Here are two pictures of my Girl Scout troop: one of us marching in the Memorial Day parade, another of us at our Bridging ceremony last night.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Great Weekend
Friday my mother and her husband got in, and they admired the grandkids, and we all munched on pizza and watched a movie. Mary and Keith got to pick the movie--Mom and Barry got subjected to the super-silliness of the Spongebob Movie.
(HAVE to include the background story of the silly Spongebob Movie. We took Mary and Keith to see it opening night: November 19, 2004. That day was my last full day of work before my maternity leave for Izzy [then known as the Isabelle or Ian "mystery bump" in my belly]. I didn't want to go [so, SO tired] but John talked me into it--we knew it would probably be the last movie I'd get to see in a while. Exactly ONE HOUR after we walked out of the theatre, I went into labor. So instead of getting the "few days to rest" before baby "I" came, I got NONE. So even though the movie isn't nearly as funny and even more silly than a typical Spongebob cartoon, I still had to buy it just for posterity's sake.)
Saturday Mary had a t-ball game. And except for the slight temper tantrum at the bottom of the sixth where she suddenly decided that she "didn't feel like batting," she played very well. Later we took the whole gang to the High Falls district and checked out the waterfalls and all the old buildings/mills here in downtown Rochester. And we ate barbecue.
Sunday I had to come in to work a few hours (@#$% holidays). After that we were originally planning on going to Niagara Falls, but we opted out as it was supposed to thunderstorm all day. Instead, we took the crew to the Corning Museum of Glass. It's a very nice museum and I could get lost in it all day (and did--stay tuned...), but it's not the most exciting place to take three young kids. Mary especially was pretty vocal about being bored. So John would keep wandering with the kids while my mother and I peeked at exhibits, and then my step-father was tagging way behind--reading every freaking place card in the museum. After a bit, I look up and say, "Hey, where are my husband and kids?" No one knew. I started running around in all the nooks and crannies trying to catch up with them. It took me twenty minutes to find them. When we finally joined the main hallway--where I'd just left my mother and her husband--THEY were now gone. John and I started going through the rest of the museum looking for them--while quickly glancing at exhibits on the way. We didn't see them ANYWHERE. Finally, the kids were getting hungry, so John took them down to the cafeteria. While they were there, I kept on my search for the illusive parents. I went all the way through the museum and still didn't find them. I finally gave up, ran back down to the cafeteria, bolted down a bowl of potato soup (pretty good soup, too), and then we all started the search again. After a while, we finally caught up with them--in the part of the museum where I'd lost them in the first place. I must have kept just missing them as they'd already been through the whole museum--and even in to the glass-making show. I swear--you can't take them anywhere! We headed outside, caught another glass-making show (the only thing I think the kids can say they legitimately enjoyed), stopped at the coffee bar so that the "old folks" could get a drink and snack (as they'd missed lunch!), and then headed out. We wanted to stop at Letchworth State Park on the way home, but we were just too, too tired.
Monday the folks headed home (although they had to make a quick detour back after 20 minutes into their trip as John had left our garage door opener in their car), and the rest of us headed downtown again. Mary and I got to march in the Memorial Day parade with the Girl Scouts. It was a beautiful, sunny, breezy day and just perfect for a parade. It was fun, and I'm glad we got to go.
I spent the rest of the day Monday PAINTING KEITH'S ROOM. That's right. I brushed the dust off the old rollers, cleaned up the cobwebs off his walls, and settled in to do 2 more coats of dark blue paint. Three of the four walls STILL need one more coat of paint. Sheesh! (My father keeps teasing me how we're just making this tiny bedroom smaller and smaller as we add more and more coats of paint on it.) I'm confident that one more coat oughtta do it--but then we'll still have to paint the closet--and THEN we have to clean up the mess--and THEN we've got to put some furniture in there--and THEN the room will be done. It's taken 10 1/2 months to get this far. I wonder how much longer until the poor boy finally has a place of his own????
Monday night I started up the charcoal in the ol' grill and made corn on the cob and sirloin steak. The steak was absolutely perfect (I humbly think even MR would approve).
(HAVE to include the background story of the silly Spongebob Movie. We took Mary and Keith to see it opening night: November 19, 2004. That day was my last full day of work before my maternity leave for Izzy [then known as the Isabelle or Ian "mystery bump" in my belly]. I didn't want to go [so, SO tired] but John talked me into it--we knew it would probably be the last movie I'd get to see in a while. Exactly ONE HOUR after we walked out of the theatre, I went into labor. So instead of getting the "few days to rest" before baby "I" came, I got NONE. So even though the movie isn't nearly as funny and even more silly than a typical Spongebob cartoon, I still had to buy it just for posterity's sake.)
Saturday Mary had a t-ball game. And except for the slight temper tantrum at the bottom of the sixth where she suddenly decided that she "didn't feel like batting," she played very well. Later we took the whole gang to the High Falls district and checked out the waterfalls and all the old buildings/mills here in downtown Rochester. And we ate barbecue.
Sunday I had to come in to work a few hours (@#$% holidays). After that we were originally planning on going to Niagara Falls, but we opted out as it was supposed to thunderstorm all day. Instead, we took the crew to the Corning Museum of Glass. It's a very nice museum and I could get lost in it all day (and did--stay tuned...), but it's not the most exciting place to take three young kids. Mary especially was pretty vocal about being bored. So John would keep wandering with the kids while my mother and I peeked at exhibits, and then my step-father was tagging way behind--reading every freaking place card in the museum. After a bit, I look up and say, "Hey, where are my husband and kids?" No one knew. I started running around in all the nooks and crannies trying to catch up with them. It took me twenty minutes to find them. When we finally joined the main hallway--where I'd just left my mother and her husband--THEY were now gone. John and I started going through the rest of the museum looking for them--while quickly glancing at exhibits on the way. We didn't see them ANYWHERE. Finally, the kids were getting hungry, so John took them down to the cafeteria. While they were there, I kept on my search for the illusive parents. I went all the way through the museum and still didn't find them. I finally gave up, ran back down to the cafeteria, bolted down a bowl of potato soup (pretty good soup, too), and then we all started the search again. After a while, we finally caught up with them--in the part of the museum where I'd lost them in the first place. I must have kept just missing them as they'd already been through the whole museum--and even in to the glass-making show. I swear--you can't take them anywhere! We headed outside, caught another glass-making show (the only thing I think the kids can say they legitimately enjoyed), stopped at the coffee bar so that the "old folks" could get a drink and snack (as they'd missed lunch!), and then headed out. We wanted to stop at Letchworth State Park on the way home, but we were just too, too tired.
Monday the folks headed home (although they had to make a quick detour back after 20 minutes into their trip as John had left our garage door opener in their car), and the rest of us headed downtown again. Mary and I got to march in the Memorial Day parade with the Girl Scouts. It was a beautiful, sunny, breezy day and just perfect for a parade. It was fun, and I'm glad we got to go.
I spent the rest of the day Monday PAINTING KEITH'S ROOM. That's right. I brushed the dust off the old rollers, cleaned up the cobwebs off his walls, and settled in to do 2 more coats of dark blue paint. Three of the four walls STILL need one more coat of paint. Sheesh! (My father keeps teasing me how we're just making this tiny bedroom smaller and smaller as we add more and more coats of paint on it.) I'm confident that one more coat oughtta do it--but then we'll still have to paint the closet--and THEN we have to clean up the mess--and THEN we've got to put some furniture in there--and THEN the room will be done. It's taken 10 1/2 months to get this far. I wonder how much longer until the poor boy finally has a place of his own????
Monday night I started up the charcoal in the ol' grill and made corn on the cob and sirloin steak. The steak was absolutely perfect (I humbly think even MR would approve).
Friday, May 25, 2007
Experimental Failure?
Izzy has gotten exponentially worse each day after her successful Tuesday. One accident on Wednesday; two on Thursday. I'm trying to figure out how to redefine the parameters to help tweak a success here. Make her sit on the potty every half hour? Buy those rubber pants to help make the clean up easier? Instead of re-reading my Harry Potters and just let her toddle aimlessly around the house where she's getting into Mary's markers and marking all over her legs and feet and then pooping in her undies, actually PAYING ATTENTION to my kid? You know--stuff like that.
Actually, one or two accidents a day isn't really that bad--all things considered. She's still been staying dry during naps and even sometimes through the night. I just need to let it happen as it happens--she's obviously right on the brink of a break-through here.
This morning's car ride in was interesting. We're 10 minutes from our destination, and she starts bellowing from behind me, "Mommy! I gotta go potty!" Great. There are no public restrooms to be found in the last 10 minutes of the car ride to Leona's. So I'm begging her to try to hold it. And she's crying, "I gotta go poopy!" We got to Leona's and raced in as fast as we could--but she just didn't make it (usually when she says she's gotta go, it's right that second and there's no "holding" allotment time left). So I was late for work since I had to clean up my stinky, poopy kid. And it was slimey green, too. Lovely.
In the spirit of non-human-bodily-functions news: my mother and her husband are coming for a visit this weekend. The kids are so excited that they didn't even complain much when we had to go through the "Oh crap! We're having company and have to scourgify the house!" routine. And even though their cleaning of the play room wasn't up to company-coming-over scratch, I still think I'm going to give them a bonus on their allowance just for their eagerness and non-whinyness.
Shocker that my step-father is able to travel since just a few weeks ago he was still "LOST" and shot by that madman Ben and even though he was still alive this week, he was definitely weak due to the loss of blood. (See photo).
Actually, one or two accidents a day isn't really that bad--all things considered. She's still been staying dry during naps and even sometimes through the night. I just need to let it happen as it happens--she's obviously right on the brink of a break-through here.
This morning's car ride in was interesting. We're 10 minutes from our destination, and she starts bellowing from behind me, "Mommy! I gotta go potty!" Great. There are no public restrooms to be found in the last 10 minutes of the car ride to Leona's. So I'm begging her to try to hold it. And she's crying, "I gotta go poopy!" We got to Leona's and raced in as fast as we could--but she just didn't make it (usually when she says she's gotta go, it's right that second and there's no "holding" allotment time left). So I was late for work since I had to clean up my stinky, poopy kid. And it was slimey green, too. Lovely.
In the spirit of non-human-bodily-functions news: my mother and her husband are coming for a visit this weekend. The kids are so excited that they didn't even complain much when we had to go through the "Oh crap! We're having company and have to scourgify the house!" routine. And even though their cleaning of the play room wasn't up to company-coming-over scratch, I still think I'm going to give them a bonus on their allowance just for their eagerness and non-whinyness.
Shocker that my step-father is able to travel since just a few weeks ago he was still "LOST" and shot by that madman Ben and even though he was still alive this week, he was definitely weak due to the loss of blood. (See photo).
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Sidenote:
I STILL haven't gotten my Mother's Day gift from my husband. It still hasn't got here. OK, buddy, are you just pulling my leg?? Did you order it midnight Saturday night in the hopes it would get to me by Mother's Day morning?? HMPH!
The Great Experiment
I got brave this weekend. Since it's been pretty nice for so many days, I decided to take Izzy to the next phase of potty training: real underwear.
It's a bold decision since she still doesn't tell me every time she needs to go. Usually I have to remind her. But with nice weather comes fewer (and thinner) layers of clothing--which makes accident clean-up a little quicker and easier. And then the theory is that she won't like the wet feeling when she does have an accident and will go pee-pee in the potty like she's supposed to. This didn't seem to work with my other two--but let's give it another go, eh?
I can't really give a good percentage of the effectiveness because for half of both Saturday and Sunday we were out of the house (or it was nap time), so I lost my boldness and put her back in a pull-up. But for the short times she was actually in the undies, she didn't have one accident.
Monday: She got to wear underwear to day care. This is a big deal as 1) someone else will be doing the clean-up--and has to be WILLING to partake of this great experiment--besides me and 2) Izzy had to take a 25 minute car trip strapped down in her car seat IN HER UNDERWEAR. Anyone who's had to clean car seats will understand my boldness in deciding to do this.
She did great. In fact, the only accident she had all day was after we'd been home around an hour. She came running to me telling me she had to go potty with a funny little hunchbacked walk--while pulling on her jeans. Oh yeah, she'd already done it. (But how funny that after I cleaned her up, she insisted on sitting on the potty again--and actually went again.)
Tuesday: It's no holds barred now. Underwear all day. Leona even forgot to change her into a pull up for naptime, and the kid stayed dry. ALL DAY. Even after John had to take her to Mary's t-ball game. She stayed dry.
Woah. I wonder if this is really working?
It's a bold decision since she still doesn't tell me every time she needs to go. Usually I have to remind her. But with nice weather comes fewer (and thinner) layers of clothing--which makes accident clean-up a little quicker and easier. And then the theory is that she won't like the wet feeling when she does have an accident and will go pee-pee in the potty like she's supposed to. This didn't seem to work with my other two--but let's give it another go, eh?
I can't really give a good percentage of the effectiveness because for half of both Saturday and Sunday we were out of the house (or it was nap time), so I lost my boldness and put her back in a pull-up. But for the short times she was actually in the undies, she didn't have one accident.
Monday: She got to wear underwear to day care. This is a big deal as 1) someone else will be doing the clean-up--and has to be WILLING to partake of this great experiment--besides me and 2) Izzy had to take a 25 minute car trip strapped down in her car seat IN HER UNDERWEAR. Anyone who's had to clean car seats will understand my boldness in deciding to do this.
She did great. In fact, the only accident she had all day was after we'd been home around an hour. She came running to me telling me she had to go potty with a funny little hunchbacked walk--while pulling on her jeans. Oh yeah, she'd already done it. (But how funny that after I cleaned her up, she insisted on sitting on the potty again--and actually went again.)
Tuesday: It's no holds barred now. Underwear all day. Leona even forgot to change her into a pull up for naptime, and the kid stayed dry. ALL DAY. Even after John had to take her to Mary's t-ball game. She stayed dry.
Woah. I wonder if this is really working?
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
My First (Real) Mother's Day--sorta
I don't hold much stock with Hallmark holidays. So I don't expect or ask for gifts for Mother's Day. Not my thing. I usually get something from the kids that they made at school or day care, and that's fine with me. Well, I may have been a mother for 7 years, but mark this year down as the first year a kid actually went out and bought me a present. Sorta.
The day started as any normal day. After getting up, eating breakfast, and chillin' with the kids a while, I started to clean the house. For some reason, the clutter was bugging me more than usual, so I did a more thorough job than normal. I ended up cleaning the house for over three hours straight--yes, on Mother's Day. And fighting with my daughter as I tried to get her to help. Mary and Keith have chores they are expected to do every weekend, but for some reason Mary seemed to think that she shouldn't have to do them this weekend. After one of our spats, I said out loud to no one in particular, "Well, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ME!" Why I had to spend Mother's Day explaining to my eldest the reason why she should help out around the house is beyond my comprehension. Especially after she even wrote a paragraph in school about Mother's Day and how she liked to help her mother clean. Whatever.
During a later spat, Mary says to me, "Why do I have to clean on Mother's Day!! It's a holiday!" Yeah, OK, kid. You got that ALL wrong!! Don't make me laugh!
Later that afternoon, John pulls out the gifts. Real gifts. For me. Picked out and bought (well, four dollars worth, anyway) by my daughter--and son. Wow. My first real store-bought Mother's Day gifts! Keith got me (er, John picked out--as John and Mary did this while Keith was at day care Friday) a Chinese painting kit and Mary bought me some high-dollar tea from Borders. And John tells me that he bought me something, too, but "it's not here yet." (Strange, it's Wednesday, and it's still not here!).
So now I'm feeling kinda like a schmuck for going all "my-mother"-like on my daughter while trying to get her to do her chores. But, only a little bit. 'Cause she's supposed to do this stuff--without complaint--EVERY weekend. So far she's been successful about two weeks out of ten.
[But the kicker is the background story. Mary asked John last week if they could go and buy me a Mother's Day gift (hold your "awwwws", now)--and immediately followed it up with, "and then can you buy me something, too?" *sigh* I am obviously screwing up with this parenting thing SOMEWHERE.]
...and on to another prime Mary moment. After I opened my wonderful gifts--for which I am so, so grateful because they were truly perfect for me--John and I took the kids to the Lilac Festival. We got a big park with lots of Lilac bushes--so the city throws a festival right around the time the flowers bloom. Beautiful and fun--well, if it's not raining, that is.
I gave the kids each $5.00 to spend "as THEY chose." We got there a little late, so we kind of walked through the garden part quickly and moved on to the vendors. Corn dogs and loaded fries for a Mother's Day dinner? Perfect! As we're flying by booths, Mary sees a booth where she wants to stop. John and I are in a hurry to get to our corn dogs, so we tell her "maybe later." I didn't catch until later that what she saw (in the 30 seconds it took us to round that corner) and wanted in particular was a dolphin. Well, we get to the kiddie section, and she and Keith decide they want to ride the kiddie rides. 3 rides for $5.00. I asked Mary, "Are you SURE you want to spend your money on these rides? There are other things here at the festival you may want to buy." I asked her TWICE. She was sure. She plopped down her $5.00, got her 3 tickets, and rode her rides. Well, as it was getting late (And Izzy was starting to throw a temper tantrum because she HATES riding in the stroller--but we HAD to put her in one 'cause we didn't want her to have complete walking freedom in that huge crowd--and she wanted to ride in the bounce house, but we thought she shouldn't as we could just see all those big kids bounding right into her and is it worth the tears and frustration?), we packed up and started heading to the car. On our way out, Mary throws a fit to rival her little sister. Because she wanted that dolphin. And no reassurances of "we'll come back later this week and look at it" were keeping the fit at bay. She cried and carried on all the way out to the car. None of our "stop, or you're not getting it at all" statements worked, either. So, now with both of our girls crying all the way out to the car (one guy we walked by took one look and said, "Time to go home?!" Oh yes, indeed), John's and my nerves were pretty rattled.
And it doesn't stop even after we get to the car. And through most of the car ride home. John finally completely loses it and declares, "That's it! You're not getting anything!"
I mean, c'mon. We do not buy this kid something every time we go someplace--in fact, very rarely. She is not spoiled. So why the heck all of a sudden is she acting like a freakin' mini-Paris? We can't even take her to a store to just "look around" without her throwing a fit when we don't buy anything. "Whose kid ARE you??? Where did this come from???" I'm being told it's the age. I certainly hope so. I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that my previously-sweet daughter can't even buy ME a gift without demanding one of her own....
So that was my Mother's Day. Filled with tears, accusations of unfairness and temper tantrums--but also good food and a couple of very, very nice, thoughtful gifts. That were actually bought for me. From a store. With my kid's own money. One out of three ain't bad, Mary. There's still hope for you!
The day started as any normal day. After getting up, eating breakfast, and chillin' with the kids a while, I started to clean the house. For some reason, the clutter was bugging me more than usual, so I did a more thorough job than normal. I ended up cleaning the house for over three hours straight--yes, on Mother's Day. And fighting with my daughter as I tried to get her to help. Mary and Keith have chores they are expected to do every weekend, but for some reason Mary seemed to think that she shouldn't have to do them this weekend. After one of our spats, I said out loud to no one in particular, "Well, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ME!" Why I had to spend Mother's Day explaining to my eldest the reason why she should help out around the house is beyond my comprehension. Especially after she even wrote a paragraph in school about Mother's Day and how she liked to help her mother clean. Whatever.
During a later spat, Mary says to me, "Why do I have to clean on Mother's Day!! It's a holiday!" Yeah, OK, kid. You got that ALL wrong!! Don't make me laugh!
Later that afternoon, John pulls out the gifts. Real gifts. For me. Picked out and bought (well, four dollars worth, anyway) by my daughter--and son. Wow. My first real store-bought Mother's Day gifts! Keith got me (er, John picked out--as John and Mary did this while Keith was at day care Friday) a Chinese painting kit and Mary bought me some high-dollar tea from Borders. And John tells me that he bought me something, too, but "it's not here yet." (Strange, it's Wednesday, and it's still not here!).
So now I'm feeling kinda like a schmuck for going all "my-mother"-like on my daughter while trying to get her to do her chores. But, only a little bit. 'Cause she's supposed to do this stuff--without complaint--EVERY weekend. So far she's been successful about two weeks out of ten.
[But the kicker is the background story. Mary asked John last week if they could go and buy me a Mother's Day gift (hold your "awwwws", now)--and immediately followed it up with, "and then can you buy me something, too?" *sigh* I am obviously screwing up with this parenting thing SOMEWHERE.]
...and on to another prime Mary moment. After I opened my wonderful gifts--for which I am so, so grateful because they were truly perfect for me--John and I took the kids to the Lilac Festival. We got a big park with lots of Lilac bushes--so the city throws a festival right around the time the flowers bloom. Beautiful and fun--well, if it's not raining, that is.
I gave the kids each $5.00 to spend "as THEY chose." We got there a little late, so we kind of walked through the garden part quickly and moved on to the vendors. Corn dogs and loaded fries for a Mother's Day dinner? Perfect! As we're flying by booths, Mary sees a booth where she wants to stop. John and I are in a hurry to get to our corn dogs, so we tell her "maybe later." I didn't catch until later that what she saw (in the 30 seconds it took us to round that corner) and wanted in particular was a dolphin. Well, we get to the kiddie section, and she and Keith decide they want to ride the kiddie rides. 3 rides for $5.00. I asked Mary, "Are you SURE you want to spend your money on these rides? There are other things here at the festival you may want to buy." I asked her TWICE. She was sure. She plopped down her $5.00, got her 3 tickets, and rode her rides. Well, as it was getting late (And Izzy was starting to throw a temper tantrum because she HATES riding in the stroller--but we HAD to put her in one 'cause we didn't want her to have complete walking freedom in that huge crowd--and she wanted to ride in the bounce house, but we thought she shouldn't as we could just see all those big kids bounding right into her and is it worth the tears and frustration?), we packed up and started heading to the car. On our way out, Mary throws a fit to rival her little sister. Because she wanted that dolphin. And no reassurances of "we'll come back later this week and look at it" were keeping the fit at bay. She cried and carried on all the way out to the car. None of our "stop, or you're not getting it at all" statements worked, either. So, now with both of our girls crying all the way out to the car (one guy we walked by took one look and said, "Time to go home?!" Oh yes, indeed), John's and my nerves were pretty rattled.
And it doesn't stop even after we get to the car. And through most of the car ride home. John finally completely loses it and declares, "That's it! You're not getting anything!"
I mean, c'mon. We do not buy this kid something every time we go someplace--in fact, very rarely. She is not spoiled. So why the heck all of a sudden is she acting like a freakin' mini-Paris? We can't even take her to a store to just "look around" without her throwing a fit when we don't buy anything. "Whose kid ARE you??? Where did this come from???" I'm being told it's the age. I certainly hope so. I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that my previously-sweet daughter can't even buy ME a gift without demanding one of her own....
So that was my Mother's Day. Filled with tears, accusations of unfairness and temper tantrums--but also good food and a couple of very, very nice, thoughtful gifts. That were actually bought for me. From a store. With my kid's own money. One out of three ain't bad, Mary. There's still hope for you!
Friday, May 11, 2007
STRESSED
It's been a horrible week at work. All I can say is that we knew it would be, so we were kinda prepared, and so I guess I'm probably not as stressed as I could be. It didn't help that John had to go out of town Sunday night through Tuesday. I kept things simple at home, got a little help from my neighbor (she put Mary on the bus for me Tuesday morning), and we made it through just fine. After I got over my highly stressful Monday, that is.
'Course it also didn't help that I had a horrible teeth-hurting sinus headache--for several days. Guess it's the mugginess. I know that nothing I'm taking is even TOUCHING the pain. So I've just decided to deal with it and get on with my day-to-day life. And now I'm feeling a little better.
The mini-van is "brand-new" again. I wonder how many lives this sucker has got, as it's now been reborn three times. I did get brave and drive to Wal-Mart again yesterday. I faced my fear and parked even further back in the boonies than I normally do (and away from posts/poles). When John drove the mini-van Wednesday night, he asked, "Did they clean it?" "Yes, they always do." "So THAT's why you do it!" "Yes, a $500 detail job. What a bargain!"
And on to less-stressful news....
Mary and I are excited because our Girl Scout troop is going camping tomorrow. Should be fun. I hope all goes well....
Keith and Izzy have developed an interesting game during our morning commute. It's the same dialogue back and forth EVERY morning and evening...
Izzy, "Hey, what's the hold up down there?" (sounds like: "Hey, what's the hole down there?")
Keith, "There's a rock in the way!"
Izzy, "Well, toss it out and get back to work!" (sounds like: "Well, tah sit an' get back to work!")
Keith, "OK!" (with lots of groans/pushing noises).
And then they giggle and do it all over again. Every now and then, Izzy will improvise and add at then end, "Is it heavy?" Keith: "YES!"
Now that I've figured out the dialogue, I'm wondering where it came from. Did Keith pick this up from some movie, or is this just a game he invented???
It used to be that Izzy was a "third wheel" who played on her own (or with me) and was completely ignored by her siblings. But now Keith has been playing with her--and just her!--more. I'm not sure if it's because the two of them are together all day at the same provider's house (without bossyboots Mary) or if it's just simply because Izzy's 2 1/2 now and is better able to keep up with him (maybe both). It's nice to see. Well, until Keith gets too "boyish" on her and throws toys at her or pushes her or plays a game she can't relate. Last night he was pretending to be a "mad door" (it's from the Piglet game we play on the Gamecube), and he succeeded only in making her cry because she didn't understand the game and she wanted to get through the doorway. I also caught him earlier threatening to stick a sharp pencil in her eye if she didn't stop crying (and I think she was just crying again because she didn't understand the game). Um...THAT is not acceptable. He got a time-out and a severe talkin' to over THAT little comment.
Cripes! The sibling rivalry! HOW to make it stop!
'Course it also didn't help that I had a horrible teeth-hurting sinus headache--for several days. Guess it's the mugginess. I know that nothing I'm taking is even TOUCHING the pain. So I've just decided to deal with it and get on with my day-to-day life. And now I'm feeling a little better.
The mini-van is "brand-new" again. I wonder how many lives this sucker has got, as it's now been reborn three times. I did get brave and drive to Wal-Mart again yesterday. I faced my fear and parked even further back in the boonies than I normally do (and away from posts/poles). When John drove the mini-van Wednesday night, he asked, "Did they clean it?" "Yes, they always do." "So THAT's why you do it!" "Yes, a $500 detail job. What a bargain!"
And on to less-stressful news....
Mary and I are excited because our Girl Scout troop is going camping tomorrow. Should be fun. I hope all goes well....
Keith and Izzy have developed an interesting game during our morning commute. It's the same dialogue back and forth EVERY morning and evening...
Izzy, "Hey, what's the hold up down there?" (sounds like: "Hey, what's the hole down there?")
Keith, "There's a rock in the way!"
Izzy, "Well, toss it out and get back to work!" (sounds like: "Well, tah sit an' get back to work!")
Keith, "OK!" (with lots of groans/pushing noises).
And then they giggle and do it all over again. Every now and then, Izzy will improvise and add at then end, "Is it heavy?" Keith: "YES!"
Now that I've figured out the dialogue, I'm wondering where it came from. Did Keith pick this up from some movie, or is this just a game he invented???
It used to be that Izzy was a "third wheel" who played on her own (or with me) and was completely ignored by her siblings. But now Keith has been playing with her--and just her!--more. I'm not sure if it's because the two of them are together all day at the same provider's house (without bossyboots Mary) or if it's just simply because Izzy's 2 1/2 now and is better able to keep up with him (maybe both). It's nice to see. Well, until Keith gets too "boyish" on her and throws toys at her or pushes her or plays a game she can't relate. Last night he was pretending to be a "mad door" (it's from the Piglet game we play on the Gamecube), and he succeeded only in making her cry because she didn't understand the game and she wanted to get through the doorway. I also caught him earlier threatening to stick a sharp pencil in her eye if she didn't stop crying (and I think she was just crying again because she didn't understand the game). Um...THAT is not acceptable. He got a time-out and a severe talkin' to over THAT little comment.
Cripes! The sibling rivalry! HOW to make it stop!
Thursday, May 03, 2007
The Reality Show they need to make
....would be called "Is he fakin' it?"
On this show, the fretful mother would drag her five-year old son to this panel of pediatricians where they have to examine him and determine if the two hour crying spell where he SCREAMED that his ear hurt is a real medical issue or just an attention-getting stunt. IF the mother is right, and the kid is fakin' it (as she's SURE he is, since earlier that day, he was whining about the OTHER ear--and was even caught SLEEPING on the currently-suspect ear with NOT even a whimper--until he saw mom was watching him), then the pediatricians have to eat the co-pay--AND reimburse the mother for her unpaid time from work. IF the kid's complaints are proved to be true (what a shock!) than the mother eats her crow and her unpaid time and co-pay without a tantrum of her own.
Obviously, this was the scenario from last weekend--except that I did NOT take Keith to the doctor. My professional opinion as a mother (for what it's worth) is that he had a slight cold (oh, yes, it's making its rounds) and that his ears were a bit plugged up from it (he said it sounded as if people were talking under water to him). I think that it just felt kind of "weird" to him and that "weird" registered to him as "pain."
Of course, I could have been wrong..... Because I believe it was Saturday that when he got up from his nap, one of his eyes looked kind of gunky and RED. Not completely red, just a little bit. But his nose and face were completely covered in snot (hello--this kid is snotty ALL THE TIME and does NOT have the best nose hygiene. ewwww.). It looked to me as if he'd wiped his nose with his hand, and that it had smeared into his eye. So, I asked him to wash his face. When he came back "clean", his eye didn't look so red, so I thought maybe, just maybe, the eye got a little irritated from having all that snot in it...? And it never looked red the rest of the weekend.
Well, Izzy's eye looked a little gunky too when she got up from that same nap, but not red. This isn't new for THIS kid because she does get gunky eyes from time to time. But Monday, when John picked up the kids after the mini-van fiasco, our day care provider told him that Izzy had pink eye. Sure enough, the kid's left eye had a definite red hue--and gunk. Leona and I immediately agreed on the treatment (without even talking to each other--it's sometimes scary how we Moms can think alike)--give her Mary's drops from the big Pink-Eye Incident of last Christmas. I know, I know. I probably should have taken Izzy in. And it's a big no-no to give one child's prescription to another. But after all the talks with all the pediatricians and doctors during the big Pink Eye Incident of last Christmas (even Leona and one of her daughters got it), we both decided it didn't seem to meet the criteria of a doctor's visit. I figure, if she's whining and feverish and acting sick, THEN I will take her in to see if anything else is wrong: sore throat, ear infection, etc. So far, so good. The eye drops have cleared up her eyes, and she's acting like a normal two-year old. And my five-year old hasn't complained one BIT about his ear since the crying jag of last Sunday night--and his eyes have stayed red- and gunk-free.
(Makes me wonder how much of my wreck was due to sleep deprivation as I did not sleep well Friday night or Saturday night, and Keith kept us up late Sunday night. And I've been very frazzled lately. My other two wrecks were most certainly due to sleep deprivation and my frazzled-working-mother-of-three status. Perhaps another pursuit into working-from-home is in order again.)
Anyrate, I could have used the "Is she fakin' it?" show last Thursday when Mary's visit to the nurse's office for a COLD caused such havoc in our lives.
I should call CBS. (They could probably use a laugh.)
On this show, the fretful mother would drag her five-year old son to this panel of pediatricians where they have to examine him and determine if the two hour crying spell where he SCREAMED that his ear hurt is a real medical issue or just an attention-getting stunt. IF the mother is right, and the kid is fakin' it (as she's SURE he is, since earlier that day, he was whining about the OTHER ear--and was even caught SLEEPING on the currently-suspect ear with NOT even a whimper--until he saw mom was watching him), then the pediatricians have to eat the co-pay--AND reimburse the mother for her unpaid time from work. IF the kid's complaints are proved to be true (what a shock!) than the mother eats her crow and her unpaid time and co-pay without a tantrum of her own.
Obviously, this was the scenario from last weekend--except that I did NOT take Keith to the doctor. My professional opinion as a mother (for what it's worth) is that he had a slight cold (oh, yes, it's making its rounds) and that his ears were a bit plugged up from it (he said it sounded as if people were talking under water to him). I think that it just felt kind of "weird" to him and that "weird" registered to him as "pain."
Of course, I could have been wrong..... Because I believe it was Saturday that when he got up from his nap, one of his eyes looked kind of gunky and RED. Not completely red, just a little bit. But his nose and face were completely covered in snot (hello--this kid is snotty ALL THE TIME and does NOT have the best nose hygiene. ewwww.). It looked to me as if he'd wiped his nose with his hand, and that it had smeared into his eye. So, I asked him to wash his face. When he came back "clean", his eye didn't look so red, so I thought maybe, just maybe, the eye got a little irritated from having all that snot in it...? And it never looked red the rest of the weekend.
Well, Izzy's eye looked a little gunky too when she got up from that same nap, but not red. This isn't new for THIS kid because she does get gunky eyes from time to time. But Monday, when John picked up the kids after the mini-van fiasco, our day care provider told him that Izzy had pink eye. Sure enough, the kid's left eye had a definite red hue--and gunk. Leona and I immediately agreed on the treatment (without even talking to each other--it's sometimes scary how we Moms can think alike)--give her Mary's drops from the big Pink-Eye Incident of last Christmas. I know, I know. I probably should have taken Izzy in. And it's a big no-no to give one child's prescription to another. But after all the talks with all the pediatricians and doctors during the big Pink Eye Incident of last Christmas (even Leona and one of her daughters got it), we both decided it didn't seem to meet the criteria of a doctor's visit. I figure, if she's whining and feverish and acting sick, THEN I will take her in to see if anything else is wrong: sore throat, ear infection, etc. So far, so good. The eye drops have cleared up her eyes, and she's acting like a normal two-year old. And my five-year old hasn't complained one BIT about his ear since the crying jag of last Sunday night--and his eyes have stayed red- and gunk-free.
(Makes me wonder how much of my wreck was due to sleep deprivation as I did not sleep well Friday night or Saturday night, and Keith kept us up late Sunday night. And I've been very frazzled lately. My other two wrecks were most certainly due to sleep deprivation and my frazzled-working-mother-of-three status. Perhaps another pursuit into working-from-home is in order again.)
Anyrate, I could have used the "Is she fakin' it?" show last Thursday when Mary's visit to the nurse's office for a COLD caused such havoc in our lives.
I should call CBS. (They could probably use a laugh.)
Opening Day
Last Saturday was Opening Day for t-ball. We had to be at the ball park at 8:30 to get ready for the parade. Mary got in into her head, while we're all running around like crazy trying to get dressed and ready, that she didn't want to go. Mary is very much into her routines. Since most of our Saturday mornings are spent waking up kind of slow and relaxing--and with her PLAYING all morning--she thinks ALL Saturdays have to be like that. And it's a world-stopping event if we have any other kind of plans.
It was not pretty.
We got to the ball park with just the typical whining. Then John and Mary headed over to the spot the team was meeting, and Keith, Izzy, and I headed to the parade location. It was a very cold, very wet, very dark and dreary day. I saw tons of SMART parents who had brought their Dunkin' Donuts' and Tim Hortons' coffees, and I was kicking myself for not getting my own (as if we'd really had time in the rush to get there). While we were waiting, I saw Mary's team come down the hill to get ready to get lined up. First I saw John with this FEROCIOUS look on his face. Uh oh. Then I see Mary--with a bright red and screwed-up look on HER face. She was obviously crying. GREAT.
The parade finally starts. Mary's team was probably the third team to walk by. There she was, in the middle of this group of kids holding their team banner, still with a sullen look on her face--and she didn't even look up when I called her. John zipped by without even noticing us. That wouldn't have been a problem--except that Keith was looking for them....
Izzy was being a general 2-year old nuisance and throwing a fit because I wouldn't let her join the parade, and I wouldn't let her wander off towards the fields, and I actually wanted her to stand still beside me. So, I decided to high-tail it out of there before the parade was actually over (so, SO cold out there)--and that's when Keith threw HIS fit. "I didn't see Daddy! I didn't see Mary!" "But, honey, they've already walked by!" "WAHHHHHH!!!" So, I guess even saying, "Look, there's Daddy and Mary!" and calling out Mary's name several times didn't clue him in when they actually walked by..... ARGH!
So, I finally got my two wailing children back to the mini-van (pre-iodiotic wreck, obviously), turned it on, and cranked up the heat. After the tantrums settled down (mine included), we were all pretty cozy. After a while, John calls, looking for me in the crowd. "We're in the van." "So you missed it?" "Missed what?" "The opening ceremony! You were supposed to follow the parade to the ball diamond!" Know what--after the cold, and the rain, and the THREE wailing kids, I DIDN'T CARE. I was snug in my van and did not feel bad ONE BIT.
Mary had it right--we should have just stayed home in the first place! (When I asked her later, she said she was crying because 1) she didn't want to be in the parade and 2) she didn't want to hold the banner because it was so heavy. Oh, and 3) the other boys holding the banner weren't holding it high enough, and she kept tripping on it while they were walking.)
After that was over, we took the kids out for brunch, had Keith and Izzy take early naps, and then we had to rush out the door again for Mary's actual t-ball GAME. Much better performance by the eldest unit this time. It was still very, very cold, and still very, very rainy, but she played, and didn't complain, and didn't cry, and actually seemed to be enjoying herself.
Keeping Izzy entertained while this cold, wet boring-to-a-2-year-old game was going on was not fun. She was driving me nuts! When John told me that in this league they play 6 innings instead of the 5 we played last year, and that the game was probably going to take another hour, I decided to take Izzy for a drive. I couldn't even take her for a walk without crying issues, and I couldn't take her to the little playground as it was so wet. I set out with her to get the Tim Hortons' coffee I'd missed out on earlier. As I pull back into the ball park, I see one of Mary's teammates leaving. Aw, MAN! Sure enough, they decided to go ahead and call the game early since it was so cold and rainy. I only missed 15 minutes of the game, but I missed Mary making a GREAT play from third base (which she played the whole game). A ball was hit her way, she retrieved it, and threw it straight to first. (If only the first baseman had caught it!)
Whew! What a day!
It was not pretty.
We got to the ball park with just the typical whining. Then John and Mary headed over to the spot the team was meeting, and Keith, Izzy, and I headed to the parade location. It was a very cold, very wet, very dark and dreary day. I saw tons of SMART parents who had brought their Dunkin' Donuts' and Tim Hortons' coffees, and I was kicking myself for not getting my own (as if we'd really had time in the rush to get there). While we were waiting, I saw Mary's team come down the hill to get ready to get lined up. First I saw John with this FEROCIOUS look on his face. Uh oh. Then I see Mary--with a bright red and screwed-up look on HER face. She was obviously crying. GREAT.
The parade finally starts. Mary's team was probably the third team to walk by. There she was, in the middle of this group of kids holding their team banner, still with a sullen look on her face--and she didn't even look up when I called her. John zipped by without even noticing us. That wouldn't have been a problem--except that Keith was looking for them....
Izzy was being a general 2-year old nuisance and throwing a fit because I wouldn't let her join the parade, and I wouldn't let her wander off towards the fields, and I actually wanted her to stand still beside me. So, I decided to high-tail it out of there before the parade was actually over (so, SO cold out there)--and that's when Keith threw HIS fit. "I didn't see Daddy! I didn't see Mary!" "But, honey, they've already walked by!" "WAHHHHHH!!!" So, I guess even saying, "Look, there's Daddy and Mary!" and calling out Mary's name several times didn't clue him in when they actually walked by..... ARGH!
So, I finally got my two wailing children back to the mini-van (pre-iodiotic wreck, obviously), turned it on, and cranked up the heat. After the tantrums settled down (mine included), we were all pretty cozy. After a while, John calls, looking for me in the crowd. "We're in the van." "So you missed it?" "Missed what?" "The opening ceremony! You were supposed to follow the parade to the ball diamond!" Know what--after the cold, and the rain, and the THREE wailing kids, I DIDN'T CARE. I was snug in my van and did not feel bad ONE BIT.
Mary had it right--we should have just stayed home in the first place! (When I asked her later, she said she was crying because 1) she didn't want to be in the parade and 2) she didn't want to hold the banner because it was so heavy. Oh, and 3) the other boys holding the banner weren't holding it high enough, and she kept tripping on it while they were walking.)
After that was over, we took the kids out for brunch, had Keith and Izzy take early naps, and then we had to rush out the door again for Mary's actual t-ball GAME. Much better performance by the eldest unit this time. It was still very, very cold, and still very, very rainy, but she played, and didn't complain, and didn't cry, and actually seemed to be enjoying herself.
Keeping Izzy entertained while this cold, wet boring-to-a-2-year-old game was going on was not fun. She was driving me nuts! When John told me that in this league they play 6 innings instead of the 5 we played last year, and that the game was probably going to take another hour, I decided to take Izzy for a drive. I couldn't even take her for a walk without crying issues, and I couldn't take her to the little playground as it was so wet. I set out with her to get the Tim Hortons' coffee I'd missed out on earlier. As I pull back into the ball park, I see one of Mary's teammates leaving. Aw, MAN! Sure enough, they decided to go ahead and call the game early since it was so cold and rainy. I only missed 15 minutes of the game, but I missed Mary making a GREAT play from third base (which she played the whole game). A ball was hit her way, she retrieved it, and threw it straight to first. (If only the first baseman had caught it!)
Whew! What a day!
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