Putting on Her Shiny Shoes

July 26 2010

Posted in: Daily · Tags: Abby, birthday, family

My parents gifted Abby clothes for her birthday. From the outside, this would seem like a boring present for a 2 year old. However, my daughter loves expanding her wardrobe, possibly more than toys. She received many new items to play with, too, but I do believe the clothes were the biggest hit.

Along with 2 new outfits, one of which containing a skort which confounded J, and socks, they bought her a pair of shoes. All of this I knew ahead of time, since they asked for the correct size. What I failed to anticipate was my mother’s conflicting sense of style.

I’m not a flashy person. I don’t like metallics or sparkles or animal prints or too much show. I like to dress my kids the same. Of course, my mother would have her own opinions. I wasn’t prepared for what we received instead.

They were gold canvas and so very shiny. Without exaggeration, the very first thing that came to mind was Ben Stiller as White Goodman in Dodgeball, “There’s no resisting when White Goodman puts on his shiny shoes”. I couldn’t help but laugh. A lot.

“If you don’t like them, I have the receipt”, my mother offered with a hint of offense when I couldn’t stop laughing.

“No, they’re fine. It just took me by surprise”, I finally managed to sputter.

Which is true. Once Abby had them on, they didn’t appear that brazen. Probably because I happen to find the girl so cute that she can pull off anything. But now I’m afraid I’m going to think of Ben Stiller every time she wears them.

Two Much

July 23 2010

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: Abby, birthday, letters, photos

Dear Abby,

You turn 2 tomorrow. I know that all parents say they can’t believe it, that it goes too fast, that one day their baby is a tiny infant and the next a full-fledged kid. But baby girl, it’s so true. I can’t believe you’re going to be 2.

I may not believe it, but I am loving this age. Sure, you have your rough moments. When you hit your brothers or refuse to do as told. You say “No!” more often than I’d like and you’re already getting to know time-out quite well. You are strong-willed and spunky and just as vocal and determined as ever. You think you’re one of the boys, and anything they can do, you like to believe you can do better.

But then there are the other moments. The tender moments. When you can’t make a move without holding my hand. When I hear you call for me if I’ve snuck out of sight. How you lean back in my lap to sing the ABC’s. The time before bed, when you’re waving everyone goodnight and then you give me a kiss as we enter the room.

You are still funny, hilarious even. You’ll exclaim “Hi!” with a wide eyed funny face and then proceed to point at your nose, every time. Packets of ketchup and mustard have become must-have’s for your hands. For some reason, you’ve taken to putting a piece of tape across your mouth. Sometimes, I’ll put one on mine as well and we’ll try to talk to one another with closed-shut lips. Maybe I should keep that tape on my mouth more often since you repeat everything we say, even if you shouldn’t. Then, of course, there’s the outfits you find yourself, consisting of everyone’s oversized clothes but your own.

It’s hard to keep my eyes off of you. You light up the room, sweetheart. I love you. Now and always.

Happy Birthday,
Your weepy Mommy

Her Green Baby

July 21 2010

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: Abby, life

At first, she was like MacGuyver with a minimally damp wet wipe and a green crayon. It took me a few minutes to realize what exactly Abby was doing. Then I noticed her clumsy hands fumbling to wrap the cloth around the colorful stick. When that didn’t go as intended, she carried her items to me in earnest. “Baby!”, she shrieked.

All of the dolls sitting untouched and she’s babying a crayon.

I played along and swaddled it convincingly enough. She then held the crayola stick tenderly by her face. Until her “baby” fell out of it’s enclosure.

Maybe her father could do better, I’m sure she expected, so she tried to get him involved in the game next. She walked up to him and demanded, “Daddy! Baby!”.

Clearly not paying attention, he wondered, “What?”.

“She wants you to wrap the crayon up like a baby”, I told him flippantly.

“Why would I wrap a crayon up like a baby?”, he asked, bewildered.

Why is the sky blue? Why does ice cream taste so good? Why do the kids go batcrap insane an hour before bedtime? Why ask questions? It is what it is. “Because she wants you to.” He should’ve known that answer by now. What more of a reason do you need?

Though I don’t know what he was complaining about. I’m the one who was later forced to snuggle the “baby”. All he had to do was wrap it once in a wet wipe.

An Experimental Approach When All Else Fails

July 20 2010

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: Buzz, life, motherhood

Buzz has a tendency to run amok. He is high energy, that kid. I was hoping it was something that would miraculously fix itself at daybreak on his 4th birthday, but he’s still going strong. He finds any opportunity he can to dart away, out of arm’s length, and simply laughs when I try to call him back. He keeps me on my exhausted toes.

He has speech class on Thursday afternoons. We sit in the waiting room and while he can be antsy, he’s usually patient enough. This last time, though, he was everywhere. Trying to run out the door or weave between chairs. Or simply anywhere away from me. I’d get up to chase him when all other options failed and immediately felt as if I transformed into “that” parent. The one who doesn’t have a handle on anything. The one who should give a call to Nanny 911. It’s bad enough when he’s on his worst behavior at home, but it’s so much worse out in public.

I could have focused on this and been upset, with him and my inabilities. It wouldn’t have been unheard of. Instead, I’ve been making a more conscientious effort to say please and thank you. Positive reinforcement in lieu of negative admonishment. There in the waiting room, after holding him back yet again, I forced myself full of affirmation. Because God knows the alternative wasn’t working.

Thank you for turning around. Thank you for keeping me on my toes. Thank you for your energy. Thank you for your smile. Thank you for showing me a different way. Thank you for those brief moments to catch my breath. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for being my son.

Now, PLEASE, sit down and stop it.

It Calls to Me by Name

July 19 2010

Posted in: Daily, Favorites · Tags: motherhood

It starts first thing as the sun rises through the window blinds.

“Mommy!”, she whines upon waking.

I walk in to lift her up, good morning. “Mommy”, she whispers softly. Not long after, her brothers stumble in, too, crowding around me in the chair with bed head and sleepy eyes. Elbows and knees poking into sides. “Mommy, what day is it?”, Jedi asks, curious. “Mommy, how many days until the weekend? Mommy, I had a dream. Do you want to hear about my dream, Mommy?”

“Mommy, I’m hungry”, they demand in a rare form of unity. I fix waffles or pancakes or omelets. Some days, when it’s already too much, it’s merely Pop Tarts. I fill three cups with milk. It’s briefly still while their mouths are full and then it begins again.

“Mommy, he’s hitting me! Mommy, make him stop! Mommy, she scratched me!”

Mommy, help. Mommy, sit. Mommy, boo-boo. Look at this, Mommy. Buzz is a bear, Mommy. Mommy, come here. Can I play video games, Mommy? How long until Daddy comes home, Mommy? Mommy, what are we having for dinner? Can we watch Toy Story, Mommy? Come watch with us, Mommy. Mommy, what are you doing? Do you see my belly button, Mommy? Mommy, I’m thirsty again. Do you remember when we went to the zoo, Mommy? Mommy! Hey, Mommy! Even when they don’t say it in so many words, it’s there in intention, pulling in three different directions.

It doesn’t halt until they’re tucked in bed. When I have a few minutes left to just be me.