Saturday, November 7, 2015

Appellate Jurisdiction

The other day, the kiddo was watching TV (Disney Junior) and saw something she wanted on a commercial -- I am not even sure what it was, but I can guarantee that she already has something similar, in the piles of toys that have eaten the family room. Whatever it was, she told me she wanted it, and I said, "Do you have money to pay for it?" She said, "No, but you do. Buy it for me."
I stuck to my guns and said no. I don't remember exactly what she said after that, but the gist of it was that she did not believe me and wanted to appeal my decision to a higher authority. I told her she had two choices: Santa Claus or Grandpa. 
Of course, the smart kid says, "I want to talk to Grandpa's face!"
On the one hand, I think it's great that she wants to talk to my dad.  On the other hand, he will probably buy her what he wants.  He used to be really good at saying no, but with the grandkids, seems to lack the same resolve.

Now I just have to teach a 75 year old how to use Skype.

Friday, November 6, 2015

The Pre-Halloween Halloween

The week before Halloween, we had gotten a notice from school that they would be having a Halloween/Fall Festival on October 31. Then the kiddo -- who is so not a baby anymore -- was out of school for a few days with a little cold and a low fever.  She went home Tuesday afternoon when it started -- and because we've now reached that parenting point that having to drop everything to go get her in the middle of the day is more disruptive than just keeping her home in the first place -- she didn't go back to school until Friday morning, October 30.
Costume 1

Apparently, while she was out, the school posted flyers everywhere that they were going to have a Halloween parade on Friday morning, in addition to the festival the next afternoon.  So, without advance notice that there was going to be a parade that day, I brought a kid to school without a costume. I should have assumed that there'd be something, like every other school everywhere, except the ones that think Halloween is evil -- but I wrongly believed that the reason they gave us notice about the Saturday event was to keep us from sending kids in costume on Friday. Oops.
Costume 2
When we got to the threes room, almost all of the other girls in the threes class were dressed as princesses.  (One was Spidergirl, and I give her mad props for going against the relentless tide.)  Only my kid and one other -- her friend Melanie -- did not have a costume at all. The other princesses all gave me a hard time because my kid did not have a princess dress -- it seems that even preschoolers hold their friends' moms to very high standards.  
Costume 3
The two costume-less girls were so sad when I left -- the other kids were sitting in the circle for story time, and the two of them were sitting outside the circle together, with the most dejected looks on their faces.  I got in the car and started driving to work, but then I felt really guilty. So, I turned around, drove to the house, grabbed two princess dresses from the dress-up bin, and brought them to the school. Sleeping Beauty and Rapunzel were very happy princesses, the teachers think that I am the best ever -- and I was very late to work.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Two ... and a half

Two-and-a-half is a complicated age.

Two-and-a-half means constant motion, constant dialogue, constant arguments.  She has her own opinion about everything, and she cannot be dissuaded.  She will argue to the death that something is pink even though everyone else says that it is red. Our conversations go something like this:
"Here you go, Mommy.  Fix it please."
"Why did you put the little blue lizard in the kaleidoscope?"
For the record, it is blue and has a tail -- it is certainly not a frog.  I still think it is a lizard, though I could be convinced that it is a newt.

She is a picky eater. She is bossy.  She throws a temper tantrum at the drop of a hat.

She is energetic.  She is funny.  She is sweet, when she wants to be.

She is the best thing ever.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Her Grandmother's Granddaughter


How I wish you could have met her. She reminds me so much of you -- she has blue eyes like yours, and her laugh is infectious.  Her favorite color is pink.  You would have seen the irony in that.

She loves to sing.  We sing good morning to each other and we make up silly songs.  Sometimes we sing the Frozen soundtrack at the top of our lungs in the car.

She loves to cuddle with me.  In the evening, before bedtime, she curls up next to me on the couch. She talks a lot now.  Sometimes she tells me about her day, or about what we are watching on TV.

We like to read books together.  She likes to point at the pictures and tell me what she sees.  Sometimes she asks what the word is, and then she repeats it in the cutest little tentative voice.  It feels like she is learning 100 words a day.

When she wakes up too early, I take her in the big bed with me for a cuddle.  I am instantly transported back, 30-plus years and a couple hundred miles, to the big bed in the house in New Jersey.  I can still feel how much I was loved.  If nothing else, I hope to pass that on.

We miss you every day, but especially today.  Happy birthday.

(also posted at blah blah blog)

Monday, August 4, 2014

And this, too.

There are one or two amazing things I forgot to write about in my earlier post.

A few days ago, she got a scratch on her leg, and I told her that I would kiss her boo-boo all better.  She loves that.  Now she asks for me to kiss her boo-boo every day, even though you can barely see anything.  And then, this weekend, I had a scratch on my chin.  She pointed to it, said, "Mommy boo-boo.  Kiss?"  And then she gave me the biggest, wettest kiss.

In our new family room, we have a blue striped throw blanket.  Every evening, when she starts to get tired, she brings me the blanket and says "Baby."  That means that she wants me to wrap her up in the blanket like a little swaddled baby and cuddle with her.

Add caption

I love these things so much.  I hope they never end.


It's been a long time since I've written.  So long that the baby is not a baby anymore -- she turned two last month.

At two, she is a bona fide toddler.  She runs and she jumps and she climbs and she talks and she squeals and she laughs and she throws the most ridiculous temper tantrums.

A few weeks ago, we were in a chain restaurant near our new house -- yes, a house! in the suburbs! -- and after a string of me telling her to stop doing things -- no climbing, no squirming, no throwing food, no kicking mommy -- she wrote me a song.  "Mommy, no!" is destined to be a hit, someday.

She knows what she likes and what she doesn't like.  She loves matchbox cars, peeling the paper off of her crayons, anything from Frozen.  We were in Walmart right before her birthday, and she saw a whole display of Elsa dolls.  I tried to walk past them, but she is too quick.  "Oooh, Mommy!" she squealed.  "Let it gooooooo!"

She now has one of those dolls.  How do you say no to that?

We go to gymnastics every Saturday.  She loves to tumble, to climb on things, to swing from bars and rings.

This child has almost no fear.  A few weeks ago, I would have told you that she has no fear, but a few tumbles down the stairs have changed that.  She is now averse to the stairs.  She stands at the landing and cries, "Mommy, carry!"  It doesn't matter how full my arms are -- or how empty Daddy's arms are -- she only wants me to carry her.  No amount of scooting or crawling or handholding will do.  Only carrying, and only Mommy.

I'm sure I will miss this when she is a teenager and hates me to the core of my being.

This weekend, we went to the grocery store.  While we were waiting in a long checkout line, she lost it.  Not even stickers from the cashier would make it better.  So, I took her out to carry her, her diaper bag, and, two heavy bags of groceries.

Finally, we made it to the car -- on the second level of the parking garage, of course. I had to put her down to find the keys.  I stood her up between my legs and told her to put her hand on the car.  Instead, she ran.

She only got a few steps away before I caught her.  When I did, she gave me this look -- you know the look, the look you give someone when you are taunting them, when you are waiting for a reaction.  In that moment, I could see the future teenager that is going to challenge me on everything.

I was so scared and angry; I gave her a whole speech about running away from Mommy in a place where there were cars, and she could have gotten hurt, and NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.  She laughed.  I told her that I was so angry with her that we couldn't listen to Frozen in the car for the rest of the day.  Her reaction changed.  "No, Mommy, no!  Let it go!"


Saturday, October 26, 2013

Post-Vacation Realization

This weekend, I finally figured out the one thing I really didn't understand before having kids. 

Before, at the end of a long day of work, I could relax in the evening (in my quiet, clean house). And if that wasn't enough, there was always the weekend to recharge. And if THAT wasn't enough, there was always a three-day-weekend or vacation to look forward to. 

Now, my weekends are lots of toddler-wrangling surrounded by piles of laundry and broken up by errand-running. And today, at the end of a long weekend mini-vacation just a short drive away, I am just as tired, if not more so, than at the beginning. 

So that leads to my new-found understanding. It's not the sleep deprivation that you have when your kid is a newborn that is the killer. (That ends, thank goodness.) It's that, with kids, there is no real "down time" to relax and recharge. Maybe ever. 

This is not really a complaint: I wouldn't trade my kid for the cleanest, quietest house or all the fancy spa vacations in the world. But sometimes, I wish I could have it both ways.