Friday, April 20, 2012

Short Stories

Because who has time to sit down and write a blog entry anymore?  That's what Facebook is for. 


Millie is currently obsessed with stories.  OB.SESSED.  I can't sit down anywhere for any reason without her noticing and hollering 'GAAAAHHHH!' (what I suspect is baby-talk for: YOU'RE SITTING DOWN!  LET ME GO GET A BOOK!and bringing me over a farm animal book to read.


-Millie's Rules-
Rule #1:  Mommy doesn't get to sit down. EVER.

Rule #2:  If Mommy does sit down, she's probably eating.  Which means... YAY!  More food for me.  Unless she's on the potty.  And if she's on the potty, that's a perfect time for her to read me a book. SCORE.

Rule #3: Milk should always be served warm.  Unless I don't want it warm.  Then it should be served cold.  But always start with warm.  Because if you start with cold, I'll kill you with a look.

Rule #4: Tubby's are for losers.

Rule #5: The only good pj's are no pj's.

Rule #6: If there are stairs, I will climb them.  No matter what Mommy and Daddy say.

Rule #7: BANANA!

Rule #8: Doctors are evil.

Rule #9: It's something o'clock.  It's book reading time somewhere.

Rule #10: There will be crying and fussing when I get in my carseat.  No matter what. 


Millie has had a cough for about 3 weeks now.  How bad of a parent does it make me that I'm just letting her cough because of the trauma she goes through whenever we set foot in a doctor's office?


Hazel loves the dentist.  WHAT?  I used to have to be strapped down.  Hell... my heart rate still shoots through the room whenever I sit on one of those chairs.  She's sick in da mind, I tell you.


We have started threatening Hazel with removing a dolly from her bed if she comes out of her room at night.  It's surprisingly effective.  And I only feel about 60% guilty for using this as a parenting tool.


She's 14 months old and it's still a 2-man job to change Millie's diaper or clothes.  To say I'm over it is putting it gently.


I don't know why but these last two weeks, the girls have just gotten REALLY heavy.  Like... REALLY. HEAVY.


The toddler bed has been a big hit with Hazel.  She feels like a big girl.  I just feel old.  How did it happen so fast?


I wore a skirt to work today fully aware that I haven't shaved my legs in a couple of weeks.  But too tired and beat down to care. MOTHERHOOD.


Unbelievable as it may sound, I have become numb to crying kids.  That place in my soul that used to tear every time one of the littles cried and left me a quivering mess of nerves has finally scarred over completely. 


Hazel was upset yesterday because I got mad at her for pushing Millie down during a temper tantrum for the AGES.  After she had calmed down and apologized to Millie, she sat in her chair at dinner and her lower lip started to tremble.  I asked what was wrong and she said:  "I sad."  Why?  "Cuz I pushed Minnie."

That sound you heard was my heart breaking in half.  Such a sweetie.  Such a snotty little sweetie.


I'm really worried that Millie's going to forever be known in our house as Minnie.  Hazel needs to figure out her L's soon... because it's rubbing off on Mommy. 


I am playing volleyball again.  Sans ankle braces.  Cuz I like to gamble with my marriage.  Benny has already informed me that if I jack them up again because I don't have the braces on, HE'S OUT.


Dear girls -
So many other things I need to write about (Hazel sleeping in a big girl bed, Millie's first birthday, my ingrown nail on my birdie finger...) but I have to write about this while it's still fresh on my mind as it's a memory I never want to forget.

Last night, it was Girls Night In.  Daddy had a meeting that ran until really late, so it was just us.  I never know how the two of you are going to be when it's 2-on-1.  Usually, I end up frustrated and just grateful that you both finally went to bed as I couldn't handle another second of the butt kicking.

But last night.  WOW.  I've seen the two of you happy before... but never to the extent you were last night.  You both sat patiently (um, what?) waiting while I cooked dinner (chicken nuggets as per Hazel's request), grapes and homemade potato chips (your Mommy watches too much Food Channel).  There was a lot of laughter, a lot of blaming Millie for being stinky when we all know it was Hazel who was being stinky (more on that later) and then some more laughter.  During that, Millie also managed to shove a whole potato chip in my mouth as though she were feeding quarters to a slot in Vegas.  And then some more laughing.

Then it was Tubby Time. Hazel was excited... Hazel has always loved baths.  Millie... was. not. excited. However, while I bathed Hazel, Millie kept playing with the water and throwing bath toys into the tub.  And a couple of times I caught her trying to crawl in, so I picked her up and put her in.  Waterworks. So, back out of the tub we came.  And then we continued to play with the water and bath toys.  Another attempt to get in.  Another round of waterworks when I placed her in.  After three rounds of this, I decided it was time for Millie to get over whatever issue she has with baths as it was becoming way too big of a hassle for Mommy to deal with.  So, I just left her in the tub... standing up... crying... screaming... and "Oh wait!  Is that a cup of water?"  

All. Better.

Months.  MONTHS THAT THIS TUBBY TIME ANXIETY HAS GONE ON, MILLIE. And all it took was a cup of water for you to play with?  You spent the next 30 minutes in the tub with your sister (an all-time record) laughing, splashing and screaming with joy.  In fact, the three of us screamed at the top of our lungs and laughed... then took in another big gulp of air and repeated it... over and over and over again. And then Hazel farted in the tub... something that yes, I get the novelty of it the first time you do it.  But the absolute intrigue that Hazel expressed at the sound and the bubbles come from her very own bummy?  It takes a stronger woman than me to not laugh hysterically at it.  And teach my daughter everything I've tried to keep her from learning from her Daddy.  Yep.

I've never seen the two of you enjoy each other and... life... as much as you did last night.  I regretted having to pull you both out of the tub, but the water was getting pretty cold and I didn't want to push my luck.  And here I am, almost 24 hours later, still mad that I didn't have my camera with me to film the nonsense so I could share with your Daddy. 

For now, words will have to do.  But new rule:  I WILL ALWAYS HAVE A CAMERA READY DURING TUBBY TIME. 

At least until it gets weird.


Tuesday, April 17, 2012

I Not Okay

This morning, things were hectic and the girls wanted to be in the precise location of... under my feet.  We have 2500 square feet of house, and they want to be in my little tiny bathroom while I'm getting ready in the morning.  BLAST IT. I love my girls, I do... and these times are fleeting.  I get that.  But I just want 3 seconds to put on my mascara.  And I can't do that while I'm busy trying to read Hickory, Dickory, Dock to The Bean who is currently nursing a book obsession.

Nor can I do it while Hazel picks my makeup off the counter and says:  "What's this?" or "I put on, toooooo!"

Three seconds, God.  That's all I ask for.  Three. Freakin'. Seconds.

After 15 minutes of getting absolutely nothing accomplished and trying not to knock someone over into the garbage can or step on someone accidentally, I'd had enough.  But, see... I'm growing and learning.  I didn't blow a gasket.  Hell... I didn't even raise my voice.  But I did firmly say:  "Okay.  MOVE.", and then ushered them both out of the bathroom... hoping they'd get distracted and go play with Daddy.  Daddy, btw... is the guy lounging on the bed... ENJOYING PARENTHOOD.  

The distraction didn't happen as I expected it to.  Because Millie immediately started wailing (as she is prone to do when she is in the middle of trying to lick the rim of the toilet) and Hazel stuck out her lower lip and tears started to well up like I'd just kicked her puppy.  It doesn't matter that that puppy is stuffed.  IT'S STILL HER PUPPY AND IT HAS FEELINGS.

So... I felt bad about it.  I did.  So, I gave her a kiss and said:  "I sorry."  Because that's how I talk now.  I've given up on correctly using pronouns as a rule until both kids are out of diapers.  And then I ran back to the bathroom to pull Millie's hand out of the toilet and then wash it and... yep, realized once I got to work today that I still hadn't managed to put mascara on.  Awesome.

You know... I once thought that a kiss from Mommy would make everything better.  Plus, I said "I sorry"... so, there you go.  Mommy admitted she was wrong.  UNPRECEDENTED.  And, yes... Hazel started playing as usual.  And then, 45 minutes later when Daddy was gone and I was changing her shoes (because try as I might to be down with the crazy outfits she chooses every day as a form of self-expression - and also cuz she's 2! - I simply cannot let her walk out of the house with black stretch pants and brown dress shoes)(what's next?  a fanny pack?) we had this conversation:

"Let's put on your tennis shoes since it's raining outside, okay?"
"I not okay."
"You're not okay? What's wrong?" 
"I sad."
"What made you sad?"
"I sad cuz of the bathroom."

I sat their dumbfounded with her on my lap and her shoes in my hand.  Do I celebrate the fact that my kid is maturing to where she can express her feelings?  Do I freak out because I'm pretty sure she's more mature than I am and I need to step up my game... YET AGAIN?  Or do I just feel like an incredible jerk for making my two year old sad?

I settled for a combination of the three and told her I was sorry again and gave her a big kiss to erase any remaining sadness.

And all along, all I could think was: DAMN.  She's done gone and got herself a memory now.