Well, Peanuts!
Valentines have been handed out and celebrated, bags have been packed, children are giddy with excitement and parents are alternating between thrilled and terrified. Must be time to travel!
Wish us luck. I probably won't be able to post from Ethiopia, but hopefully I will have lots of good stories and pictures to share when we return. Love to all of you in the meantime. See you in spring!
Friday, February 15, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Why
The first time I went to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, I spent some time in the city by myself exploring or traveling to visit new friends. I always took the informal public transportation- the minibuses-or sometimes the city bus. The system isn't marked. You're just supposed to know that if you want to end up in one part of town you go to, say, the corner by the old gas station, or a third of the way down the street after the alley near the post office, or whatever, and wait to hear a driver call it out. Of course I was brand new in town, didn't speak the language, and have a sense of direction so awful it's comical. So sometimes I got lost.
You might think that being lost and alone in a foreign country where I didn't speak the language, couldn't even recognize the characters of the alphabet, and stuck out like I had a neon sign on my head flashing "FOREIGNER" would be pretty frightening. Especially when it started getting dark.
But it wasn't. Now. I'm not saying there was no danger around, there may have been. But I never came across it if there was, and I remember being struck by feeling so much safer than I would have felt if I were lost and alone in some parts of my own city back home.
What happened to me every time in Addis, was that people saw me. They saw that I looked lost, and they came over to help. With broken English, with charades-like gestures, with the hailing of a crowd of strangers until someone could borrow a cell phone to call their uncle who knew English, they found a way to learn what I needed. And then they went out of their way to find me the guy who sells the best mangoes, or the mini-bus to Arat Kilo. Once a person dropped whatever it was he had been on the way to do, and walked me 9 blocks to the right bus, rode it with me to make sure it ended up in the right place, shook my hand, and rode that bus back. It took nearly an hour. Once a woman my mother's age literally took me under her wing, tucking me into her elbow and escorting me to the shop. She paid my fare and haggled with the shop keeper for me, then invited me to a tea the next day.
One time a driver tried to overcharge me. But when he did the rest of the passengers were actually on their feet scolding and shaming him, and apologizing to me on his behalf. Lest I think that Ethiopians were 'like that'. They collectively paid for my trip, to make it up to me. That incident of almost being cheated out of 20 cents was the worst thing an Ethiopian did to me, that trip or ever. I always ended up where I'd meant to go, and often arrived there having made a new friend or two.
Six months after my second trip to Addis, I was working as a nanny in DC. It was a Saturday date night for the child's parents, and so I was taking the late metro home. It was sometime after eleven. In the station, I saw a man by the exit. What do you know? He was Ethiopian. He must have been very newly in the United States; he spoke almost no English at all. Like I said, it was very late. I have no idea how long he had been there. But he was alone. And he looked terrified.
In DC, if your metro card doesn't have enough money on it, the turnstiles won't let you through. You can't get out of the subway tunnel until you go to the fare machine and add money to your card. But this man didn't know that. He didn't know that he had miscalculated the amount of USD needed for his trip, he couldn't communicate with the metro guard, he couldn't read the signs. He was bewildered, and he was stuck. He stood near the exit with his metro card in outstretched hands repeating "Please? Please? Please?" I saw him from a distance; I was coming up the escalator.
Guys. I tell you. I watched dozens of people walk right. by. him. They didn't even look at him. He looked so horrified; he may have wondered if he'd gone invisible, or mad. I do believe he thought he might never be able to get out of that tunnel. "Please? Please?" People walked within inches of him. And no one even looked.
I remember watching this and feeling such a deep, splitting shame. A shame that was bigger than me, big enough for my whole country. The shame of knowing that when I was in his country, people with far less than these designer-suited commuters had fallen all over themselves to help me, to make me feel comfortable, to tell me "welcome" to their country, to pay my fare. Yet when he was in my home and needed the same help...no one would even acknowledge that he was there. What. It would take too much time? They were afraid he'd beg for change they would never have missed? They might get mugged by a skinny frightened man in front of an armed guard? Please. America please.
When I walked up to him smiling, he began to actually cry he was so relieved. Do you know what he needed? This huge favor he was asking of the strangers who couldn't be put upon? Fourteen cents. Fourteen cents for his freedom and to know that he was not in a place where human beings allow each other to beg for help unheard. In Amharic, that man thanked me a dozen times and blessed me over and over. He fairly danced out the door, taking the escalator steps two at a time.
Maybe I was naive. Maybe he could have sucker-punched me and snatched my purse. Or maybe, he was just a person. Who could use a little help from another person. Maybe I did something risky... or maybe it was just right. Like all those Ethiopian strangers had done for me, before.
I won't say I'm not worried about the trip I'm about to take. I know that the social climate in parts of East Africa has changed since I was last there, I know that there are crazy people everywhere, and I know that people there drive like lunatics. I know that all dangers are infinitely scarier when my children are along. I know that I will have to be as careful and cautious as I can be, in the case I ever find us in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But I can't forget what my experience has shown me about the relative safety of Addis Ababa streets versus American metro stations. And even though I may be able to do very very little to help anyone who needs it in Ethiopia, I've heard that there are people who do need help, and I've been given the opportunity to do something. Even from across an ocean, I can't let myself be a person who hears "please? please?" and just walks on by. I can't raise my kids to be that person.
I am nervous and worried. Because I'm a mom and if I could worry the danger out of the world, we would all be holding hands and singing some kumbaya right now. But I will be careful, and I will hope. Maybe taking my children and going to Ethiopia is a risk. But maybe it's right.
You might think that being lost and alone in a foreign country where I didn't speak the language, couldn't even recognize the characters of the alphabet, and stuck out like I had a neon sign on my head flashing "FOREIGNER" would be pretty frightening. Especially when it started getting dark.
But it wasn't. Now. I'm not saying there was no danger around, there may have been. But I never came across it if there was, and I remember being struck by feeling so much safer than I would have felt if I were lost and alone in some parts of my own city back home.
What happened to me every time in Addis, was that people saw me. They saw that I looked lost, and they came over to help. With broken English, with charades-like gestures, with the hailing of a crowd of strangers until someone could borrow a cell phone to call their uncle who knew English, they found a way to learn what I needed. And then they went out of their way to find me the guy who sells the best mangoes, or the mini-bus to Arat Kilo. Once a person dropped whatever it was he had been on the way to do, and walked me 9 blocks to the right bus, rode it with me to make sure it ended up in the right place, shook my hand, and rode that bus back. It took nearly an hour. Once a woman my mother's age literally took me under her wing, tucking me into her elbow and escorting me to the shop. She paid my fare and haggled with the shop keeper for me, then invited me to a tea the next day.
One time a driver tried to overcharge me. But when he did the rest of the passengers were actually on their feet scolding and shaming him, and apologizing to me on his behalf. Lest I think that Ethiopians were 'like that'. They collectively paid for my trip, to make it up to me. That incident of almost being cheated out of 20 cents was the worst thing an Ethiopian did to me, that trip or ever. I always ended up where I'd meant to go, and often arrived there having made a new friend or two.
Six months after my second trip to Addis, I was working as a nanny in DC. It was a Saturday date night for the child's parents, and so I was taking the late metro home. It was sometime after eleven. In the station, I saw a man by the exit. What do you know? He was Ethiopian. He must have been very newly in the United States; he spoke almost no English at all. Like I said, it was very late. I have no idea how long he had been there. But he was alone. And he looked terrified.
In DC, if your metro card doesn't have enough money on it, the turnstiles won't let you through. You can't get out of the subway tunnel until you go to the fare machine and add money to your card. But this man didn't know that. He didn't know that he had miscalculated the amount of USD needed for his trip, he couldn't communicate with the metro guard, he couldn't read the signs. He was bewildered, and he was stuck. He stood near the exit with his metro card in outstretched hands repeating "Please? Please? Please?" I saw him from a distance; I was coming up the escalator.
Guys. I tell you. I watched dozens of people walk right. by. him. They didn't even look at him. He looked so horrified; he may have wondered if he'd gone invisible, or mad. I do believe he thought he might never be able to get out of that tunnel. "Please? Please?" People walked within inches of him. And no one even looked.
I remember watching this and feeling such a deep, splitting shame. A shame that was bigger than me, big enough for my whole country. The shame of knowing that when I was in his country, people with far less than these designer-suited commuters had fallen all over themselves to help me, to make me feel comfortable, to tell me "welcome" to their country, to pay my fare. Yet when he was in my home and needed the same help...no one would even acknowledge that he was there. What. It would take too much time? They were afraid he'd beg for change they would never have missed? They might get mugged by a skinny frightened man in front of an armed guard? Please. America please.
When I walked up to him smiling, he began to actually cry he was so relieved. Do you know what he needed? This huge favor he was asking of the strangers who couldn't be put upon? Fourteen cents. Fourteen cents for his freedom and to know that he was not in a place where human beings allow each other to beg for help unheard. In Amharic, that man thanked me a dozen times and blessed me over and over. He fairly danced out the door, taking the escalator steps two at a time.
Maybe I was naive. Maybe he could have sucker-punched me and snatched my purse. Or maybe, he was just a person. Who could use a little help from another person. Maybe I did something risky... or maybe it was just right. Like all those Ethiopian strangers had done for me, before.
I won't say I'm not worried about the trip I'm about to take. I know that the social climate in parts of East Africa has changed since I was last there, I know that there are crazy people everywhere, and I know that people there drive like lunatics. I know that all dangers are infinitely scarier when my children are along. I know that I will have to be as careful and cautious as I can be, in the case I ever find us in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But I can't forget what my experience has shown me about the relative safety of Addis Ababa streets versus American metro stations. And even though I may be able to do very very little to help anyone who needs it in Ethiopia, I've heard that there are people who do need help, and I've been given the opportunity to do something. Even from across an ocean, I can't let myself be a person who hears "please? please?" and just walks on by. I can't raise my kids to be that person.
I am nervous and worried. Because I'm a mom and if I could worry the danger out of the world, we would all be holding hands and singing some kumbaya right now. But I will be careful, and I will hope. Maybe taking my children and going to Ethiopia is a risk. But maybe it's right.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Feral Opportunity
I've heard about opportunity knocking. They say it does that. But in my experience, Opportunity is less a polite salesman and more like a feral cat. It kind of peeks out at me from the bushes. I'll just be walking up my front path and I'm like- wait. Did I hear something?
Every now and then I catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. Was that? Could that have been.. something? Hmm. Then as time goes on, I notice it prowling around, getting bolder. Leaving prints on my windshield. I start thinking about it. Hmm. I believe there's a feral Opportunity in my yard.
I kind of go on about life but it's at the back of my mind. What to do about it? Should I take it in? Can I handle all the work of an Opportunity right now? It may need grooming. It could bite. But...it might be such a nice addition to life. I might even love it.
It's hard to decide, you know, whether I'm an Opportunity-taking-in kind of person, when it comes down to it. Life is going just fine as it is, after all, and even if I was the type, what if this isn't the exact right Opportunity for me? What if it's the kind that pees on the sofa?! So I'll think about it. Off and on. Maybe try to check it out a bit from a distance. And then.
One day, coming home after a long day, I'm looking in my bag for the keys. Where are they? Oh. There they are. And I look up to open the door and BAM! There it is. The feral Opportunity, right on my doorstep. And it's giving me the Stare Down. I freeze! I stare, it stares back. I look around like, what do I do?! It stares back. I take a step. It stares back.
Opportunity is like, it's getting cold out here, lady. What's it gonna be? So. I either have to shoo it off with the porch broom so it will go bother someone else....or just say what the heck. Scoop the thing up, and bring it inside. Boom. Now I have an Opportunity on my hands.
At least, that's how it tends to happen for me.
Now, I'm really not at all a cat person. But I do have a soft spot for Opportunities. And that is why, when the Opportunity to go to Africa and do some work for my favorite organization on earth sat it's furry tail on the porch and stared me down...well. It just looked so nice, Peanuts. It sort of looked like this one Opportunity I had in college. I couldn't say no!
Of course I'm not in college anymore. And the thing about taking in Opportunities when you're all grown and married with kids is that when you bring it into the house, the whole family has to live with it.
This particular one involves being overseas for longer than J can take off of work. What that means is that he will be staying home for this trip, but the Littles will be coming with me!
There are risks involved of course. As there are any time you travel anywhere, as there are when you drive to the grocery store, as there are in life. There are some special concerns I have about this trip, like getting used to surroundings that are different from their norm, and whether I personally will survive the 19 hour trip across the world to get there.
But as easy as it is to see the potential for fleas and scratched furniture, Opportunities also have the potential to curl up in your lap and purr.
I'm thrilled to introduce my daughters to a place that I believe is so rich and beautiful, to people that mean so much to me, and to an experience that can show them in a tangible way how diverse and limitless the world is. I know they are small, especially Miss. But I don't for a moment think that even She won't be impacted and influenced by visiting another country, so different from what they have known.
I anticipate some rough moments. There will be jetlag, everything will be different, and we will see some things that are hard to see. We will miss Daddy a lot. But I hope that Ethiopia will be for them a little bit of what it has been to me before. I hope that international travel will give them that glimmer, that hint that the wide world is something vast and wonderful to explore. I'm hoping that by coming with me, they will gain that little something that will make them grow up to be a Crazy Opportunity Lady, like me.
Every now and then I catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. Was that? Could that have been.. something? Hmm. Then as time goes on, I notice it prowling around, getting bolder. Leaving prints on my windshield. I start thinking about it. Hmm. I believe there's a feral Opportunity in my yard.
I kind of go on about life but it's at the back of my mind. What to do about it? Should I take it in? Can I handle all the work of an Opportunity right now? It may need grooming. It could bite. But...it might be such a nice addition to life. I might even love it.
It's hard to decide, you know, whether I'm an Opportunity-taking-in kind of person, when it comes down to it. Life is going just fine as it is, after all, and even if I was the type, what if this isn't the exact right Opportunity for me? What if it's the kind that pees on the sofa?! So I'll think about it. Off and on. Maybe try to check it out a bit from a distance. And then.
One day, coming home after a long day, I'm looking in my bag for the keys. Where are they? Oh. There they are. And I look up to open the door and BAM! There it is. The feral Opportunity, right on my doorstep. And it's giving me the Stare Down. I freeze! I stare, it stares back. I look around like, what do I do?! It stares back. I take a step. It stares back.
Opportunity is like, it's getting cold out here, lady. What's it gonna be? So. I either have to shoo it off with the porch broom so it will go bother someone else....or just say what the heck. Scoop the thing up, and bring it inside. Boom. Now I have an Opportunity on my hands.
At least, that's how it tends to happen for me.
Now, I'm really not at all a cat person. But I do have a soft spot for Opportunities. And that is why, when the Opportunity to go to Africa and do some work for my favorite organization on earth sat it's furry tail on the porch and stared me down...well. It just looked so nice, Peanuts. It sort of looked like this one Opportunity I had in college. I couldn't say no!
Of course I'm not in college anymore. And the thing about taking in Opportunities when you're all grown and married with kids is that when you bring it into the house, the whole family has to live with it.
This particular one involves being overseas for longer than J can take off of work. What that means is that he will be staying home for this trip, but the Littles will be coming with me!
There are risks involved of course. As there are any time you travel anywhere, as there are when you drive to the grocery store, as there are in life. There are some special concerns I have about this trip, like getting used to surroundings that are different from their norm, and whether I personally will survive the 19 hour trip across the world to get there.
But as easy as it is to see the potential for fleas and scratched furniture, Opportunities also have the potential to curl up in your lap and purr.
I'm thrilled to introduce my daughters to a place that I believe is so rich and beautiful, to people that mean so much to me, and to an experience that can show them in a tangible way how diverse and limitless the world is. I know they are small, especially Miss. But I don't for a moment think that even She won't be impacted and influenced by visiting another country, so different from what they have known.
I anticipate some rough moments. There will be jetlag, everything will be different, and we will see some things that are hard to see. We will miss Daddy a lot. But I hope that Ethiopia will be for them a little bit of what it has been to me before. I hope that international travel will give them that glimmer, that hint that the wide world is something vast and wonderful to explore. I'm hoping that by coming with me, they will gain that little something that will make them grow up to be a Crazy Opportunity Lady, like me.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Meet Miss
A major thing that has happened since we last chatted, Peanuts, is Little Miss.
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It will be a very long introduction, I'm afraid, since I missed Her 18 month post and (as I'll explain later) will also be missing Her 2 year Birthday post. Plus there's such an awful lot to say!
Little Miss is a lovely little paradoxical creature.
She is a bit shy, rather sensitive. She peers out from behind me in new situations, She observes cautiously a long time before joining a new friend to play. She's terribly easy to frighten. She is just now in the process of overcoming a plethora of little phobias; the vacuum, motorcycles, snakes, worms that look suspiciously like snakes, all sorts of bugs or specks of fuzz that resemble bugs. She no longer shrieks in terror and cries buckets of tears at the sight of a beetle or the roar of a sports car. But She makes for me like a homing torpedo with enormous eyes and a trembling lip, "Mama!! Mama this scary me!"
On encountering a New Thing- a different sort of shopping cart, a petting zoo chicken, an oddly shaped carrot- Miss finds a parent or sister as calmly as She is able, points at New Thing, and in a voice of tenuous self-control says, "This, nice." It's really a question. She needs to be reassured; "Yes, Missy, the Roomba is nice." She will still be leery. But She trusts (from behind your knee) that it won't eat Her. For now.
On the other hand, She will bust ahead of Her sister and anyone else for that matter to climb things that are too steep, balance on things that are too teetery, jump from things that are too high. She is the child that childproofing was created for. She is the one who could not possibly care less if Mommy says, "Ok, Missy. I'm leaving then! Bye!" Missy loves this tactic. It's just what She wanted. Permission to run in the opposite direction and do Her own thing. "Bye-bye Mommy!" She grins. Off She goes.
She is very independent. She's not only happy to play by Herself for long stretches of time, but now that Little One has been in school I've realized She sort of needs a certain amount of alone time. She loves attention like any child, of course. But She's perfectly happy to sit quietly with crayons and paper for up to an hour, or have the playroom all to Herself. Sometimes, no offense meant, She'd rather build Her block tower without any amateur assistance, thank you.
And whatever there is to be done, She'll almost always prefer to do it Herself. "MY do it!" is one of Her most common and emphatic phrases.
While She has bloomed into an avid little snugglebunny (for every "My do it", there is a "snuggle me!", a "cuddle up Missy time!" or a "Hugs! Hugs kisses me!"), those words are pretty new. Before (and sometimes still) it hurt Her pride too much to outright ask for affection. And so She would pretend to be a kitten. A poor little kitten always needs to be held and cuddled. Not a big strong girl like Missy, no. But if She dons a pathetic little face, looks up beseechingly and plaintively mews... we will surely be fooled into thinking She is a kitten, scoop Her up and hold Her tight, and never know it was Her.
Alternatively, She might come up to me, looking very sorry for me.
"Mommy sad?"
"No, Missy, don't worry! I'm not sad love."
She stares a moment. "Mommy sad."
"No...no Missy Mommy is happy!"
Her eyes narrow into a forbidding glare. "Mommy. SAD."
It takes me a minute to get it. "Aaaah. I see. Oh, yes, I'm so sad. Boo hoo."
Miss grins and runs to me with hugs and kisses and pats on the arm.
"Aww, Mommy!" She purrs, "Ok, Mommy. Missy here. Hugs. Kisses. Snuggle all up. No cry, Mommy, no cry."
It wasn't Miss that needed hugging, you see. It was me. She just does Her best to help out.
Her pride, after all, is so easily wounded. She'd rather yell at the doll's high chair, "Aaargh! You! NO WORKING!" throw up Her hands, and walk away, "NO highchair me!" than ask for help closing the tray. We are working on this. She doesn't take well to correction, either. She cannot believe I'd be so cruel as to suggest that Her shoe is on the wrong foot. Fine then, forget it. "NO shoes, me!" We are working on this too.
At the same time, She has a heart-melting sweet spirit. She can't stand to see anyone have an owie, or to hear anyone cry. To Miss, all things are to be showered with love. They will want kisses and cuddles, and probably to be rocked, fed a bottle, and cooed at "awwwww...BAY-beee!"
NOTHING is as wonderful as a baby. Oh, how Missy loves babies. Caring for Her baby dolls is currently Her main purpose in life. Like a real, veteran mama, She has only to see, hear, or imagine a baby of any sort and Her whole body begins to sway as if She were rocking something to sleep. When we are out in public She is on high alert in case She might see a real baby.
Anything small is surely a baby crayon, a baby rock, a baby bite of spinach. Her voice shrinks into a tiny, high-pitched trill. "Oh! This baby one! Awww, BAY-bee! Kiss. Hug kisses." All things are personified, and all belong in families. Give Her four grapes and before consuming them, She must inspect and allocate them each. "This, mommy one. This one, Daddy one. This sister one gape, this one baby. Aww! BAY-bee!"
Aside from Her precious baby dolls, She's very good at sharing. Pretty good at taking turns. Terribly patient, most times, about being constantly bossed around and dressed up and hustled about by Her sister. She loves and longs to do anything Her sister does, after all, and pines to be a part of the Big Kid games when Little One's friends are over. Not that She doesn't have Her very own interests.
She LOVES bath time, She loves to eat "Hot! Soup!" and to pretend to make it. She is, despite being a member of this family, a total cat person. Not particularly fond of dogs, even Her own. LOVES kitties of all sorts. She adores anything art-related. Crayons, markers, paint, stamps, stickers. She could "color me" all day. She loves to be outdoors and can hike like a trooper. She loves the playground as long as you swing Her very gently, and Her sister accompanies Her down the slides.
She likes books, and gets hooked on favorites that She must read until the rest of us are ready to burn. For a good six months it was "Mrs. Wow Never Wanted A Cow" every night. Then it was a sign language book which we have now all memorized entirely. Currently it is a story about a boy and his drum. Maybe because it has a cat in it.
Adopting a "usual" for storytime isn't surprising for Her, though. Miss is a fan of habit and routine. If She is on a schedule, She will never fail you. If She is in Her bed each day at 1pm, She will nap each day at 1pm. But heaven help you if you mess Her up. At 1:15 she is weeping on your pant-leg, "Sleeeeeeeep! Sleeeeeeeepy me! Nap-time!"
She's fastidious about all things, really. As long as it wasn't your idea, She is very good about cleaning up Her toys, and likes everything to be in it's place. She loves to help clean with a little dustcloth and the toy vacuum, and will not tolerate being dirty for long. She loves to wash Her hands. She loves to wash everything. She helpfully reminds me if I have left my shoes out or missed a spot mopping.
Not that She's all work and no play. She's actually quite the comedian. Little Miss will very literally go head over heels for a laugh. She has a sense of humor beyond Her age I think, pointing out ironies and cracking jokes that sometimes really are funny. She has patented a pouty face that is so pronounced it typically evokes chuckles, and so She employs it for comic relief more than to actually pout. Not everyone gets it. But when they do, She is delighted. A special joke of Missy's developed around Thanksgiving after Her sister came home from learning about Squanto at school. Little Miss thought the sound of that name to be pretty funny. She began to sing "twinkle twinkle little SQUANTO!", the absurdity of which made us laugh out loud. Thereby cementing it into Miss's repertoire, and now when we're all getting a little too serious or boring, She breaks out that song to liven us all up. It typically works, too.
Miss is coming into Her own in terms of communicating, and can be pretty creative about it. For example, recently we were getting ready for bed and She began to fuss. "Piggies no stick-outing! Piggies NO-STICK-OUTING! Piggies! PIGGIES!!!" crying out quite desperately at the end there. This was all I could get out of Her. When I asked Her what She meant, of course She only repeated Herself with a growing frustration that I was the stupidest possible person, until I finally asked Her, "what piggies?!" and She pointed to Her right foot. Ah. Those little piggies. No-stick-out-ing. As in, Her toes had gotten caught on Her pants, and She couldn't push Her foot through. Her piggies were not sticking out. This sort of Yoda-Jedi syntax is a special distinctiveness of Little Miss's.
"Please clementine me more!" Asking for more of Her favorite treat.
"This car, Missy Miss, turn-time! Yeah, blue one!" If She wants the blue car.
"Banana-ing time!" If She wants a banana.
"This blocks, build up sky, big tower!" Planning to erect a duplo sky-scraper.
"Jacket-ing me, Mama please!" If She needs help with Her raincoat.
And of course, the quintessential Little Miss classic when She is crossed in any way (accompanied by the Scowl and folded arms): "NO happy, me!"
Little Miss does love to knit Her eyebrows and give that very intimidating Scowl to, well, just about everyone until they are proven innocent. She also loves to laugh, loves to create laughter, and has an all-out, soulful giggle and grin that could probably light Times Square. Her incredible stubbornness tests my patience to the extreme sometimes, but those mega-smiles shoot straight through my heart and radiate sunshine out my fingertips and toes on even my gloomiest days. She is a second sibling but in no one's shadow, managing to be at once our delicate violet and our bolt of lightning. Somehow Little Miss has been in our family for only just two years. Think of that. But none of us, if we try our hardest, can imagine what life was ever like without Her.
And now that you've been properly introduced, I'll bet you won't be able to, either.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Solar Power
1/12/13
At nap time, Miss asked me to turn on the toy that projects stars onto the ceiling. I explained that She couldn't see them because it wasn't dark enough. Because it was sunny outside. She understood perfectly.
"Yeah, this stuff sun, ou'side, coming in, all over, up there ceiling, no see my stars!" She elaborated for me, gesturing dramatically to demonstrate the sun's rudeness in just coming right in the window without so much as knocking, "Yeah! Cover-up!"
"Yes!" I responded, pleased that She had such a grasp of it for such a little Little. Maybe She'll be a scientist, with a mind like that! "Yes that's exactly right Miss. The sunlight covers up the light from the little stars. That's why we can't see them."
She looked at me, nodding gravely. She understood just what the problem was.
"yeah," She pointed up into the outside sky, "mommy turn it off."
"What?"
"This sun, cover up stars. Too sunny. Mommy go turn off."
"Oh...but, Missy, it's the sun. Mommy can't turn it off." I tried not to giggle. "There's no switch for the sun, love".
Miss reflected for the tiniest moment, then shrugged Her shoulders, "Yeah, no turn off. Mommy go, take out batt-a-ries."
Snow Days, Snow Ways
Chesapeake Bay Bridge in a snowstorm with babies in the back seat. I do not recommend it.
But if you need official birth certificates for your children who were born in Maryland and can't wait weeks and weeks from them to slither to you through the snail mail, you have to drive to Maryland. True, I might have believed the weather dude. But I didn't and we went. Seven hours of driving, icy roads, and hungry children. Not the best way to party on a Friday evening. TRUST ME.
On the other hand, birth certificates were obtained, and so yesterday's mission was accomplished. And, as Little One pointed out, we did have a big adventure!
Little Miss felt the gentle crush of snow beneath Her feet, melted it in her hands and caught it on her tongue for the first time. We threw fistfuls of it at each other and got it caked in halos over our hair, we slipped and fell and laughed in it.
Little One sang made-up songs about how much She loves Her sister on the way home, and Missy giggled and cheered and occasionally chimed in. And we made it home in whole pieces! So it all worked out.
Today I am enjoying the way the snow makes the yard all pretty, and the way it highlights the distinctiveness of my children's personalities.
Little One was outside with Her mittens on doing snow angels before breakfast. She barely let me wrangle Her into a light jacket on Her way out the door.
Little Miss, however? No amount of encouragement or promises to bundle Her in really, really cozy snowpants could convince Her to put so much as one rosy toe out in that "coldy coldy" stuff. She was perfectly content to sit at the window (wrapped in a blanket since, evidently, just looking at the snow gave Her a chill) and watch Her sister throw snowballs for the dogs.
Little One ran and jumped and fell and wiggled into it. She scooped up armfuls and tossed it up, turning Her face to feel it shower back down. She laughed and stomped and twirled and radiated mirth.
Missy sat in Her blanket, subdued. Staring out the window. Surely She would want to join the fun.
C: "Little Miss, are you really sure you don't want to play outside? It's so fun to play in the snow! We could make a snow man!"
LM: "No."
C: "We could make snow angels!"
LM: "No."
C: "We could make snowballs and throw them and the doggies will catch them in the air!!"
LM: "No. No."
C: "We...could just walk nicely in it and see how it is so soft and so pretty out there."
LM: "No. No. No. Coldy coldy. Brrr! No, no t'anks. No. No outside, me."
C: "Well, ok. What would you like to do instead, then?"
LM(perking right up): "SNUGGLE UP!!!"
So that's what we did.
But if you need official birth certificates for your children who were born in Maryland and can't wait weeks and weeks from them to slither to you through the snail mail, you have to drive to Maryland. True, I might have believed the weather dude. But I didn't and we went. Seven hours of driving, icy roads, and hungry children. Not the best way to party on a Friday evening. TRUST ME.
On the other hand, birth certificates were obtained, and so yesterday's mission was accomplished. And, as Little One pointed out, we did have a big adventure!
Little Miss felt the gentle crush of snow beneath Her feet, melted it in her hands and caught it on her tongue for the first time. We threw fistfuls of it at each other and got it caked in halos over our hair, we slipped and fell and laughed in it.Little One sang made-up songs about how much She loves Her sister on the way home, and Missy giggled and cheered and occasionally chimed in. And we made it home in whole pieces! So it all worked out.
Today I am enjoying the way the snow makes the yard all pretty, and the way it highlights the distinctiveness of my children's personalities.
Little One was outside with Her mittens on doing snow angels before breakfast. She barely let me wrangle Her into a light jacket on Her way out the door.
Little Miss, however? No amount of encouragement or promises to bundle Her in really, really cozy snowpants could convince Her to put so much as one rosy toe out in that "coldy coldy" stuff. She was perfectly content to sit at the window (wrapped in a blanket since, evidently, just looking at the snow gave Her a chill) and watch Her sister throw snowballs for the dogs.
Little One ran and jumped and fell and wiggled into it. She scooped up armfuls and tossed it up, turning Her face to feel it shower back down. She laughed and stomped and twirled and radiated mirth.Missy sat in Her blanket, subdued. Staring out the window. Surely She would want to join the fun.
C: "Little Miss, are you really sure you don't want to play outside? It's so fun to play in the snow! We could make a snow man!"
LM: "No."
C: "We could make snow angels!"
LM: "No."
C: "We could make snowballs and throw them and the doggies will catch them in the air!!"
LM: "No. No."
C: "We...could just walk nicely in it and see how it is so soft and so pretty out there."
LM: "No. No. No. Coldy coldy. Brrr! No, no t'anks. No. No outside, me."
C: "Well, ok. What would you like to do instead, then?"
LM(perking right up): "SNUGGLE UP!!!"
So that's what we did.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Karate Kid
Awhile ago, Little One was invited to a classmate's birthday party. It was a TAE KWON DO! party. That's how you say it. YAHHH!
With coaxing, Little One consented to a loose cotton shift with matching puff-sleeved T-shirt and leggings, rather than a fluffy party dress. She wasn't sure a party could be a party without a party dress, but She was keen on trying TAE KWON DO! so She relented.
It was a super cool party. The instructors were great and put the kids through their paces for a whole lesson in TAE KWON DO! Stretches, warm-ups, kicks and punches. There was some bowing. Little One curtseyed. Fiercely. There were games and a pretty awesome skills demonstration by the teachers. Everyone was psyched up!
So for the final touch, the instructors brought out thin wooden boards, and asked the birthday boy (a longtime student) to break one with a Hiii-yaaaah! Which he did, to the great admiration of his peers. There was bowing. Each child got their turn to go up in front of everyone and display their awesomeness by breaking a board. Little One went last.
She wasn't at all the youngest, but She was by far the littlest. Still, She was ready and She hit that board with all Her might! ...and She hit it again! um....and again...and again. She paused. The teacher encouraged Her, gave Her some tips. She tried again! She wanted to break that thing SO badly, She tried with both fists at once!
It was cute.
So, unfortunately, everyone laughed.
Little One froze. She shrank into Her raised fists. She peered, red-faced, over a shoulder at all Her friends and their parents, laughing. At Her. She gave it one more try. Sort of. Then She just shook Her head, fighting tears.
Her fists fell, Her eyes fell. She ran from the mat to my side, taking a deep, deep breath to hold back from crying.
Sometimes, Peanuts. Sometimes we try. Hard. But, sometimes, we fail. Sometimes we do.
The party went on, instructors demonstrating impossible kicks and flips and YAHH!s.
When they finished, they began stacking the unused boards, cleaning up for cake time, and I saw Little One take a few steps towards the teacher- then back. She stared at those boards.
For a split second, my mind raced. What did I hope She would learn from this?
I want Her to know that sometimes, we fail. That life goes on, nonetheless. I want Her to know that it's ok to fail, that as Her mother I don't need Her never to fail.
I also want Her to know something else.
I whispered into Her ear.
"Little One. I am sure he would let you try one more time if you ask."
She took a couple steps- then stepped back.
"Little One. He won't let you try if you don't ask. They are cleaning up, so this is your last chance today. Go ahead and ask! He will say yes."
She looked up at me with such big, hopeful eyes.
"Little One. You. Can. Do. It. I KNOW you can. Go for it!"
Her little fingers clenched into fists. She turned. She took a step. Stopped.
Then, in a burst of courage She ran over to the teacher and tugged at his uniform sleeve. I saw him bend over, and She whispered into his ear. He smiled.
"Wait a minute!" He announced to the party, "we have one more try!"
He helped Her set Her stance. It was cinematically silent in the room. He hollered, "GO!"
Little One stared at that board. She took a breath.
I took a breath.
This was one of those parent moments in which a large gamble is taken. I knew when I said the words "I know you can do it", that I was creating a Turning Point. That after that, things could either go very well, or very badly. As She raised Her hand over the board, I knew that I could do nothing for Her.
But I think sometimes you have to bet on your kids, knowing they might fail, knowing you can't hedge the bet for them. Because win or lose, I wanted Her to know that no matter what- no matter how many times She hadn't broken it before, no matter how many times She fails at anything- I believe in Her. And I do. As it turns out, all She really needed (and maybe all She'll ever need) was to believe in Herself. As She brought Her hand down, She cracked that board clean in two.
The teacher jumped up and cheered. The whole room clapped and cheered!
Little One turned around beaming from head to foot. She looked around. Why, those people who had laughed at Her had really been pulling for Her all along! They were happy for Her! She looked down shyly into Her hands and muttered "thanks", then skipped back to me.
She looked up, eyes shining, and whispered, "Mommy. I did it!"
Between you and me, Peanuts, I may have nearly peed my pants for about two seconds there. Maybe. But I cupped Her little chin in my hand and looker Her right in the eye and told Her the deep-down-from-my-heart truth. "I knew you could."
Sometimes when we try, we fail. That's life. But sometimes. Sometimes when we try again, we succeed. I will never know whether I taught that to Little One that day, or She taught it to me. But there it is.
It was just a small moment at a small party.
But Little One has talked about it since. I have heard Her retort, to a child who teased Her for being small, "well. I am little. But you know, I'm a superhero. I can break a board with mine own hand. I did it 'afore." I'm not much of a gambler, but I would say this bet had a big payoff.
So when the birthday party dojo offered a special on TAE KWON DO! classes, well. They had a perfect sucker in this proud mama. 
Today was Her first official lesson. It's a trial run; we'll see how it suits Her. But this time, there was no sitting out, so hanging back. No curtseys, even.
Watch out, world.
She's small.
But -as we really already knew- She's fierce!
Sunday, January 13, 2013
How I've Been
I'm good, yep. Thanks for asking.
Better than I was the last time I posted in October.
Because after that, I got so crazy and sleep-deprived by single-parenting that I had to check into a mental health clinic and I've been convalescing there until now.
Or. I pined away for J so terribly, that I succumbed to my broken heart and leaped from a bridge into icy water and have spent the last three months in a full-body cast.
Or. The children finally ran wild and went all Lord of The Flies on me and I just got out of the hallway closet where I've been bound with sequined hair ribbons and living on cheerios slipped under the door.
Or. I threatened to take out the entire US military if they changed the dates for J's return trip one more time, and they could see I was dang serious and I've been in the brig.
Or I got really tired of missing J and didn't know how to talk about anything else, and then he came home and I was too happy to talk about anything else than that, and then there was SO much to talk about I didn't know where to start.
Those are all perfectly likely and you may take your pick.
But in any case, he did come back. Little One turned four. Little Miss became a real walking, talking, hilarious person. There were holidays and tragedies and mudfights and quite a lot of photographs.
I might get some up here just to dispel any rumors about my whereabouts.
In the meantime, though, being so far away from friends and family while J was missing did teach me the value of any thread at all that can keep me connected to people out there. And I miss being able to look something up on here in order to cheat at bets with J when we can't quite remember where we were last Thanksgiving. So I think I'll give this thing another go, and see if anyone out there still wants to hold the other end of the thread.
So the short of the long story is that we are all fine! And, I miss you.
Better than I was the last time I posted in October.
Because after that, I got so crazy and sleep-deprived by single-parenting that I had to check into a mental health clinic and I've been convalescing there until now.
Or. I pined away for J so terribly, that I succumbed to my broken heart and leaped from a bridge into icy water and have spent the last three months in a full-body cast.
Or. The children finally ran wild and went all Lord of The Flies on me and I just got out of the hallway closet where I've been bound with sequined hair ribbons and living on cheerios slipped under the door.
Or. I threatened to take out the entire US military if they changed the dates for J's return trip one more time, and they could see I was dang serious and I've been in the brig.
Or I got really tired of missing J and didn't know how to talk about anything else, and then he came home and I was too happy to talk about anything else than that, and then there was SO much to talk about I didn't know where to start.
Those are all perfectly likely and you may take your pick.
But in any case, he did come back. Little One turned four. Little Miss became a real walking, talking, hilarious person. There were holidays and tragedies and mudfights and quite a lot of photographs.
I might get some up here just to dispel any rumors about my whereabouts.
In the meantime, though, being so far away from friends and family while J was missing did teach me the value of any thread at all that can keep me connected to people out there. And I miss being able to look something up on here in order to cheat at bets with J when we can't quite remember where we were last Thanksgiving. So I think I'll give this thing another go, and see if anyone out there still wants to hold the other end of the thread.
So the short of the long story is that we are all fine! And, I miss you.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
How Ya Been?
You know that one friend, from Back In The Day, that you always liked, but then you got all busy, and life got all demanding, and you sort of lost touch? Then you kind of missed them, and you kept meaning to call. But then after awhile it had been so long, that whenever you wanted to call it seemed kind of awkward. I mean, what are you going to say? "Hey, I know it's been like, months and months, and so much has happened I don't really know where to start, and I have no real reason to call, nothing super important to say or anything I just...um..........hi?"
So you never call. It gets harder and harder to. And you sort of lose sight of them after awhile. Even if you always liked them and missed them.
Well, you know. It's a New Year. Why not start fresh?
We should all just reach out and say, "Hey! It's been awhile. We should catch up!"
It can't be all that hard. Here, I'll go first.
Hey, Peanuts. It's been awhile. We should catch up.
So you never call. It gets harder and harder to. And you sort of lose sight of them after awhile. Even if you always liked them and missed them.
Well, you know. It's a New Year. Why not start fresh?
We should all just reach out and say, "Hey! It's been awhile. We should catch up!"
It can't be all that hard. Here, I'll go first.
Hey, Peanuts. It's been awhile. We should catch up.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Reminder
We meant to have Salmon for dinner, like we do every Sunday. On the wedding china, with candles, and what Little One calls a "Sugar Dessert"- something like ice cream or pie instead of fruit. But we stayed late at an afternoon party, so instead we just tucked the Littles into bed, and watched a movie on the couch. We headed to bed laughing about something I don't recall and luckily not much else happened because just as there might have been bases involved, the door burst open, and out of nowhere an angel appeared. Dressed in white, bathed in light from the hall, it fluttered over to us with arms stretched out. It was frightened.
Frightened on the face of a tiny angel flips a switch in a parent's heart so immediately, that we had gathered Her up, folded Her between us, and sheltered Her with hugs before our brains had a chance to form a single word. Finally the words came together and we reassured our drowsy little angel that there wasn't a single crocodile around, that nothing would eat Her or Her little sister up.
She sighed and looped an arm around us each. She cozied into the pillows and began drifting back towards dreams. And just there, in that in-between, hazy place before She fell asleep, She murmured with Her eyes closed- "You. Are. GREAT." She nestled Her head on my shoulder- still holding tight to J- and, in a whisper, "You is the BEST mommy". And then fell asleep.
J and I caught eyes over the tangles of Her sleepy hair, and we were both grinning. Beaming, really, we squeezed each others hand.
I scooped Her up and tucked Her back into Her bed, then lay down with my head on J's shoulder. We were quiet for awhile. Then I said it.
"We have...the BEST life." J hugged me and smiled, "Yeah. We do."
1/7/13
Frightened on the face of a tiny angel flips a switch in a parent's heart so immediately, that we had gathered Her up, folded Her between us, and sheltered Her with hugs before our brains had a chance to form a single word. Finally the words came together and we reassured our drowsy little angel that there wasn't a single crocodile around, that nothing would eat Her or Her little sister up.
She sighed and looped an arm around us each. She cozied into the pillows and began drifting back towards dreams. And just there, in that in-between, hazy place before She fell asleep, She murmured with Her eyes closed- "You. Are. GREAT." She nestled Her head on my shoulder- still holding tight to J- and, in a whisper, "You is the BEST mommy". And then fell asleep.
J and I caught eyes over the tangles of Her sleepy hair, and we were both grinning. Beaming, really, we squeezed each others hand.
I scooped Her up and tucked Her back into Her bed, then lay down with my head on J's shoulder. We were quiet for awhile. Then I said it.
"We have...the BEST life." J hugged me and smiled, "Yeah. We do."
1/7/13
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
What Sisters Are For
Missy was feeling cross before naptime and was grumping
about joining us for story time. Little One started to get frustrated
and then She took a deep breath, and put on Her cheerful voice.
LO: "Oh Missy! Missy Miss what is a matter? Don't you want to read stories wif us?"
Miss: "Mph. No!"
LO: "Oh. You is sure cranky today."
Miss: "NO! Nononono no."
LO: "Oh Missy. Silly Miss Miss. Don't you know that we love you? We is Mommy and Sissy and we love you baby LittleMiss. Come over here and read some stories. We just want to snuggle you and be all together. Don't you want to be all together? Come on now, fweetie, we are who loves you and we is all a family. We can't be all a family without you!"
Missy: "Mommy. Sissy."
LO: "That's right! Mommy and Sissy and we love you! We're a family aren't we Missy Miss?"
Missy stops and stares at us a minute. She seems to be undergoing a serious internal conflict. Her eyes dart back and forth between Little One and I.
LO (whispering): "We're a family aren't we Missy?" She holds out Her arms.
Missy suddenly breaks into a headlong, unsteady run towards Her sister. She is emphatically bobbing Her head "yes" and calling "Yep! Yep! Yep yep!" as She comes rushing, headlong, crashing into our laps and snuggling in close. She pats us each in turn, "Mommy Sissy! Mommy Sissy!" and Little One is giggling.
"See! See Little Miss I told you that we are happy all together, cause we loves you! Yes we do! You can be happy now Missy! Yes you can."
Missy sighs and smiles and points at the story in my hand. "Booka!"
I gather them up, a jumble of arms, legs, pudgy this and that. And we read.
LO: "Oh Missy! Missy Miss what is a matter? Don't you want to read stories wif us?"
Miss: "Mph. No!"
LO: "Oh. You is sure cranky today."
Miss: "NO! Nononono no."
LO: "Oh Missy. Silly Miss Miss. Don't you know that we love you? We is Mommy and Sissy and we love you baby LittleMiss. Come over here and read some stories. We just want to snuggle you and be all together. Don't you want to be all together? Come on now, fweetie, we are who loves you and we is all a family. We can't be all a family without you!"
Missy: "Mommy. Sissy."
LO: "That's right! Mommy and Sissy and we love you! We're a family aren't we Missy Miss?"
Missy stops and stares at us a minute. She seems to be undergoing a serious internal conflict. Her eyes dart back and forth between Little One and I.
LO (whispering): "We're a family aren't we Missy?" She holds out Her arms.
Missy suddenly breaks into a headlong, unsteady run towards Her sister. She is emphatically bobbing Her head "yes" and calling "Yep! Yep! Yep yep!" as She comes rushing, headlong, crashing into our laps and snuggling in close. She pats us each in turn, "Mommy Sissy! Mommy Sissy!" and Little One is giggling.
"See! See Little Miss I told you that we are happy all together, cause we loves you! Yes we do! You can be happy now Missy! Yes you can."
Missy sighs and smiles and points at the story in my hand. "Booka!"
I gather them up, a jumble of arms, legs, pudgy this and that. And we read.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Teen-er-agers. OMG.
Little One thoughtfully watched students from the nearby high school walking home along our street as we pruned the jasmine.
LO: "Teeneragers...them just goes around, wherever thems want to, without them's mommies and daddies. "
C: "Well. They do get to go lots of places without their parents with them. But they can't just go anywhere they want to."
LO: "No?"
C: "No! They have to ask their parents if it's ok first. And they ALWAYS have to tell their mommies and daddies where they are going. Even teenagers have to follow rules and be safe."
LO: "Hmm. Well. When I'M a teenerager, I'm going to go here and there, and all over a'place, all by mine self!"
C: "Oh you will go lots of places by yourself, yes. Because you will be responsible and safe and Mommy and Daddy will trust you. But you will still have to tell us where you are going, first."
LO: "Oh, well...tee hee! Teeeheeheee! Well Mommy.. when I am a teenerager, I might....I might jus'...I might jus' tell you I am going to the store, or somepin. When ACTUALLY I will be going to somewhere! Like the ZOO! Haahahaaa!"
Peanuts, seriously. I am in for it. And MOM! Stop laughing so hard.
LO: "Teeneragers...them just goes around, wherever thems want to, without them's mommies and daddies. "
C: "Well. They do get to go lots of places without their parents with them. But they can't just go anywhere they want to."
LO: "No?"
C: "No! They have to ask their parents if it's ok first. And they ALWAYS have to tell their mommies and daddies where they are going. Even teenagers have to follow rules and be safe."
LO: "Hmm. Well. When I'M a teenerager, I'm going to go here and there, and all over a'place, all by mine self!"
C: "Oh you will go lots of places by yourself, yes. Because you will be responsible and safe and Mommy and Daddy will trust you. But you will still have to tell us where you are going, first."
LO: "Oh, well...tee hee! Teeeheeheee! Well Mommy.. when I am a teenerager, I might....I might jus'...I might jus' tell you I am going to the store, or somepin. When ACTUALLY I will be going to somewhere! Like the ZOO! Haahahaaa!"
Peanuts, seriously. I am in for it. And MOM! Stop laughing so hard.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Excellent.
*TMI, icky stuff post. You're warned.
It's also unnecessarily long, but some of you have asked me about my thoughts on potty training.
So, ha. That's what you get for asking!*
Folks. It's Potty Time.
Many of you know that I have strong opinions about potty training. Two, specifically.
1) Yes, kids can be potty-trained well before their second birthday. Don't tell me they can't; they can. It's not that hard, either, and yes they can. Yes they can.
2)The limiting factor in potty training is primarily the parent's potty-training-readiness, not the child's. And further. That is a perfectly acceptable limitation.
In the case of Little One, I did potty training in the method I put together over years of observation and experience with other people's kids, that works for me. I started early, went slowly, did not ever force, and used a combination of no diapers and positive reinforcement for the final push through to consistently dry undies.
The thing is (in my opinion of course) if you start really early, potty training just sort of happens early as a matter of course. Alternatively, you can wait until the child is like three or four and just make a deal or convince them to one day decide to make the switch.
But the age most of us parents are ready, is the in-between. The twos. The age when all children are pre-programed to oppose and resist anything we tell them to do. When their innate reaction to everything we say is "NO." How does this make sense? No wonder so many people describe potty training as a nightmare.
Ha. Well. With Missy. About the time I knew we should be introducing the idea, we were getting ready for moving and deployment. And then those things came, and, well. See number two, above. This Mama was just not ready for the time and effort it takes to teach such a skill.
And so my recent efforts to broach the subject have not gone over well. Miss had learned- from me- that the place you "go" is a diaper. So, when I stripped Her of that, She would just...not go. She would hold it for hours and hours, all morning guys, until nap time when finally I put Her in a diaper. There were plenty of times She needed to pee and so She went and fetched Herself a diaper and brought it to me. Or followed me around doing the pee-pee dance, begging me for a "di-di" so She could go. And there was the time She gave up on me, and just went and got a diaper, spread it out on the floor, sat on it, peed, and went back to Her puzzle. She flat refused to even sit on the potty- unless it was cleverly disguised as a reading chair! In which case She used it for just that.
I was beginning to think that I was seriously going to have a two year old in diapers.
Then one day.
She came to me. She had a clean diaper in one hand. She had two clean wipes in the other. She handed them to me, laid down on the floor. And said, "Mommy, Miss poo-poo. All icky. Wipe, pees!"
And I was like. Ok seriously. It. Is. Time.
But first of all, there was that missed window. And secondly, this Missy. Wow guys. She is fiercely independent and stubborn. So I needed a plan.
I thought about it. I decided to use two of Miss's most prevalent attributes; that independence, and Her intense desire to do everything Her sister does.
First I gave up on the little potty. I don't use it, Little One doesn't, and Miss does not appreciate being babied. I dug out the seat Little One had used as an older toddler, the little seat with the attached step that goes right on the real potty, so She can climb up by Herself and not fall in.
I showed Missy how it worked. Hmm. She was intrigued. I left it out during school hours, let Missy check it out and get used to it. Then after school, we had a bathroom pow-wow. First, Little One showed Missy how to use the new seat. We made a big deal over how cool and grown up it was. Then I looked my too-smart-for-my-own-good daughter in the eye, and explained to Her in a cheerful but fully adult tone of voice, that mommy and sissy do not wear diapers. We do not potty in our undies. Big girls go in the potty. Missy is getting to be a big girl, too. If She goes in the potty, She can have a cookie, like a big girl.
At the word "cookie", Her eyes got very big. I try not to introduce refined sugar before the age of two. So Miss is not typically allowed cookies. And sometimes, She has to see Little One get a cookie, and hear that She is not old enough yet. So the cookie (actually a tiny chunk of a digestive biscuit) is a Big Deal.
She climbed up and looked at us. She tried. But She looked stressed; we were just staring at Her, waiting! I was afraid She'd crack under the pressure guys! So to lighten things up, I made a little joke, asking in a silly voice, "pee-pee? Are you in there? Come out, you!" Missy laughed. And then. She did it. Her first intentional pee in the potty, ever.
This is all I needed guys! A breakthrough! Because afterwards, we all cheered and clapped, and then. There was a cookie. She really got to have it and eat it, and it was just as amazing as She always imagined. And so, within the next hour, I handed out four more cookie bits. To keep the momentum going, we went to the store and picked out a box of animal crackers-er, cookies, just for Missy, just for potty, and put them in a special jar. Now, every time She goes She's allowed to choose one.
She can only have it if She actually goes. Not just if She asks for one. Not if She begs. Not if She says pee-pee. Not if She just sits on the potty. She has tested all these theories, and identified a direct link between pee in the potty and cookie in hand. And She never has to complain about wet undies/diapers, and never has to hold it when She needs to go. A revelation!
So now the hard part begins. For Her, learning exactly when to alert the mama so that She makes it in time, learning how to wait a little bit sometimes, learning that it's worth it to stop even the most engrossing book or game when She needs to go. For me, it's the part where I can't really go anywhere and I spend half the day running to the bathroom, waiting, cheering or not, washing hands, repeat. It's hard when there's another Little demanding attention. It's really hard when there is 50-60 minutes of driving required daily for preschool commuting. But it's time. And it can be done!
Wish us luck, Peanuts! This part is always an adventure.
Security Booklet
For awhile there, I was getting a bit worried about Little Miss. At an infant age when Little One had been all about reading, Miss was only interested in books if there was counting involved, or to eat them. And not for long. It seemed like books were just not Her thing. Certainly not as much as blocks, or dumping stuff out of other stuff.
I tried to just accept it and roll with Her preferences. After all. We can't all of us be complete book nerds. I suppose. And I loved Her the same! I did! I just wasn't sure how to raise such a creature over the long term. What does it....do?
But! Never you fear, Peanuts. She was just holding out on us.
She still has a passion for counting and blocks. But Missy has gradually evolved into the book-nerdiest bibliophile of the whole lot of us. Eight times out of ten (really, I measured it once) when it gets too quiet (you know what I mean right parents? Eerily quiet? Up-to-no-good quiet?) 8 times in 10 I will peek around the corner and find Her sitting amidst a little mountain range of books. All piled up in stacks around Her. Leafing carefully through one, and then another.
When I really need a solid 20 minutes of quiet time to take a phone call/bleach the bathtub/breathe deeply and regain sanity, the best bet is to sit Her down with a bin full of books and just leave Her alone. She's in Missy-land. She can't even hear you.
I've learned that books are the very best tools to use for bribery or placation! For instance, the Dreaded Car Seat. Oh, She hates the DCS. But hand Her a book to read on the way? All smiles.
The library is like heaven for this kid people. When we walk in, She does an actual happy dance.
Story-time at our house comes twice a day, rain or shine, and it is incomparably Her favorite part of living. If this kid could have story-time and watermelon 24-7, She would have reached nirvana.
Her current favorites are "Mrs. Wow Never Wanted A Cow" and anything with pictures of "BABIES"! And in case you think I am hyping up this book-love too much, I will just let you know that at night, Missy has never attached to a security object. Little One liked (still does) to choose a stuffed animal to cuddle in bed at night. Little Miss hates that. She will actually throw the thing if you try to lovingly offer it at night. Poor, unwanted Teddy. But. What did She ask for, time and time again, until I gave in? What must She now have, in Her little arms, wrapped tight and hugged and kissed? What pillows Her little cheek as She drifts off to dreamland? Oh yes. A book. Or, in Missy-talk, a "booka". Any "booka". Better yet, three "bookas".
On the down side, our kid-library is becoming a bit tattered from the constant use. On the up side, I'm no longer worried that we won't share a love of reading. And She goes to bed so easily now!
She has enough stories memorized now that I'm starting to think that learning-by-osmosis thing we all tried in college might actually work, too.
I tried to just accept it and roll with Her preferences. After all. We can't all of us be complete book nerds. I suppose. And I loved Her the same! I did! I just wasn't sure how to raise such a creature over the long term. What does it....do?
But! Never you fear, Peanuts. She was just holding out on us.
She still has a passion for counting and blocks. But Missy has gradually evolved into the book-nerdiest bibliophile of the whole lot of us. Eight times out of ten (really, I measured it once) when it gets too quiet (you know what I mean right parents? Eerily quiet? Up-to-no-good quiet?) 8 times in 10 I will peek around the corner and find Her sitting amidst a little mountain range of books. All piled up in stacks around Her. Leafing carefully through one, and then another.
When I really need a solid 20 minutes of quiet time to take a phone call/bleach the bathtub/breathe deeply and regain sanity, the best bet is to sit Her down with a bin full of books and just leave Her alone. She's in Missy-land. She can't even hear you.
I've learned that books are the very best tools to use for bribery or placation! For instance, the Dreaded Car Seat. Oh, She hates the DCS. But hand Her a book to read on the way? All smiles.
The library is like heaven for this kid people. When we walk in, She does an actual happy dance.
Story-time at our house comes twice a day, rain or shine, and it is incomparably Her favorite part of living. If this kid could have story-time and watermelon 24-7, She would have reached nirvana.
Her current favorites are "Mrs. Wow Never Wanted A Cow" and anything with pictures of "BABIES"! And in case you think I am hyping up this book-love too much, I will just let you know that at night, Missy has never attached to a security object. Little One liked (still does) to choose a stuffed animal to cuddle in bed at night. Little Miss hates that. She will actually throw the thing if you try to lovingly offer it at night. Poor, unwanted Teddy. But. What did She ask for, time and time again, until I gave in? What must She now have, in Her little arms, wrapped tight and hugged and kissed? What pillows Her little cheek as She drifts off to dreamland? Oh yes. A book. Or, in Missy-talk, a "booka". Any "booka". Better yet, three "bookas".
On the down side, our kid-library is becoming a bit tattered from the constant use. On the up side, I'm no longer worried that we won't share a love of reading. And She goes to bed so easily now!
She has enough stories memorized now that I'm starting to think that learning-by-osmosis thing we all tried in college might actually work, too.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
The BirthDay
The night before Her long anticipated birthday, Little One had been busy with a long day of playing outside, art projects, and a picnic dinner in the yard which turned into running in the sprinklers which became mixing vats of mud with Her toes which evolved into an epic mud fight with Her mother and sister. A neighbor or two might have become involved. There was only one minor injury.
After extensive washing up, She was worn out and put to bed early.
But the next day was Her BIRTHDAY. And after She was tucked in, I could hear Her little feet pittering and pattering about Her room until nearly 11pm. Choosing the perfect outfit, laying out jewelry and hair ties and pretend make-up and setting Her dolls out in just such a way that She would be SO ready to turn four in the morning. She was that excited.
Despite the late night antics, She'd been told She could get up as early as She wanted on Her birthday, and hopped into my covers at 6am, eyes shining.
"I'm four. I'm FOUR! Did you know the sun is coming up, and it's going to be my birthday?!?!"
And it was.
Sometime in the night, after even She had fallen asleep, the sun had passed the exact place in it's orbit it had been four laps ago, at the moment She had entered the world.
That day, we'd both done not much else but sleep. This time around, it was cuddles and cheers and singing Missy out of bed. A parade down the stairs and what music shall we have today Little One? Oh, Broadway Musicals of course.
Three apron strings tied, and three sets of hands poured and mixed and washed and chopped.
There was waffles and turkey bacon, fruit and soy milk. A recorded birthday song from Daddy, which She played again and again, kissing the computer screen.
And then the best surprise, a phone call from Daddy, so She could tell him all about being FOUR. I wish I was able to share the photos, guys. They are priceless. Her face!
We had to say goodbye, but then there were presents from Grampa and Nana. Even Little Miss got a package. The pretty paper flew and the ooohs and aahhhhs poured out.
They played with the novelties while I cleaned up, and then Little One picked out the outfits for the day. Because She loves to match Her sister and wanted to be "the fanciest ever", She chose the special shiny dresses J and I had brought them from Bahrain. Accessorized with Her new dress up set (clip on earrings!) we set out for the day. She'd been allowed to choose to do whatever She wanted.
So we spent the whole day at the children's museum with Her best friend and longtime love, O.
We took a break for lunch at a Chinese food buffet (Her choice) which was horrible but all the kids loved. I really don't think it's possible for my girls to have fit that much food into their little bellies. It boggles the mind. It must have been birthday luck that the fortune cookie package She chose actually had two cookies in it somehow. Her fortunes read:
"You will have a happy and peaceful life" and
"Your talents will receive the admiration they deserve"
Which I think about sums up the exact luck She'd like to have.
The children's museum is awesome. We spent the entire day there, stopped by the grocery store, then headed home where the girls played "children's museum" (since five hours is not enough) while I made Her special dinner. She was allowed to choose any dinner She wanted, in the whole wide world. She could have said cheerios or hot dogs or hot dogs with cheerios on top, and I was braced and determined to just let Her have it. She chose baked salmon, edamame, and salad with terriaki dressing. She'd also been given the choice of any special birthday dessert in the whole world, and She chose "one candy from the candy dish". So the candle went in the salmon.
Throughout the day She had calls from family and serenades of Happy Birthdays and felt very loved.
After dinner and bath, we read Missy Her favorite book (Mrs Wow Never Wanted A Cow), and tucked Her in. Then Little One and I looked through Her baby book, reading all the details and touching Her first lock of hair, Her hospital bracelet. We held Her feet up to Her footprints and saw how much they'd grown. We looked at the photo album of Her first days home.
After the lights went out I told Her the story of a little baby who was born exactly four years ago; how She came into the world, who was there to greet Her, and how She'd grown to be this amazingly smart, loving girl who danced wonderful dances, ran fast, and sang beautiful songs to a family that had loved Her every minute, all the time, since before She was born until forever.
From reading the baby book, Little One remembered Her favorite lullabies as a baby, and asked me to sing them. I did. She remembered that She'd loved to sleep snuggled into Her mommy's arms, and asked me to snuggle Her to sleep.
"Now, Little One", I chided, "Even on your birthday, you have to go to sleep like a big girl when it's time for bed."
"But Mommy. Even if I'm so big four years old, when I'm a baby I liked snuggles and even now I like to snuggle you. Can't I get big for snuggles later on another birthday? I'm getting bigger and bigger later on."
I looked down and all the times I'd held Her as an infant, sleeping in my arms, flashed before me like a jolt of lightning. I looked into Her sweet little four-year-old face (four isn't really such a big number, you know) and I knew that She was right. That the moments She will want me to hold Her will flash by just as fast. She will be too big to snuggle to sleep on some other birthday, it's true.
For now, I'm proud of how much She has grown and learned and become. I'm proud to call Her my Big Girl and I'm happy to see Her propelling forward and upward with time, growing into Her own fantastic person. I'll never want to keep Her back. But, since She asked, and won't for many birthdays more. This time I was happy to fit Her into my hug with my arms wrapped around, and hold Her a little while longer. Just until She fell asleep.
After extensive washing up, She was worn out and put to bed early.
But the next day was Her BIRTHDAY. And after She was tucked in, I could hear Her little feet pittering and pattering about Her room until nearly 11pm. Choosing the perfect outfit, laying out jewelry and hair ties and pretend make-up and setting Her dolls out in just such a way that She would be SO ready to turn four in the morning. She was that excited.
Despite the late night antics, She'd been told She could get up as early as She wanted on Her birthday, and hopped into my covers at 6am, eyes shining.
"I'm four. I'm FOUR! Did you know the sun is coming up, and it's going to be my birthday?!?!"
And it was.
Sometime in the night, after even She had fallen asleep, the sun had passed the exact place in it's orbit it had been four laps ago, at the moment She had entered the world.
That day, we'd both done not much else but sleep. This time around, it was cuddles and cheers and singing Missy out of bed. A parade down the stairs and what music shall we have today Little One? Oh, Broadway Musicals of course.
Three apron strings tied, and three sets of hands poured and mixed and washed and chopped.
There was waffles and turkey bacon, fruit and soy milk. A recorded birthday song from Daddy, which She played again and again, kissing the computer screen.
And then the best surprise, a phone call from Daddy, so She could tell him all about being FOUR. I wish I was able to share the photos, guys. They are priceless. Her face!
We had to say goodbye, but then there were presents from Grampa and Nana. Even Little Miss got a package. The pretty paper flew and the ooohs and aahhhhs poured out.
They played with the novelties while I cleaned up, and then Little One picked out the outfits for the day. Because She loves to match Her sister and wanted to be "the fanciest ever", She chose the special shiny dresses J and I had brought them from Bahrain. Accessorized with Her new dress up set (clip on earrings!) we set out for the day. She'd been allowed to choose to do whatever She wanted.
So we spent the whole day at the children's museum with Her best friend and longtime love, O.
We took a break for lunch at a Chinese food buffet (Her choice) which was horrible but all the kids loved. I really don't think it's possible for my girls to have fit that much food into their little bellies. It boggles the mind. It must have been birthday luck that the fortune cookie package She chose actually had two cookies in it somehow. Her fortunes read:
"You will have a happy and peaceful life" and
"Your talents will receive the admiration they deserve"
Which I think about sums up the exact luck She'd like to have.
The children's museum is awesome. We spent the entire day there, stopped by the grocery store, then headed home where the girls played "children's museum" (since five hours is not enough) while I made Her special dinner. She was allowed to choose any dinner She wanted, in the whole wide world. She could have said cheerios or hot dogs or hot dogs with cheerios on top, and I was braced and determined to just let Her have it. She chose baked salmon, edamame, and salad with terriaki dressing. She'd also been given the choice of any special birthday dessert in the whole world, and She chose "one candy from the candy dish". So the candle went in the salmon.
Throughout the day She had calls from family and serenades of Happy Birthdays and felt very loved.
After dinner and bath, we read Missy Her favorite book (Mrs Wow Never Wanted A Cow), and tucked Her in. Then Little One and I looked through Her baby book, reading all the details and touching Her first lock of hair, Her hospital bracelet. We held Her feet up to Her footprints and saw how much they'd grown. We looked at the photo album of Her first days home.
After the lights went out I told Her the story of a little baby who was born exactly four years ago; how She came into the world, who was there to greet Her, and how She'd grown to be this amazingly smart, loving girl who danced wonderful dances, ran fast, and sang beautiful songs to a family that had loved Her every minute, all the time, since before She was born until forever.
From reading the baby book, Little One remembered Her favorite lullabies as a baby, and asked me to sing them. I did. She remembered that She'd loved to sleep snuggled into Her mommy's arms, and asked me to snuggle Her to sleep.
"Now, Little One", I chided, "Even on your birthday, you have to go to sleep like a big girl when it's time for bed."
"But Mommy. Even if I'm so big four years old, when I'm a baby I liked snuggles and even now I like to snuggle you. Can't I get big for snuggles later on another birthday? I'm getting bigger and bigger later on."
I looked down and all the times I'd held Her as an infant, sleeping in my arms, flashed before me like a jolt of lightning. I looked into Her sweet little four-year-old face (four isn't really such a big number, you know) and I knew that She was right. That the moments She will want me to hold Her will flash by just as fast. She will be too big to snuggle to sleep on some other birthday, it's true.
For now, I'm proud of how much She has grown and learned and become. I'm proud to call Her my Big Girl and I'm happy to see Her propelling forward and upward with time, growing into Her own fantastic person. I'll never want to keep Her back. But, since She asked, and won't for many birthdays more. This time I was happy to fit Her into my hug with my arms wrapped around, and hold Her a little while longer. Just until She fell asleep.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Hear Her Roar
Yesterday "Mommy O" watched Missy so I could go tour a farm and pick pumpkins with Little One at Her school field trip (thank goodness for Mommy O). Other than Little One and I sharing a few moments of horror at the dairy presentation (especially the part at the end where all the kids are asked to taste the butter made before their eyes) we had a fantastic time.
Little One searched high and low with extreme seriousness for the Perfect Pumpkin, and then searched near and far for an even perfect-er one for Her sister. It was pretty entertaining for some other parents that the Perfect Pumpkins were also the biggest ones, and I got to haul them all around the farm afterwards.
The weather was perfect, the countryside was beautiful, there were animals to pet and a hayride and friends. When it was over we went to Mommy O's for Missy and stayed to return the favor, watching O and the baby twins while Mommy O went on a date with Papa.
More fun, playing in the yard, running races and impersonating animals. Coloring with sidewalk chalk, playing trains, dinosaurs, and building lego towers. We made collages out of magazine cut-outs and read stories together and ate popcorn after cleaning up. It really was fun.
When we left the girls were suddenly starving and it was rush hour anyways, so we stopped at a very funky but awesome burrito joint for them to inhale dinner, and then came home for them to gobble watermelon for dessert. We had a long bath, lots of stories and snuggles, and tucks into bed.
I'd call it an awesome fall day.
Personally, the clincher was this gem, overheard from a room away-
Little One: "O! Stop spitting at me! E'scuse me. I am a girl- I. Am. A. Woman. And you need to be respect of me."
O: "Ok!"
LO (moments later): "Thank you O, being a gennel-min. See we can play nicely!"
O: "Let's be dinosaurs!"
LO: "ROAR!"
I have NO idea when Little One became a woman. A woman. But if She absolutely must insist on becoming one, that's just about the type I was hoping for.
Little One searched high and low with extreme seriousness for the Perfect Pumpkin, and then searched near and far for an even perfect-er one for Her sister. It was pretty entertaining for some other parents that the Perfect Pumpkins were also the biggest ones, and I got to haul them all around the farm afterwards.
The weather was perfect, the countryside was beautiful, there were animals to pet and a hayride and friends. When it was over we went to Mommy O's for Missy and stayed to return the favor, watching O and the baby twins while Mommy O went on a date with Papa.
More fun, playing in the yard, running races and impersonating animals. Coloring with sidewalk chalk, playing trains, dinosaurs, and building lego towers. We made collages out of magazine cut-outs and read stories together and ate popcorn after cleaning up. It really was fun.
When we left the girls were suddenly starving and it was rush hour anyways, so we stopped at a very funky but awesome burrito joint for them to inhale dinner, and then came home for them to gobble watermelon for dessert. We had a long bath, lots of stories and snuggles, and tucks into bed.
I'd call it an awesome fall day.
Personally, the clincher was this gem, overheard from a room away-
Little One: "O! Stop spitting at me! E'scuse me. I am a girl- I. Am. A. Woman. And you need to be respect of me."
O: "Ok!"
LO (moments later): "Thank you O, being a gennel-min. See we can play nicely!"
O: "Let's be dinosaurs!"
LO: "ROAR!"
I have NO idea when Little One became a woman. A woman. But if She absolutely must insist on becoming one, that's just about the type I was hoping for.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Too Legit To Quit
Coincidentally, on the day of presidential debating, my daughter was brushing Her hair after bath time, and asked if I wanted to hear something special She just learned in school. Who could say no?!
And so right there in the bathroom, my 3 year old recited the Pledge of Allegiance.
Well. The Pledge The Legit.
"I Pledge the Legit,
to the flag. Of the Knighted States of America.
And to the republic, which it stands
One nation, Under God,
In the visible,
With livery, and God Smith for All.
Wait! Justice, justice. I don't know a God Smith. I just keep saying that! Livery and Justice for all."
I really don't do politics on the blog, or on facebook, or at parties. So I'm not going to dish about the debate, though I did watch it while cutting a melon into the shape of an aquatic creature. Bet not everyone can say that.
What I will say is that there are some things about this country that have been, are, and will be messed up. I'm not happy about some things. Some of them even make me mad!!
However.
I am proud that my child is learning the Pledge of Allegiance. I felt pride reciting it with Her, pride that I know it and pride in what I think it means. For all of the imperfections I certainly acknowledge, for all of the things I disagree with in one political party or another, I am proud and extremely thankful to be an American, and to be raising my children in America. I'm proud of J for sacrificing a lot to be part of preserving those things about this nation that I am so thankful for.
I will be proud and thankful no matter who wins the debate or the election.
What I think is that being American is like being part of any other family. Half the people are crazy, there are things in the family history we're not proud of, and the whole thing drives us nuts sometimes. But we keep them all in our prayers, if it came down to it we'd stand up and fight for them, and even when they really tick us off, we know we'll always be a part of it.
For all it's faults, America is pretty legit. I have my preferences between those debating candidates. But no matter who takes office in November, I pledge the Legit.
And so right there in the bathroom, my 3 year old recited the Pledge of Allegiance.
Well. The Pledge The Legit.
"I Pledge the Legit,
to the flag. Of the Knighted States of America.
And to the republic, which it stands
One nation, Under God,
In the visible,
With livery, and God Smith for All.
Wait! Justice, justice. I don't know a God Smith. I just keep saying that! Livery and Justice for all."
I really don't do politics on the blog, or on facebook, or at parties. So I'm not going to dish about the debate, though I did watch it while cutting a melon into the shape of an aquatic creature. Bet not everyone can say that.
What I will say is that there are some things about this country that have been, are, and will be messed up. I'm not happy about some things. Some of them even make me mad!!
However.
I am proud that my child is learning the Pledge of Allegiance. I felt pride reciting it with Her, pride that I know it and pride in what I think it means. For all of the imperfections I certainly acknowledge, for all of the things I disagree with in one political party or another, I am proud and extremely thankful to be an American, and to be raising my children in America. I'm proud of J for sacrificing a lot to be part of preserving those things about this nation that I am so thankful for.
I will be proud and thankful no matter who wins the debate or the election.
What I think is that being American is like being part of any other family. Half the people are crazy, there are things in the family history we're not proud of, and the whole thing drives us nuts sometimes. But we keep them all in our prayers, if it came down to it we'd stand up and fight for them, and even when they really tick us off, we know we'll always be a part of it.
For all it's faults, America is pretty legit. I have my preferences between those debating candidates. But no matter who takes office in November, I pledge the Legit.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Watch Out, J
Little One: "Mommy. Does you have some more money from Daddy?"
C: "Er...yes. Yes, Daddy works hard to earn money for us so that we can have all the things we need, which we do."
LO: "Daddy has do work to get some money for us?"
C: "Yes, he has to earn it. One day maybe you can learn about that by doing some chores, and earning money of your own to spend."
LO: "Oooohhh, yes! Yes, mommy, that really is a good idea, 'cause I need some money. I have lots of 'spensive things I want to buy."
C: "What? You do? Really. Well. What kinds of things are you planning to buy when you have money?"
LO (Shrugs Her shoulders. Grins): ""Spensive ones! Just, you know, whatever is 'spensive. I'm going to buy aaaaaaaalllll the 'spensive stuff!"
C: "Well! You certainly have high taste!"
LO: "What does that mean?"
C: "That you like things that are expensive."
LO: "Mommy. You got that right."
C: "Er...yes. Yes, Daddy works hard to earn money for us so that we can have all the things we need, which we do."
LO: "Daddy has do work to get some money for us?"
C: "Yes, he has to earn it. One day maybe you can learn about that by doing some chores, and earning money of your own to spend."
LO: "Oooohhh, yes! Yes, mommy, that really is a good idea, 'cause I need some money. I have lots of 'spensive things I want to buy."
C: "What? You do? Really. Well. What kinds of things are you planning to buy when you have money?"
LO (Shrugs Her shoulders. Grins): ""Spensive ones! Just, you know, whatever is 'spensive. I'm going to buy aaaaaaaalllll the 'spensive stuff!"
C: "Well! You certainly have high taste!"
LO: "What does that mean?"
C: "That you like things that are expensive."
LO: "Mommy. You got that right."
Friday, September 28, 2012
Photo Time Out
I'm a Mac gal. I've been a mac gal since they had those fun colored ones which in my opinion were much more interesting than all this oooh-I'm-so-chic white and silver boringness.
Other than differing views on whether my laptop should be purple (purple!), Mac and I have generally gotten on quite well. We have a lot in common. We like things simple-ish. We like things new and frivolous, but don't always admit it. And it turns out we also have very similar parenting styles.
There are some magic words in this house. They are "this is the second time I've said this".
If those words leave my mouth, it means that I already said something else. And nothing happened. Which means if I say it again, well. I don't. If I "count three", I never count to four.
Why, just today I overheard Little One giving Missy some wisdom.
LO: "Missy! Psssst! Missy quick! You better clean up that book quickety-split, cause mama already asked you one time, and if you don't do it faster, she will have to SAY IT TWICE! Just go do it! Then we can play airplanes."
Of course it doesn't always work that well. But when it doesn't, the ignorer of the ONE allotted warning is usually pretty sure it's better not to ignore. Next time.
Turns out, Mac doesn't like nagging and bargaining and threatening either. Mac also gives ONE warning. And, as it turns out, if that warning is "You are running out of space in your iphoto memory" and you decide, pshht. Mac will probably give me a bunch more warnings before it really means it. Or maybe it will get sick of nagging me and just forget about the whole thing. If you decide that, then Mac is all "Lady, I have told you twice. Now. Consequences!"
And the next thing you know, your photo library is "unreadable" and needs to be "rebuilt" and by the way, Mac certainly hopes that you have backed up recently. Or else.
Luckily, I think I have. And so all my hundreds (ok, thousands. Thousands and thousands. Don't judge!) of photos, mostly of Littles of course, are in there...somewhere....but, like the un-cleaned-up book high, high on the shelf, those photos are unreachable at this time.
I've been put into photo time-out. For not listening. Sigh. Mac is so strict.
Until I have the time to deal with the royal pain in the mac this is going to be to figure out, this will be a picture-less blog. Sorry. I know most of you come here for that and the words are kind of like a nice black-and-white photo matte to gloss over. But for now that's all you get.
And next time Mac gives me a warning, I'm going to make like my wiser, smarter daughter and give it a solid "Yes Ma'am!" Mac does not mess around.
Other than differing views on whether my laptop should be purple (purple!), Mac and I have generally gotten on quite well. We have a lot in common. We like things simple-ish. We like things new and frivolous, but don't always admit it. And it turns out we also have very similar parenting styles.
There are some magic words in this house. They are "this is the second time I've said this".
If those words leave my mouth, it means that I already said something else. And nothing happened. Which means if I say it again, well. I don't. If I "count three", I never count to four.
Why, just today I overheard Little One giving Missy some wisdom.
LO: "Missy! Psssst! Missy quick! You better clean up that book quickety-split, cause mama already asked you one time, and if you don't do it faster, she will have to SAY IT TWICE! Just go do it! Then we can play airplanes."
Of course it doesn't always work that well. But when it doesn't, the ignorer of the ONE allotted warning is usually pretty sure it's better not to ignore. Next time.
Turns out, Mac doesn't like nagging and bargaining and threatening either. Mac also gives ONE warning. And, as it turns out, if that warning is "You are running out of space in your iphoto memory" and you decide, pshht. Mac will probably give me a bunch more warnings before it really means it. Or maybe it will get sick of nagging me and just forget about the whole thing. If you decide that, then Mac is all "Lady, I have told you twice. Now. Consequences!"
And the next thing you know, your photo library is "unreadable" and needs to be "rebuilt" and by the way, Mac certainly hopes that you have backed up recently. Or else.
Luckily, I think I have. And so all my hundreds (ok, thousands. Thousands and thousands. Don't judge!) of photos, mostly of Littles of course, are in there...somewhere....but, like the un-cleaned-up book high, high on the shelf, those photos are unreachable at this time.
I've been put into photo time-out. For not listening. Sigh. Mac is so strict.
Until I have the time to deal with the royal pain in the mac this is going to be to figure out, this will be a picture-less blog. Sorry. I know most of you come here for that and the words are kind of like a nice black-and-white photo matte to gloss over. But for now that's all you get.
And next time Mac gives me a warning, I'm going to make like my wiser, smarter daughter and give it a solid "Yes Ma'am!" Mac does not mess around.
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