It was naptime. Kate requested to have her "nap" with me. I hadn't been planning on taking a nap, but the thought of snuggling up with my favorite 3-year-old was pretty persuasive. So, we bedded down on the daybed in the office. Kate's idea of napping consists of wiggling non-stop while recounting the events of her life to date. And then declaring that she has to use the potty. I've long-since learned it's unwise to call her bluff on that one. When we returned from the potty, I was feeling desperate to get her to settle down for just a short time. So I took the easy way out. "If you'll lie down and be completely still and quiet for 20 minutes, you can have a piece of pumpkin pie". The deal was made.
When we got up (admittedly, closer to 15 minutes later) she had forgotten about the pie because she wanted to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas (the real one, not the live action movie). This DVD is only allowed at Christmastime and today that officially commenced. Once the Grinch's heart grew 3 sizes, twice, she remembered there was supposed to be pie. When she asked if she could have a piece of pumpkin pie Jeremiah said "you may have some pie after you eat your lunch". Silence. Jeremiah stalked off to warm up Thanksgiving leftovers for both girls. Kate remained silent.
Eventually Kate, who had wandered into the kitchen, returned to the living room where I was sitting. She was frowning. "Daddy tricked my pumpkin pie!" she told me. Even after he'd been called out, daddy still made her eat lunch first. I'd like to cede any points I may have earned today to Jeremiah.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Wednesday Morning Adventures
The kids are out of school today. Which meant, for some incomprehensible reason, I decided to schedule Allison a check-up at 9:00 this morning. Well okay, the reason was not exactly incomprehensible, the reason is named Ms. Snyder and is one of the administrators at Allison's school. We have had 3 conversations in the last 3 months about Allison not being current on her immunizations. This past time she left me a very stern message that her school's medical records were being audited and there would be severe consequences if Allison's paperwork was not in order. I think the consequences were actually for her, not for Allie, but okay, whatever, I made the appointment.
And let me just say, you haven't lived until you have taken two toddlers and an additional stray child (I kinda forgot about the appointment and let Allie have a friend spend the night) to the doctor's office for your eleven-yr-old's physical.
My entourage and I arrived and I sent them all, but Clara, to the well waiting room while I signed us in. Allison was carrying a big stuffed dog, named "Teddy" with her because she knew 4 shots were eminent. Clara managed to throw a container of cups and a miniature Christmas tree on the floor while I was conversing cheerily with the receptionist. I quickly put everything back on the counter and hurried to the waiting room to join the other children.
We waited only moments, and when they called Allison's name I instructed everyone to follow me down the hall. Mataia (Allie's friend) shuffled her feet and said,
"I think I am going to wait here. I don't want Allison to feel embarrassed."
Oh. Riiight. It's a Phy-si-cal.
"Good thinking Mataia." Being the type of mother who never takes her children for physicals unless the school calls 3 times, I had forgotten about the fact that they would be making her remove her clothing. Which means I hadn't prepared her for that fact either.
So Ben, Clara, Allison, Teddy and I proceeded down the hall where they instructed her to pee in a cup, explaining first how to cleanse her vaginal area. A look of serious concern started forming in Allison's eyes as she listened, and I knew she hadn't processed a thing she said. I pulled her quietly aside and repeated the nurses' instructions. I then explained to her, as gently as possible, that she would be having a complete physical and would have to remove her clothes when we got to the room. Allie is a very private person and tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of this.
She blurted out, "Well does HE have to come?" Looking pointedly at 3-yr-old Ben hopping up and down the hall.
"Um, no, I guess not." I said. I thought for a moment and walked Ben down the hall to the waiting room. "Mataia, would you mind watching Ben during Allison's appointment? Allie doesn't want him in the room."
"Uhhh, Okay" Mataia answered hesitantly.
"But Mom. I wanna stay wif you." Ben started whining.
After several moments of convincing both Ben and the Mataia - who was clearly getting much more than she bargained for on this visit - that I would be right down the hall.
"And could they please just sit and watch Charlie Brown Christmas on the Television for goodness sake!" Clara and I escaped to find Allie, now in exam room 8.
I found Allie staring in mortification at a paper gown they had given her to put on over her undergarments. I exhaled deeply, and calmed her down - again.
And for the most part we made it through the rest of the appointment without incident. Clara was a squirming bundle of mischief deprived unhappiness the entire time and there were some embarrassing - for Allison - discussions on breast budding, periods, and hygiene. But even the shots were considerably better than Allison had feared.
As we were preparing to leave, the doctor stopped and asked conversationally to whining Clara "Ohh. Poor baby. What happened to your lip?"
"Huh?" was my articulate remark as I looked at Clara. Sure enough, she had a big fat busted lip. When did that happen? I didn't even notice.
"Um, She fell" I mumbled as I hurried down the hall to collect Ben and Mataia-the-really-good-sport, from the waiting room.
Then...I took the whole pack of them out to breakfast.
And let me just say, you haven't lived until you have taken two toddlers and an additional stray child (I kinda forgot about the appointment and let Allie have a friend spend the night) to the doctor's office for your eleven-yr-old's physical.
My entourage and I arrived and I sent them all, but Clara, to the well waiting room while I signed us in. Allison was carrying a big stuffed dog, named "Teddy" with her because she knew 4 shots were eminent. Clara managed to throw a container of cups and a miniature Christmas tree on the floor while I was conversing cheerily with the receptionist. I quickly put everything back on the counter and hurried to the waiting room to join the other children.
We waited only moments, and when they called Allison's name I instructed everyone to follow me down the hall. Mataia (Allie's friend) shuffled her feet and said,
"I think I am going to wait here. I don't want Allison to feel embarrassed."
Oh. Riiight. It's a Phy-si-cal.
"Good thinking Mataia." Being the type of mother who never takes her children for physicals unless the school calls 3 times, I had forgotten about the fact that they would be making her remove her clothing. Which means I hadn't prepared her for that fact either.
So Ben, Clara, Allison, Teddy and I proceeded down the hall where they instructed her to pee in a cup, explaining first how to cleanse her vaginal area. A look of serious concern started forming in Allison's eyes as she listened, and I knew she hadn't processed a thing she said. I pulled her quietly aside and repeated the nurses' instructions. I then explained to her, as gently as possible, that she would be having a complete physical and would have to remove her clothes when we got to the room. Allie is a very private person and tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of this.
She blurted out, "Well does HE have to come?" Looking pointedly at 3-yr-old Ben hopping up and down the hall.
"Um, no, I guess not." I said. I thought for a moment and walked Ben down the hall to the waiting room. "Mataia, would you mind watching Ben during Allison's appointment? Allie doesn't want him in the room."
"Uhhh, Okay" Mataia answered hesitantly.
"But Mom. I wanna stay wif you." Ben started whining.
After several moments of convincing both Ben and the Mataia - who was clearly getting much more than she bargained for on this visit - that I would be right down the hall.
"And could they please just sit and watch Charlie Brown Christmas on the Television for goodness sake!" Clara and I escaped to find Allie, now in exam room 8.
I found Allie staring in mortification at a paper gown they had given her to put on over her undergarments. I exhaled deeply, and calmed her down - again.
And for the most part we made it through the rest of the appointment without incident. Clara was a squirming bundle of mischief deprived unhappiness the entire time and there were some embarrassing - for Allison - discussions on breast budding, periods, and hygiene. But even the shots were considerably better than Allison had feared.
As we were preparing to leave, the doctor stopped and asked conversationally to whining Clara "Ohh. Poor baby. What happened to your lip?"
"Huh?" was my articulate remark as I looked at Clara. Sure enough, she had a big fat busted lip. When did that happen? I didn't even notice.
"Um, She fell" I mumbled as I hurried down the hall to collect Ben and Mataia-the-really-good-sport, from the waiting room.
Then...I took the whole pack of them out to breakfast.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Penis Week
Monday
Lars got slammed into a whiteboard and went down to the school nurse complaining that his head, elbow, and penis hurt. The nurse was able to find bumps on his head and elbow but she isn't allowed to look at "the other area" (apparently she's not allowed to say "penis" out loud, either?) and wanted to be sure I knew about the accident so we could check him out at home. She gave Lars ice for all three injuries and then sent him back to class. By the time he got home, the whole incident was far from his thoughts - so much so that he didn't even mention it until we were finishing dinner. "Oh," he cried, "I hurt myself when I got slammed into the whiteboard! Mama, look!" The command was issued with enthusiasm as he dropped his drawers and presented himself for a checkup, right there at the dining table, while I still had my fork in my hand. It was an interesting way to end the meal, that's for sure.
Tuesday
The boys improvised a brothers' duet while they got ready for bed. Ross sang loudly from the tub, with hiphop flair. "My butt is rubb-bber! Oh! My butt is rubb-bber!"
Lars stood in the bathroom doorway, gyrating purposefully while singing, "I wave my penis at you-OO! I wave my penis at you-OO!" with a particular lack of rhythm and tone which clearly indicate he is his father's son.
What does a mother - specifically a Worst one - do when she finds her children performing acts last seen in the '80s on West 43rd? She tells Ross that he'd better aim to land on the rubber butt if he's going to fall while dancing in the tub and Lars that he really should be all the way in the bathroom if he's going to wave his penis around.
Wednesday...Anyone want to hazard a guess about what's in store for the rest of the week?
Lars got slammed into a whiteboard and went down to the school nurse complaining that his head, elbow, and penis hurt. The nurse was able to find bumps on his head and elbow but she isn't allowed to look at "the other area" (apparently she's not allowed to say "penis" out loud, either?) and wanted to be sure I knew about the accident so we could check him out at home. She gave Lars ice for all three injuries and then sent him back to class. By the time he got home, the whole incident was far from his thoughts - so much so that he didn't even mention it until we were finishing dinner. "Oh," he cried, "I hurt myself when I got slammed into the whiteboard! Mama, look!" The command was issued with enthusiasm as he dropped his drawers and presented himself for a checkup, right there at the dining table, while I still had my fork in my hand. It was an interesting way to end the meal, that's for sure.
Tuesday
The boys improvised a brothers' duet while they got ready for bed. Ross sang loudly from the tub, with hiphop flair. "My butt is rubb-bber! Oh! My butt is rubb-bber!"
Lars stood in the bathroom doorway, gyrating purposefully while singing, "I wave my penis at you-OO! I wave my penis at you-OO!" with a particular lack of rhythm and tone which clearly indicate he is his father's son.
What does a mother - specifically a Worst one - do when she finds her children performing acts last seen in the '80s on West 43rd? She tells Ross that he'd better aim to land on the rubber butt if he's going to fall while dancing in the tub and Lars that he really should be all the way in the bathroom if he's going to wave his penis around.
Wednesday...Anyone want to hazard a guess about what's in store for the rest of the week?
The other side of things
While the rest of you are being paragons of nurturing maternal grace, I am doing the sixth load of wet blankets, sheets, pjs, and various stuffed animals from yet another night-time accident and while I'm doing it, I'm NOT contemplating how adorable my children are. (Yes, that's an elbow nudge to you, Epiphany! And BTW, my children push each other down the stairs all the time.)
On top of that, consider an upcoming trip to the in-laws for T-day and all the laundry that encompasses, AND a deadline for a 20-page workshop submission, AND a request for a completely revised manuscript (80 pages worth to be doubled) AND a sick child home from school, AND a sick child at school, and you have one ugly mama.
My children don't dare talk to me today.
On top of that, consider an upcoming trip to the in-laws for T-day and all the laundry that encompasses, AND a deadline for a 20-page workshop submission, AND a request for a completely revised manuscript (80 pages worth to be doubled) AND a sick child home from school, AND a sick child at school, and you have one ugly mama.
My children don't dare talk to me today.
Monday, November 19, 2007
It's very hard
...to be a Worst Mama when your kids are unbelievably cute in the morning. We're sitting here having breakfast together before Lauren gets on her school bus, and Lindsay peeked around her sippy cup to say, "I see you..." to Lauren.
On Friday, I made the mistake of trying to complete a quick supermarket/wine run before dinner at 5 PM. First of all, the local supermarket is dirty, unorganized, and has a small staff. They lock their carts, except for the child-geared ones. I'd walked over with Lindsay under one arm and Lauren holding my pinky finger so that I could put them in one to discover that each one had destroyed safety belts. So I have to somehow get a quarter out of my wallet in my purse while holding on to Lauren, whose trying to climb the cart, and Lindsay whose trying to wiggle down.
In the middle of everyone's before dinner run, and mind you, I live in a very Orthodox area where they're trying to get everything done before sun down, the staff is stocking every aisle with boxes closing the end caps. When you get to the bottom of the aisle, you must turn around and walk back up it. If not, there's a dolly in the middle of the aisle you'd have to move to pass, which would be one thing if you weren't trying to keep at least one child from getting run over by rushing customers and the other in the shopping cart.
There was one line open, and no baggers. I had asked Lauren to sit on the bench facing the check out, when the moment she sat down a creepy man sat next to her, chatting with my cashier. So I asked her to get up and stand by me, which she did after much cajoling since I'd just told her to sit.
We get into the car and drive across the street to the pharmacy, which is where you buy alcohol here. I snapped, "Don't ask me for anything because you're not getting anything," to Lauren on the way in. Waiting in line behind a dozen or so people, and was next in line when the manager told the cashier her line was too long.
We got home, I let the kids out of the car. "Go help your sister get inside," I instructed, struggling with 3 bags of groceries and wine. As I got into the house, they were moving like molasses. "Time out!" I declared, anxious to at least put away my groceries in peace.
When I checked on Lauren, she was sitting on the second stair "in time out". Lindsay, who wasn't, was seated next to her. Cute, I thought, and returned to putting away groceries. They were apparently sliding up the stairs, stair by stair. When they reached 3/4 of the way up, Lauren tried to block Lindsay from sitting, and she fell down the stairs. It was loud. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thud. Scared cry.
I yelled, "Go to your room," and realized I was reacting out of fear. Lindsay was fine, just a little bruised and quite surprised. Once she calmed down, I called Lauren a sobbing back.
"I'm sorry I yelled. I was scared. I know it was an accident." I said. "Your sister is fine, see?"
Lauren settled with her runny nose buried in my shoulder. I rubbed her back, and Lindsay patted her back. "I fell down the stairs once," she sobbed. "It really hurt my head."
"I know, and you were worried your sister was hurt."
"Mmm hmm."
"She is OK, but we shouldn't play on the stairs anymore."
"Ok, Mommy."
On Friday, I made the mistake of trying to complete a quick supermarket/wine run before dinner at 5 PM. First of all, the local supermarket is dirty, unorganized, and has a small staff. They lock their carts, except for the child-geared ones. I'd walked over with Lindsay under one arm and Lauren holding my pinky finger so that I could put them in one to discover that each one had destroyed safety belts. So I have to somehow get a quarter out of my wallet in my purse while holding on to Lauren, whose trying to climb the cart, and Lindsay whose trying to wiggle down.
In the middle of everyone's before dinner run, and mind you, I live in a very Orthodox area where they're trying to get everything done before sun down, the staff is stocking every aisle with boxes closing the end caps. When you get to the bottom of the aisle, you must turn around and walk back up it. If not, there's a dolly in the middle of the aisle you'd have to move to pass, which would be one thing if you weren't trying to keep at least one child from getting run over by rushing customers and the other in the shopping cart.
There was one line open, and no baggers. I had asked Lauren to sit on the bench facing the check out, when the moment she sat down a creepy man sat next to her, chatting with my cashier. So I asked her to get up and stand by me, which she did after much cajoling since I'd just told her to sit.
We get into the car and drive across the street to the pharmacy, which is where you buy alcohol here. I snapped, "Don't ask me for anything because you're not getting anything," to Lauren on the way in. Waiting in line behind a dozen or so people, and was next in line when the manager told the cashier her line was too long.
We got home, I let the kids out of the car. "Go help your sister get inside," I instructed, struggling with 3 bags of groceries and wine. As I got into the house, they were moving like molasses. "Time out!" I declared, anxious to at least put away my groceries in peace.
When I checked on Lauren, she was sitting on the second stair "in time out". Lindsay, who wasn't, was seated next to her. Cute, I thought, and returned to putting away groceries. They were apparently sliding up the stairs, stair by stair. When they reached 3/4 of the way up, Lauren tried to block Lindsay from sitting, and she fell down the stairs. It was loud. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thud. Scared cry.
I yelled, "Go to your room," and realized I was reacting out of fear. Lindsay was fine, just a little bruised and quite surprised. Once she calmed down, I called Lauren a sobbing back.
"I'm sorry I yelled. I was scared. I know it was an accident." I said. "Your sister is fine, see?"
Lauren settled with her runny nose buried in my shoulder. I rubbed her back, and Lindsay patted her back. "I fell down the stairs once," she sobbed. "It really hurt my head."
"I know, and you were worried your sister was hurt."
"Mmm hmm."
"She is OK, but we shouldn't play on the stairs anymore."
"Ok, Mommy."
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