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.

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.

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...

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...

Seriously, how do lesser women do this? (or people with jobs or no husbands)

Claire's school seems to be operating on the premise that if they give me too much advance notice for anything I will forget. But, I actually would like some heads up. I am a bit of a planner, and I don't even have that much going on.

For Donuts for Dads day they send a note asking everyone to send in a canister of frosting by the next day (or the day after). I don't consider frosting a staple in every home, and I really don't consider a trip to the store warranted for frosting. Heck, I wouldn't even take all three kids to the store after 11:00am for any food. I improvise! When I do shop, I make lists; I coordinate the girls'' happy times. I wondered if I could make frosting and send it in a Ziploc container. But, I can always come up with a few things I need from the store. So, I went and got the damn frosting like a good parent.

Today, I get a note requesting one red apple, one green apple, and one yellow apple by Thursday. Well, don't people usually like one kind and have that kind at home? Or, do other homes have apple buffets? Because I have red apples at present, sometimes green, but never yellow. When Claire gets home from school (when I got this letter), we eat lunch, and then Macy takes a nap. Oh, and the letter suggested I bring my 4 year old to the store to talk about apples. So, if I run out when Bob gets home or have Bob stop on his way home, I am slighting my daughter's education. This note gave me the advance of two evenings and one morning (since all afternoons are shot with naps) to get apples. I don't even care about the apples, I think it's cool. But, why can't they give me notice that next week they will be hitting me up for a rainbow's worth of apples.

How would someone who works like this? They wouldn't even find out about it until they were already home from work (suppertime?) Or a single mom? Or if I had a newborn I didn't want to take out? Seriously, I don't even have much to whine about, but I have to think other people like advance notice on this stuff to?

7 months, 1 tooth

In honor of Piper's 7 months on the planet, she sprang a bottom tooth yesterday. Claire's so excited you'd think she's pulled it out of Piper's gums for her. The enthusiasm is pretty cute. In honor of her special anniversary, I am going to Happy Hour on Wednesday. Not really for that reason, it just ended up that way. Piper needs some Dada time, anyway. She was pulling that MaMa preference stuff the other day. I got a middle child that has a strong one of those, it loses its cuteness rather quickly. I prefer the I'll-take-whichever-of-you-has-a-free-hand-whenever-you-can-get-here over the MaMa-NOW crap. Hopefully, the tooth's arrival was the reason. More likely, it was her father being gone for too long buying something he doesn't need.

Poor Macy doesn't see, sure he still lives here. Saturday Macy surprisingly said to him, "oh, I didn't know you'd still be here" when we returned from the grocery store.

Get on the bus, Gus!

Early last week Claire missed her bus. This wasn't the morning she woke me up 10 minutes before pick-up time. No, I'd been up for about an hour nagging her to put on her previously selected outfit & shoes. It was perfect, I nagged her down to the front door in time for her to watch the bus pull off without her. I'm not sure she believed my, "you're going to miss your bus" until she saw those red lights through her tears.

I'm not saying I like to see her cry (and because the rest of us were actually dressed we walked to school and got there before school started anyway), but I feel like the incident was perfect for my street cred and her learning a natural consequence.


Now, I have her glued to the window 20 minutes before pick-up. This morning was Donuts with Dad (well, in Claire's case with Bumpa). Nothing is getting between this girl and her donut! When she had to turn away from the window she delegated bus watching to her sister.



Now, if I could just find a way to communicate to Piper I just clean her up because I don't want her neck to smell like a gym bag, not because I'm a jerk.

Red Hot Cinnamon Dot

Red Hot Cinnamon Dot is my nice title for a blog post titled in my mind "Fricking Livid" (but since my 4 year old said 'fricking' yesterday I'm trying to use nicer words until I'm sure one of them pisses me off). Plus, I'm not even livid anymore since I told my husband I was mad, and he apologized. It was all very civilized and adult of us.

Last weekend Piper had her 6 month photos taken. The big girls came along to get one quick Christmas card picture. Seeing as Macy was in some mood where she wanted to shut one eye to be funny, I wasn't very optimistic about the outcome. Plus, in telling a friend about the photographer I learned after the fact that her rates went up like 33%! I had taken the girls solo to the photographer since Bob was dirt biking. That wasn't a big deal since it was morning.

I was overjoyed when I got the pictures, because I loved them. I was pleasantly surprised that there was one picture where ALL THREE of my girls looked good, at the camera. I was trying to share my joy with my husband, but he didn't think they were real enough. (Next year, a picture of Claire picking her nose, Macy eating toast, and me washing dishes while holding a baby?). Then, he said that he wished there was at least one picture where Piper wasn't wearing "that flower thing" in her hair.

"That flower thing" ?!? The night before the pictures while Bob was running around in preparation for his dirt bike trip (to which he forgot to bring a change of warm clothes, some preparation). I engaged him in a conversation about "flower things." Did they distract from the baby? Would it be a good match for the picture of Macy on the wall where she has the crochet hat and a flower? I am not really a flower person; I really wasn't pushing one way or the other. I ended up going to the mall. I hate the mall. Since little girls tend to wear pink, finding a black and gold "flower thing" wasn't an easy feat. I had to go to multiple stores. It was a terrible way to spend kid-free time. I was in at least two kids store that sold bra-lettes to CHILDREN. It was depressing.

I was less than pleased when Bob commented disapprovingly of the "flower thing" because if he didn't like them, this should have been said before the shopping trip.

But, Bob apologized. He said all the right things. He said he needs to listen better, and I didn't say, "Damn right you do!" because I also need to work on being less bitchy. Plus, in the grand scheme, thank God my life is so good I'm worried about my husband's reaction to a flower. Some high school and college acquaintances recently have had three pound babies and have to go visit them at the hospital. A woman who lived down the hall in my dorm freshman year has cancer. I'm part of a 24/7 prayer vigil for her today (my kids have to be good from noon-one today!!) I truly have nothing to complain about.

Seriously, Piper is so stinking cute with or without a flower.

Tale as old as time

Last night the girls started dancing in the middle of our game of catch. Claire says to Macy, "I'm Beauty, and you're the Beast."

This is where I thought the quality family time would quickly disintegrate into an endless volley of "No, I 'm the Beauty!" that would make me want to whip out my inner beast.

But, Macy paused, and said, "Ok, but I am a NICE beast!"

Didn't see that coming.

We ain't raising a bunch of Nancies

We keep journals for each of the girls to tell them of their antics and all the things we love about them and don't want to forget. Bob was basically complaining in Piper's that I make him hold her all the time, but that this loving approach served her sister's well, so he's fine with that. It is true, we love to cuddle them babies.

However, I pride myself on not being a whiner. If my kids turned out to be wusses, it would be sheer hell. I mean I would love them and all, but I wouldn't be happy about it. My running partner commented that her other running partner is kind of a complainer. That is like my favorite compliment. I might be slow and offer little in the way of conversation on pop culture due to my lack of TV, have limited knowledge on running gadgets, but at least I don't complain!

So, this is my bad momma confession, I am thrilled that signs are pointing to my kids being tough cookies. I don't squelch emotions and fear, but I say a little internal "sweet!" when they are brave - like when they take on the HUGE slide at Fritse park or jump in cold water (my big wussiness, brrrr).

Claire wanted her ears pierced. That meant Macy wanted hers pierced, too. I took them at separate times (more of a nap timing issue to take some baby stuff to Once Upon a Child). Claire watched two kids get their ears pierced first. When the infant cried Claire told me that she wasn't going to cry because she wasn't a baby. I told her it was ok to cry, and that it would hurt. But, true to her word, she did not even wince. She told her sister, "it's didn't even hurt!"

Back to the mall Claire and I went with Macy. Macy climbed up in the chair herself. Claire had sat in my lap, but Macy had it in her mind that she was going to sit on her own chair. So, up she climbed. She looked so little up there until she started talking. She was chatting with the woman like an adult. She even told her, unsolicited, that she wanted to start with the opposite ear. And the next day the earring came out, I basically re-pierced her ear with an earring from my jewelry box, and she cried then, too. She is still the town crier, so it's not like she doesn't cry, but she is also very brave when she puts her mind to it. I'm digging the tough girls.

Cool under pressure

I have found the solution to my misty-eyed bus drop-offs and school pick-ups: parental incompetence! I still get a little choked up if all is well; I'm not a robot. However, if I show up to school 2 minutes late (seriously, two minutes and it was Claire and one other girl) or with a crying 2 year old, I am not overly emotional. I'm downright cool as a cuke.

This morning was Claire's picture day. I had hoped on the braid, but it's really hard. (That and I am not good at hair). We already got up 1/2 hour before the bus, and I had to abandon the braid after several attempts. At one point I asked Claire to stop moving. She said she wasn't moving just pretending to have a maraca, if that's an indication of the level of cooperation I was dealing with.

Claire didn't like that our preselected 3/4 length jacket- left her hands cold. I couldn't trust that Claire would take it off for pictures so I didn't want something too ugly that also matched her patterned dress. Then, she wanted to eat fruit leather at about 3 minutes before bus. Seeing as she ate an ENTIRE box of mac-n-cheese yesterday, I thought she probably could use it.

Regardless, guess who didn't have a tear in her eye as the bus pulled away, ME!

River of tears, still flowing

This morning waiting for the bus for Claire's second day of school I still cried, but I think it was less than yesterday, YES! By the end of the week I just might be able to put Claire on the bus without crying.

Claire and Macy were fighting and refusing to eat their Cream of Wheat. I was so ready to put her on that bus. I didn't expect the tears. I am often in denial about my sappiness, though. I have said, "I don't think I am going to cry at this wedding" and been wrong more than once...

Power Horse

Claire recently abandoned her nap. I am actually ok with it because she goes to bed easily at bed time. The quiet time while I get Macy to sleep recharges her enough to be bearable to be in the room with her (unlike a few months ago.) Once in awhile she even falls asleep.

Friends have said that maybe with school she will go back to napping. I was skeptical about this. True, school is new & exciting, but it's hardly as adventurous as her summertime activites - swimming, boating, playing outside, repeat. She has biked 2 miles after swim lessons on occassion, seems arduous compared to the alphabet and watercolors. But, I am often wrong. I got to school today searching for signs of fatigue. Instead of tired eyes, she walked out the back door of the school and pulled her 30 pound sister the entire 1/3 mile walk home in the wagon. She walked my pace even.

The change I didn't anticipate was the food consumption. They have breakfast upon arrival at school, but Claire ate some oatmeal before she left, too. She got to school and ate an apple, white milk & a cereal bar. She came home, ate more carrots and dill dip than me and three helpings of penne and cheese.

The girl ate like a horse today.

Cry Baby

Screening for 4K last Spring. Cried.

Meet the teacher last week. Cried.

Bus pick-up this morning. Cried.

Picking her up from school. Cried.

My friend Tina is not wrong. I am "a bit of a sap". She blames our baby hormones (since her baby is 3 months older than Piper, I have a few months left with this rationale). More likely, we're both a bunch of saps...