2 out of 3 Ain't Bad?

Bob's driving the minivan with the whole family and passes a parked Dodge Omni. He tells me that is his old car. This happens more often than you'd think- the boy has went through a few cars in his day. I can't remember the last time he went to the doctor, but I can think of 5 cars he's owned just since Piper was born. I ask if he just recognized it, has talked to the owner, or what. I even have the audacity to ask where we were living when he sold it. He seriously acts incredulous that I can't remember which of the 3 cities in 6 years we were in when this car (one of a series of 3 pale blue cars he drove) left our life. My response- tell me all the girls' birthdates. He got 2 of the 3.

BaBa ba-bye!

I just freed up some time in my arduous schedule... No more washing bottles or diapers! I mean I'm still washing urine soaked clothes on occasion because the shiny newness of potty training has already disappeared, which makes sitting on a potty less fun. The bigger change - the one that whispers you don't have any babies anymore - is Piper is off the bottle. I had been waiting for her bottle to just no longer function (there's been a hole in this last nipple for months) so I don't have to be the bad guy. But, just like her sisters, she was a bit bottle obsessed. Her drinking habit had her leaking through night diapers & wool covers onto full sized sheets, and I had to say enough. My these-ugly-scarred-boobs-that-don't-let-me-breastfeed guilt would get the best of me & I would put off yanking the bottle. Usually, I would only commit to one change at a time (and our address & family size have changed 3 times in like 4 years). So with Piper's potty training & traveling in November, this bottle taking has been pushed back a couple months. It's pretty similar timing for when I weaned Macy. Claire was an embarrassing 2 1/2+ when I finally pried the bottle from her sweet little paws. Not that new mothers are clamoring for my advice, but it is a bit worse when your child says to you(last night), "no water. bottle milk." I had told myself I had to do this sooner this time around. I didn't. But it really feels like I have kids, not babies. Sniff. I'm going have to go back to work one of these years. Ugh.

I just assumed there was something wrong with you.

Another school year, another weepy Nicole. So, Claire is off to 5K this year. I am THRILLED - so, happy in that be-careful-not-to-complain-about-child-in-front-of-friends-with-fertility-issues way. Claire will be gone all.day.long (if I could kick my heels I would)!!! She will get home around the same time as Bob! No refereeing sibling fights, because she is involved in all of them! Piper & Macy (knock on wood) don't fight! I try to be cool, but inside I have been counting down all August for special day. And, I'm not the jerk, Claire loves other kids and really liked school last year. So, why, oh why, do I go to her Open House to drop off school supplies & meet the teacher (sweet, very much like every elementary teacher I have ever met)and get all teary? This poor, sweet teacher lady thinks I am anxious to leave her (hell, no, I woulda left her that night for a couple hours had it been an option!)or that Claire is anxious (she is probably as pumped as me for different reasons). I am so teary this woman assumed something, like allergies, is wrong with me. I should have said I have allergies. This is rather counter to my personality, but what can I say, weddings and school children just make me cry. With joy.

Hospital Corners

Over the Memorial Day holiday I got to thinking about the men in uniform. How does the military get men to make a bed? I don't like making beds, but I love fresh sheets. I begged off this task pregnant, but I need to put sheets on the bed outside the evenings when Bob's around for delegation. This weekend the morning before people were coming over Claire had had a nighttime accident. She managed to get urine on her pillow. This seemed like a Bob job. Claire's bed is a double. He somehow managed to squeeze twin sized sheets on the bed. He claims they were the only ones he could find. Granted, they were the only set in the laundry basket. He didn't even check the linen closet. I had him take them off. He put king sized sheets on next. Seriously? I wasn't even mad just flabbergasted.

Bad Cop

Bob totally has a work wife. I'm not jealous. I just feel sorry for her (pregnant too - God bless her). For most hours of the day Bob's partner is a another man named Bob. Other Bob is a red-headed caricature of my Bob -- more laid back, hairier, larger and so unkempt he makes my Bob appear professionally dressed! It seems the Bobs are able to handle the emotionally behavior disordered students because they are laid back to the extreme. Their office (with taxidermied decorataions) is a sty.The other Bob used to be a cop. I'm gonna guess he played "good cop" and lived that cops in a donut shop stereotype... One hour out of the day, Bob is with his other wife. She is apparently the yin to his yang. She likes paperwork! She thinks the students need more structure and has all these things she learned in school about how to do it. Bob admitted she's bad cop & he's good cop. I responded that must be a familiar role for Bob. So last night I was grumbling about him making the girls put away the water toys when they get out of the hot tub (which fun dad took them in). Nothing screams bad cop like "pick up your toys after having all that fun with your dad!" Then I was all complaining about always being bad cop- and he had the nerve to say "I wouldn't have to be good cop if you weren't such a bad bad cop"

Let it all hang out

You know that desire to take off your bra after a long day at the office? Macy's kinda got that but with leggings. She goes to playschool (1 hour) in leggings (because the boss makes her), comes home and discards them on the bathroom floor first chance she gets.Can't say I blame her.

Happy birthday, have a flame

So we had some cake for Piper's birthday. I jokingly said "blow out your candle " since its not one of tricks. And she made adorable little blowing sounds. So I turned to grab the Flip, and she extinguished the flame by pinching it. We all waited for the tears, and nothing. So, I felt like the worst parent ever followed by concern she might not have nerve endings in her fingers...

Other people's kids...

I'm in love with the warmer weather. People outside, walking to school to pick up Claire, sand everywhere (wait, that I could do without). What is tough this time of year is other people's kids. Claire has for years loved the company of others. Problem is the other kids in our neighborhood are older& boys. Sometimes they want to play with Claire, sometimes not. And, they are permitted to do way more than I let my kids do. I feel like I'm not a helicopter mom, but wherever Claire goes, Macy might, too. I just think newly turned three year olds can't be in the street without sidewalks unsupervised . In the backyard where I can see them, or cruising the sidewalk block where Bob can see them seems reasonable, but it is hard to articulate that besides age, you might not get to do everything the neighbors do because your mom's more strict/bitchy/attentive? And with Bob & I home in the summer, we don't want to be responsible for other people's kids at our house, all summer long. I love kids playing with each other, and I remember playing with neighbors in the summer so fondly. Apparently, I'm a killjoy.

Though, I did overhear a classmate of Claire's tell her she wishes I was her mom. So, I got that going for me.

It's All a Matter of Perspective

I found it quite adorable this week when we were waiting for Claire's bus and Piper and Macy were snuggled up on the dog bed. Lincoln found it less than adorable, I'm sure.

It's all about perspective. When I was childless, I declared myself not a baby person. I thought older kids with their inquisitiveness & their active lifestyles seemed much my speed than needy, non-communicative babies. Now, I am firmly in the "baby person" camp. Incessant questions, no thanks. Sassy four year olds, I'll pass. Today I drove the car while answering questions like, "what if there were two suns? Three suns? No sun?" I wanted to scream, "shut up, let me listen to NPR!!!"


My favorite stage is the sitting up independently through cruising, but I am open to newborn through walking. This is problematic in that I am getting near the end of babies. I visited my neighbor's newborn this week. How cute are babies? How easy is it to walk around carrying 7#?!? I did cherish my babies as babies, but I never understood society's love of babies. I used to get so offended when someone would comment how cute my baby was in front of a toddler- or ask how old the infant was. I used to be snarky and respond with the older daughter's age.This week Macy & Piper were in the cart when a cashier commented how cute she was. She then recovered saying they were both cute, but I wantsome gush, "I know isn't Piper adorable! " I get it, society, little babies are cute. I just needed some perspective.

Nicknames

Macy declared that she will now be referring to me as Mommer and the artist formerly known as DaDa as Bobber! I love it. I might call him Bobber, too.

Meow

Hortonville had the sterotypical "cat lady". You know, disheveled appearance with ratty hair, paper bags full of God knows what, and cats- lots of cats. The people in the village quite creatively called her Cat Lady.

Not to speak disparagingly about mentally illness, but young kids in my experience seem to act like Cat Lady. Macy tends to haul around animals. Claire has illegible scribbles that only she can "read". She insists on having my junk mail to carry around. Lord knows, they both despise any semblance of organization I attempt to impose. Why would the toy food go in the play kitchen? They love to take actual bags and fill them with random stuff. I find the canvas library bag full of dolls, a train track, a headless barbie, a lamp from the dollhouse, toy fruit, someone's underwear and the Tablespoon from the real kitchen.

Maybe just my kids are going to be crazy cat lady sisters...

Lazy Bones

I have a rule that I won't "retire" a too small outfit if I already took the effort to get it on a girl. Piper's 18 month shirt is so ill-fitting (picture an overweight high schooler who insists on wearing a shirt that's in rather than something that looks good on her) that I almost wanted to break my self-imposed rule. It is especially amusing given the style of the shirt with the little jackety type top with belly bursting beneath it.

Piper is pretty hilarious so I feel like we're laughing with her not at her. She likes to stand up and kinda shake her rear to show-off. I think she does it just to be funny. And poured into this shirt, she's funny for sure.

Happiness from within

As a mother of daughters I always want my girls to learn to find happiness from within. I just don't want them to depend on the approval of others (male or female) to feel good. And Claire. & Macy are at such a great age right now in regards to self-confidence:

"I'm beautiful!"
"Watch me dance"
"I did a really good job"

Generally, I'm pretty happy. And, that's probably because I have a lot to be grateful for with three healthy kids, no fertility struggles. But realistically I'm rather mediocre. We're not rich, but we are without financial struggles. I'm overweight but in excellent physical health. I can run, but I don't set any speed records. But, I am generally pretty happy, and I really want my kids to be happy. And nice to each other. For the love of God, be kind to your sisters. I want to give them opportunities, but not every little thing they want. I am always the bad cop around here. They better like me, too!

Maternity Test

Claire is a mini-me. Piper is Bob in pink. Macy looks like no one. Blue eyes? Constantly eats, skinny little thing?

If I didn't recall her labor (hardest of the the three), I might wonder if she's mine! She is generally fine being bossed around by Claire. Last weekend my mom had the big girls, and Claire took a toy from Macy. My mom told Claire that this might make Macy sad. Macy asked if she promised not to be sad, if Claire could keep it. Mind you, she's smart as a whip and not a pushover. Her tolerance of Claire's constant micro-managing is enviable and not a trait passed down from her mother.

But what floors me the most is her preference to play indoors, alone. Unseasonably warm day this week, I offered a walk before naptime. No thanks, rather sleep. SLEEP?!? Most times when Claire, Piper and I go outside, she will play alone indoors which means I'm stuck hanging out by the window. At the beach she'll often chose to play in the sand over water. Sand is so sandy!

Claire gets up and wants to know where we're going. If we're not going anywhere (school isn't enough anymore?), it's who is coming over? I was hitting the library story hour circuit pretty hard last year to appease her appetite for people & adventures. This year Macy has asked once to go to the Neenah library. I was happy to oblige, but I was caught so off guard. I would have showered or chosen my clothes with more care since Neenah seems to be the fancy library!

Macy is so often in her own little world Claire even knows we call it La La land. She's an absolute hoot, everything in the past was "yesterday". She's probably spent more time with her head in the clouds at 2 1/2 than I have at 33.

It might help the whole mother-daughter relations to be so different, but most days I think, how are we related?

They still sell those in stores, right?

So, I was just perusing Craigslist, and someone had a wanted post for diapers - not cloth diapers, because for me that's not even weird. Their post said they both had jobs (telling potential sellers they have money?) and that their baby was due January 27 and they wanted diapers. Maybe they were looking for free ones, but they didn't really have a request for freebies. It was all very strange to me.

I wanted to reply that I believe both Wal-mart and Target sell these diapers of which they speak. It seemed odd that buying them off Craigslist would be easier or even much cheaper, but maybe I am out of touch. I live in a bubble (the Internet) that exposes me to a certain type of local mama I rarely see since mornings I get Claire on/off the bus and afternoons are for napping.


I'm feeling especially crunchy these days. In the last couple months I have had to define even the word "crunchy" to people I know IRL (I totally learned that acronym today- thanks urban dictionary! ) I spend all this time worrying about things like the goldfish that occassionally end up on Piper's highchair (grains = bad), carseat bases (apparently the car seat might fly out in a crash), and using corn syrup in holiday treats (because corn syrup is actually pretty bad stuff). These worries are really not on most parents mind. We've always been on the cloth diapers, but we now use cloth at night 100% of the time. I use cloth wipes with Piper. I really should have been on the cloth night diapers and wipes all along. None of this really has made me feel any different than say,recycling. But, I bought myself a Diva Cup last month. I officially feel like a hippie. A hippie that would mention this on the Internet (well, I'm still me, which is to say not shy).
I felt like an 8th grader again (I was a late bloomer) feeling like everyone knew something was different- in this case that I was using a menstrual cup.

I asked a friend who also uses a Diva Cup if she felt like a complete granola. She said, "yes, so I just try not to think about it." Sounds like a plan!

She's a mover & a shaker (but a bit of a crier)

She can't crawl. She can't walk. But, she managed to scoot over to the dog's waterbowl (which is in desperate need of a cleaning).

The days this week have been filled with her getting in position to crawl with one troublesome leg caught under her. Then, she cries. If you push the leg out to crawling position, she cries. If you put her back to sitting upright, she cries and then repeats. If you leave her to figure it out, she cries. I hate to make predictions. Well, actually, I just hate to be wrong about predictions. But, daresay, I think she might crawl soon.

I should be used to this, but dang, they seem to just grown up so fast. Today she clapped at Claire's school fair when other kids were clapping. It was so cute. Earlier this week I was raking with her in the Beco, and I thought "this will be easier when I can carry her on my back." Then, I remembered ,she isn't a baby and she has contentedly been in the back carry position all week. Sniff.

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner!

"I win!"



(Claire and Macy's standard exclamation after walking down the stairs/getting dressed/finishing a meal)






"It's not a contest!"



(my standard response especially to a meal-eating race)







I had been wondering, where do they get this competitiveness from? Is it because Claire's in school now? I certainly don't pit them against one another. And Bob might be the least competitive person I know.







I remember being so competitive with my brother. I thought it was because he was so into sports and had a competitive personality and that we were 14 months apart in age.







I am beginning to think it's some genetic survival mechanism. We are just competitive people, and I created more competitive babies.







I came to this last night when I stepped out for a quick run and was walking with this internal dialogue:







"None of my music is suitable for running"



"Just run. Nicole, you're stalling!"



"I can't start to Jack Johnson. It will just set the tone for a slow run"



"There's not enough daylight left to be so picky, you have already skipped 10 songs"



"Why is this song even on here? It is offering me every slow, sucky song on here"



[Lady runs across the block perpendicular to me]



"You could run faster to Cat Stevens than that lady. And she's skinnier than you, unfair."



"Cat Stevens it is!"







Then, I ran to catch and pass the lady. She had headphones on and didn't hear me coming. There were cars on the street, so I couldn't cross to the other side or get around her. I was stuck behind her going slower than I wanted and thinking this was so not good for my karma. She probably just started running or had a baby. I eventually was able to cross the street and run off ahead. Then, I thought, geez, that lady didn't even hear or see me. I could have been a mugger or a rapist. So, then I was paranoid I should be on high alert for muggers and rapists (though, there's probably no black market for cracked iPods). Or, in the very least, being competitive makes you less aware of what's going on around you and is a bit obsessive.







And that, most certainly, the girls get their competitiveness from me.

Great Expectations?

Claire's teacher sends home a newsletter on Fridays. Recently, she reminded parents to let their kids do stuff themselves like put on their clothes, shoes, jackets and winter clothes. My guess is this is a reminder for parents of only children or children further apart in age. Or, I am a major meanie with Michelle Duggar like expectations for my eldest. Sure, I have to help with zippers, but she does all that and when Macy's cooperative, she even helps Macy do it.

I was a bit relieved to read the teacher said that because when Claire was at the doctor with UTI symptoms, the doctor said 4 was pretty young to be wiping herself... I was like, sheesh, I am trying to get the 2 1/2 year old to wipe herself, and you want me to wipe the 4 year old? Plus, it's pretty hard to convince her she can't do it anymore. I am not lazy. I would prefer my more hygienic wiping to theirs, but Macy loves to use the bathroom the second I have a sleepy baby teetering on the edge of going down for a nap.

The teacher probably has an idea Claire's putting on her own winter things since even a not-very-fashionable 33 year old would chose the hat/mitten combos she does...

Over their heads

This morning in a exasperation and sheer annoyance at watching Claire chase Macy with an imaginary needle, I dove into a talk waaaay above the heads of my 4 and 2 1/2 year olds (albeit smart ones).

Despite spending the vast majority of my time with these shorties, I am not a big baby talker. Half for my own sanity, and half for their language acquisition, I talk to the kids in a semi-adult like manner. (You know, trying to avoid the really bad profanities but not over-the-top goo-goo-ga-ga). Claire talks in third person, so I am trying to get out of the "Mama will do that for you," "Bring that to Mama" habit I have going on.

In our extended family we're exposed to talk from all ends of the spectrum. Ga-ma likes to employ cutesy euphemisms like "potty wotty" and "tinkle winkle". I remember reading some of this motherese is good for kids. Like if you say "doggy" or "kitty" it emphasizes the "G" and "T", and hearing it twice will help kids learn those sounds at the end of word rather than dropping them off. Or, slowing your words per minute helps the kids. However, it's confusing, and this is a total Ga-ma thing, too, to call you toes pigs (because there's nothing porcine about those digits!) . So, we got the baby talk on the Ga-Ma end of things, and the girls think Ga-ma's little phrases are hilarious.

This summer we went to the Wisconsin Historical Society where my brother-in-law and sister-in-law work. The girls' aunt was talking about the fur trader's shack exhibit. She was telling them about the various hats, pelts, and tools. I was having a hard time following, and I think the girls were just wondering if the fur on the wall was a live or dead animal. My thought was, does she remember they're under four?

Back to me this morning, I had the Aunt Beth problem. I dove into an explanation of "informed consent" for medicine. They are always playing doctor. All day. I am usually holding Piper while Claire operates on my foot and takes my blood pressure. So, I'm all, "You can't give a shot unless your patient wants you to and you tell her the risks (like it might hurt), it's called informed consent." Granted sometimes people don't kids enough credit for being able to understand things. This wasn't really the case, it was more of me trying to think of a way not to scream "QUIT CHASING YOUR SISTER WITH THAT DAMN TOY SYRINGE!!!!"

As one might guess, this was over their heads. Bored, they wandered out of the bathroom (yeah!) and went into Claire's room where they established a rule where the doctor would poke the patient and then the patient got to poke the doctor. So, basically, the 1-2-3 poking just doubled, but at least I got my hair did.

United

They were fighting over chocolate milk. Not real chocolate milk, mind you. Imaginary chocolate milk, and it was before real breakfast. They were at early this morning. Macy had a dish of the imaginary good stuff, and Claire claimed to drink it all. We really can't be sure since imaginary milk is hard to see.

Then, they both took toys from the immobile baby who proceeded to cry and look towards me to get it back. So that's how it's going to be, Piper? You're not going to learn to crawl or walk? You're going to wait for your Mom to swoop in retrieve your treasured items? You know if we go that route, they aren't going to like you. They're going to think you're getting preferential treatment. They might just gang up on you.

They're already ganging up on me. Claire and Macy were continuing to bicker over the coveted (imaginary) chocolate milk dish at breakfast and reaching over their place mats. I was desperately trying to get some coffee made and spilled the coffee beans all over the floor (near the baby who likes to put leaves in her mouth). Claire said, "Ha! WE don't have to help you with that! Me and Macy didn't spill it, you did! So, YOU have to clean it up, WE don't." So now they're buddies all of a sudden?

I suppose, despite how different my brother and I are, we sure like to talk about the antics of our parents...