Preschool ended about 2 weeks ago. It seems like only yesterday that I got three hours, thrice weekly of time for myself. Time to clean, organize, exercise, do laundry.....or more realistically check Facebook. And then Pinterest. And then recheck Facebook.
So, maybe not a time of optimum productivity, but still nine very beloved hours per week.
Now, we return to summer. Or as I like to call it: "Park Season".
I know some parents out there absolutely hate taking their kids to parks. For some reason, I don't mind at all. You've got the sun on your back, wind in your hair. I can ignore the occasionally grit of sand in my teeth. What I do mind though, is lack of park etiquette from other parents. Let's consider some basic ground rules.
1. Who's the Boss-
Many working parents bring their children to the playground in the early evening hours. That is great. Only, sometimes instead of changing into sweatpants or umbros, they decide to keep on their boss pants. By that, I mean they act like they are still in the office by policing children that are not their own. You see, I am a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom) and the park is kind of my "office". I practically own this place with the hours I've logged here, but you don't see me flexing. I know this place like the back of my hand and can be a real asset to you. You may not know, but sometimes there are hidden dangers for parents at the park. Like the caterpillar tube. If you are above 4 feet tall you will get stuck and have to plant your face to the ground to wiggle free. Trust me, I know.
2. Parenting for Beginners-
Get off your phone. Maybe not the whole time, because as stated earlier, I understand the necessity to check Facebook. Just be generally aware of where your child/children are and what they are doing. I stand firm by this rule, but it should be noted that I have smart phone envy. My flippy phone isn't quite the beaut it once was, back in the early 2000's.
3. Have fun-
Just relax. Try to enjoy yourself and your kids a little bit. They are only young once and will soon stop asking you to play with them. Watch them. Really observe them. Notice how much joy they get out of the simplest things. I know, I know, I know. Sometimes they can be mini Mussolini's, but pay attention when they are not. Children are a gift, and sometimes you need to slow down and remind yourself why.
Though I look forward to the return of preschool, I will keep in mind that these times are fleeting. I would say that I will stop and smell the roses, but lets face it, nothing about little boys smells like roses. And keep repeating my mantra:
"Everyday is one day closer to preschool."
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Friday, June 21, 2013
My brother, My dentist
When most people have a cavity, they call their dentist. When I get a cavity I call my brother. That's right, my brother and my dentist are one and the same. True story. Now, having your brother as your dentist is a little... different.
You see, when your sibling is going to be holding a drill in your mouth, you start to reflect back on some of your childhood memories. The ones where your behavior was less than upstanding. Suddenly the thought pops into your mind, "Hmm...maybe this isn't the smartest idea...". Though my brother and I got along well enough, there was one particularly "sticky" situation that always seems to replay in my mind. I will try and recall it as well as I can remember.
When I was probably about 4, making my brother about 8, we liked to jump on my parents bed. One night my mother was sitting atop the bed as we jumped and giggled. This would be just another lovely idyllic memory from my childhood, had it not been for the fact that I also happened to have gum in my mouth. Big League Chew gum to be exact. At some point amid all the fun, I noticed the gum had fallen out. Being 4-years-old and of a particular sort of personality, I took note of the absence and told myself to remember to try and find it once I was done having my fun.
Well, the fun came to an abrupt halt when my mother reached behind her head only to discover a nice, fat, freshly chewed wad of gum embedded in her hair. I imagine some sort of shrieking and panic occured. My dad rushed to the scene, and I braced myself for the impending punishment only to be asked "Whose gum was it?".
Hmmm.....
Whose gum WAS it? Hmmm....
Clearly, I only had two options to pick from and both my brother and I knew the honest answer. But, you see, I had been having a rough week. I had been getting in trouble left and right and my parents just always seemed to be on my tail. Meanwhile, my brother had been his perfect, usual self. It was with that sticking point in mind that my 4-year-old brain determined it would be completely acceptable to let him take the fall. Maybe I shouldn't say "let him" since that infers there was some sort of offer on his part. No such offer was ever made.
So, I said it was his gum. Given the previous weeks behavior, I was pretty sure they would call my bluff, but they didn't. My brother said that it was mine, yet for some odd reason they still believed me. Needless to say, I stuck with my "not guilty" plea.
As my brother was sent to his room (whilst giving me a look of utter exasperation and annoyance) to have a talk with my dad, I sat back and watched my mother put glob after glob of peanut butter in her hair.
Ahhhh, memories.
I did air the truth of this incident eventually, though I waited until enough time had passed for my mothers hair to recover.
Which, I guess, wasn't until college.
Given the gum situation, my brother could really get some due vindication. If he was a lesser sibling, he could make the process of filling my cavities take longer than necessary. If he was a lesser dentist, he could probably deem it justifiable to do so. Luckily, he is neither.
He is an excellent brother and a gifted dentist. He is generous and honest, kind and forgiving. I am very fortunate to call him my brother. And, just as fortunate that he agreed to filling the 3 Jolly Rancher induced cavities that are in my mouth as we speak.
FYI to Parents: Keep your kids off the candy. Or consider a future in dentistry.
You see, when your sibling is going to be holding a drill in your mouth, you start to reflect back on some of your childhood memories. The ones where your behavior was less than upstanding. Suddenly the thought pops into your mind, "Hmm...maybe this isn't the smartest idea...". Though my brother and I got along well enough, there was one particularly "sticky" situation that always seems to replay in my mind. I will try and recall it as well as I can remember.
When I was probably about 4, making my brother about 8, we liked to jump on my parents bed. One night my mother was sitting atop the bed as we jumped and giggled. This would be just another lovely idyllic memory from my childhood, had it not been for the fact that I also happened to have gum in my mouth. Big League Chew gum to be exact. At some point amid all the fun, I noticed the gum had fallen out. Being 4-years-old and of a particular sort of personality, I took note of the absence and told myself to remember to try and find it once I was done having my fun.
Well, the fun came to an abrupt halt when my mother reached behind her head only to discover a nice, fat, freshly chewed wad of gum embedded in her hair. I imagine some sort of shrieking and panic occured. My dad rushed to the scene, and I braced myself for the impending punishment only to be asked "Whose gum was it?".
Hmmm.....
Whose gum WAS it? Hmmm....
Clearly, I only had two options to pick from and both my brother and I knew the honest answer. But, you see, I had been having a rough week. I had been getting in trouble left and right and my parents just always seemed to be on my tail. Meanwhile, my brother had been his perfect, usual self. It was with that sticking point in mind that my 4-year-old brain determined it would be completely acceptable to let him take the fall. Maybe I shouldn't say "let him" since that infers there was some sort of offer on his part. No such offer was ever made.
So, I said it was his gum. Given the previous weeks behavior, I was pretty sure they would call my bluff, but they didn't. My brother said that it was mine, yet for some odd reason they still believed me. Needless to say, I stuck with my "not guilty" plea.
As my brother was sent to his room (whilst giving me a look of utter exasperation and annoyance) to have a talk with my dad, I sat back and watched my mother put glob after glob of peanut butter in her hair.
Ahhhh, memories.
I did air the truth of this incident eventually, though I waited until enough time had passed for my mothers hair to recover.
Which, I guess, wasn't until college.
Given the gum situation, my brother could really get some due vindication. If he was a lesser sibling, he could make the process of filling my cavities take longer than necessary. If he was a lesser dentist, he could probably deem it justifiable to do so. Luckily, he is neither.
He is an excellent brother and a gifted dentist. He is generous and honest, kind and forgiving. I am very fortunate to call him my brother. And, just as fortunate that he agreed to filling the 3 Jolly Rancher induced cavities that are in my mouth as we speak.
FYI to Parents: Keep your kids off the candy. Or consider a future in dentistry.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Noah's Hail Mary
Every 3-year-old has a proverbial "Hail Mary" in their repertoire when it comes to delaying bedtime. Some kids request water, others want to read books, but all Noah ever really wants is to talk. Every time he is being put to bed he turns to me and says:
"I sorry Mama. I just want talk, and talk, and talk, and talk. It so nice."
How much does a 3-year-old really have to talk about?
Well, here is tonight's list:
* "Babies need be careful. Rain coming. They bump heads." (FYI this is referencing baby showers and "Rain, Rain Go Away".)
* "Daddy need me. He want play pillow fight."
* "Where Grandpa? Why he not fixing things? He need big, big hug. He best friend, my ever. He so cute. "
* "I have tell you a secret, Mama. (Whispers into my ear.) Nuggets, fries, cake, 38, nuggets, zebra, daddy, nuggets, happy birthday, Isla, fries, nuggets, Teacher Jane, grass, nuggets, ketchup."
* "Why you so crabby?"
* "I too heavy. I need kite."
* "My curtains so nice."
* "Look Mama, I have fingers! You have fingers too! My fingers beautiful."
* "You so funny Noah! Tickle, tickle, tickle..."
And he is still going...
And going...
And going...
"I sorry Mama. I just want talk, and talk, and talk, and talk. It so nice."
How much does a 3-year-old really have to talk about?
Well, here is tonight's list:
* "Babies need be careful. Rain coming. They bump heads." (FYI this is referencing baby showers and "Rain, Rain Go Away".)
* "Daddy need me. He want play pillow fight."
* "Where Grandpa? Why he not fixing things? He need big, big hug. He best friend, my ever. He so cute. "
* "I have tell you a secret, Mama. (Whispers into my ear.) Nuggets, fries, cake, 38, nuggets, zebra, daddy, nuggets, happy birthday, Isla, fries, nuggets, Teacher Jane, grass, nuggets, ketchup."
* "Why you so crabby?"
* "I too heavy. I need kite."
* "My curtains so nice."
* "Look Mama, I have fingers! You have fingers too! My fingers beautiful."
* "You so funny Noah! Tickle, tickle, tickle..."
And he is still going...
And going...
And going...
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Dating
What do you get when you take one shy, overly sensitive girl and match her up with a "life of the party", sports addicted guy?
Drama.
Good, old fashioned drama.
Since we have been married though, the drama and arguments have lessened. Which is a stark contrast from when we dated. Back then, we liked to keep things at a high "rate of disagreement". There were actually two distinct points in our relationship where we nearly broke up, over areas of very critical importance. What, you ask, were the areas of importance to a 20-year-old Tim and 21-year-old Mel?
Intramural basketball and mashed potatoes (this shows the maturity level we were working with).
Being the clumsy younger sister to an athletically inclined older brother, I have watched my share of youth sporting events. So, when Tim asked me to attend two college intramural basketball games he would be playing in, I agreed begrudgingly. This "Wasn't my first walk around the block", and it took alot for me to muster up enough enthusiasm to attend.
The games took place in a rec center, alongside three other matches. There were no bleachers (or other fans), so I stood on the sidelines next to the other players holding a sign. Yep, holding a sign. Tim had thought it would be cool to have a sign to cheer him on, so I dutifully made one. When the second game came around, remembering the lack of fanfare from the first, I opted to go out to dinner instead. Tim called me later that night and spoke words I hadn't been anticipating: We need to talk.
Sitting In Car with Somber Tim:
Me: So....
Tim: I am very disappointed in you. (Nose in the air, looking out the window.)
Me: Wait. What are you talking about? Why?
Tim: You did not come to my basketball game.
Me: The intramural one? (I thought he may have been talking about an Xbox game.)
Tim: Yes. It was very important to me. (Head shaking)
Me: (giggling) Are you being serious?
Tim: Yes. Why did you not come?
Me: I decided to go out to dinner with a friend instead.
Tim: This is the most upset I have ever been in my whole life. You really let me down.
Me: (baffled). I'm sorry...I had no idea that intramural basketball was so...important to you. I will remember that next time.
Tim: There won't ever be another game for you to watch me play!
This conversation took place about 10 years ago and if you are wondering why I can recall it so well, it's because it was the most puzzling conversation I have ever had. Other than asking me to go to these games, Tim had never expressed interest in me viewing him participate in anything other than watching him play Xbox. But, lesson learned, I guess.
There are two types of people in this world. Those who allow others to eat from their plate and those who prefer not to cross contaminate, risking illness and infection. Unsurpringly, I fall into the latter category. Tim does not share my beliefs and this is where our problem began.
We were out to eat, disagreeing about something I am unsure of at the moment. What I am sure of, is that it was a tense meal and we both sat stubbornly and silently eating our food.
I had ordered the meatloaf and mashed potatoes and was actually enjoying it, despite my displeasure with my co-diner. Tim was trying to continue to discuss whatever the issue had been, and (being the older, more mature one) I ignored him. I wouldn't speak a word to the poor boy. What happened next was catastrophic:
Tim reached over and stuck his fork in my mashed potatoes.
It may not sound bad now, but it was bad. Very, very bad. I proceeded to hand Tim the rest of my food, get up from the table and walk out the door. I wandered around the adjacent mall, wondering "How can I continue to date him, if he can't even respect my potatoes?".
Needless to say it never happened again.
So, I guess the take away from this is, considering how seriously we took these trivial topics, we really deserved one another.
Really.
Drama.
Good, old fashioned drama.
Since we have been married though, the drama and arguments have lessened. Which is a stark contrast from when we dated. Back then, we liked to keep things at a high "rate of disagreement". There were actually two distinct points in our relationship where we nearly broke up, over areas of very critical importance. What, you ask, were the areas of importance to a 20-year-old Tim and 21-year-old Mel?
Intramural basketball and mashed potatoes (this shows the maturity level we were working with).
Intramural Basketball
Being the clumsy younger sister to an athletically inclined older brother, I have watched my share of youth sporting events. So, when Tim asked me to attend two college intramural basketball games he would be playing in, I agreed begrudgingly. This "Wasn't my first walk around the block", and it took alot for me to muster up enough enthusiasm to attend.
The games took place in a rec center, alongside three other matches. There were no bleachers (or other fans), so I stood on the sidelines next to the other players holding a sign. Yep, holding a sign. Tim had thought it would be cool to have a sign to cheer him on, so I dutifully made one. When the second game came around, remembering the lack of fanfare from the first, I opted to go out to dinner instead. Tim called me later that night and spoke words I hadn't been anticipating: We need to talk.
Sitting In Car with Somber Tim:
Me: So....
Tim: I am very disappointed in you. (Nose in the air, looking out the window.)
Me: Wait. What are you talking about? Why?
Tim: You did not come to my basketball game.
Me: The intramural one? (I thought he may have been talking about an Xbox game.)
Tim: Yes. It was very important to me. (Head shaking)
Me: (giggling) Are you being serious?
Tim: Yes. Why did you not come?
Me: I decided to go out to dinner with a friend instead.
Tim: This is the most upset I have ever been in my whole life. You really let me down.
Me: (baffled). I'm sorry...I had no idea that intramural basketball was so...important to you. I will remember that next time.
Tim: There won't ever be another game for you to watch me play!
This conversation took place about 10 years ago and if you are wondering why I can recall it so well, it's because it was the most puzzling conversation I have ever had. Other than asking me to go to these games, Tim had never expressed interest in me viewing him participate in anything other than watching him play Xbox. But, lesson learned, I guess.
Mashed Potatoes
There are two types of people in this world. Those who allow others to eat from their plate and those who prefer not to cross contaminate, risking illness and infection. Unsurpringly, I fall into the latter category. Tim does not share my beliefs and this is where our problem began.
We were out to eat, disagreeing about something I am unsure of at the moment. What I am sure of, is that it was a tense meal and we both sat stubbornly and silently eating our food.
I had ordered the meatloaf and mashed potatoes and was actually enjoying it, despite my displeasure with my co-diner. Tim was trying to continue to discuss whatever the issue had been, and (being the older, more mature one) I ignored him. I wouldn't speak a word to the poor boy. What happened next was catastrophic:
Tim reached over and stuck his fork in my mashed potatoes.
It may not sound bad now, but it was bad. Very, very bad. I proceeded to hand Tim the rest of my food, get up from the table and walk out the door. I wandered around the adjacent mall, wondering "How can I continue to date him, if he can't even respect my potatoes?".
Needless to say it never happened again.
So, I guess the take away from this is, considering how seriously we took these trivial topics, we really deserved one another.
Really.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Parenting 101
I think it is about time that I level with all the first time, soon-to-be parents out there. You have no clue what's headed your way and you are about to have your mind blown to smithereens. I know you've read all the books and know exactly what you are going to do, but you don't. You are going to spend hours a day reading to your newborn and playing Mozart, but you won't. You have every nutritious, organic meal planned out for the next five years, so there is really nothing that can go wrong, but it will.
Sure we tried, everyone tries. It's just not nearly as easy and simple as "they" make it seem. Once sleep deprivation sets in, it is survival of the fittest. You will do things you never would have imagined, just to make life easier. You will be put in situations that will blindside you. To help give you an idea of what exactly I am talking about, I have decided to list some of my most memorable parenting moments (fails):
*Toilet Paper Diaper- This is what happens when you go to the zoo unprepared. Baby mummification.
*Foolhardy Negotiations- Never, ever, ever negotiate with a spouse midsleep about getting up with the baby. In case anyone needs further clarification, this is when you are so exhausted that you make a "deal with the devil" (aka Your Spouse- Remember, this is survival of the fittest.) so that they will take your turn getting up with the baby. These are NEVER sound transactions.
*Baby Breakdancing- This is when you accidentally drop your baby on their head. (Twice.). Which is definitely not part of the plan. (Either time.)
*McDonalds- Before Noah was born I had planned on only organic natural foods. Now, if McDonalds had a gold card, we would not only own it, but be pictured on the front. Waving.
*Swinger Fail- When you put your "big boned" 6-month-old in a park swing and have to ask a random jogger to help "shimmy" your babies thighs out. Didn't see that one coming.
*Potty Non-Helper- Apparently, it isn't as easy as it looks to pee standing up. In my attempts to help Noah, more pee has gone on the floors, walls, and in the sink three feet behind us, than has actually entered the bowl. Men, on behalf of all the females that have judged your aerodynamic miscalculations, I apologize.
*The Dairy Queen- This is when you accidentally give your lactose intolerant child a nice, big bowl of ice cream. You will regret this many times in the hours that follow consumption.
As you can see, things happen. No parent is perfect and no child is perfect. Trust your instincts when the random craziness happens and cross your fingers. If necessary, feel free to refer back to this page/blog to feel a little better about yourself.
Oh, and pray. You'll need it. :)
Sure we tried, everyone tries. It's just not nearly as easy and simple as "they" make it seem. Once sleep deprivation sets in, it is survival of the fittest. You will do things you never would have imagined, just to make life easier. You will be put in situations that will blindside you. To help give you an idea of what exactly I am talking about, I have decided to list some of my most memorable parenting moments (fails):
*Toilet Paper Diaper- This is what happens when you go to the zoo unprepared. Baby mummification.
*Foolhardy Negotiations- Never, ever, ever negotiate with a spouse midsleep about getting up with the baby. In case anyone needs further clarification, this is when you are so exhausted that you make a "deal with the devil" (aka Your Spouse- Remember, this is survival of the fittest.) so that they will take your turn getting up with the baby. These are NEVER sound transactions.
*Baby Breakdancing- This is when you accidentally drop your baby on their head. (Twice.). Which is definitely not part of the plan. (Either time.)
*McDonalds- Before Noah was born I had planned on only organic natural foods. Now, if McDonalds had a gold card, we would not only own it, but be pictured on the front. Waving.
*Swinger Fail- When you put your "big boned" 6-month-old in a park swing and have to ask a random jogger to help "shimmy" your babies thighs out. Didn't see that one coming.
*Potty Non-Helper- Apparently, it isn't as easy as it looks to pee standing up. In my attempts to help Noah, more pee has gone on the floors, walls, and in the sink three feet behind us, than has actually entered the bowl. Men, on behalf of all the females that have judged your aerodynamic miscalculations, I apologize.
*The Dairy Queen- This is when you accidentally give your lactose intolerant child a nice, big bowl of ice cream. You will regret this many times in the hours that follow consumption.
As you can see, things happen. No parent is perfect and no child is perfect. Trust your instincts when the random craziness happens and cross your fingers. If necessary, feel free to refer back to this page/blog to feel a little better about yourself.
Oh, and pray. You'll need it. :)
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Number 1 in the Number 2 Business
If you have never had your sewer back up on you, you have lived a charmed life. There is a certain sorrow that enters ones soul when forced to clean up sewage and waste.
It changes you.
We have encountered this issue our share of times since we bought "the lemon" (aka our house) and eventually had our entire sewer line redone. The company we opted to use had a slogan that has become our potty training motto and future goal.
"We Are Number 1 in the Number 2 Business"
It changes you.
We have encountered this issue our share of times since we bought "the lemon" (aka our house) and eventually had our entire sewer line redone. The company we opted to use had a slogan that has become our potty training motto and future goal.
"We Are Number 1 in the Number 2 Business"
How great is that?!
I know you are thinking, "Wasn't this kid already potty trained?" and the answer would be, eh, not exactly. Though he is extremely proficient in 1, he has not yet mastered 2. Apparently, 1 and 2 don't always come together and sometimes (though extremely rare) 2 can come before 1.
So, Noah has been told that his new goal is to become "Number 1 in the Number 2 Business". Unfortunately, having enthusiasm, coming up with a motto and trying to explain what a "goal" is to a 3-year-old, won't bring you any closer to the desired result. Simply getting him to sit as opposed to standing is going to take great effort (from all parties). In our favor, we do know his personal warning signs and hope that through careful detection of what is coming and intervention, we will have success.
The Signs:
I know you are thinking, "Wasn't this kid already potty trained?" and the answer would be, eh, not exactly. Though he is extremely proficient in 1, he has not yet mastered 2. Apparently, 1 and 2 don't always come together and sometimes (though extremely rare) 2 can come before 1.
So, Noah has been told that his new goal is to become "Number 1 in the Number 2 Business". Unfortunately, having enthusiasm, coming up with a motto and trying to explain what a "goal" is to a 3-year-old, won't bring you any closer to the desired result. Simply getting him to sit as opposed to standing is going to take great effort (from all parties). In our favor, we do know his personal warning signs and hope that through careful detection of what is coming and intervention, we will have success.
The Signs:
* The Stalker- I am not sure what purpose this serves, but it seems predatory in nature. Noah seeks out a place to go do his business like a lion stalking it's prey (minus the stealth and element of surprise). He methodically and relentlessly seeks out the most conducive landscape that will yield success.
*The Blank Stare- This has always been a trademark of Noah's. I thought it might stop as he got older and became familiar with the process, but I was wrong. This sign is marked with an abrupt stop to all stalking efforts, and a look as if to say, "............".
Nothing.
Blank.
*The Look of Recognition- After blankness comes a look that I would describe as perplexed despair. It is a look that says "What's going on? Wait....oh no.....it's happening again?! Why does this keep happening to me?".
*The Scatter- A fast paced, survival of the fittest moment where Noah runs to the place so fervently scouted, slams a door and screams if movement is detected from an outside source. All it takes is for you to move into eyesight by just an inch, and the whole show could be derailed. Seriously people, all it takes is one inch.
Hopefully, knowing these signs will yield success and a future minus any sort of absorbent pad for this little boy. If knowledge of these signs prove unhelpful, I guess I am just getting schooled by my son, which is a very real possibility.
Nothing.
Blank.
*The Look of Recognition- After blankness comes a look that I would describe as perplexed despair. It is a look that says "What's going on? Wait....oh no.....it's happening again?! Why does this keep happening to me?".
*The Scatter- A fast paced, survival of the fittest moment where Noah runs to the place so fervently scouted, slams a door and screams if movement is detected from an outside source. All it takes is for you to move into eyesight by just an inch, and the whole show could be derailed. Seriously people, all it takes is one inch.
Hopefully, knowing these signs will yield success and a future minus any sort of absorbent pad for this little boy. If knowledge of these signs prove unhelpful, I guess I am just getting schooled by my son, which is a very real possibility.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Mind Games and Tomfoolery
Somewhere along the way, the "terrible twos" gained quite a bit of notoriety. I admit, two-year-olds are a selective, picky group that can be easily disgruntled. But, I believe the really terrible thing about two, is that it leads to three.
If you are unfamiliar with the 3-year-old crowd, let me introduce you. They are a dramatic, tempermental little "gang" that insist you meet their demands instantaneously, yet have no idea what they want. They will fight anything and everything, without logic or reason. When Noah was two, I knew I had the upper hand. At three, I would be lucky to just find the "hand". They have an arsenal of methods they use to drive you to the point of madness, but there is one method in which Noah has earned a PhD.
Delay of Sleep
Children of this age are notorious for doing anything to postpone their bedtime. Here is how Noah does it:
Me: OK. Time to go to sleep.
N: But Mama, I so cold. (Chatters teeth, on purpose). I need blanket.
Me: Ok, just a min-
N: Mama! Wow!! I not cold no more, I sooo warm!! (Takes arms out from under blanket, since he is so warm now)
Me: Okay...Why don't we stop talking so you can go to sleep?
N: But Mama, I itchy! I need you itch my belly!
Me: (Scratching very itchy belly)
N: Oh, Mama, you so silly! You tickled me! (Tries to start a tickle fight.)
Me: Let's try to be quiet now, ok?
N: But, I need a new bed.
Me: Why?
N: The dragons.
Me: Yeah?
N: They squishy.
(Me giving the silent treatment since I haven't a clue what to do about squishy dragons.)
N: Mama!.......Mama!........MAMA!!! Something push me!!
Me: Nothing pushed you. I was sitting right here.
N: No, something push me. (Points to blanket)
Me: Well, here let's just take that blanket off. (Blanket off.)
(Thirty second pause)
N: Mama?..... Mama?.........Mama?.......MAMA.MAMA.MAMA.MAMA.MAMA
Me: What Noah?
N: I soooo cold again! (Teeth chatter...again). I need blanket.
(Repeat 3x's)
Notice the drama? All that, just to delay sleep. I have actually witnessed this boy holding his eyelids open with his fingers because he "Wants not go to sleep.". Lord help me if this boy ever gets ahold of something containing caffeine.
Now, this sort of incident could easily have taken place with a two-year-old, but notice Noah's persistence in the fact that this conversation went around three times. Persistence is what I believe
separates the two's from the three's. Although, two-year-old's can probably throw a better tantrum, tantrums can lead to sleep. Sleep does not occur when dealing with the mind games or tomfoolery that exist in a three-year-olds repertoire. They play to win.
If you are unfamiliar with the 3-year-old crowd, let me introduce you. They are a dramatic, tempermental little "gang" that insist you meet their demands instantaneously, yet have no idea what they want. They will fight anything and everything, without logic or reason. When Noah was two, I knew I had the upper hand. At three, I would be lucky to just find the "hand". They have an arsenal of methods they use to drive you to the point of madness, but there is one method in which Noah has earned a PhD.
Delay of Sleep
Children of this age are notorious for doing anything to postpone their bedtime. Here is how Noah does it:
Me: OK. Time to go to sleep.
N: But Mama, I so cold. (Chatters teeth, on purpose). I need blanket.
Me: Ok, just a min-
N: Mama! Wow!! I not cold no more, I sooo warm!! (Takes arms out from under blanket, since he is so warm now)
Me: Okay...Why don't we stop talking so you can go to sleep?
N: But Mama, I itchy! I need you itch my belly!
Me: (Scratching very itchy belly)
N: Oh, Mama, you so silly! You tickled me! (Tries to start a tickle fight.)
Me: Let's try to be quiet now, ok?
N: But, I need a new bed.
Me: Why?
N: The dragons.
Me: Yeah?
N: They squishy.
(Me giving the silent treatment since I haven't a clue what to do about squishy dragons.)
N: Mama!.......Mama!........MAMA!!! Something push me!!
Me: Nothing pushed you. I was sitting right here.
N: No, something push me. (Points to blanket)
Me: Well, here let's just take that blanket off. (Blanket off.)
(Thirty second pause)
N: Mama?..... Mama?.........Mama?.......MAMA.MAMA.MAMA.MAMA.MAMA
Me: What Noah?
N: I soooo cold again! (Teeth chatter...again). I need blanket.
(Repeat 3x's)
Notice the drama? All that, just to delay sleep. I have actually witnessed this boy holding his eyelids open with his fingers because he "Wants not go to sleep.". Lord help me if this boy ever gets ahold of something containing caffeine.
Now, this sort of incident could easily have taken place with a two-year-old, but notice Noah's persistence in the fact that this conversation went around three times. Persistence is what I believe
separates the two's from the three's. Although, two-year-old's can probably throw a better tantrum, tantrums can lead to sleep. Sleep does not occur when dealing with the mind games or tomfoolery that exist in a three-year-olds repertoire. They play to win.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
"That's what." -Tim 2
Round 2:
"I'm so smooth, they call me the iron."
"I match what can't be matched."
"I cleaned like Tom was watching." (Referring to my dad- Grandpa "Type A" Tom)
"I'm so cool, they call me AC."
"Remember when you used to do your hair and it would look so pretty? Can it still do that?"
"Any weight I lose, always comes from my legs. I could probably do jeggings now."
"Noah, I need you to love me. That's not creepy or weird at all, right son?"
"When I am old and people have to wipe my butt, I want them to use more than one wipe."
"I remember how cold the orphanage was. And all I owned was one little blanket. No one paid attention to me." (Essentially, this was a pick-up line. Actually, this was the first little bit of information I was ever told about him, since he told it to quite a few girls, quite a few times. Yes, he was in an orphanage... until the age of 3 months. If he remembers being cold, it was while in Minnesota, with many blankets and plenty of attention.)
He sure has a way with words. More coming soon. (Have I mentioned how much he talks?)
"I'm so smooth, they call me the iron."
"I match what can't be matched."
"I cleaned like Tom was watching." (Referring to my dad- Grandpa "Type A" Tom)
"I'm so cool, they call me AC."
"Remember when you used to do your hair and it would look so pretty? Can it still do that?"
"Any weight I lose, always comes from my legs. I could probably do jeggings now."
"Noah, I need you to love me. That's not creepy or weird at all, right son?"
"When I am old and people have to wipe my butt, I want them to use more than one wipe."
"I remember how cold the orphanage was. And all I owned was one little blanket. No one paid attention to me." (Essentially, this was a pick-up line. Actually, this was the first little bit of information I was ever told about him, since he told it to quite a few girls, quite a few times. Yes, he was in an orphanage... until the age of 3 months. If he remembers being cold, it was while in Minnesota, with many blankets and plenty of attention.)
He sure has a way with words. More coming soon. (Have I mentioned how much he talks?)
Saturday, April 6, 2013
The Taming of the Bladder
Today is a day of monumental importance for my household. Today, Noah kept his diaper dry and used the potty 5 times! Those without children (and probably some with) might think me a bit extreme in my reaction and jubulation, but they haven't seen the things that I have seen. Diapers large enough to accomodate a 50 pound child hold a lot more "substance" than one might think. So, yes, I am pretty excited for myself as well as proud of that little bladder!
I wish this sudden success could be attributed to my impressive parenting skills and a determination to "stay the course" amid the diaper war, but that would make me a bold faced liar. No, the sudden change of events can be attributed to the two biggest motivators in Noah's life.
The first would be his preschool instructor, Teacher J. A superstar in the elementary education arena, she makes a living in a field where she has to help train other people's kids to use the toilet- AND she seems to really enjoy her job. She probably spends half her day simply taking kids to go potty and making sure they don't forget to wipe. To do that sort of job takes a person with a special soul, and she has it.
The second would be Birthday Cake Golden Oreos.
We tried toys, TV shows, later bedtimes and other various types of rewards to motivate, but not until today, when we tried these delightful little cookie sandwiches, did we find success. (Of course, it would be the cookie equivalent to crack cocaine that Noah would find insentive enough to have the power to harness his peeing.).
Today was quite a milestone for us in another way as well: Noah actually ate a green bean. A vegetable of any kind would be impressive for him, but a green one is unprecedented.
With so many milestones reached in such a short span of time, one can only imagine the possibilities from here on out.
I wish this sudden success could be attributed to my impressive parenting skills and a determination to "stay the course" amid the diaper war, but that would make me a bold faced liar. No, the sudden change of events can be attributed to the two biggest motivators in Noah's life.
The first would be his preschool instructor, Teacher J. A superstar in the elementary education arena, she makes a living in a field where she has to help train other people's kids to use the toilet- AND she seems to really enjoy her job. She probably spends half her day simply taking kids to go potty and making sure they don't forget to wipe. To do that sort of job takes a person with a special soul, and she has it.
The second would be Birthday Cake Golden Oreos.
We tried toys, TV shows, later bedtimes and other various types of rewards to motivate, but not until today, when we tried these delightful little cookie sandwiches, did we find success. (Of course, it would be the cookie equivalent to crack cocaine that Noah would find insentive enough to have the power to harness his peeing.).
Today was quite a milestone for us in another way as well: Noah actually ate a green bean. A vegetable of any kind would be impressive for him, but a green one is unprecedented.
With so many milestones reached in such a short span of time, one can only imagine the possibilities from here on out.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Oh the horror...
I don't like answering my sons questions about his body, in relation to his "man parts". Unfortunately, Tim is at work most of the day, so the burden falls upon me. Where other parents are "hip to the jive" when questions of this nature arise, I turn into a sweating, sputtering mess. I am never sure what the age appropriate terms for various body parts are or how much information to dispense, and generally start perspiring and panicking. Given my lack of composure when answering his most recent interrogations, I had expected Noah to be deterred from any further inquiries. Alas, it appears that he is only just getting started.
This was the conversation we had Monday, while he was sitting on the potty:
(his friend Isla also happened to be visiting)
Noah: "Umm, Mama, what dis?"
Me: "Oh, umm, well, I guess that uh, would be, umm, your balls." (Shudder.)
Noah: "I got balls?!"
Me: "Uh, ok, uh, yes."
Noah: "Mama, you buy me my balls?!"
Me: "Oh, no Noah. That-"
Noah: "Oh, thank you Mama!!! THANK YOU!"
(Hugs. Kisses. Confused little boy celebrates manhood.)
Me: "Noah, that is not exactly what-"
Noah: "Isla, LOOK!!! I got balls! You got balls, too, Isla?"
Isla: (Looking down at her pants.) "No. Not yet."
As you can see, my clarity (or lack thereof) in this area has lead to a bit of confusion, which can be further demonstrated by our conversation yesterday.
Me: "Noah, do you have a dirty diaper?"
Noah: "Umm, no Mama. That not dirty diaper. That just balls I put in there." (Pointing to his bum.)
Me: "No, Noah that is a dirty diaper and you need to be changed."
Noah: (exaspirated sigh.) "No Mama. That just another ball. It okay."
So, I think it's safe to say that my work here is done and it's time for someone else to take over. From now on, my plan when he asks similar questions, is to just give him cookies and tell him to ask his father those questions, when he gets home. Oreos are always a good distraction and I am eager to hear how Tim will explain things.
Might be a good time for us to invest in some nabisco stock.
This was the conversation we had Monday, while he was sitting on the potty:
(his friend Isla also happened to be visiting)
Me: "Oh, umm, well, I guess that uh, would be, umm, your balls." (Shudder.)
Noah: "I got balls?!"
Me: "Uh, ok, uh, yes."
Noah: "Mama, you buy me my balls?!"
Me: "Oh, no Noah. That-"
Noah: "Oh, thank you Mama!!! THANK YOU!"
(Hugs. Kisses. Confused little boy celebrates manhood.)
Me: "Noah, that is not exactly what-"
Noah: "Isla, LOOK!!! I got balls! You got balls, too, Isla?"
Isla: (Looking down at her pants.) "No. Not yet."
As you can see, my clarity (or lack thereof) in this area has lead to a bit of confusion, which can be further demonstrated by our conversation yesterday.
Me: "Noah, do you have a dirty diaper?"
Noah: "Umm, no Mama. That not dirty diaper. That just balls I put in there." (Pointing to his bum.)
Me: "No, Noah that is a dirty diaper and you need to be changed."
Noah: (exaspirated sigh.) "No Mama. That just another ball. It okay."
So, I think it's safe to say that my work here is done and it's time for someone else to take over. From now on, my plan when he asks similar questions, is to just give him cookies and tell him to ask his father those questions, when he gets home. Oreos are always a good distraction and I am eager to hear how Tim will explain things.
Might be a good time for us to invest in some nabisco stock.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Potty Training
Noah is 3 and a half years old and we are FINALLY making some progress in the potty training area. That's right. My son is still in diapers. Size 7. I would imagine they are about the same size as a pair of Depends, but thankfully we haven't had to check out adult diapers...yet.
I guess we missed that elusive "window of opportunity" around two years of age. In case you are unfamiliar, the "window of opportunity" is (by my definition) a teensy, tiny sliver of time when your child is young enough that they won't defy your potty training attempts, yet old enough to "perform". We don't recall coming upon said window, but I do believe we've encountered stages that merit mentioning.
There was the "This is SO Funny!" stage. During this time Noah thought his ability to see himself go potty was fascinating and astounding, except when we put him on the toilet. Who could blame him, really? Why go potty on a toilet when you can go while eating a snack, playing with toys, or waving to the neighbors from the window? We would then try to chase him down, but it would quickly become a game of tag. He was like our own little indoor sprinkling, puppy dog just marking away his territory. He would squeal with delight and exclaim, "Look at the pee pee, Mama! I want catch it!". And, he tried very hard to catch it in the bathroom, kitchen, and living room, until I guess he got tired of always doing the chasing.
The next stage was the "Afraid of My Body" stage. This was an unsettling stage for the little man. We had many conversations that started with him sitting on the toilet asking "What that?". I have to say, that I think Google and I did a pretty good job figuring out most of his answers too. The most frightening time, came right after we had just discussed what his "privates" were. He was sitting on the potty and I told him to stay put while I went to go get the mail. No longer than a minute later, Noah was screaming, "AHH!! MAMA, COME NOW!!! HE GONE!!!!!!!". When I got to the bathroom, I saw Noah poking and prodding himself crying, "Mama he lost. I can't find him." Don't worry though, we did find him.
Finally, we have reached the stage of progress!! This is the actual "Pee Entering the Toilet" stage and we are VERY excited. This stage began at preschool, where he voluntarily told his teacher he had to go (and actually went!) potty. Knowing this, I decided to ride the wave of enthusiasm and really hit the potty hard, so to speak. He came home from school, and 7 pairs of wet underwear later, the wave was dead. So, we did what we always do, went to Target. While there, Noah suddenly told me he had to go potty! I brought him to the restroom and he went...and went....and went...and went. Once I was certain he had reached the end of that stream I clapped for him, hollered "hooray!" and got down to hug him, but the stream that I thought had ended, had only paused. He turned to return my hug, and I was quickly covered in pee from neck to waist.
My hope is that we are truly in the final stage and my stories will no longer include bodily fluids, but we shall see. Either way, I believe I have learned some valuable lessons that others may never have the opportunity (or need) to learn. Poor them. ;-)
I guess we missed that elusive "window of opportunity" around two years of age. In case you are unfamiliar, the "window of opportunity" is (by my definition) a teensy, tiny sliver of time when your child is young enough that they won't defy your potty training attempts, yet old enough to "perform". We don't recall coming upon said window, but I do believe we've encountered stages that merit mentioning.
There was the "This is SO Funny!" stage. During this time Noah thought his ability to see himself go potty was fascinating and astounding, except when we put him on the toilet. Who could blame him, really? Why go potty on a toilet when you can go while eating a snack, playing with toys, or waving to the neighbors from the window? We would then try to chase him down, but it would quickly become a game of tag. He was like our own little indoor sprinkling, puppy dog just marking away his territory. He would squeal with delight and exclaim, "Look at the pee pee, Mama! I want catch it!". And, he tried very hard to catch it in the bathroom, kitchen, and living room, until I guess he got tired of always doing the chasing.
The next stage was the "Afraid of My Body" stage. This was an unsettling stage for the little man. We had many conversations that started with him sitting on the toilet asking "What that?". I have to say, that I think Google and I did a pretty good job figuring out most of his answers too. The most frightening time, came right after we had just discussed what his "privates" were. He was sitting on the potty and I told him to stay put while I went to go get the mail. No longer than a minute later, Noah was screaming, "AHH!! MAMA, COME NOW!!! HE GONE!!!!!!!". When I got to the bathroom, I saw Noah poking and prodding himself crying, "Mama he lost. I can't find him." Don't worry though, we did find him.
Finally, we have reached the stage of progress!! This is the actual "Pee Entering the Toilet" stage and we are VERY excited. This stage began at preschool, where he voluntarily told his teacher he had to go (and actually went!) potty. Knowing this, I decided to ride the wave of enthusiasm and really hit the potty hard, so to speak. He came home from school, and 7 pairs of wet underwear later, the wave was dead. So, we did what we always do, went to Target. While there, Noah suddenly told me he had to go potty! I brought him to the restroom and he went...and went....and went...and went. Once I was certain he had reached the end of that stream I clapped for him, hollered "hooray!" and got down to hug him, but the stream that I thought had ended, had only paused. He turned to return my hug, and I was quickly covered in pee from neck to waist.
My hope is that we are truly in the final stage and my stories will no longer include bodily fluids, but we shall see. Either way, I believe I have learned some valuable lessons that others may never have the opportunity (or need) to learn. Poor them. ;-)
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Noah
*Disclaimer- This will not be a humorous post, but it will be heartfelt. The next post will be very humorous though. Promise.
When was the last time you heard a stranger openly criticize and belittle your child? Or stood beside someone, while waiting in the grocery store line, only to have them point out your child and call him a "spaz"? Maybe, you have heard someone mutter under their breath about "lack of discipline" or "what a brat" as they pass you and your screaming child by? For Tim and myself, these situations are not simply hypothetical questions, but have been the reality during the past few years.
Things started getting really difficult when Noah turned eighteen months. At that time, the simplest of normal day to day tasks took an absurd amount of planning and time. More often than not, the daily chores of keeping him bathed, teeth brushed, nails trimmed, cloths clean, etc. was all that could be accomplished that day. He reacted to certain things, such as a lukewarm tub of water, like it was a boiling cauldron. Merely physically bringing him to the bathroom would set off a screaming, thrashing child that was clearly in some sort of battle for survival.
Around his second birthday, I really started to notice the developmental delays. While other kids his age were chatting away, Noah only grunted, bit, hit and kicked to communicate. He was this overly aggressive, big (for his age) boy, that all of the other kids at the park would run from, in fear. He seemed frustrated and I remember sitting before him, crying and begging him to say the word "no". That was the word that I heard all the other mothers complain about, and I would have given my life to hear him say it. To have some sort of confirmation that things were okay, but they weren't.
Throughout this time, he had had 4 ear infections (each about 3 months apart) that, at the time, we believed had been treated and cured. Though, when he was about two and a half, we realized that these ear infections had never really healed, the medication did nothing, and this little boy had been sitting with fluid stuck in his ears for possibly over a year affecting everything from speech to balance. He friends had tubes put in his ears, allowing him to hear clearly for the first time.
Since then, things have gotten so much better. He talks non-stop, plays with other kids and is one of the happiest children I have ever known. He still has times of trouble, still HATES water, struggles with some sensory issues, has hearing loss and sometimes needs a little extra attention, but overall, he is good.
My whole reason for writing this is to tell you a little more about my beautiful boy and to beg you not to judge other parents or their children, when it comes to behavioral issues you see out in public. You never know what sort of struggles that are going on in the background and your comments have the ability to build them up or break them down. You could send them home in tears and cause unnecessary pain and damage.
Therefore, I urge you to use your words kindly and thoughtfully. One of the most uplifting moments I have had as a parent, was when a stranger complimented me following a particularly difficult haircut. You see, since Noah has had doctors constantly digging in his ears for as long as he is aware of, he has major issues with anyone being near his ears, especially during his hair cut. This particular time, he had to sit on my lap and be held down by four other stylists while a fifth stylist cut his hair. He was terrified, foaming at the mouth, and beginning to dry heave. I did all I could do to reassure him that things were okay and remained completely calm, so he wouldn't get even more upset. This was actually the normal routine for haircuts, except this time a mom came up to me afterwards and told me how amazingly I handled myself. Then the rest of the parents at the salon nodded or vocally agreed and actually applauded me as we left (and not because we were leaving!). I will never forget how those strangers made me feel and thank God often for giving me that moment.
My whole reason for writing this is to tell you a little more about my beautiful boy and to beg you not to judge other parents or their children, when it comes to behavioral issues you see out in public. You never know what sort of struggles that are going on in the background and your comments have the ability to build them up or break them down. You could send them home in tears and cause unnecessary pain.
When was the last time you heard a stranger openly criticize and belittle your child? Or stood beside someone, while waiting in the grocery store line, only to have them point out your child and call him a "spaz"? Maybe, you have heard someone mutter under their breath about "lack of discipline" or "what a brat" as they pass you and your screaming child by? For Tim and myself, these situations are not simply hypothetical questions, but have been the reality during the past few years.
Things started getting really difficult when Noah turned eighteen months. At that time, the simplest of normal day to day tasks took an absurd amount of planning and time. More often than not, the daily chores of keeping him bathed, teeth brushed, nails trimmed, cloths clean, etc. was all that could be accomplished that day. He reacted to certain things, such as a lukewarm tub of water, like it was a boiling cauldron. Merely physically bringing him to the bathroom would set off a screaming, thrashing child that was clearly in some sort of battle for survival.
Around his second birthday, I really started to notice the developmental delays. While other kids his age were chatting away, Noah only grunted, bit, hit and kicked to communicate. He was this overly aggressive, big (for his age) boy, that all of the other kids at the park would run from, in fear. He seemed frustrated and I remember sitting before him, crying and begging him to say the word "no". That was the word that I heard all the other mothers complain about, and I would have given my life to hear him say it. To have some sort of confirmation that things were okay, but they weren't.
Throughout this time, he had had 4 ear infections (each about 3 months apart) that, at the time, we believed had been treated and cured. Though, when he was about two and a half, we realized that these ear infections had never really healed, the medication did nothing, and this little boy had been sitting with fluid stuck in his ears for possibly over a year affecting everything from speech to balance. He friends had tubes put in his ears, allowing him to hear clearly for the first time.
Since then, things have gotten so much better. He talks non-stop, plays with other kids and is one of the happiest children I have ever known. He still has times of trouble, still HATES water, struggles with some sensory issues, has hearing loss and sometimes needs a little extra attention, but overall, he is good.
My whole reason for writing this is to tell you a little more about my beautiful boy and to beg you not to judge other parents or their children, when it comes to behavioral issues you see out in public. You never know what sort of struggles that are going on in the background and your comments have the ability to build them up or break them down. You could send them home in tears and cause unnecessary pain and damage.
Therefore, I urge you to use your words kindly and thoughtfully. One of the most uplifting moments I have had as a parent, was when a stranger complimented me following a particularly difficult haircut. You see, since Noah has had doctors constantly digging in his ears for as long as he is aware of, he has major issues with anyone being near his ears, especially during his hair cut. This particular time, he had to sit on my lap and be held down by four other stylists while a fifth stylist cut his hair. He was terrified, foaming at the mouth, and beginning to dry heave. I did all I could do to reassure him that things were okay and remained completely calm, so he wouldn't get even more upset. This was actually the normal routine for haircuts, except this time a mom came up to me afterwards and told me how amazingly I handled myself. Then the rest of the parents at the salon nodded or vocally agreed and actually applauded me as we left (and not because we were leaving!). I will never forget how those strangers made me feel and thank God often for giving me that moment.
My whole reason for writing this is to tell you a little more about my beautiful boy and to beg you not to judge other parents or their children, when it comes to behavioral issues you see out in public. You never know what sort of struggles that are going on in the background and your comments have the ability to build them up or break them down. You could send them home in tears and cause unnecessary pain.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Ms. Keller, PSY and Noah
Often, in our house, our preferred form of vocal exchange is singing. We find it an offbeat, jovial way of communicating with one another that makes the mundane activities in life a little more exciting. Our original songs are much like you would see in any musical, although we do love to pay homage to the boy bands of our younger years. The only real difference between your average musical/boy band and our vocal renderings, is simply, that we lack vocal talent.
In the few past years, we have discussed who our vocal talents are most similar to. They are:
PSY
In the few past years, we have discussed who our vocal talents are most similar to. They are:
Helen Keller
Tim has told me, on more than one occasion, that I should, "try to sound a little more like Helen Keller," when I sing. Though not known for her vocal abilities, he feels she could carry a note better than myself. Some wives would bristle at this statement, but I have heard myself sing and, trust me, the only one that has cause to take offense, is Helen. While, in my head, I sound like a soulful Nora Jones, what comes out is more akin to a laryngitic Kermit the Frog.
(Just for the record, I am not a fan of Helen Keller jokes, and would say it is "too soon", but my husband does not share my opinion and thus, she became my closest, famous vocal likeness.)
(Just for the record, I am not a fan of Helen Keller jokes, and would say it is "too soon", but my husband does not share my opinion and thus, she became my closest, famous vocal likeness.)
PSY
If jokes about Ms. Keller are fair game, than PSY is a more than legitimate target. There are obvious external similarities that make them a good match, but the fact that Tim will never really need to memorize more than, "Eh- sexy lady", is what is most important. Lyrics are simply troubling and frustrating for him, which in turn, brings about more voice cracking than a junior high pep rally. Though Tim believes these voice cracks sound similar to a Justin Timberlake or Robin Thicke falsetto, I am sure most eardrums would disagree.
Which brings us to Noah. One can only wonder what sort of vocal talents he will have in the future. As much as he is genetically predisposed to being less than stellar, his discernment is quite notable. He never fails to tell us, as soon as we start singing, "STOP!" or "YOU TOO LOUD!". Also, I can't count the number of times he has run from the room, hands over his ears yelling, "You hurting my EARS!". Though the DNA is not in his favor, I find all of this to be a positive sign.
For his sake (and the sake of eardrums everywhere), lets hope that the whole really IS greater than the sum of its parts and this is not, "a dream in time gone by.".
Which brings us to Noah. One can only wonder what sort of vocal talents he will have in the future. As much as he is genetically predisposed to being less than stellar, his discernment is quite notable. He never fails to tell us, as soon as we start singing, "STOP!" or "YOU TOO LOUD!". Also, I can't count the number of times he has run from the room, hands over his ears yelling, "You hurting my EARS!". Though the DNA is not in his favor, I find all of this to be a positive sign.
For his sake (and the sake of eardrums everywhere), lets hope that the whole really IS greater than the sum of its parts and this is not, "a dream in time gone by.".
Thursday, March 21, 2013
"That's what." -Tim
Tim talks. A lot. And, sometimes, he will verbalize what might be wisest to keep repressed. These are some of his most outstanding quotes:
"I'm ravishing!" (He thought he was saying he was famished)
"If I need to proof-read my posts, then you need to proof-think yours."
"It's NOT spelled volumptuous?!?" (Voluptuous does not contain the word 'lump'. Tim's mind was blown that day)
"So, he's Ginerian?" (meaning to say Nigerian)
"Do I need a passport to go to New Mexico?"
"You're pretty, but people are weird looking."
"Don't worry about it, bigger girls are becoming really popular these days." (claims he meant big, as in tall)
"I found the toaster strudel frosting." (It was a friends frozen breast milk)
Oh, the fun we have around here. In all seriousness, even though he can say crazy things that make me laugh until I cry, nothing will ever bring me as much joy as when he said "I do.".
That said, I plan on posting many more Tim quotes.
Enjoy!
"I'm ravishing!" (He thought he was saying he was famished)
"If I need to proof-read my posts, then you need to proof-think yours."
"It's NOT spelled volumptuous?!?" (Voluptuous does not contain the word 'lump'. Tim's mind was blown that day)
"So, he's Ginerian?" (meaning to say Nigerian)
"Do I need a passport to go to New Mexico?"
"You're pretty, but people are weird looking."
"Don't worry about it, bigger girls are becoming really popular these days." (claims he meant big, as in tall)
"I found the toaster strudel frosting." (It was a friends frozen breast milk)
Oh, the fun we have around here. In all seriousness, even though he can say crazy things that make me laugh until I cry, nothing will ever bring me as much joy as when he said "I do.".
That said, I plan on posting many more Tim quotes.
Enjoy!
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Yellow Don't Mellow
I am pale, very pale. My complexion is really just shy of transparent, which can be a bit troublesome at times. For instance, if I go for a jog, my face gradually settles into a lovely shade of purple that has made more than a few passersby inquire about my well being. It is actually a hue quite similar to that showcased on Violet Beauregarde in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory", as she is in the unfortunate process of becoming a blueberry. Though blueberries are delicious, I am going to continue under the assumption that nobody really wants to look like one.
My awareness of the lack of color in my ghostly epidermis, has only been heightened by the fact that "Yellow Don't Mellow". (It is important to note, that this was a phrase Tim coined in reference to his own Asian skin tone/quality and I am not trying to overstep my Scandinavian ethnicity.) At first, this whole moniker never really bothered me. It didn't bother me when Tim and I went to see an R-rated movie and he got carded, while I was told "That's ok ma'am. We don't need to see your ID.". Nor, did it bother me the countless times that people have asked what country I adopted Noah from, since the resemblance is less than obvious.
What DOES bother me, though, is when my skin reaches the middle of winter, Minnesota March pale. It is the palest of pale and is only intensified by my already fair skin. A few weeks ago, I actually did a double take while walking past a store window, concerned for the dreadful looking girl behind me. But, no, it was just my reflection. I figured I had a few options.
-Go on vacation-
Economically this was not a viable option, considering the farthest south I could responsibly afford right now would be Rochester. Not exactly sunshine capital of the world.
-Go Tanning-
Fake baking is popular for a reason, but I don't think I could spend another minute in one of those booths after all the hours I logged in high school, pretending I could tan.
-Spray Tan-
Does anyone remember the episode of Friends, where Ross tried this? So... no.
-Self Applied Tanning Lotion-
I highlighted my own hair in high school. I looked like a blonde zebra. So, I don't think trying to apply lotion evenly enough to give me that "streak free" look is going to work.
Since there seemed to be no desirable solution, I decided it was time to embrace myself and come up with my own uplifting phrase:
"Pale Don't Fail"
And it's true! Pale does NOT fail! Every time I burn, trying to tan, you know what color my skin goes back to? Pale. Every time I go to buy make up, you know what color I buy? Pale. Every time I get sick, what is the first thing people say? "Oh, you look so pale!". Every time I am not sick, but people think I am, what do they say made them think that? "It was because you looked so pale".
Therefore, I will shine on and be a beacon for others, in a show of solidarity!
(Not that there were really any other options...)
My awareness of the lack of color in my ghostly epidermis, has only been heightened by the fact that "Yellow Don't Mellow". (It is important to note, that this was a phrase Tim coined in reference to his own Asian skin tone/quality and I am not trying to overstep my Scandinavian ethnicity.) At first, this whole moniker never really bothered me. It didn't bother me when Tim and I went to see an R-rated movie and he got carded, while I was told "That's ok ma'am. We don't need to see your ID.". Nor, did it bother me the countless times that people have asked what country I adopted Noah from, since the resemblance is less than obvious.
What DOES bother me, though, is when my skin reaches the middle of winter, Minnesota March pale. It is the palest of pale and is only intensified by my already fair skin. A few weeks ago, I actually did a double take while walking past a store window, concerned for the dreadful looking girl behind me. But, no, it was just my reflection. I figured I had a few options.
-Go on vacation-
Economically this was not a viable option, considering the farthest south I could responsibly afford right now would be Rochester. Not exactly sunshine capital of the world.
-Go Tanning-
Fake baking is popular for a reason, but I don't think I could spend another minute in one of those booths after all the hours I logged in high school, pretending I could tan.
-Spray Tan-
Does anyone remember the episode of Friends, where Ross tried this? So... no.
-Self Applied Tanning Lotion-
I highlighted my own hair in high school. I looked like a blonde zebra. So, I don't think trying to apply lotion evenly enough to give me that "streak free" look is going to work.
Since there seemed to be no desirable solution, I decided it was time to embrace myself and come up with my own uplifting phrase:
"Pale Don't Fail"
And it's true! Pale does NOT fail! Every time I burn, trying to tan, you know what color my skin goes back to? Pale. Every time I go to buy make up, you know what color I buy? Pale. Every time I get sick, what is the first thing people say? "Oh, you look so pale!". Every time I am not sick, but people think I am, what do they say made them think that? "It was because you looked so pale".
Therefore, I will shine on and be a beacon for others, in a show of solidarity!
(Not that there were really any other options...)
Thursday, March 14, 2013
The Most Wonderful Place on Earth: Target
If you ask my son, on any given day, where he would like to go, his answer, most assuredly, would be Target. He has an inexplicable love for the megastore. It's pretty much his own personal "Cheers", where everybody knows his name. Or at least his face.
From what I have observed, he views our time there as a sort of "social hour" or "meet and greet". As of late, I have begun to notice trends within his interactions, which I have grouped into three separate categories.
1. The Store Manager-
When walking by one of the dapperly clad red-and-khaki employees, Noah never fails to give them that extra bit of encouragement. He is never too busy or rushed to ask "What are you doing?" or "What's your name?" while patting their back, if possible. No matter their response, he pronounces "GOOD JOB!", with a grandiosity that could only come from Tim's gene pool. He concludes with a "High five?", while in my head I try very hard to not repeat the phrase with a Borat style inflection.
2. The Mom Swapper-
Sometimes, even for kids, the grass is greener on the other side. Most recently, Noah noticed a "greener" mom in the Pokemon section of the toy aisle. She was an articulation genius, pronouncing names like Makuhita or Pachirisu, like a boss. Noah asked me to say the same names and I put forth my best effort, but Porky Pig could have gotten out the words quicker. After a few attempts, I looked to my son and saw that he was already trying to hold her hand and saying to her, "Who this, Mama?". So much for loyalty.
3. The Pick-Up Artist-
Noah: Hi!
Female: Hi! (Giggle, giggle)
N: I Noah.
Female: Hi Noah! (Bat eyelashes, giggle)
N: You pretty. (Takes females hand)
And they begin to walk away. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
So, during your next trip to Target, if a little boy comes up to you and one of these scenarios seems eerily familiar, say hi. It's probably Noah and I on our daily, three hour long (cause it takes that long when your son has to talk to no less than 8 people each trip) excursion to Target.
"Th- Th- Th- Th- Th... That's all folks!"
From what I have observed, he views our time there as a sort of "social hour" or "meet and greet". As of late, I have begun to notice trends within his interactions, which I have grouped into three separate categories.
1. The Store Manager-
When walking by one of the dapperly clad red-and-khaki employees, Noah never fails to give them that extra bit of encouragement. He is never too busy or rushed to ask "What are you doing?" or "What's your name?" while patting their back, if possible. No matter their response, he pronounces "GOOD JOB!", with a grandiosity that could only come from Tim's gene pool. He concludes with a "High five?", while in my head I try very hard to not repeat the phrase with a Borat style inflection.
2. The Mom Swapper-
Sometimes, even for kids, the grass is greener on the other side. Most recently, Noah noticed a "greener" mom in the Pokemon section of the toy aisle. She was an articulation genius, pronouncing names like Makuhita or Pachirisu, like a boss. Noah asked me to say the same names and I put forth my best effort, but Porky Pig could have gotten out the words quicker. After a few attempts, I looked to my son and saw that he was already trying to hold her hand and saying to her, "Who this, Mama?". So much for loyalty.
3. The Pick-Up Artist-
Noah: Hi!
Female: Hi! (Giggle, giggle)
N: I Noah.
Female: Hi Noah! (Bat eyelashes, giggle)
N: You pretty. (Takes females hand)
And they begin to walk away. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
So, during your next trip to Target, if a little boy comes up to you and one of these scenarios seems eerily familiar, say hi. It's probably Noah and I on our daily, three hour long (cause it takes that long when your son has to talk to no less than 8 people each trip) excursion to Target.
"Th- Th- Th- Th- Th... That's all folks!"
Saturday, March 9, 2013
It takes a village...
In case anyone happens upon this blog and needs reference as to who the main "characters" are, I would like to provide the following guide:
a) Me- (aka Melissa, Mel, Wife, Mom) The introvert of the family. Likes to write, read, and play games, although her favorite pastime would be napping. Has the ability to write in a witty manner and appear clever on paper, yet is a tad bit awkward in real life. Not self deprecating at all.
b) Tim- (aka Timothy, Husband, Daddy) The extrovert with random episodes of introversion, which, historically, have occurred more frequently amongst the in-laws. Has said the three things he is best at are, "sleeping, eating and making friends." Extreme sports fan who loves to have a good time and be as social as possible.
c) Noah- (aka Son, the 3-year-old, the boy, Demolition Expert) The full on extrovert. Has ongoing energy and requires very little sleep. Loves to wrestle, tackle and run into people. Loves to eat ketchup, ranch dressing, butter and hummus, luckily not all at the same time. Loves to hug and kiss. A lot. Has the best smile. Ever.
As for the rest of the cast (grandparents, relatives, friends), though no less important, they will be introduced upon first appearance.
Let the fun begin!
a) Me- (aka Melissa, Mel, Wife, Mom) The introvert of the family. Likes to write, read, and play games, although her favorite pastime would be napping. Has the ability to write in a witty manner and appear clever on paper, yet is a tad bit awkward in real life. Not self deprecating at all.
b) Tim- (aka Timothy, Husband, Daddy) The extrovert with random episodes of introversion, which, historically, have occurred more frequently amongst the in-laws. Has said the three things he is best at are, "sleeping, eating and making friends." Extreme sports fan who loves to have a good time and be as social as possible.
c) Noah- (aka Son, the 3-year-old, the boy, Demolition Expert) The full on extrovert. Has ongoing energy and requires very little sleep. Loves to wrestle, tackle and run into people. Loves to eat ketchup, ranch dressing, butter and hummus, luckily not all at the same time. Loves to hug and kiss. A lot. Has the best smile. Ever.
As for the rest of the cast (grandparents, relatives, friends), though no less important, they will be introduced upon first appearance.
Let the fun begin!
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