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.

The apple, err banana, doesn't fall far from the tree

It's scary. I might be becoming my mother. I had some space to fill in the dehydrator, so I made some dried bananas like we used to eat (and complain about) as kids...

The Help

I have heard mothers complain about onlookers that make comments like, "you've got your hands full." I never really understood why that bothered them. People would say it to me, and I heartily agreed. Yep, lady, lots going on here.





But lately I kind of see how it's annoying. Maybe it insinuates that you aren't juggling it all, but you have an excuse because you have three kids three and under. The part I start to hear is, you are not handling this well.





I've been home alone with the girls since Friday. It has been going better than even I expected. (and really, I think how I handle things is to keep expectations low, really low - like if one kid has a meltdown that's better than two kids having a meltdown, right?). My mom seems to be under the incorrect assumption that I need company (I am loving watching hulu and staying up late) and her assistance. Oh, I don't get me wrong, I do need her assistance. She took Claire & Macy on Saturday night, awesome, and she is coming over tomorrow. But I explicitly told her I did not need her to come today. She comes anyway. During. Naptime. Spoils Claire's nap by "checking on her." I know she is trying to be helpful. I know this makes me look ungrateful. Can she not give me the satisfaction of doing it alone one day? On Sunday she really fought to let me buy my dad lunch - on Father's Day!

That's the counter-intuitive thing, sometimes it's hard to receive help because kids are better alone with me. Help sometimes gets them too excited. Help sometimes lets them stay up longer and throws off the routine. Help is often convinced a hyper kid isn't a tired kid by a really tired kid.

But, my mom had a good point. You get what you pay for. And, the kids do love their ga-ma and bumpa. And, my parents do make the most delicious homemade ice cream...

See, Mom, people like me!

My mom does this thing where she acts all conspiratorial with Bob as if they both know how hard it is to put up with me. Like I am some hard-to-please diva that they walk on egg shells to please, but they do it because they love me. Mom will say some ridiculous thing like she had me for 20 years and now I am Bob's problem. I'm not sure this passing of the baton analogy is very accurate. It's not like my parents were taking care of me when we started dating. I hadn't even been in the same state as them for a decade. And, I'm rather independent.

But, has it escaped anybody's notice I'm rather tolerant of my husband's junk collecting? I had proposed a moratorium on buying any vehicles while he was home for three weeks on paternity leave. He rejected that idea ("Nicole, all the deals go on here while people are working"). He bought at a rate of more than once a week. He even bought a boat back we had previously owned. Too small for our family, parked in our tiny driveway, needing to be re-fininshed, nonetheless.

But, really, who cares? As long as he helps around the house and with the kids, he can have his hobbies.

So last week a co-worker of Bob's is over. I offer and bring him a beer. He says his wife never has brought him a drink in all their years of marriage. (I probably do that once a night!) Later, he says, "Bob, we should go on that show where they both trade wives, but we both get her!" I should have got him on the phone to share that accolade with my mother, but that'd be pretty weird, right?

Later in the week, this guy brings his wife over while I am gone. He wants to show her some of Bob's treasures. Bob says she is disinterested at best. I'm like, of course she is. Most women don't put up with your nonsense. They don't like the guys that give their husbands dumb ideas or encourage them to buy stuff. And they really don't like wives like me who let that crap fly.

See, mom, I am a catch!

I should have had babies a decade ago...

My mom seems to have all these expectations of me doing things with the girls. Maybe she just thinks I am fairly active at getting them out of the house (basically trying to tire them out or have other people entertain them) and is trying to be supportive, but I feel like she has some super mom expectations at times.

Earlier this week she called while the girls were napping to tell Claire it was perfect snowman making weather. All sorts of excuses came to my mind... I am 38 1/2 weeks pregnant, it's so annoying putting on snowpants, mittens, hats, boots, and coats on kids (and on a 38 1/2 week pregnant woman!), it's a weekday, etc.

BUT, I did it. I bundled up Claire, and we made a snowman. The snow was heavy, but the ball making was pretty easy. I had to get the neighbor over to help me lift the midsection up. The first thing he said to me was, "You're as big as a house." Wow, and he has a doctorate in psychology...

I decided either time has dulled my mom's memory OR having kids in your early 20's, like my mom did, is a heck of a lot easier than in your earlier 30s.