Rebellin

Little Man has been talking a ton lately. A lot of his sentences are short and to the point. They sound a lot to me like advertising tag lines. For instance:

“Milk — have some.” (The next Got Milk campaign)
“Garbage — got it?” (Waste Management’s next campaign)
“Booger — don’t want it.” (Future ad for Kleenex)
“Poop in there.” (Future ad for Charmin)

My baby turns two next week. I can’t believe it. Two! That really isn’t a baby anymore. I want my baby back!

In preparation for his birthday, I have been asking him, “How old are you?”

His response is always, “good.”

Making a mental note to get that on video before he learns the appropriate answer!

Last night, I was in my bedroom changing clothes when both children started screaming and crying at the top of their lungs. I came into the family room to find Little Miss saying, “He bit me!”

I had to wonder why Little Man was crying, too. I also have never known him to bite, so I figured there would be a back story.

Turns out she was trying to feed him a marshmallow when he accidentally bit her. I looked at her finger to find a small scratch. Then she turned her finger over, and I saw what looked like a big flap of skin hanging loose.

I quickly ran to my bedroom and got the hydrogen peroxide and a band aid. When I came back to doctor her, I told her to hold her finger out. That flap of skin seemed to be gone.

“Where is the skin that was hanging off?” I asked, perplexed.

“Oh, that was just a booger.”

Nice.

Little Miss has been getting me up almost each night this week, mainly due to coughing fits. Who needs a newborn when your five year old can yank you out of sleep by hacking up a lung?!

The medicine is working, and her coughing is subsiding. Therefore, I was surprised to awake to her screaming in a panic at 2am. My knee is really stiff after I’ve been sleeping, so JB bounded up the steps as I limped my way up. The whole way, I’m chanting please don’t let there be puke. Please don’t let there be puke.

The problem? A nightmare.

JB promptly turned around and went back to bed. I crawled into bed with her, and asked her what happened in her dream.

“My brother picked you up, Mom, and took you down the stairs. He then went in your room and closed the door.”

Really?! My first reaction was, wow, that would be one strong toddler to carry me down the stairs. But then I sat there perplexed, wondering why that dream would evoke such panic-stricken cries.

I also thanked my lucky stars that her nightmares are so mundane. There are many children on this earth that have had horrible things happen to them and have truly horrific nightmares as a result. May all of her problems be solved so easily.

Yesterday, my daughter’s teacher told me that she asked the entire class of pre-k and Kindergarten students what we’re celebrating at Easter. All of the kids except for one said that Easter was about the Easter Bunny.

My little girl is the only one who said that Easter is about Jesus.

*sniff* That makes a Momma proud.

My alarm went off this morning, and as I pressed snooze, I heard cries coming through the baby monitor.

But it wasn’t the cries of the baby. It was the cries of my 5 year old daughter in the room next to the baby. So, I got up, crutched myself up the stairs and found Little Miss in her bed crying real tears saying her tummy hurt.

Need I say I was just a tad bit irritated? She recently spent two weeks at home — one week with Grandma while I was recovering, and last week was Spring Break. Of course, I was paying for all of that time. And now, my first day scheduled to be back in the office, she has the stomach flu?!

Or does she? Although the display was rather convincing, she didn’t have a fever, and there was no vomit. And then she started asking for breakfast… Her tears and writhing on the floor/couch/bed went on for 45 minutes, but my Mother’s Intuition was telling me something was amiss.

And my logical side was thinking you haven’t hardly left the house for the past five days — how could you have gotten sick?!

So, although I worried about the guilt if I was wrong, I told Little Miss that she needed to go get dressed, as she was leaving for school in 10 minutes. And that she better hurry, because otherwise she wouldn’t get breakfast.

I packed her a lunch of chicken noodle soup, yogurt and Saltines just in case. When she came downstairs, she had discovered one of her favorite summer dresses in the closet, and already her demeanor had changed. She then fretted that she wanted to make sure she had time to brush her hair, and went running into my bathroom to do so.

A few hours later, I called her school, telling them the scenario and asking them to check if I made the right decision. The teacher went to check on her, and came back laughing, saying, “you totally made the right call. She’s fine.”

That girl is getting very good at playing sick. I keep telling her the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf, as one of these days, I’m not going to believe her, and send her off to school despite being sick!

I love Tina Fey. Check out this quote:

“Kids are definitely the boss of you. Anyone who will barge into the room while you are on the commode is the boss of you. And when you explain to them that you’re on the commode and that they should leave but they don’t? That’s a high-level boss.”

Taken from this article. That is SO true!

Isn’t it lovely how kids repeat the things we adults say?! This weekend, while in the locker room at the pool, my daughter says loudly to me, “you’re driving me INSANE.”

“Little girls shouldn’t say that.” I responded.

She then asks, “what does that mean?”

In my head, I’m thinking you know when you’re running around like a crazy person in our house making your brother scream over and over and over? That drives me INSANE.

I had to tone it down a bit and tell her that when she acts really silly and doesn’t follow my rules, it makes me feel a little insane.

I know I shouldn’t use those words, but sometimes living with two little ones can be a bit like Chinese water torture, as they keep irritating you with an endless stream of little transgressions until you JUST CAN’T HANDLE IT ANYMORE. That is the point I usually tell my daughter she is driving me insane.

Oops. What can I say? I’m only human!

Little Miss has had the stomach flu twice in the past month. She has been complaining of a tummy ache for much of the time in between, and that’s one of those things I never know is real or contrived.

This morning, I found her laying in bed with the light on, reading. She usually gets up to harass her brother, so this was different. She immediately started complaining of a tummy ache. After I fed her breakfast (yogurt, toast, and ginger tea — the tummy ache solution in my house), she curled up in front of the fire place under a blanket. Her eyes were dull, and she didn’t smile or interact with her brother. I really thought she was sick.

Even though I had been up since 6 rocking my spin bike (rocking is a very relative term for this gimpy momma), I hauled out my computer and decided I’d be working from home with her.

Although I was a bit suspicious. I put out a few pieces of bait to see if she’d bite.

“You know, if you stay home today, you’re not going to be allowed to watch any movies.”

She didn’t bite at that. Just said OK.

“And if you start running around the house, I’m going to take you straight to school.”

She said OK.

I set up shop on my laptop beside her in front of the fire, and about 20 minutes later, I thought I might know what was behind all of this tummy aching.

“Is this about the girl at school who has been bossing you around?”

She nodded.

“If I talk to your teachers about it, will you go to school?”

She nodded.

Bingo. If only that didn’t make me an hour late to work! Turns out there is this kindergartner that has been trying to play “Queen and Servant” with Little Miss, and every time, she makes Little Miss the servant, bossing her around. And my daughter, who isn’t horribly compliant at home, succumbs to this girls’ every wish.

So, I packed her up and took her to school, coaching her the entire drive there on how she should just tell this girl she doesn’t want to play with her.

“Who is the boss of you, Little Miss?”

“I am,” she muttered very unconvincingly.

I need to get this girl into drama. She has a natural talent for it.

Last week, I found out that a mother of one of Little Miss’ friends at preschool died unexpectedly of a heart attack. I didn’t know the woman, but the news really floored me. You don’t expect someone my age to die of a heart attack, and my heart breaks when I think of all that she’s going to miss in her daughter’s life, and how much her daughter will miss knowing her mother.

My Mom used to tell me growing up that “a daughter needs her mother.” I never really thought much about that comment, but now that I have a daughter of my own, I see from a different perspective and agree with her whole heartedly. One of my many prayers each night is that God will let our little family lead long, healthy lives together. But there is definitely a special bond between a mother and a daughter, and there are so many things that I think a father just wouldn’t think about or have sensitivity. I mean how can a man understand the crazy emotions during puberty, or what it feels like to be on the outside of the popular girl clique? Or how challenging prom dress shopping can be?

I also think how no one would love my children as I do. There is a bond you just can’t replace when you grow someone in your belly, nurture them as a newborn, and watch them blossom into the children that you are. The idea of me not being able to finish raising them is a devastating thought, so I try to focus on how I can try to lead a long, healthy life.

My heart breaks for that entire family. The day I heard the news, I hugged my kids so tight, thankful that I am able to pick my kids up each night. I’ll take a bum knee any day over missing out on a single day with my kids.

My daughter turned five last week. I think this is going to be a really good age for her. She is as tall as an 8 year old, and as verbal as one as well. We went through a tough time for well over a year after Little Man was born, but I really think she is blossoming.

She is loving, and cares deeply about other people. She is funny, and loves to tell jokes and make funny faces. She plays with her brother really well, and she has overcome her fear of skiing and swimming.

My injury has forced her to grow up a bit faster, as she now has to help a lot more with chores, like dinner, laundry, cleaning up, etc. But she has done them without complaining for the most part, and I think this will help her develop a good work ethic young.

For her birthday, I got off work a bit early and took her to a cupcakery, where I was proud when she stopped eating her cupcake halfway because her tummy was full. We then picked up her grandparents from the airport, and had a family party for her that evening, complete with gifts and singing. The only downer was her 1.5 hour coughing fit, experienced right as I was about to paint her nails with some new nail polish she received as a gift. As the coughing fit started, somehow the cap came off the nail polish, and next thing I knew, we had purple nail polish on my leather recliner and on her new dress. Gah! Call the haz-mat team!

Anyway, her birthday party was this past Saturday at a pool. The kids stayed in the toddler pool for the most part, except when my brother took Little Miss and her cousins into the big pool and helped them go off the diving board. I still have delusions of getting her in swim team this summer, but she’s still far from being able to swim across the pool.

I can’t believe I have been a mother for five years. She has taught me how to love deeper than I’ve ever known, and forced me to grow in ways I could have never imagined. I love you, little girl. I look forward to many more birthdays with you.

Here is a picture of her with her cousin at the party (she’s the one with goggles on, because we are swimming nerds in our family.)

I was talking to my Mom yesterday, telling her how challenging it has been for me to keep Little Man out of mischief while I’m on crutches. We then started talking about the video that shows how Little Man gets really scared if you “roar” around him.

So Mom says, “what if you roared at him when he gets into mischief?”

I shared that thought with JB last night, and we shared a good laugh. I didn’t think anything of it until this morning, when I heard “clank, clank” as Little Man played with some bottles in the recycle bin. JB happened to be walking through the room, and next thing I know, I heard a deep, loud, “ROARRRRRRRRRR”. It sounded like a very angry Daddy bear!

Little Man stopped in his tracks, gave a little cry, and then moved on to something else.

I think Mom is onto something here, though I don’t know how long it will work!

Part of me was dreading this weekend. Being laid up, I shuddered to think of an entire weekend where I couldn’t take the kids anywhere or do the things we
love to do. So far, I’ve been pleasantly surprised.

The morning started with yet another cuddle session with Little Man, and some quiet time with the kids in the morning as JB caught up on sleep. He then got up and made us all pancakes, and then we all went to the park together.

Being at the park was a little frustrating, as I’m not normally a parent to just sit on a bench and watch. I like to get on the equipment, play with the kids, and run around with them. But today, I was on the bench. I think some other mothers thought I was nuts when I started doing tricep dips on the bench. But come on, I’m afraid my whole body is going to atrophy during this recovery process.

After lunch, we put Little Man to sleep in a pack-n-play in our bedroom (since I can’t get upstairs to his room) while JB went out skiing (and later mountain biking when the conditions sucked). While Little Man slept, my daughter and I read books on my brand new Kindle and watched our DVDs of Little House on the Prairie. First off — wow, the Kindle is amazing. It’s the perfect new gadget for someone stuck in a recliner most of the day! Secondly, a neighbor gave us the Little House on the Prairie box set (it was a cast off of theirs from a white elephant gift exachange), and I’ve truly enjoyed watching the series from the beginning and explaining the plot and what it was like living on the prairie a hundred years ago.

So now on to day two. Tomorrow, I’ll be flying solo with Little Man while JB takes my daughter to ski camp (sniff — that used to be my job!). I’m a bit nervous about watching him by myself in my gimpy state, but hopefully it goes smoothly. Unfortunately for me, it’s supposed to snow, so I guess I’ll be homebound. Crutches and snow just don’t mix.

Remember how I was lamenting about how challenging Little Man was in a house that wasn’t very child-proofed?   Ha!  I didn’t know how things could get even MORE FUN when you add one gimpy Mamma to the equation.  The past few days, I’ve had to resort to verbal reprimands with Little Man, as I’m no longer physically capable of picking him up and removing him from a situation.  Let me just tell you how this goes…

Mamma:  “No!  Put that back!”

Little Man looks at me and smiles, then starts running. 

I then try to corral him by hopping after him with my crutches, and try to guide him with the crutch. 

It’s highly inefficient. 

Oh, boy, this is going to be fun.

I think I brought this knee injury on myself.  Just last week, I told JB that I’d like to “switch roles” with him, saying that perhaps he’d have more respect for all I do in regards to the kids and around the house if he just had to do it for a week.  Wow, did I get that wish.  And JB sure isn’t happy about all of this.

Went to the doctor yesterday, who said from a physical exam, he can tell that I probably tore my MCL tendon, and the ACL isn’t looking “right” either.  The fun part of that diagnosis is that they’d treat it as two separate injuries.  We’d immobilize for the MCL to heal and then do physical therapy for that, which will take 5-8 weeks.  Then, if I need ACL surgery, we’d do that, and then I’d have to do physical therapy specific to that recovery.

So in essence, this whole fiasco could last 4-5 months.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I could go back in time and just tell myself to let Little Miss ski on her own — she’d be fine.  Instead, I now can’t really take the kids to do any kind of activity, such as bike rides, the park, swimming, etc.  I’ve always loved our outings on the weekend, and now I fear I’m just going to be homebound and unable to keep tabs on them when they go upstairs.

Last night, JB went on a walk, and I was home alone with the sleeping kids for about 45 minutes.  Of course, Little Man started crying.  After about 30 minutes of his crying, I couldn’t take it anymore, and managed to scoot my way up the stairs on my rear, dragging my crutches along.  It probably took me 10 minutes to get to the top of the stairs, and then find a chair to get myself to a standing position, and wouldn’t you know it — by the time I made it to Little Man’s room, he was fast asleep?!  Gah!!!!

While I’m throwing my own little Pity Party, I’m also so bummed that I’m about to get REALLY out of shape.  I just recently got to where I was within 2 pounds of my pre-pregnancy weight, and I felt like I was in really good shape.  I felt like I had completely recovered from the second pregnancy and C-section, about 18 months later.  And now, I’m looking at months of inactivity.  I’m just cringing at what that is going to do to my body, and have already started to try to monitor my food intake, considering I now get the same activity of a 80 year old in a retirement home.

The fun continues.  If you live in Reno, please come have a playdate with me.  I’m going to need friends to help me with Little Man while JB goes out to ski, as we all know he will.

I’m always on the lookout for a healthy dinner I can throw together lickedy-split. Last night, I made one up that is a true winner, so I had to share…

Southwestern Chicken
Preheat oven to 375
Place chicken breasts in a casserole pan
Pour salsa over the top
Pour a can of drained black beans on top of that
Bake until chicken is around 145 degrees, then cover with shredded cheese and return to the oven until chicken is 165 degrees.

Voila! I was originally planning to throw in some brown rice with the mixture, but JB thinks “that would have ruined it.” I didn’t have any in the pantry, so it was left out. Anyway, I sat and played with the kids while it cooked, and was my kind of fast food!

I vividly remember the first thing I said to JB after the ultrasound tech announced that we were having a boy for our second child.

“Toddler boys scare me.” Of course, JB had no idea why I said this. I think he is beginning to understand.

I had a right to be scared. Daily, I am amazed at the energy and determination of Little Man. He has an uncanny knack to find trouble, no matter where he is.

I remember Little Miss at this age — my cautious girl that would never stray more than a few feet from me in public, and who rarely got into cabinets or drawers. I didn’t really even need to childproof for her.

But Little Man, he’s a different story. I think it’s that extra dose of testosterone in a male child that makes them so much more curious and fearless.

For instance, last week, JB worked from home while Little Man recovered from the stomach flu. I came home that day to find a spoon in the guest bathroom, a spatula in the master bathroom, and a curling iron in the kitchen. He is into EVERYTHING. Plus, there is a philosophical difference of opinion between my husband and I. I am absolutely fed up with constantly following Little Man around and picking up the messes he creates every two minutes. He’s like a miniature Tazmanian Devil. I say, PLEASE, can we put childproof locks on the cabinets and drawers?! This is driving me crazy.

Of course, JB thinks that if we childproof the cabinets and drawers, Little Man will just find some other kind of trouble. (Perhaps I can convince him if I start pointing the electric drill at our cabinet doors.)

JB has a point, but I’m becoming more and more paranoid about keeping this energetic and curious little munchkin out of mortal danger. He interprets, “No!” or “STOP” as direction to RUN away from me as fast as his little legs can carry him. I am so afraid that one day, he’ll be running from me and will get into a street or drop off a ledge, etc.

I used to think that putting leashes on children was just wrong, but Little Man’s leash is probably going to start getting a lot more use. When I’d speak against leashes, I had no idea that my daughter, who functioned so well under voice control at this age would be absolutely nothing like my son in that arena.

Not only does he run from me if he knows he’s doing something wrong, but if he has something we want — a remote, a piece of trash, you name it – once he knows he is cornered, he will throw that item as far as he can out of my reach.

So yes, I was right to be scared of toddler boys. Little Man is earning the nicknames of Trouble and Master of Disaster in our house. The really scary thing is that he has only just begun. Oh, Lord, help me!

I’m not a morning person, but I find the most precious moments with my children are right after they wake up, so it has me getting out of bed without much grumbling.

Now that it’s winter (or close enough), I get the kids up, and we go sit in front of our gas fireplace to snuggle.  We snuggle as long as it takes Little Man to drink his milk.  Those minutes are pure heaven for me.  With Little Man in my lap, and Little Miss snuggled beside us, we bathe in the warmth of the fire, and let ourselves wake up gradually.  When he is done with his milk, he hands me the cup, saying, “all done”, and then he is up and away to find whatever mischief he can.

This morning, we awoke to an inch of snow on the ground, and I got such a kick out of watching Little Man re-discover the snow, as he gasped and pointed out the window, watching with absolute awe as the large snowflakes fell to the backdrop of our neighbors’ Christmas lights.

This time of year, it’s so beautiful to cuddle in front of the fire, with the Christmas tree lit up and the snow falling.  You can’t help but get in the Christmas spirit, even if it is earlier than I would choose to get up!

I have a big day at work today.  I needed to get to work early, and to be on my game.  I told Little Miss about this last night, and this morning, everything was on track until it was 2 minutes until I was ready to go and we needed to do her hair. 

I quickly spritzed her hair with water and combed it, figuring she could go au natural today.  But then, she grabs a pony tail holder and insists that she wants a pony tail.

So, I obliged, though there was much fussing because she had tangles and I was in a hurry.  I made a quick pony tail, turned around to put my shoes on, and then see that she pulled the pony tail out.  She says, “I want a braid.”

At this point, I’m now running late, so I tell her she has to deal with no pony tail or braid.  Then the melt down ensued.  Not a good combination to have a stressed mother and a 4 year old melt down.

I finally wrangled her into the car, and she started wailing in the back seat.  Needing some Zen, I simply turned up the radio hoping to drown her out.  She finally said she’d be quiet if I turned down the radio, and then I got the silent treatment the rest of the way to her school.

Having a little girl comes with such drama.  I just never expected such drama at this early age.