so many things that make this special for him: 1) getting to push the call button, 2) getting to sit in the front seat with me, 3) getting to order just what he wanted (a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Blast this time), and 4) getting to throw our trash away all by himself like a big boy. Seriously, he jumped at the chance to do that for me. That aside, Zachary really is a special boy, and I enjoyed every moment I got to spend with him that night.

Fast forward to Sunday. Except for oversleeping by about 45 minutes, everything seemed completely normal. Thanks to Chris who always gets the kids ready for church, we actually still made it there on time. The kids were even a little better-behaved in Sacrament Meeting than they most often are. They didn't really fight over snacks or get upset about who had which book. (The key, I learned, is just to forget to pack any at all.) Afterward, they went to their classes and I went to Sunday School. Halfway through, Zachary's Primary teacher came and told me that Zachary was not acting like himself. He wanted her to hold him during Sharing Time, and he was crying a little and saying his ear hurt. He didn't want to leave Primary, so I sat with his class and held him on my lap. Otherwise, he really didn't want to participate. When it was time to go to his class, I gave him the option of coming with me to Young Womens or going by himself to class. He ended up choosing his own class, but there was a period of musical classes where Zachary went to Chris, who brought him to me, and back to Sunbeams when he got sick of YW after about 2 minutes.

As we were driving home, it occurred to me that I could take Zachary in to see the doctor that same day instead of waiting until Monday morning. He was really looking miserable, and after having been out late the night before, he was also sleepy. I called and we got an appointment for 2:00. I had to wake him when it was time to leave, and he was not happy about me taking him to the doctor. I packed him into his carseat along with a blanket and his favorite stuffed bunny for comfort. About halfway there, he started throwing up in the backseat. I might have been pulled over for wreckless driving, but I had a pretty good explanation ready just in case. Luckily, it wasn't "bad"...well, not nearly as bad as it could have been anyway. We made it to the doctor's office and I got one of my "green" grocery bags out of the trunk and put his blanket in it. So handy! I left the bag there so he could use it if he needed to on the way back. (He did.)

Zachary was so upset about having to go to the doctor. He isn't always that resistant, but this time he was especially so. While we waited to go back, he was crying and pleading with me to take him home. "But, Mommy, I want to go home. I'm scaaaaaared!" On and on with that one for a minute. Seeing that it wasn't working, he changed his tactics. "I want to go hoooooooome. This place is BORING!!!!" On and on that went for another minute. I couldn't keep myself from laughing. When that didn't work, either, he tried to tell me that the office was closed so we had to leave. (I'm afraid my boy is getting pretty good at manipulation.) Alternating between tears and wails about being scared or bored, Zachary reluctantly followed when the nurse took us back to a room. We waited and waited. We waited until we BOTH fell asleep. After almost an hour, Zachary was finally seen by the PNP. Sure enough, he has a bad ear infection. Luckily, this is only his second ear infection (and Ashley hasn't yet had one.) So, yes, I really AM lucky and so are they.

I took Zachary home so he could sleep while I went back out to fill his prescription. When I returned, Chris woke him to give him his first dose. That's always torture...for parents and kid alike. It took forever to get the medicine in him, and no more than a few minutes later, he threw it up all over his bed. Ugh. Time to start a load of laundry. Time for Chris to take a shower because a little barf touched his foot. :) While all this was going on, Zachary burst into laughter and repeatedly announced, "Barfing on my bed is FUNNY! Barfing on my bed is FUNNY!" Hence the name: Sick and Twisted. Delirium, you think?

After soaking in a warm bath for awhile and put in fresh pajamas, he slept the entire rest of the day. He slept until 4 a.m. and then woke me just for a drink of water. He seemed to be feeling better and is happier today. After a huge struggle, I got him to take his medicine. The next 10 days of this will be so fun! :)

Happy Monday! (If you aren't happy it's Monday, just be happy for me, because I'm glad this weekend is over!!!)

Remembering Ryan

Today commemorated the 6th anniversary of the day Chris and I said goodbye to our son, Ryan Jacob, whom we lost when I was 4 months pregnant. For many people, four months does not seem significant, but personally knowing this loss would give one a much different perspective as it has given me. The day that Ryan was born, the day that I held him for the first and last time on earth, will never be forgotten. The experience of becoming a mother to a child I will never raise in this lifetime has changed me in ways that I cannot begin to fully comprehend. After six years, I can truly say that I am at peace concerning him, but as I write this, I am reminded of how much I love and miss him. Ryan will always be a part of our family, and we do love him and cherish the hope we have of being reunited with him again someday.

Last night, I pulled out the video of an ultrasound that was taken 2 weeks before we learned our baby had died. We haven't watched this video in years, and I wanted to see him and to know that Chris, too, has not forgotten. As we were watching our son, a sense of familiarity returned but I was surprised at how much bigger he was than I had remembered. Toward the end of the video, there was a comedy of errors when I realized that we were actually watching a video of Zachary's ultrasound. Oops. :) I quickly found the right video, kept in a special box with the only tangible things we have to remind us of our little angel, and made Chris watch it with me all over again. We were up late anyway, so as it turned out, we ended up watching the right baby at the right time: 1:10 a.m., the actual time of Ryan's birth on August, 12, 2002. Leaving the hospital that following day without our baby was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but time has brought healing and his memory is sweet. I know that, one day, I will hold him again in Heaven.

Around this time each year, as I remember Ryan, I try to find some special way in which to honor him. It is important to me that I let his life, as brief as it was yet eternal, help me to become a better person. I have often felt that the loss of my son can enable me to feel greater compassion toward others, particularly those who experience difficult losses of their own. I will not share the details, but I am grateful to have recently had an opportunity to fulfill this desire of mine in a way that has, in turn, also brought greater peace and healing into my own life. Though I did not exactly plan for this to happen the way that it did, nor did I intend for it to be my gift to Ryan--or even myself--this year, this was something even more purposeful than anything I might have planned. It has reminded me that it is greater to love than to be loved.

"How very softly you tiptoed into our world. Almost silently. Only a moment you stayed. But what an imprint your tiny footprints have left upon our hearts!"

The Potty-Training Solution for the Techno-Savvy Toddler?

So, we came back from Houston the other night, and out of the blue, Zachary asks me for an iPod. JUST BARELY FOUR YEARS OLD AND HE ALREADY WANTS AN iPOD! His older cousins (who are 7 and 8) have them, and for some reason, Zachary has now decided that he needs one, too. I guess I have now been officially welcomed into the world of "But, Mommmmm, Everyone Else Has One!" Sad day. I really thought I could make history or something by being the first parent to avoid this. Shucks!

Well, this request just happens to come at a time when I'm already feeling quite desperate to get Zachary potty-trained. I have made the mistake of carelessly throwing bribes to the wind for months now in the event that one might actually work as an incentive. (Yes, horrible parenting skills, I know.) Yet I STILL have had absolutely no luck so far with any of them. Let's see... I have tried bribing him with a bicycle. (In my self-defense, every kid needs to learn to ride a bike at some point and he's at the perfect age for starting that, too, right?) Unfortunately, Zachary hasn't much interest in bikes yet and I don't think he even remembers the offer. I have promised to take him to Inflatable Wonderland at the mall, and now EVERY SINGLE TIME we walk past it, he looks over and announces cheerfully, "That's where I go when I'm potty-trained!" and then he merrily goes on with his little life without giving any further thought to what he might do to actually BECOME potty-trained. I'm puzzled by this. I guess he thinks it is just magically going to happen. Well, let me just pull this magic wand out...

And now, because the words "maybe when you're potty-trained" come out much too quickly and without a whole lot of thought these days (shame on me), I have now foolishly gone and suggested that MAYBE he can get an iPod when that blessed day comes. Eek! I know I REALLY shouldn't have done this, because I'm not about to buy an iPod for a 4 year-old. I didn't exactly *promise* him one, but he hasn't forgotten about it and I don't think he's going to this time. Tonight, when I got back from running an errand, I was talking to Zachary about where I'd been and what I was doing there, etc., and he says, "Mommy, kneel down so I can tell you somefing." I kneeled down and he whispered in my ear, "Maybe I am potty-trained and you will get me an iPod tomorrow!"

I don't think I have anything to worry about for now, because it's still going to take awhile for this whole process to take place, but I still feel bad that I have unintentionally gotten his hopes up like this. How do I fix this mess I've gotten myself into? What is a mother to do?

Behold the iPooped!

Drama A La Mode

My little brother, Steven, and his wife, Amanda, came into town today for the 3-day Memorial Day weekend. It was sort of a surprise to me, since I just found out last night that they were coming. So when family gets together, that's always an excuse to eat in, eat out, eat, eat, eat... Of course, it's not until we're inside of a restaurant and I'm struggling to get my kids to sit down and be pleasant that I am reminded that it's probably time I learn my lesson and keep my children away from restaurants as much as possible (the feisty girl-child anyway.) But it's just so hard when you want to share their cuteness (such cuteness) with the relatives who miss out on that regularly as well as the rest of the general public.

As dinner was winding down, Ashley's patience was winding down a little faster, so I took her outside to wait for everyone else to follow behind us. She was running up and down the sidewalks, giggling and enjoying the fresh air as I sat and watched her from a bench nearby. A few minutes later, the inevitable happened and she fell right on her face and ended up with a huge knot on her forehead...the kind that scares every parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, brother, stranger. (I had to reassure the man standing outside the restaurant that, no, she wasn't born with a purple golf ball protruding from her head.) After my dad went back for a bag of ice to apply to the battle wound (I can call it that since just about everything's a battle with a 2 year-old these days), we decided that a screaming, wailing child doesn't do much for welcoming diners looking for a way to relax on a warm and breezy Saturday night. Ahhh, the joys of motherhood!

Back at my parents' house, we were supposed to be gathering for dessert while I spent the next half hour or so consoling Ashley and looking for any sign of a more serious injury. (She wanted Mommy and not Grandma. You know there's something wrong when that happens!) I had Chris look up "concussion" for me...just in case I couldn't remember what the signs and symptoms might be since I have never had a concussion myself. Lethargy, dizziness, confusion, irritability...all typical characteristics of normal 2 year-olds who run around all day making themselves dazed, confused, tired and temperamental. Oh, but the unconsciousness and vomiting are also the tell-tale signs which we've managed to avoid, so it's all good. We can all breathe a sigh of relief.

After giving us a nice little scare, Ashley seems to be doing fine now. There's nothing a little cake and ice cream (and Dora fruit snacks, apparently) cannot cure. Content in her crib now with her favorite blankie, she is drifting off to sleep while her nocturnal brother lurks quietly nearby and life is (almost) peaceful again.

Double Trouble

I love the way little children (particularly 3 year-olds) pick up expressions from adults and then turn around and try to use them to express their own emotions. They often come out sounding more comical than anything else. For example, last year Zachary picked up the phrase "Give me a break!" Only when something happened that made him just a little mad, he'd exclaim, "Gimme anudder break!" Well, yesterday, he and Ashley were in the kitchen eating at the table and I was in the other room working on something for a moment. I could tell that something Ashley was doing was bothering her brother immensely. Suddenly, in a heated tone of voice, Zachary tried to stop her behavior and yelled out, "ASHLEY! GIVE ME ANUDDER SISTER!" I'm not quite sure what he meant by that, but somehow I don't believe that having TWO sisters would have made the situation any easier to deal with. Not for me anyway!

Playgroup Politics

I am SOOOO not into this! That is why, more than a year and a half ago, the kids and I quit going to our weekly playgroup and haven't really joined one since. It is great to get together to let the kids play and learn their social skills and just have a good time. That is the most important thing and the overall point of having a playgroup, is it not? It is a perk when the moms can become friends, too, and can be a support system for each other, but the high pressure stuff is just not worth it to me.

I sometimes have a tendency to question myself and the decisions I make (are they really for the best?), and quite honestly, I give people the benefit of the doubt more often than I probably should because I want to see the good in others. Over the past several years, though, I have come to terms with the fact that I am a pretty good judge of character, and, overall, I really haven't made many truly bad decisions in my life, so I need not doubt myself. When I began to feel like the playgroup thing we were doing wasn't in our best interest, I decided that I had to be consistent for the sake of my kids and either keep going regularly despite my misgivings or we needed to stop going altogether so we could make room for something better, and you know which one I chose. Luckily, neither of my kids was at the age where they were formulating solid friendships yet. For pete sake, Ashley wasn't even eating solid foods yet, and Zachary still wanted to do exactly the opposite of what the other kids were doing. The names of these "friends" really didn't register with him as being of any importance, so I took that as a cue that it wasn't going to devastate him. It never did, and I have never regretted the decision, either.

It just so happened that we ran into one of those other playgroup moms and her kids today while we were out playing. She saw me across the way and waved to me, and I didn't even recognize her at first. We hadn't even had the chance to get to know each other very well before the kids and I stopped going, but, ironically, the last time we saw them was at her son's birthday party. She came over and sat down next to me while the kids played together, and it was more than a little awkward at first. I mean, what do you say in that situation? Well, I'm not living in the past and wasn't holding any grudges, so I just tried to make friendly conversation with her and avoided the topic of the playgroup altogether until she finally brought it up herself. And if ever I questioned whether I had made the right decision way back when, I certainly don't anymore. It was no coincidence, but still I was somewhat surprised to learn, that just about every mom in the group had fallen away one-by-one after I left...and for many of the same reasons I had. It was one of those moments of supreme validation. It is nice to know that my radars work just fine, and it is equally nice to know that we could have a good time with our old friends today without the politics of playgroups getting in the way.

Ohhhhh, Fudddddge!

Is it selfish or neglectful of me to disappear for, say, an hour to go take a shower and do my hair while my kids watch cartoons? (I mean, they've been properly fed, bathed--with fruity-scented bubbles and everything, plenty of playtime included--and dressed before this point, so it's not like I don't at least TRY to put their needs ahead of my own. Oh, and trust me, they're not crying when I make them watch cartoons or play with their toys, either.) Just wondering if I am the only person for whom it takes THAT LONG to get ready for the day. I'm really not one of those people who can chop it all off or just wash-n-go. Believe me, I wish I was!

That being said, I admit that occasionally (like pretty often) things happen while I'm in the bathroom blowdrying my hair. If I wasn't keen enough to expect it now, I'd be unaware of my children's escapades until the blowdryer was turned off and I could hear again. Most of the time, these things happen in the kitchen, very often with Zachary and Ashley sandwiched between the refrigerator and the refrigerator door. Those little rascals! You would think I never feed them! (Of course, I think they do it as much to satisfy their curiosity about things I don't normally let them have--like lime juice, for example--as they do it to get into the good stuff.)

Today, I detected such a silence that made me suspicious. Before I could even get up to go check on them, Ashley wandered into the bathroom to find me, being followed by her whimpering big brother. I was prepared with kisses for any "owies" but then I heard him say that he was "stuck." That can be kind of a scary thought, right? Well, as it turned out, Zachary had raided the fridge and was helping himself to a treat when his finger got stuck...in the bottle of hot fudge. Very distressing indeed!







Stuck?






Stuck?!






STUCCCK!!!






Ahhhhhhhh! Sweet release.

Idle Threats That Work

Today I went and got my hair cut, and because they go everywhere I go, my kids came along for the fun of it. Luckily, the man who cuts my hair doesn't mind the little tag-alongs, as he owns his own little shop and has a few things for them to play with. (It also helps that it only takes 10 minutes to cut my hair.) Zachary was content playing with the wooden blocks today and was busy building letters out of them when it was time to leave. I asked him to help me put them away, and just as I expected, he didn't begin to help. After my failed second and third attempts to gain his cooperation, he still continued to play. Suddenly, a light went off and I knew exactly how to change this behavior! Zachary HATES getting his hair cut like no other, so you know how the rest of the story goes, don't you? And it worked! At the mere MENTIONING of the word haircut, Zachary burst into "obedient" mode and we were out of there in no time!

Circus Life

I have discovered that being a mother is very much like living in the middle of a three-ring circus. In one ring, I am the lion tamer, poised to lead my impressionable young children to stand tall, be obedient, and follow their Master's voice. Sometimes I am the lion, learning to respect, trust, and have confidence in those chosen to lead me. And sometimes the beasts are the experiences I have that require all of my concentration and diligence, energy and adrenaline, but with faith and determination, I will not let them consume me. In another ring, I walk a tightrope, attempting to find the delicate balance that is required when raising a family and praying for steadiness along the narrow course. I try hard not to fall as I endeavor to teach my children right from wrong. I am the coach they will look to for guidance as they learn the ropes for themselves in this circus life. I am grateful that a safety net is in place for times when all of us are sure to miss the mark every now and then. Beyond the roaring lions and beside the profound stillness of the high wire lies a third ring and my favorite act of all. It is the one where we become the clowns, celebrating the joyful experiences of circus life together, lifting each other when times are more gloomy, and eliciting generous applause and unbridled laughter in response to the spontaneous, silly and unexpected performances that add splashes of color to the show. In my circus life, I proudly display my beautiful children as though they were born to be my shining stars. At the end of each day, when the show is over and the Big Top is quiet, what I wish for, most of all, is that my children will go on to graciously claim their spot in this world, bringing happiness to others and living everyday with passion for the things they love and the causes that matter most to them. Who ever knew, when I first fell in love with the circus as a child myself, that I would one day run away with one? Being a mom is "The Greatest Show on Earth."