Snarky

We've been going through a bit of a... phase... with The Bird.  Wherein she constantly argues with us, while also being a total rat-fink tattletale on her sister for good measure.  I'm really over the tattletale phase and I know I'm in for a long road with it.

But on top of the tattling, is the lying about something her sissy has done so that she can tattle on her.  For instance, when the two little monkey's were jumping on the bed the other night, Mommy happened to be in the room earning her badge for Parenting Toddlers 101 watching.  And I watched Hazel bounce so hard that she flew off the bed and land approximately on her FACE, to which she started screaming in pain because you know... DAMN, GINA... and then started screaming: "MILLIE PUSHED ME!  MILLIE PUSHED ME!"

"Yea.... no.  I was right here, kid.  You did that on your own.  Millie's sitting in the corner of the bed flexing her guns, but she certainly didn't use them on you. You did that little move on your own.  That's all you.  Suck it up, buttercup or no more jumping on the bed." 

And then I promptly outlawed jumping on the bed.  When asked why, I told them that I told that doctor and the doctor said so.  And when asked why to that, I told them because that's the way the song goes.  And I don't make the rules.  Geez... wonder who Hazel gets her lying from?

Anyhoo, after a particularly awful night in parenting which included me telling both girls that neither one of them was allowed to say the word "share" - because I just couldn't handle listening to the fight of:  "Hazo, no share!" "Yeah, I DID SHARE, Mommy!  Millie's sayin' I didn't share!" "Hazo, no share!"  "YES!  I DID SHARE!  SHE'S SAYIN' I NOT SHARING, MOMMY!!!" - and also included Benny taking away all of Hazel's princess dresses (yes, those are now in my home.  awesome.) and letting her think he threw them all way... mostly because at that point, we had both regressed to wild animals and had to assert our dominance, we had the following conversation:

Benny:  "Hey, babe.  Do you think Hazel's attitude lately might be attributed to our snarkiness with each other?"

Me: "What snarkiness?"

Benny: "Just... our general snarkiness that you and I as adults know is sarcasm, but maybe to a 3-year-old it's the way you talk to people."

Me:  "No.  I don't think it's because we're snarky.  I think she just likes to be difficult. She'll ask me a question, and then as soon as I give her an answer, she's all:  NO, IT'S NOT!  Swear to God, this morning as I was cracking eggs in the bowl, she asked me what I was doing and I said:  Cracking eggs.  And then she said:  NO, YOU'RE NOT CRACKING EGGS!"  

Benny: "Well, in her defense, I never believe a thing you say either."

*Silence*

Me:  "Is this the snarkiness you were referring to?"

Benny:  "This is the snarkiness I was referring to."

Hugs

Dear Girls,
Have I ever told you that you give the best hugs?  Both of you.  Well, to be honest... these days not so much Hazel because she would prefer to cuddle up as small as she can (which is no small feat given her genetics) in my lap and have me hug her.

But Millie... oh my, she lurves giving hugs.  Complete with the pat on the back as if to say, "Yes, yes I know... it will be alright.  My hug will fix it.  Kthanxbai!" before running off to lick the garbage can.

The best is when Millie is chasing Hazel throughout the house and Hazel is laughing uncontrollably - because if there's one thing that both of my girls love, it's to be chased - when suddenly I realize that Millie's yelling isn't  all fun and games... it's concern.  Concern bordering on outright tragedy.  Because she just wants to hug her sissy... and her sissy keeps running away from her like she's got a booger hanging out of her nose.  Which she does... but that's beside the point.

Every single parent on earth will agree that watching two little kids hug out of love or friendship is the single greatest part about parenting. Second place goes to forcing kiddos to hug when they're fighting... as punishment.  Not nearly as cute, but makes up for a lot of nonsense you endure as a parent.... with the added benefit of giving your kids something to talk about in therapy 20 years from now.

But, yes... unless you're made of stone, watching kids hug is natures way of patting a mom or dad on the back and saying:  "See? All those poopy diapers and sleepless nights?  TOTALLY WORTH IT, HUH?"  It's even better when the two munchkins doing the hugging are sisters.  Spontaneously.  No nudging from Mommy to do it.

Unless, of course, one of them is crying because she wants a hug and Mommy has to get the other one to stop before it can occur.  Which is what we call Tuesday in our house.  And, after the hug, the two of you are again on your way... laughter lighting up each room you race into.  Were it not 20 degrees outside right now, flowers would bloom and birds would stop what they were doing to listen to that beautiful sound... before singing a song in a desperate bid to match its loveliness.

As it is, I just sit here with my coffee.  Feeling happy.  Feeling blessed.  And hoping that the next hug... is mine.

Love,
Mama

The Bwankie

Dear Millie,
Last night, I made the mistake of taking you down to the laundry room with me and explaining to you that your blankie was going to take a tubby. You were completely fine with that idea.

Initially.

You exclaimed:  "TUBBY!!  YAY!", clapped your hands and even helped me put in a few random socks that were lying around in the clean clothes hamper. But, when the time came to put in your blankie for its annual washing (lest the ladies at day care decide to wash it for me)(again)(because it's walking by itself and demanding its share of cheerios along with the rest of the class), well, let's just say that were it December 21st, I would have tweeted something about the Mayans being right and everybody! Run for your lives!!!

And it is because of the 45 minutes of sobbing that followed as the dirt and germs and Jimmy Hoffa was being drowned out of your blankie that I swore to myself that next time... next time there will be no "helping Mommy" with the laundry when it comes to your blankie.

No ma'am.  I'll take care of that by myself.

When you're not looking.

Like I often do when I want to eat something without sharing.  Say, that piece of toast that I finally managed to make for myself this morning.  After having given you and your older sister two pieces each, AND yogurt, AND strawberries, AND milk.  And all I want... all I NEED is just one pathetic slice of toast.

By myself.

No sharing.

No explaining why I actually need to eat it for breakfast... my only nutrition of the morning... rather than giving it to you or your sissy to devour instead.

And because of this morning's toast fiasco, I swear that the next time I attempt to do the unthinkable and feed myself, I shall do it in the washing machine.

But, I digress.  Let's talk about your blankie.  OMG, your blankie goes everywhere with you.  You love your blankie.... which you refer to as your bankie, bwankie and wankie.  And FYI, I've been saving up jokes about THAT so that when you're old enough to get them and not repeat them at inappropriate times (looking at your sister here)(see, I can be taught) we can all look back at this time with your bwankie and laugh. Because we need to laugh about it... or we'll cry.  Because that blankie?  It's so many things. It's your cape.  It's your best friend.  It's your tag-a-long on your way to... anywhere.  It's your broom, sweeping up behind you as you walk through the house, through day care or the zoo.  It's your comforter when you've run into the corner of the table... again... or when you get upset that Mommy doesn't give you her piece of toast... or when sissy throws a pea at you and you get upset.  This thing can do what I sometimes can't do... STOP THE CRYING.  Immediately.

But the blankie can also cause some drama.  Specifically, at 4 a.m. when you wake up because you can't find your blankie and Mommy has to stumble into your room, find it for you and then mistakenly think she can go back to sleep.  But, see.... at 4 a.m., this blankie belongs on Mommy's shoulder so you can snuggle into it while Mommy rocks you back to sleep.  And yes, usually a couple of days later I look back on that 4 a.m. nonsense and remember that it's fleeting and there will come a time when I'll wish for one last snuggle with that blankie draped across my shoulder while you snuggle in the crook of my neck and rub the satin border between your thumb and finger as a source of comfort.  But in the middle of living that moment of preciousness?  It's exhausting dealing with that blankie.

I honestly don't know what we'll do if we ever lose this blankie.  I've tried to have Grandma make you another one, but she can't find the same print and let's just say that you are a teeny bit particular about this blankie.  No imposters will do.

And the worst part is... I know that I did this to you.  I made you dependent on this thing. Your older sister... she could care less about a specific blankie.... then again, I made her cry it out at 4 weeks old.  Yea.  Rock Star parenting right there.  Perhaps if she'd had a blankie like that, she wouldn't have been such a nightmare those first few weeks.  But, what do I know?

In your defense, I used to have a blankie that I carried around for a LOOONNNGGGG time.  Longer than I'm proud to admit, actually.  There was a corner of this blankie that always smelled like a cupcake or something.  Which is why I would hold it up to my nose while I sucked my thumb.  Both of which are valid reasons why I haven't pushed you on your blankie issue or your sisters thumb sucking issue.

Both of you will be fine.

Eventually.

And if not, hey... finding out that your Mama wrote about you in a blog for the first years of your life will totally help.

Love,
Mama