I think I can

This is the article that I wrote for January’s issue of my Mom’s Club’s newsletter. Let me know if you find it inspirational or just too overdramatic. Or you could all just lurk like always. :)

I think I can... I think I can…

This year I resolve to lose the baby weight. This year I resolve to exercise more and yell at my toddler less. To allow the person behind me with only one item at the grocery store get in front of me and my cart full of crucial foodstuffs like ketchup and goldfish crackers. To recycle more. To worry less.

Oh and one other little thing. This year I resolve to change the world… or at least my part of it.

It’s pretty hard to imagine changing the world when some days it’s all I can to do get the dishwasher unloaded. So here’s my plan. First, I’ve volunteered to head up the Service Project Committee in the Mom’s Club. Second, I’ve planned to lure you all to help with fantastic ideas and projects that are fun for kids. Third, I’m prepared to cajole any willing volunteers with promises of a feeling of accomplishment and the happiness that comes from helping someone else. If necessary I am also willing to bribe with goldfish crackers.

I don’t think it takes as much time as you think. If you don’t have the time that’s ok, just resolve to help out when you can. If you do have time, even if it’s just a little bit and you’d like to help change our world, drop me a line or give me a call and together we’ll figure out how to get started.

Happy New Year!

Janice

Big Red and the boys

Yeah, this pic was totally worth going out in the rain for.

Dear Connor - 26 months

Dear Connor,

I keep meaning to write letters to you and your brother each month, but it seems that when I can get around to it, is the best I can offer at this point. I’ll try to do better.

You are twenty six months old today. In celebration of your Dad’s recent extended time off from work last Tuesday, we decided to take you and your brother to the zoo. Getting out of the house was a major excursion and I truly believe that I’ve taken camping trips with less planning. You Dad made observation that the double stroller takes a lot longer to fold than the single stroller but then decided that once you have enough children to fit in a double stroller you’ve already realized that you are never leaving the house quickly again anyway.

Unfortunately it was naptime for all of the zoo animals. So many were sleeping in far corners that we determined that you would probably think that the zoo meant you got to see only rocks and waterfalls. You really dug the Aviary, because you got to get down and run around, although you were more interested in the puddles on the floor than actually looking at birds. You are such a little boy. The next day we decided that your favorite part of the zoo trip was getting to ride on the Zoo bus back to the parking lot. You were pretty into that.

You’ve been more independent lately, wanting to do things yourself, especially undressing. You sometimes ask for help, as you did the other night before getting in the shower when you had your shirt up over your head and were yanking on it so violently, that it was causing you to spin and disco dance around the bathroom, yelling, “HELP! HELP!”.

 I did not help, only because it was hysterical and I know you in fact, CAN undress yourself. I know this because you’ve decided to take every opportunity to show us that you enjoy being naked. This was especially fun when you were in bed for the night, and stripped down peepeeing all over your nice clean sheets… again and then again. We started putting you to bed in Pjs with the feet cut off turned around and zipped up backwards which seems to do the trick. This all started because we introduced you to your very own potty.

I thought it might be easy to potty train you because for a while you were on a schedule so strict that you pooped each morning at 10:30am. Since that time, you’ve become more sporadic in your pooping, so it’s a little more difficult. But you enjoy nothing more than stripping down in 10 seconds flat and sitting on the potty explaining to us that you needed to go “peepee on da poddy” to keep yourself from getting in trouble for getting naked, yet again. I would be fine with this, if you had actually taken your clothes off because you actually had to pee, but you never do until you decide to get up from the potty and sprint across the living room leaving a wake of urine behind you. You have peed on the potty twice now which you should be proud of, but might be canceled out by the fact that you have also pooped twice on the living room carpet. It’s because of this that we’ve decided to put the potty away for a few weeks and try it again.

Christmas is coming and you are getting pretty excited. You aren’t real clear on who Santa is, but know something about him and his reindeer are a big deal and that you get smiles when you tell people that Santa says, HoHoHo. You are doing really well with the Christmas tree in the living room which is surprising. I thought for sure you would have pulled the entire thing down the first day, but seeing as how we put most of the ornaments on the top three feet of it, you’ve become bored and are content to turn the lights on the tree off and on, until your Dad and I start to feel like we might be having a seizure.

I can’t wait for Christmas. I can’t wait for you to see all of the toys that Santa brings to you, or the excitement you will have getting to see both sets of Grandparents on the same day. I can’t wait for you to look through your stocking. I can’t wait to see what’s in the bag that the preschool sent home with you, that says, To: Mommy and Daddy, From: Connor. I can’t wait to let you tear into the Gingerbread house you are going to make with Daddy. You make the holidays joyful again. Merry Christmas, Baby.

Love,

Mommy

Expectations

They say that the transition from one to two children, is a hard adjustment and it really is. But I’ve heard from many that the adjustment from two to three children is not that hard at all. So I’m going to tell you the truth. Going from one to two children is hard because you think that it’s possible that the transition just might suck. When you go from two to three children you know it will. And it’s all about setting expectations.

Dear Tristan - 3 Months

Dear Tristan,

Last Tuesday you turned 12 weeks old. A whole three months you have been with us now and I think you’re coming to like us quite well. You are especially fond of my boob and your paci. I’ve seen you smile at both so we can see you are already starting to make a list of your likes and dislikes. You aren’t quite sure what to make of your big brother, because at times he annoys you and at times he cracks you up so we feel like the brotherhood bond is coming along nicely. You are also pretty into Daddy right now. The recent time off granted to him by his previous job has given you more time to gaze adoringly at him cooing, your little arms flapping around his face.

You know what the swing means. If you are placed into said swing and do not at that exact moment feel like napping, you turn your bottom lip inside out immediately and start hysterically crying. You will stop as soon as you are picked up again. You are amazed by the mobile that hangs over your bassinet.

There’s not much to say about your eating habits since you are still just drinking milk, but I truly hope that you, like your brother will pretty much try anything once, even if you have a genetic disposition for macaroni and cheese with chopped up hotdogs just like your Dad. Other than milk, it appears that nothing tastes better than your fist.

You aren’t a great napper, settling for a long sleep through the night and two short power naps during the day. That’s just fine by me. You have decided that you will be held at regular intervals. Especially if you have been put in front of your kick gym for a whole 10 minutes, deciding all at once that maybe you don’t like those flashing lights… even if they do play Mozart.

But the best part of all of this for me, is that you think I’m funny. I mean really funny. You can’t quite laugh yet, but you try and make a little squeaking sound. The squeaking sound, further cracks you up making you smile so hard that your head wobbles.

I predict that you will be a thoughtful child. The Yin to your brother’s Yang. I think you’ll probably be all boy and I’ll bet you are going to be a busy one too. But hopefully you’ll stop and think before tasting an earthworm.

Love,

Mommy

Of danger and opportunity

Originally I was going to post a piece about how the Asian symbol for crisis is formed from two words… danger and opportunity. Since I decided I should research it first, lest it be inaccurate and my lurkers be compelled to comment and found this.

http://www.pinyin.info/chinese/crisis.html

So today I would like to post a piece on how the Asian symbol for crisis is in fact NOT formed by those two symbols, but will not deny that if I am trapped in a conversation where that urban myth can be used to inspire or change the course of thought pattern in another person, that needs encouragement I won’t quote it.

 

Undergoing, ongoing reorganization

Last Thursday, I actually stopped and thought about how blessed we are. How lucky I am to be able to stay home with the children. How lucky we are to have a great house and how lucky our kids are that they’ve never wanted for anything. And especially how lucky we were that the husband is willing to go to work each day to provide it for us all and how lucky he is to have such a great job. I was feeling thankful. Grateful. Lucky. That was the same evening that Jorma came home and told me that he had with 9 other people been laid off due to, “undergoing, ongoing reorganization”. I thought about it later and was so confused that after my gush of admiration for the universe this could happen. So, we are trying to stay positive. Perhaps we are about to move on to bigger and better things. Perhaps the next job will change his life, (and ours). Perhaps the next job will be the opportunity of a lifetime. Meanwhile the kids are thrilled to have Daddy around full time and I don’t have to wash a bunch of dress clothes each week. Now, less laundry… that’s something to be thankful for.

The most wonderful time of the year

I used to have my Christmas shopping completed by Halloween. I used to have my presents wrapped and in the closet the day after Thanksgiving feeling smug that my shopping was all done. I used to walk through the mall with no shopping to do and look at the stores and holiday displays of Santa and his reindeer, complete with polyester and shaved white wax for snow... just looking. I used to go to holiday parties and drink Jagermeister and beer, eat nachos and go to work on 4 hours of sleep. I used to sleep.

Now that I’ve got children, I don’t sleep for other reasons… ear infections, midnight feedings or untwisting those bazillion twist ties they use on toy packaging. I don’t feel smug that my shopping is done early, because it’s not. I don’t go to party’s during the season unless they are from 11am – 2pm and involve balloons. When I walk through the mall I have a baby in the front pack a toddler in a stroller, a bag of diapers, a bottle and a bag of goldfish crackers, a purse, a cell phone and most likely… no makeup on. But all in all I feel pretty good about trading the parties and lack of procrastination for footy pjs and stories about Santa. I laugh more at my toddler explaining to me over and over again, that “Christmas tree, RITE DARE!!!” as if I can’t see the large spruce that has taken residence in the living room, than I did at Jager laden holiday festivities. Now I actually look forward to the holidays, instead of dreading them. Now I understand how people can accidentally spend so much on their children, because it’s just so easy to keep buying and buying and buying when you actually have an excuse. Everyone talks about the blessing of seeing Christmas through the eyes of a child, but I don’t really see it that way. Instead I see Christmas through the eyes of a mom and that in itself is a whole world of wonder. 

Another Year Wiser

Yesterday I celebrated my 35^th birthday.

I remember when the bartender at one of the restaurants I was working at turned 30. I remember consoling her and telling her that she wasn’t OLD, that she was being ridiculous and that she had so much more life to live. I was 21 at the time and while outside I was consoling her on the inside I was thinking that she really was OLD and that I didn’t blame her for being upset since her life was almost over. Now I’m 35… (that’ll teach me). How in the hell did this happen?!

Connor had a hard time not opening all of my presents for me and after a maddened frenzy of toddler fury and determination, he landed himself in time out while I finished my unwrapping. He went to the store with Daddy and picked out a chocolate birthday cake for me and my very own Dora the Explorer balloon, which he was content to show me, yelling, “Happy Birfday Mommy!” but would not allow me to touch. I think there might have been a little bit of confusion when we blew out the candles. I’m pretty sure that he thinks that yesterday was his birthday again, which is fine, as long as I don’t have to share my new books or bath and body works lotions with him. I might share my Ice Age 2 DVD with him but only if he says, “Happy Birfday, Mommy!” again and again to me, because it makes the pain of turning 35 totally worth it.

Yay Me!

Happy Birthday to me!

Short Attention Span Theater

Today while Connor was playing in the corner by himself, he was rambling so that I grabbed a pen and documented about 30 seconds of the conversation he was having with himself. It went like this.

“Giraffe! Stay awake! Oh Giraffe! Vroom! ABCDFG. ABCDFGD. That turns. ABCFG. Find W! Find W! Find W! Rite Dare! Hold on! Where’s Connor? Help! Help! Help! Help! Help us. Help! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help! again. again. Dragonfly. Dragon. Dragon butterfly. Two! I’m Two!”

The thing is that the conversation was going on for about ten minutes before I decided to start documenting. Short attention span theater.

It's raining, it's pouring...

One of the downfalls of having to shut the upstairs bathroom doors all the time is that you can’t see if something happens inside of the bathroom.

 

For example, if you ran into the bathroom to pee and then flushed and rushed out to pull the toddler out of the linen closet again, closing the door behind you… You might not notice that the toilet is overflowing. In fact, you might not notice it for quite some time, until you go to get the baby after his nap and are coming down the stairs and pause to listen to the noise of a waterfall that’s coming from the kitchen. Then you would yell your toddlers name as you ran through the hallway with a screaming baby under your arm, to find the toddler sitting quietly stacking blocks and smiling sweetly at you. You might then realize that whatever is making the waterfall noise is not toddler induced and walk into the kitchen to find that the light fixture in the ceiling is pumping out about 2 gallons of water per minute. You probably would freeze and just stare in awe at the sheet of rain that is dripping from the glass shades over the island. You might stare in confusion wondering why the water is only coming from the light fixtures and not through the ceiling and then in a split second know what happened. You would then, run into the downstairs bathroom with screaming baby still, and drag every towel downstairs onto the island under the light fixture. You would then run back upstairs and fling open the bathroom door to find about an inch of standing pee water on the bathroom floor. After jiggling the toilet handle you would drop all of your clean towels on the floor onto the pee water and shutting off the water supply run back downstairs to turn off the light in the kitchen only to find your toddler standing in a puddle of water on the kitchen floor pointing at the dripping water trying to sing the “drip drop” song from Jack’s Big Music Show. You might then call a plumber and have him come out and charge you $175.00 to tell you that the toilet overflowed. When the plumber is gone and the mess is all cleaned up, you might even think about having a margarita. But then you would remember that you are breastfeeding and alcohol is not allowed. Instead you just might continue on your day thanking the universe that the ceiling did not cave in.

Or at least that’s how it happened in my world.

STOP! Thief!

Recently my debit card number was stolen. Now I’m pretty tight with that thing and the only time it actually leaves my hands is once a month when we go to a restaurant for girls night out. But that didn’t stop the young Italian gentlemen from one of the kiosks in the mall from stealing it. I know it was this specific kiosk because I seldom use my card. The occasional McDonalds drive through for “nuggets and fry fries” as the toddler calls them and the bi weekly trip to the grocery store at which time, I’m actually running my card as debit, so it’s unlikely that someone is going to memorize the number. I explained all of this to the fraud specialist at my bank and he asked if I had any proof. It’s hard to state gut feeling as proof and you can’t even file a police report based on intuition, or even the basis that the kids were Italian and the next day, several plane tickets, all based out of Italy to back to Italy appeared on my card. I check our account on a regular basis and I’ve talked to so many people that said that they only check their account every few weeks so I guess I’m lucky. We caught the thief within two days of the charges. The bank refunds these charges, but only as a temporary loan until they investigate the matter and decide whether or not it’s a legitimate case. Joy. I get to wait for 90 days for the bank to let me know that I’m not lying about these charges. Yay.

Notice how I call the perps kids? They were actually in their early 20’s but they are kids to me. That’s what starts happening when you have your 35^th birthday right around the corner.

You kids be careful this shopping season.

What preschool tuition looks like

Besides coming home and explaining to me that the moon is scared or some other obscure reference that leaves me just smiling, nodding and wondering what in the hell my toddler is talking about; preschool is good for us. I hate paying the tuition each month, but know it’s necessary for both my sanity and Connor’s social skills. And things like this:

Help!!!

As you can see I’ve made some edits to the blog template. It’s written using CSS which I’m able to find my way around with relative ease. However, there are a couple of changes that just aren’t working out for me. I’m trying to add a sidebar to the left hand side, to put my flickr badge on, (the picture thumbnails on the bottom left for everyone that has no idea what I’m talking about.

Ahem. Pattie.

But I can’t seem to figure it out. I’ve tried using this code:

/* Sidebar Content
----------------------------------------------- */

#sidebar ul {
float:left ;
margin:0 0 1.5em;
padding:0 0 1.5em;
border-bottom:1px dotted #ccc;
list-style:none;
}

#sidebar li {
margin:0;
padding:0 0 .25em 15px;
text-indent:0px;
line-height:1.5em;
}

#sidebar p {
color:#666;
line-height:1.5em;
}

But it just isn’t showing up. Someone please tell me what in the hell I’m doing wrong. It’s driving me CRAZY! And believe me there is enough crazy going on in this household already.

Good bye sweet cream... I knew thee well

When I was pregnant with Tristan I was certain that he would not have colic like his big brother did. I was certain because I thought, what are the chances that God would do that to me twice? Well as it turns out, the chances are pretty good, although Tristan isn’t as bad as his brother was with it. I took him to the pediatrician after staying up until 2am (yet again) almost a month ago to see if she had any advice that I hadn’t already read on the internet or learned from Connor’s Dr. in CA who was absolutely fantastic. Tristan’s doctor suggested that he might be lactose intolerant and told me to give up all dairy. At first, I was in complete denial of this suggestion. Did she not understand who this child’s mother IS?! Did she not understand that Tristan was born into a family of cheese lovers, evidenced further by big brothers second word being, “cheese” even before he said Mama? How could this be? Did she not understand that I might not be able to nourish myself, not being able to remember ever eating a taco without cheese not to mention the pain of eating a plain hamburger… I mean, ewwww. But I was so desperate for sleep that I decided that it probably wouldn’t hurt anything to just try.

And do you know…

It actually worked. Not completely, but it put a stop to the projectile vomiting and gas until 1am in the morning that Tristan was experiencing. And I’ve lost ten pounds. Tristan still is super gassy and we have to burp him within an inch of his life every time he’s finished eating but it’s working. The Dr. said that I needed to keep up the dairy fast until I was completely finished breastfeeding. I’m going to probably try a glass of milk or something (mmmmmmm nachos!) in a few weeks to see if the internet is correct and this just needs to be done until the colic period is over.

It makes me sad that Connor suffered, (as did we) for three months, because although I tried giving up dairy with him also, I did it for less than a week before determining there was no change and going back on the cow. It took about two weeks for the effect to be seen in Tristan and we still find if I dare to have a piece of cheese on my burger that he’s incredible gassy the next day. Sometimes for me it’s worth it, although for Jorma who gets his fair share of gassy baby time, not so much.

Not napping

After using up the little bit of blogging time that I have daily to try to figure out my blogger template, I’ve decided just to cut to the chase and download movable type. It’s can’t be THAT much harder than trying to add a sidebar on the left hand side of a template that doesn’t use tables. I’ve made some changes using some basic html, but my skills are rusty, (yeah yeah, I bet you can’t change a diaper in 20 seconds flat so I don’t want to hear it).
I’ve decided to just continue on with the blogging instead of procrastinating until I get a design that doesn’t suck. Can you tell I got some sleep last night? Both of the kids are sleeping and I’m actually motivated to so something besides sleep with them. This is the power of not needing a nap.

Stay tuned

HA! I've moved the blog to the front page of my site and added a redirect from the old link, just in case anyone has that link book marked. Yeah, I know that the old page is much prettier than the blog template, but give me a break, I'm trying to figure out how the blogger language works so that I can change it. This is all just a temporary fix until I learn movable type, or until one of the web design programs is released with a blog feature, but until then I'll work on making it a little bit prettier. At least the links won't be as old as my other page!
I've been putting on updating until I got the changes done, well that and some days it's a choice between brushing my teeth or blogging. Yes, we are that busy around here. Actually we aren't but the toddler and baby are.
Stay tuned...

Happy Birthday Connor

Dear Connor,
A week ago you turned two years old and I can not even begin to describe how amazed your Dad and I are by you. You are like watching a million years of evolution unfold before our eyes. Right in the middle of our den… right in the middle of our lives.

I almost feel sorry for the people that we talk to on a regular basis and realize how much they must love me to endure me talking about my children non stop. I always swore when I had kids, I would not let them absorb me, not knowing where I ended and they began but that was before you came into our lives. You are so amazing that we can’t help but surrender completely.

I was the perfect parent before I had children. I never thought you would eat sugar or watch TV. But when I see you standing in front of Go, Diego, Go! With a pop tart in hand and only one sock on I know it’s going to be ok, because you are just so damn happy. We have a good life.

Often I complain about how hard it is to stay home with a toddler and how hard it is to keep the house clean and how hard it is to not have anyone to talk to all day but I do it because we love you so and it’s the best thing for us all. When I think about the mom’s in other places in the world, the ones that are in refugee camps or the ones that don’t have the money for medicine for their children, I feel a deep sense of shame that I should complain about anything at all. My two year old gets pop tarts and Diego. We are so blessedly fortunate.

And the TV isn’t so bad after all. You know by site, condors, spectacled bears and green eyed tree frogs. You were so obsessed with the Diego show on condors that you talked about it and asked for the condors non stop for three days until Daddy finally told you that the condors were broken. That seemed to make sense to you somehow and we were blessed with three days of peace until you then became obsessed with a baby tree sloth or something equally obscure from your favorite show. You should hear yourself say “chinchilla” there’s nothing cuter.

You are finally getting used to your baby brother. You’re not so frantically active around him anymore and I have actually seen you ignore him for hours at a time. Life is getting easier for us all. Your preschool teacher said that you sometimes take the class baby doll and throw it and yell, Baby! No! No! Baby! And that some times you hold it close and love it. I think that probably sums up your feelings about your new brother.

We’ve developed a new time out system that involves strapping you into your old high chair for two minutes. It seems to be working, unlike our previous method that involved one of us holding you down in your toddler rocking chair for two minutes. You thought that was great fun, coming up and hitting us and then specifically saying hopefully, “time out? Time out? Connor hit, time out?” so that we will put you into your chair. We decided there had to be another way.

We had a birthday party for you last Saturday and you had a great time. You got a new Harley Davidson tricycle, a ride in Diego Jeep and a fish tank among other fine things. You became so obsessed with your tricycle that you had a temper tantrum and didn’t want to open any other presents, which resulted in us allowing you to open them while sitting on your tricycle. Once we finished opening gifts you resumed your tantrum, which was over something about the bike, but mostly about the fact that you were completely exhausted. I tried to get it on film when you threw yourself on the deck in midst tantrum, but you were so quickly swooped up and cuddled by one grandparent or the other I didn’t get to archive the moment.

There are a million things that I don’t want to forget about the past year. Like the way you went from your two words, cheese and dada to complete sentences and phrases. Or the way that you remind me of a Labrador retriever puppy anytime your hands hit water whether it’s in a cup, the tub, the sink, the hose or a puddle. Or the way that you say “Sleep tight!” before going off to bed with Daddy, then curling up in your crib with the menagerie of stuffed animals. Or how when you want something instead of saying “Connor wants”, you just say the two words, your tiny voice filled with hope, “Connor? Cupcake?”. Or how there can not be a child alive that loves “Outside!” more than you do.
But mostly I want to remember what a joy you are to have and hold even when you are throwing yourself on the floor screaming my name 500 times in a row because you have been denied a strawberry pop tart. Happy Birthday, baby.

Why Jorma is the better parent

"Tristan just spit up. Can you hand me a towel or something?"

I go for the "or something" catagory and grab a dirty sock next to me from the floor, handing it to my husband.

"I can't use THAT!"

"Why?" (It's not like I expected him to use the dirty part of the sock)

Hubby sighs and gets to fetch a paper towel from the kitchen.
I remain sitting, remote in hand. After big brother goes to bed, I reward myself with minimal movement. It had just been one of those days.