Needle and Thread

I fixed the dogs toy today, needle and thread required. It must have looked super fun, because I hear a soft wizzing noise, look up and see that Maggie has the end of the thread around the coffee table and the spool is nowhere to be seen. I follow the thread and it leads into the kitchen, around the kitchen table, and back into the family room and around the coffee table, a trail about 35 feet long, maybe longer.

What you doing?

I recently read in a friend's blog that her son has reached the "why?" stage. And I was thinking about what a nice change of pace "Why?" would be from "What you doing?"

If I'm doing anything that looks remotely interesting, and by interesting I mean anything that I don't want my kid involved with, I get a preschooler crawling into my lap or up my leg asking, "What you doing?" or "What's that?" If you ignore the question, or say "Nothing." you get the question repeated, over, and over, and over, and over until you come up with a better answer. Joy.

Beautiful

We are in full holiday cheer mode around here. This year is totally different than last year- this year we "get" Christmas. We understand who Santa is and we believe it, we know what snowmen and carols and evergreen trees mean, and we get ridiculously excited to see our neighbors outdoor twinkle lights and yell, "Look Mom, Christmas!" every time we notice a new display.

My favorite moment so far has got to be the pink aluminum tree. We got Maggie her own little mini-tree from the craft store. I let her pick it out, so of course it's pink. It's very Charlie-Brown-esque, a spindly little thing. When we first got it we added our ornaments, all pink or purple and revolving around the theme of Princess Ballerina (like I said, we let her pick it out). I realized the next day that the tree needs some lights, how could we forget the lights? I went out and bought a way-too-long string of multicolored lights and asked Maggie to help me string up the tree. I turned out the bedroom lights and waited for a reaction, and here's what I got... "Ohhhh, Mom, it's beautiful!" in a quiet, breathy, awed sort of way.

Not pretty, not shiny, not cute, it's BEAUTIFUL. Big word for a big girl, I didn't even know she knew that word. I love Christmas.

From Her Throne

We're down in the basement playing. Well, Maggie is playing, I'm reading a magazine and making kissy faces at Catie. I'm not really paying much attention to what Maggie is doing, but she seems pleasantly occupied. All of a sudden she is demanding "Clean my butt! Clean my butt!" I finally turn my head...

She has taken her pink plastic potty seat out of the bathroom and is sitting on it, right in front of her My Little Pony play-house, right in the middle of the play room. Inside the play-house, the pony is also on the john. I can't tell if she is being the voice of the pony and just talking to herself, or if she actually does need her butt cleaned. Turned out to be the latter. I can't think of another time in life when it may be perfectly acceptable (albeit still disgusting) to take a crap in the living room, can you?

You know how you husband has magazines in the bathroom to keep himself occupied while on the toilet (can't be just my husband, right?)? I guess this is Maggie's version of that. When you can't take the toy to the toilet I guess you take the toilet to the toy.

She Eats!

Solid food! Well, almost solid food. It's more like semi-solid, or mostly-liquid food, but you get the idea....

Toy Story 4 - Surviving Maggie's Living Room

I have my very own real-live Toy Story movie going on in my house right now. Maggie is playing with her toys in the kitchen - all her girls, babies, blankies, and Toy Story guys are present. She piled them all on to her blanket to go for a ride "on the bus", and pulled them around the kitchen. Apparently they are trying to get away from a Mean Guy.

"All right, hold on!" And off they go for a (slow) lap around the kitchen table. "Watch out, here is a bumpety-bump," Maggie warns as they reach a lump in the carpet. "To infinity, and beyond!" Buzz Lightyear courageously responds. Seriously, her Buzz Lightyear actually said that, it has a button. I laughed.

Get That Girl a Helmet

Maggie has quite an elaborate game of pretend going on lately. It would be cute, if it didn't involve bringing every single one of her beloved dolls, toys, books, and blankets out of her room and shoving them all under the kitchen table, because, of course, all that crap doesn't actually fit under the kitchen table.

The game has something to do with a bad guy chasing her Barbies, and for some reason the dog has to be involved with saving or protecting them. I don't think I have to tell you, although I will, that the dog hates this game. And I hate it too, but not because of the mine field of toys or the high-strung dog. I hate this game because I have to consult the Internet for "how to know if your kid has a concussion" every time she plays it.

At least twice, every stinkin' single time she crawls under the table to play this game, she cracks her head. On the chairs, on the table leg, on the bottom of the table... she cracks her head and she comes crawling out of there crying her eyes out, "Maaahhhhmmm, I bonked my head!!! Baahhhh!!!" The girl does not have a very thick skin (although apparently she has a very think head). When I suggested she play this game under the dining room table where she would have more room she says, "Mom, I CAN'T! Remember, I bonked my head on that table?!" That she did, four months ago. Must have been pretty traumatic, but how would I ever know when every five minutes the kid bonks her head on something and freaks out.

The tables aren't the only hazard in our house. The wall, the floor, the back of the sofa, the bathroom sink, the coffee table, Cate's swing, the banister, the refrigerator, the pantry door, the kitchen cabinets, her bookshelf, her bed frame, my bed frame, the dog! Argh! I swear to god, does anyone know someone that could fill my entire house with packing peanuts?

Cate's New Deets

Four month doctor appointment today... three vaccines equals one miserable baby.

weight: 13 pounds 11 ounces
height: 24.5 inches
head: 43 centimeters

50% on weight and height, 90-95% on head.
Roughly the same size that Maggie was at 6 months... but half an inch shorter, and 9 ounces heavier. So strange to have two totally different babies.

You're Not the Boss of Me!

I don't consider myself a particularly over-cautious, over-controlling parent. I don't really want my kid to crack her head open any time soon, but it's not like I wrap her in bubble wrap or anything. And although we're working on the concept of "chores" it's not like I'm telling Maggie to do her own laundry or go walk the dog. But since kids are like little mirrors, your mannerisms and behavior are mimicked in them, I have to take complete responsibility for spawning a bossy kid.

It's cute, for now, when she looks over her shoulder while going down the stairs and warns me, "Mom, hold on to the railing, so you don't fall down!" and then waits, watching me, until I follow her instructions. It's funny, at the moment, when she yells from the bathroom, "Mom, I need HELP! Wipe my butt!!!" And it's almost (but not really) helpful when she decides to assert her authority over the dogs and demands they go outside, or eat their food, or come inside, or play with their toys, or move, move, MOVE!

I suppose I should not be surprised that our first-born (the child of two first-borns) should display these bossy tendencies. Actually, surprise isn't really the emotion I feel... is it wrong that I feel a little proud?

Who's House? The Mouse's House!

It's official, we're off to the Mouse's house. Our first trip to Disney World is planned and booked. We got an awesome rate at an on-property resort, a great deal on airfare, and the dining plan free. It's probably the cheapest Disney trip you can possibly take.

You might assume that it's pointless to take a trip like this with two kids that won't remember it in years to come, but Jason and I will, right? I get to remember the awe on my girl's face the first time she sees Cinderella's castle. And I get to remember seeing her dressed in her Cinderella costume as she eats lunch with the REAL Cinderella. It will be real for her, all those princesses and fairies and mice, so it will be real for me, and I love that. I get a little tear in my eye just thinking of it.

Trust me, Maggie will have the time of her life, as would any girl that watches Sleeping Beauty six times in three days (we're on day three right now).

Anyone have any good Disney tips?

Dear Dance Class Mamas...

Can we please stop pretending that we never let our children watch television? Can we PLEASE stop pretending that our kids never, ever, eat french fries or *gasp* fast food. And I would really appreciate it if you would get real and stop putting on make-up and high heeled boots just to come to a half-hour kiddie dance class, we all know you have half a sucked sucker, a few cheerios, and used tissue in your purse...we have it too! And stop using cutesy little expressions in place of appropriate adult language, "Oh pudding puff!" is ridiculous.

Seriously, do you want to know why new mama's have trouble "feeling like a woman" or "remembering the me without kids"? It's because we keep trying to keep up with someone else's idea of what motherhood is supposed to look like. You seem to have two choices these day. Mama #1: Sweatpants, dark circles, ponytail, stained T-shirt, McDonald's happy meal, Dora the Explorer backpack, etc. - OR - Mama #2: Designer jeans, heeled shoes, make-up, blow-dried hair, organic carrots, organic cotton, Hybrid SUV, etc. Pick, pick, pick! Which one are you? Ugh. NEITHER!

Can't I be a good Mom and still give my kid a Happy Meal from time to time? And I'm sorry, but Mama #2 just makes me tired. Can't I be a little of both? A bit of this, a pinch of that, shake it up and you get Maggie and Catie's perfect Mama? Can't we all just stop pretending? I know I have. End of rant, I'm off to feed my kids fried foods while swearing at them, watching TV, and drinking a BIG ol' glass of wine. That was a joke... or was it... eh hem.

Musical Misunderstandings

Driving home today "Like a G6" came on the radio. I commented that it was the song playing when our friend's wedding party (of which Jason was a part) was introduced at the reception we recently attended. Jason said, "Huh?" Typical. Then I asked, "What's a G6? A plane, right?" And he said, "Huh? Aren't they saying 'cheese sticks'?" Yes... they are signing about being "fly like some cheese sticks"... that makes perfect sense.

After that one he can no longer tease me about mistaking the lyrics of Dave Matthews Band's, What Would You Say... "Every dog has it's day and every day has it's way of being called dachshund..." What, makes sense to me.

Great Cate

Finally! Someone figured out how to smile at the camera!

Princess, Mario, Tinkerbell, oh my!

As promised, Halloween cuteness....

I'm Too Old For This

Halloween cuteness coming soon, I promise, but first...

This past weekend we were privileged enough to be asked to attend and participate in our friend Scott Chandler's wedding in the A-squared (Ann Arbor, MI). The wedding was beautiful, the weekend was booze-er-ific, and we were able to catch up with all our "fabulous" friends, you know, the ones without kids, the ones that make us feel like we're not quite so middle-aged (love you guys!).

The wedding was Saturday night, Halloween weekend, in a Big 10 town. Having hit the bar with friends earlier in the weekend, we had already born witness to many slutty witches, bumble bees, Disney princesses, and Jersey Shore characters, so we knew what to expect when we left the wedding for the after-party at Bar Louie.

Dressed in our finest we walked down the block, a group of about 10 of us, feeling pretty good. Three college students walked past us and the Disco-costumed boy among them said to Jason, "You're not even in costume, OLD MAN!" HA, HA, HA! Old man! I laughed my ass off. It is confirmed - we were the creepy old people on the college campus. The ones you used to notice when you were in college and wonder why those OLD people were taking up space in your bar.

A little later in the evening, after another cocktail, I was standing at the bar trying to get a phone number for a taxi and a student next to me was waiting as well. We were chatting a little bit and right before he turned to leave he said, "You look beautiful, by the way." Instead of feeling flattered, you know how I felt? Like I was Great Aunt Flo, and that nice young man was paying me the kind of compliment you pay an old lady because you know she tried to look beautiful, even though she's old.

I guess we're not as hot as we think - but you know what? I don't think I care anymore. I'll gladly trade my hotness for my two little sweeties (because that's basically what I did). We still had a blast, even though we are OLD!