Liar Liar?!

It seems I always have the most interesting conversations with my daughter while she is going to the bathroom.  I'm not sure why this is.  Perhaps because she feels she has my full and undivided attention?  She finally has me sitting still for 10 minutes so she feels the need to wax intellectual?  Whatever the case, we had another one last night. 

Now, as I have mentioned in past blogs and for those of you who have known my history with my daughter she has NEVER and I literally mean NEVER been a good sleeper.  The first year of her life I was an absolute ZOMBIE.  Things got a little better after her second year but she still wakes me at least 3 times a week and on those nights it's usually more than once.  That being said, we have tried everything in the books to get this kid to zonk short of letting her sleep in our bed.  The "old faithful" tricks fell to the way-side with this one.  So suffice it to say, sleep is a sensitive subject when it comes to her.  I will hear her in her room singing at 11pm...and this is after a day of action-packed excitement or nothing at all.  Doesn't seem to matter what her days look like.  The nights all look the same.  We have talked to her about this ad nauseum to no avail and have finally conceded that she just hates to sleep.  So when she brought this nugget to The Bowl it really kind of floored me. 

As she is sitting there, kicking her legs she turns to me and says "Mommy, I really looove to sleep!"  I can't be certain but I think I audibly gasped at this comment.  The next words out of my mouth were almost "YOU LIAR!"  but I considered quickly that calling my daughter a name like that, may in fact, stick and I certainly don't want any part in feeling guilty about making her such.  So I just sat there and listened, knowing there was more to this story...So she proceeds to say "Ya, I love to sleep because it makes me so honest!"  "HONEST?" I questioned.  "Yes, honest!" she assures me.  So in the same conversation that I hold back name-calling she claims to be the exact opposite of what I was about to call her?  What the hell is going on here?  This child is claiming to adore the very thing she has been fighting tooth and nail for all of her being?Then as a result of said adoration she in turn has developed honesty?  Are you kidding me?  Part of me thinks that someone is trying to play tricks on me.  Part of me thinks that my mom is sending her good-humor from the beyond and is having a little chuckle at my expense.  And the last part of me thinks God enjoys seeing steam come from my ears and sparks fly from my eyes, ever challenging me to think outside of the box, roll with the punches and never say never.  Whatever the case may be this life never ceases to amaze.  It's the little things...they just make all the difference.  Hope your day brings you "little differences." :)

Schmorgasboard Tuesday

So I have nothing of literal thought to bring to the table.  Only a few little tid-bits that were shared with us yesterday that I, in turn, feel the need to share "out loud."

First off, while reading our bedtime books last night (about the human body, muscles, bones etc.) the Tiny Dancer chimed in, out of absolutely nowhere with, "Mommy, excuse me?" to which I gave pause and eye contact.  She then emphatically proceeded, "I really like boys!"  Hmmm, ummm, okkkkk??  I think I actually got flush at this point...with fear, not embarrassment.  For the first time in motherhood I was faced with the staunch reality that my daughter will, in fact, DATE!  For the, oh I'd say millionth time, I wanted to turn in my "mommy crown" and call it quits noting lack of stomach, courage and discipline to stay the course of this job.  Then I thought, perhaps you are over reacting...you NEVER do that! HA!  So I asked Part B of the question..."Mya, WHY do you like boys so much."  Hoping for "They like to eat lunch like I do." and instead got "Because they always do such nice things for me!"  Boys are ALREADY doing nice things for her?  She is THREE!!  So I then wanted to summon her to define "nice" and thought better of it.  Wanted to email her teacher and get the list of names of all of the boys in her preschool to conduct a thorough investigation of deeds, motives and intentions.  Again, thought better as I knew I was in over my head.  Choosing today to believe that the "boys" that do nice things for her are her daddy and brother. A girl can dream, right?

So then we are at tid bit 2.  I made some delicious banana bread yesterday afternoon with the little princess which the family was enjoying in the kitchen last night.  Chase-Moose had easily stuffed two helpings-full in his mouth simultaneously.  This seems to be his preferred method of self-feeding so we have stopped trying to retrieve said heapings as he always seems to work it out.  Hubba Hubba had devoured his already and was at the sink downing a glass of water.  At which point The Moose sees the thirst of his father being quenched, jumps out of his chair and about trips over his own feet from running so fast to sit at my husband's feet and say what sounded like "DRINK!!!"  Only when he tried to say this word he realized (or rather didn't realize) that he had a mouthful of morsels and proceeded to spew the bread forth all over the floor.  It was one of those "had to be there" moments but the urgency that this tot had about getting a drink of water along with the inability to verbalize because of the hindrance had us on the floor in tears.  Perhaps the bread was not as moist and delicious as previously thought?

And the third and final tid bit comes to you from our Manners Department.  The Moose was again irritated at the fact that he was wearing clothes and summoned his dad for some removal assistance.  Of course, dad obliged and helped him off with the get-up.  I sat there and watched the exchange.  Once the task was completed Chase stood in the living room looking very relieved and proud.  I turned to him and said "Ok Chase, what do you say to Daddy?"  Got nothin.  So I thought, perhaps he didn't hear me.  Repeated, "Chaaase, WHAT do you say to Daddy?" at which point the boy literally looked him DEAD in the eye and released the loudest, most thunderous gaseous expression I have ever heard come from a baby.  The diaper did absolutely no muffling.  Seriously, this was as if on que and completely intentional.  He did not smile, wince, blink or stutter.  Just looked at him as if to say "THAT is what I say to Daddy! Now shut it!"  A very unique way to give thanks I suppose, but we were both so stunned and amused that we could not contain ourselves enough to continue the "Thank You" charade.  Just goes to show I am going to have to work long and hard on my poker face cuz I am not even in the ball park of having it down with this one.  I went to bed last night STILL giggling about it.  I actually had to put a horrible thought into my head to get myself "serious" about sleeping for fear my giggling fit would shake the bed and wake The Boy. 

Another fine day in the Cunning Casa.

Zone Defense

So I think my kids are ganging up on me without any true communications with one another.  Forming an alliance to break mom down to base bones.  To a point where she can no longer see anything but the backs of her eyelids.  Where her only choice is to lay down at any given place--whether it be the couch, the sidewalk, or the aisle in the grocery and take a nap.  Then their well-webbed plan can be put into action.  Complete and total maternal domination!  Freedom will reign supreme and they will finally get what they have always wished for...their kid-leashes will be clipped and they will be free to run amok and wreck havoc on the hearts of all who encounter them.

They are taking shifts...a zone defense, if you will.  One chooses Sunday night.  Here is how the play roles out...mom falls asleep at 8.  3YOG wakes her, screaming at 11.  Mom lays awake for 2 hours.  Falls asleep again.  3YOG wakes her at 3 (same drill)  Mom leaves her room...3YOG laughs!  Mom decides she's up for the day.  Mainlining coffee...

Monday mom's eyes are bloodshot, nerves shot as well.  Patience is nil.  Hope for a good nights sleep is all that keeps her going.  Mom hits the pillows at 8 again.  Things are looking good.  The hope is that the mini is so tired from the night before that she will actually sleep and have no energy to keep mom up again.  Everyone in the house will get sleep and all will be right with the world.  This is where the second defender comes in...up at 10:30 making just enough noise to penetrate the ear and wake mom from the slumber.  Note **this noise is only apparent to mom**  Dad is completely oblivious to these cries as they do not register in the male auditory cortex.  The slight bellowing continues, off and on for 2 hours.  Bringing just enough anxiety to keep mom from falling back asleep but not so much that it renders her getting up.  This, I believe, is a tactic in which the child is actually working to conserve his own energy.  This is where the sheer genius of the plan lies.  If he conserves said energy he will have just enough gusto to make mom sufficiently crazy and will be alert enough to enjoy every minute of it.

The whimpering continues at some level for the duration of the night, ensuring that mom never really sleeps.  Her eyes are shut, she is in bed, but there is definitely no rest going on here. 

So now we are here at The Day.  Is this the day that the plan can finally come to fruition?  Will mom drop to the ground at any given moment and seize?  This is the great question.  Will the minis in the Cunning Casa finally see the day that they have out-witted their parental unit and see her crumble?  The female version of the tag team just came down and requested chicken noodle soup for breakfast.  This ploy goes deeper than initially suspected.  I believe this to be a trick play in which her efforts go to convince me that it is actually lunch time and my brain short circuits.  I can only imagine what else their playbook reads.  I'm going to have to bring my A-Game to succeed against this duo.  WHERE is my manual?!?

You gonna eat that?

So I realize that I have given a awful lot of attention to the unsavory things my sons eats but being that this is such a recurring problem and the list of offensive items seems to be growing I feel compelled to touch on the subject once again.

Before I delve into the most recent ick let's do a recap of where we are to date so we can all be on the same page:

#1. And I think fair to say, the grossest technically of all, is poop.  He has eaten many forms and multiple times.  After seeing the face Mya made after eating dog excrement at a tender 10 months, I thought he would be a "one and done" like she was.  Evidently he liked the tasted and felt he needed to go back for seconds...and thirds.  How about just ONE more time for good measure?  For the record I do believe the foulest of all occurrences was at about 12 months.  We let him run around sans diaper for no more than a half an hour.  In this time span he "let loose" (literally) on the back deck and proceeded to stick his hand in it.  Hubba Hubba sat there in awe while I ran to the kitchen for reinforcements.  Never in a million years did I expect the boy to take hand from puddle and put it to lips!  I can still feel the horror.  I wince with remembrance...

#2. Mentioned in an earlier blog...The Candle Stick.  Now, while nowhere NEAR the level of disgust as the aforementioned item, I found this to be disturbing because of his unrelenting intention to get that sucker down the pipes!  The sticktoitiveness he exhibited to ingest a non-food item was a tad alarming.

#3. And perhaps least worrisome is dog food.  It's there, it's in a bowl, it's good enough for the favorite pup.  Why NOT eat it?  I suppose the easy answer to this is that it's gross but you couldn't convince him of this.

#4. Play-doh.  Again, something I thought would be a one time try and discard.  Unbelievably mere moments before the offense in question he tried to eat some Play-doh at Mya's pre-school.  I would be hard pressed to believe he even had the taste of that out of his mouth before this final feast.  I am now questioning whether I feed this kid enough.  I suppose I can explore that in a later session...

So now we are fairly up to speed.  I am leaving out the minor things like sand and bath water because I have just come to embrace these and accept that he is going to try to consume them whenever I turn my head (which quite obviously is VERY frequently as he has racked up an overly extensive resume and he isn't even 2) But I digress...

So as we are leaving Mya's pre-school he begs to go over to a tree to pluck some "blueberries."  This is not an actual blueberry tree, but a pine variety with somewhat purplish little nuggets growing from it.  Mya has over time grown a deep and incessant desire to go to said tree and retrieve a "blueberry" for her ride home. She covets, plays, pets and discards.  Therefore, being the little brother and having to be exactly like his sister, he has developed the same obsession.  They have together, pulled "foliage and fruit" no less than 92 times.  We see these bushes on our walks as well and each and every time we stop.  And each and every time I give the same speech. "Ok, now you can look at the berries but DO NOT EAT THEM."  They each give me The Nod and proceed.  Mya has never given me any cause for concern.  After her fecal endeavor she has not once questioned my judgement in the battle of "What is consumable and what is not consumable."  The boy version is clearly another story.  I proceed to put him in his car seat and carry on down the road at which point I hear varied octaves of the German-inspired "Echh!" (he has somehow picked that up as the favored expression of disgust)  Now, I have never heard him make this noise with any of the other items on the list so I am puzzled.  What could he possibly have eaten to make him so adamant?  And then it hits me that he has broken the cardinal rule and eaten the forbidden fruit (and accompanying foliage).  I spent the next ten minutes of the car drive listening to him spit, hack, Echh and squirm.  He made faces that I have never seen a toddler make before and in watching him I joined with the facial disgust.  He went so far as to insert a finger into his mouth and dig the pine OUT of his teeth!!  Another first for me as, in my previous experience, kids either spit the $h!t out and move on or swish a beverage to eradicate the ewww.  He literally could not STAND having this mess in his mouth and proceeded to reel in all known tools for relief.  I guess I just didn't realize that "pick your teeth" was already committed to the toddler arsenal of options.  And all I could do is laugh and assure him that I wasn't lying when I said he shouldn't eat the tree.  I guess this lesson has learned me that I shall never trust this boy with anything small enough to be placed in his mouth.  Soap, flowers, deodorant...nothing is sacred.  From here on out they shall all be deemed potential food sources.  Luckily there were no adverse reactions, vomiting, rashes, etc. so it was a relatively cheap lesson.  But I must say one thing--when I went to retrieve him from his car seat I smelled his breath and it was no less than taxi-cab-fresh! Never again will I question The Power of Pine!

**Post Script** I've now, officially, seen it all!...Woke up this morning to the aroma of pine-scented poop!  Are you kidding me!?  Seriously?  NO WAY!  My mouth will be agape for the next hour!

1/10th of the crazy....

When I was little my mom used to come into my bedroom, bright and early with the vacuum cleaner blaring full blast and peep "Rise and Shine!  Don't sleep your life away!"  Not only was this a highly irritating way to wake up but it was always a bit of a thorn in my side.  Pissed me off to no end.  I mean, really? WHO does this? I thought surely this was some sort of child abuse.  The nice, subtle kind that no one could see or really do anything about but a true jab between mother and daughter.  I used to think "Jeez, she really wants my room to be clean."  Now my opinion is changing regarding her motives...

I am up for the 2nd time already tonight with the 3YOG.  She woke me 1st at 11:08pm, kindly let me fall back asleep and then felt the need to bellow like a banshee again at 12:28am.  I am now reeling so heavily that I had to get out of bed and release my anger to cyber space lest it eat me alive!  Now, I realize that I shouldn't let such things get to me this way but I am who I am and that is where I am leaving that. 

So after sitting (or laying) with my ire and for some reason remembering my mom's "cleaning ritual" I am now beginning to think she did this, not out of neurosis for a sparkling carpet but for pure revenge!  I figure if I drove her 1/10th of the crazy that my girl drives me I got off easy with the Vacuum Cleaner of Doom.  When I think about it, this really was a stroke of genius--the perfect crime.  Giving her kid the proverbial middle finger at the crack of dawn just to even up the score.  Just to have that bit of satisfaction, knowing that Baby Girl didn't always win and Mom was racking up points too.  This would explain the large smile she always exuded and the lilt in her voice upon entry.  Unfortunately, I will never know the REAL truth about this so my hypothesis can not be proven or debunked.  I am only left with my so-called maternal instinct which is subsequently bringing to the forefront many acts that I can now find possible double meaning to.  She had a wide arsenal so I have a lot of remembering to do.  So now I am faced with the decision...does My Mya get "The Vacuum" in the morning?

To Share or not to Share?

During our breakfast discussion yesterday morning, I was busy washing dishes while Mya was professing her love for grapes.  I chimed in stating grapes were one of my favorite fruits as well.  She wanted to know why. So I rattled off the versatility that grapes possess.  On one hand a cold fruit, but also a raisin and even further a juice.  Naturally, my mind then wandered to wine...to share or not to share? Hmm...perhaps over her head but I went for it.  (This very thought process has more than once come back to bite me in the ass)  She, of course, wanted to know more about the delicious tincture I spoke of. I explained a bit but assured her this was something she could not taste until adulthood. She questioned why and I told her if she drank too much she could get sick.  So we had established that drinking could wait until later years. Oh what a light Monday morning conversation! So then she says "Ok Mommy. I will only drink it once a day!"  To which I retorted, "How about once a month?"  Again, she thought that a reasonable compromise and went along day dreaming about this magical land called "adulthood."

There was a moment or two of silence, dishes clamoring, an occasional glance at her which was, each time, met with a smile, all the while her "brain hamster" at full tilt. Suddenly the silence was broken and she declared, "Mommy, when I grow into a big mommy I'm going to be JUST like you!"  <GASP>

Now part of me wanted to scoff at this goal and tell her to set her sights much higher than this.  That I was crazy, frenetic, emotional, impatient, neurotic--just an all-around whack job.  Wanted to assure her that I was nothing she'd want to be.  But then I held my tongue and decided instead to relish in the moment.  Basked  in the split second that my little girl wanted to be just like me.  Allowed my heart to melt for an instant and thanked her for the compliment.  All the while knowing full well that five years from now she will be fully armed, capable and willing to share each and every one of those short comings with me (probably verbatim).  I figured I needn't beat her to the punch or give her any more ammunition than necessary.  I will let her figure these things out on her own. <Whew, crisis diverted!>

All this to say is, there are glimpses in motherhood (albeit few and far between) that I don't completely f**k up and those moments inspire me to trudge on.  Hope your day leaves you feeling the same :)

Finish That Sentence...

So early yesterday morning, Hubba Hubba, Moose and I were all watching Sports Center.  Now let me set the stage for the events following:

First and foremost, you need to know that my hubby is the biggest Bay Area boy on the planet.  If a Bay Area team is in contention he is backing them 100%.  With the MLB Playoffs in full force he was grumbling about the SF Giants loss the night before.  As we are viewing highlights from the game he is getting more and more irritated.  At a point in the game, the catcher for the Giants was running down the 3rd baseline attempting to catch a pop foul and collided with the Giants 3rd baseman.  Upon collision the 3rd baseman was laid out on the ground and not moving at all to which I inquire "Did he get knocked out?"  With much disdain, my hubby replies, "NO! He's just being a little..." at which point, he stops in his tracks, catches his tongue and decides that with little ears in the room it is a word better left unsaid.  Low and behold, the one with the "little ears" and sweeet little lips subsequently utters the word *bitch* to accurately finish Daddy's sentence...are you kidding me!?  Even when watching our mouths they still know what we WANT to say so we may as well go ahead and say it.  But I beg to know how a child of 1.5 years knows precisely when another grown man is wearing his proverbial "sissy pants?"  We laughed for about 10 minutes....but with that I must say I think I will chuckle for weeks if not years to come.

OUCH!

As I was sitting quietly, minding my own business The Moose decided to come up and get my attention.  He chose a rather non-conventional method which is frowned upon by most members of society but certainly did the job to a tee.  He came as a wolf in sheep's clothing...all sweet, cute and non-assuming.  Leaned into my arm and delivered the Bite of a Hound!  He actually sunk in his teeth and pulled back for that "extra special" affect.  Instant bruising and the removal of the epidermis to the likes of which I practically fell out of my seat.  A scream matching the kid from Home Alone was expelled by me.  Tears of fear from the boy resembling that of a crocodile.  I can't say I question why he did it, as I enjoy a good bite as much as the next gal.  But there is just something about a 6am delivery of such an unexpected blow that is so jarring it makes the whole thing just wrong.  I am intrigued to know if my antics and upheaval will inspire him to do it again or not even consider it.  I remember the first time Mya bit me (whilst be old enough to know what she was doing), I was drying her off after a shower and she just leaned over and bit me.  The blasted arm again.  In sheer reflex I bit her back.  Call CPS right now, I know!  While it hurt her and she cried, she decided that it was a game and a few days later returned moves and bit me in the back this time.  Holy hell did I scream...she got only a little skin in her teeth and pulled back in one quick and sudden movement.  I had to get my wits about me the second time around a deliver the "Time Out" instead of corporal punishment.  That coupled with the blood curdling scream and the Eye of the Tiger that I gave her has seemingly curbed her enthusiasm for the game as she hasn't done such since.  We shall see how this plays out in the boy version.  Stay tuned...