Some of my FavOrIte Things...

Call it a wooby (heh, remember Mr. Mom?) a blankie, a binky, a woo-woo...whatever.  A kid's relationship with their blanket is a very special thing.  For me, it was a simple green blanket. (And everyone wonders where my obsession with the color came from...) My parents tell me that I would run the edges of it through my fingers overandover until I found "my suckin' spot". Then I would simultaneously suck my thumb, rub the spot on the blanket, and twirl my hair. (I have no idea how I did all three at the same time.)  The blanket still bears evidence of numerous repairs.

For my brother, it was a couple of things--a small blue elephant and a big bunny rabbit.  He wore that poor bunny rabbit out--to the point where the only thing he had left was a "cheek" of it that he would hold by his cheek when he sucked his fingers at night.

By the time sister came around, blankets and stuffed animals were no longer the wooby de rigueur...Fisher Price started making these mini-blankets with bunny heads on top.  I do believe these were the early versions of the "blankie bears" (as Boo calls them) that are so popular today-you know, the fleecy, satiny squares of fabric with some stuffed animal head in the middle? My sister loved hers...

Which brings me to my kids. They were gifted with a million blankets, blankie-bears, and stuffed animals, and it's been interesting to see what they gravitated towards.

For Boo, it's a green Winnie-the-Pooh blanket...it's really soft on one side, satin on the other, and it has the Classic Pooh embroidered on the bottom.  It was a random shower gift that I received, and while he does love some of the blankie-bears he has...he *still* returns to the blanket.

In Bay's case, she has blankie-bears that I got as presents, one that Boo picked out for her when I was pregnant with her, and a mini-blanket that I got as a gift that I thought for sure would be her "thing".  Nope.  Her blankies are the two, thick, satin-edged blankets that my mom and I picked up at Babies R Us a couple weeks before she was born...it was a total random buy.

We were in there getting a couple of things for Smidge's room (as we called her then) and we walked by the blankets.  I'd noticed them before, and loved how thick and soft they were, so my mom grabbed a burgundy one, and I grabbed a lilac one and figured they'd be good to cover her while she was in her car seat, at least.

Without a doubt, it was the best purchase out of all of my pre-baby shopping sprees.  To this day, she must have *both* blankets when she takes a nap or goes to bed.  She has a preference for her burgundy one (but she calls it "pink") and will cover herself with it and snuggle the purple one.

Like I said, it just got me thinking...what about these particular blankets made them the one?  What about the green Pooh blanket made it Boo's favorite?  For that matter, why was my brother obsessed with the filthy, smelly, dismembered cheek of a giant stuffed rabbit that he got for Easter one year? (Sorry, Shawnski...I had to put that in there!)  What makes something as simple as a blanket become a wooby, a woo-woo, or even a "blankie"?

I'm not sure, but I do know that there is hell to pay in our house if we can't find them.

Mom Always Liked You Better!

The Smothers Brothers...I was too young to watch them, but I do remember their tag line.  In this case, I'm not talking about my own siblings, but my own little darlings. 

I've heard parents of 2 or more kids talking about how from time to time, they like one of their children better...that they prefer the company of one of their children over the other one.  Notice I didn't say, and never said that they LOVE one of their kids more--lest you think I'm some monster.  I never thought it would happen to me.  Not me!  I love both of my children the same!  They are both delicate and unique snowflakes that bring joy and light to my world.

Eh. Wrong.

Right now, I am having a really hard time being around Bay.  She is still the funny, goofy, adorable, smart little girl that I love with every fiber of my being...but ZOMFSM, she is a challenge.  She's headstrong and she's definitely hit her "threes".  She needs to do everything herself, gets ragingly pissed-off when she can't do whatever it is that she's doing immediately, but then won't let me help her.  However, if Babe attempts to step in and take over, she freaks the fuck out about that.  Her tantrums are of epic proportions--we're talking throwing herself down, screaming at the top of her lungs, kicking, punching, biting-type tantrums.  And, for the last couple weeks, she's been insisting that she sleep with her light on, which is fine, I guess, but I don't think she's sleeping all that well and the other night, she was up 5 times between midnight and 5, one of the times she asked for a fricking waffle. <insert WTF face>

Of course, I'm busy, and stressed, so I'm handling her behavior, um...not so well.  I get pissed because she's being cranky and frankly, I don't want to deal with her.

Which, of course, leads me to my whole point.  Boo?  He's been frelling awesome lately--he started Kindergarten, which he adores, he's stopped freaking out when he gets in trouble, he doesn't fight (much) about homework, he even woke himself up last week and got himself completely dressed.  It's like, "Who the hell is this kid?"  So, of course I find myself enjoying hanging out with Boo...he can tell me what's bothering him, rather than dissolving into a pile of tears and shrieks; he is, for the most part, rational; he doesn't feel the need to argue with me every time I say something.  It's just more pleasant.

What, you may be asking, is the whole point of this?  Not sure.  To assure others in the same boat that they're not alone?  To seek reassurance that I'm not a horrible mother because I feel this way?  Probably yes on both counts.

I just have to keep telling myself that we'll move past this stage, and about the same time Bay is over the threes, Boo will be hitting 7 and 8, in which he'll probably want nothing to do with his mom, and their roles will be reversed.

Which, of course, will be a completely different post.

Grrrl Power, What?

The few times in my young-adult life I actually imagined that I'd have kids (you know, when I wasn't spouting, "I take care of other people's kids all damn day, why would I want/need my own?") I figured I'd have a girl.

Being the former grungy, mosh pit-crashing, pierced, tatooed, Liz Phair/Alanis Morissette/Insert Other Angry Female Band and/or Singer-Songwriter Here-listening, knocking people over on the soccer field-playing chick that I am, I figure I'd teach my daughter all about "Girl Power".  Not this "Spoil me and buy me things because I'm a spoiled bitch and I deserve it," crap that the media is spouting as acceptable behavior these days, but the "I'm Courtney Love and while I'm drugged to the gills and I'm not wearing any underwear, I'm still gonna wail on this guitar and blow your mind and if you don't like it, fuck you!" kind of way.

So, I grow up (I guess...) have a girl, and while she does keep up with the boys in terms of wreaking havoc on the neighborhood...

She. Loves. Pink.

And princesses, and ballerinas, and Barbie. FUCKING BARBIE!!! I think I owned one Barbie growing up and I most likely cut her hair and colored it with markers.

What the heck do I do with a little girl like this?  Granted, I've gotten a bit more girly as I've gotten older--gone are the days of me wearing jeans and a t-shirt and calling it good.  However, I'm still not the frilly, lacy, princessy mom that knows what to do with my little girl when she tells me that she wants to be a princess when she grows up.

Of course, this is still the girl that smacked the crap out of Boo this weekend with a wooden sword, and more often than not, she's picking up a random stick-shaped object, waves it around and tells me that she's "fighting bad guys".  So, I guess I allow the pink-tinted dreams and hope that when she beats the crap out of some guy for pissing her off, she doesn't dent her tiara too badly.

Breaking My Heart

Bay is old enough and "with it" enough to finally understand that Boo leaves once a week.  A couple weeks ago, she started asking where he was when he was at his dad's house...

Today, I put her down for her nap, then I took Boo to meet his dad. 

Just now (she woke up from nap about 35 minutes ago) she asked, "Where Dakey (how she says his name) go?"  When I told her she was at his dad's house, she yelled, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" and proceeded to cry for about 5 minutes.

Granted, she's over it now, and probably won't even remember that he's gone until tomorrow...where we'll have the same scene all over again. 

I love the fact that she's becoming cognizant enough to realize that there's a change in the house.  On the other hand, I HATE the fact that she has to.

Calling Miss Manners...

I took Bay to the indoor play place the other day in order to have her work off some extra energy.  She had a blast, but it got me thinking about the etiquette of such places.

For example, tons of the parents (including yours truly) followed their spawn around the place, making sure they didn't kill either themselves or some other random child.  However, there were quite a few parents either hanging out around the perimeter of the play area or in the little "cafe" area outside the play place.  Were their kids older?  With other adults?  Did they not care?  Enquiring minds want to know!

Also, what's the proper way to handle an older child who is obviously being a douche to a younger child?  (Or more importantly, what's the proper way to handle an older child being a douche to
Bay?) 

Bay was spinning this...thing around. It looked like a toilet paper roll full of sparkly tic-tacs and she was trying to see how fast she could get it going and then stop it in its tracks.  Big fun for a 2 year old, you know?  So, this little girl who was maybe 6 or 7 crawls through the play tree to where Bay was, and stuck her grimy, little hand out and stopped the rolling thing in its tracks and wouldn't let Bay continue to play with it.  I held off saying or doing anything for a minute, because I thought, "Really, this older kid is going to fuck with my toddler?  Surely not!"  After Bay started to freak, I realized that the brat was going to fuck with her.  So I glared at the kid and said, "Come on Bay, let's go play somewhere else...where the kids are nice."  The girl got the hint, removed her hand, and avoided us the rest of the time we were there.  I was so ready for the girl's mom to come and try and go mama-bear on me, but I was ready.

Dress code.  Is there one?  I was wearing comfy jeans, fun socks, and a hoody and I was MASSIVELY underdressed.  Along those lines...some women should.not. wear skinny jeans.  Just because you can doesn't mean you should.  Just sayin'.

Maybe it's just me, but if I was a parent hanging out in the cafe outside the play place and saw a wee one wandering sans parent, I'd...I don't know, notify someone.  Better yet, if I opened the door out of the play place, I'd make damn sure it was closed behind me so a wee one couldn't get out.  I think I closed the door about eleventy times after some idiot parent walked out to check their stocks or get a latte and didn't shut the door behind them.  Also, I had a frelling heart attack when I lost Bay for a minute...she wandered out of the play area looking for her juice box.  Now, the door knob to get out is on the outside of the door, so I know she didn't open it herself which means someone left the door open.  Idiots.

So, anyone want to fill me in on proper play place behavior?

10 Things: My Kids Randomly Do

It's the weekend!  Time for another list...

1. Run around naked--both of them.  Bay has taken to saying, "No aipa (diaper.) Me nakey!!"

2.  Wake up at the weirdest times. Last Sunday, around 3:30, Babe got up to pee and all of a sudden, I had a kid in my face. It was Boo.  He wanted to sleep with us, but there's not enough room (and he kicks), so I got him out on the couch.  He's been doing this a couple times a week for the past couple months--waking up between 2 and 3, coming upstairs, snuggling, then sleeping on the couch. Doesn't bother me (except for the waking ME up at 2) but it's strange.

3. Eat ketchup.  They'll have some with their chicken nuggets or fish sticks (but not with fries) and then ask for more.  <---That is fine, but then they'll just eat the extra ketchup with their spoon, or in Bay's case, her fingers.

4. Go commando.  Boo hardly ever wears underwear, even with jeans, which I think sounds as comfy as sand in your crack, but whatever.

5. Sing things to the tune of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star".  This morning, it was "Poopie, poopie, poopie poo..."  Bay started it.

6.  Obsessively feed Pya treats.  They love it.  Boo will make Pya shake or sit down, while Bay sets it on the floor by Pya's paws.

7.  Head butt.  I blame Babe.  He and Boo made a "man handshake" that involves the following: a high five, knuckles (blow it up) and a head butt.  Now Bay walks around saying "Ead butt!"

8.  Dance.  I'm assuming they get it from me--Mama LOVES to shake her ass.   (Babe, however, does not.  But Boo's dad is a dancer, so Boo gets a double dose of the dancing gene.)  Every time there's music there's little booties shaking.  So.frelling.cute.

9.  Take baths.  Bay will just start taking off her clothes yelling, "Baf!  Baf!"  Boo does the same thing, but not as often and if he's taking one, chances are, she's not too far behind.

10.  Get the mail.  I don't know if it's because they get to cross the street, or sometimes they get mail or they get to see the mini "Noah's Ark" we screwed into the fence by the mailbox (long story--for a different post) but they LOVE to get the mail.  I haven't been able to get the mail by myself in years, which is fine, because Boo is almost to the age where he can get it himself and I hate getting the mail.  (I don't know why...don't ask.)

My awesome and strange weethens!

A Little Bit o' This, A Little Bit o' That

It's been a while...

Since my last post:
*Bay turned 2
 *I drove from Broomfield, Colorado to Omaha, Nebraska with my mom, dad, brother, sister-in-law, 2 nieces, sister, her dog, Babe, Boo, and Bay.  Other than Bay puking all over me right before we got to my aunt's house and the HORRIBLE wind, the trip out and back was pretty uneventful.  I got to see my cousin, whom I haven't seen in years, my aunt, my uncle, as well as my grandmother (who doesn't remember who the heck I am, but is a hoot to listen to--she told all of us to "go to Hell" at Thanksgiving dinner.)
*In the same trip, visited my grandparents' house, went to see University of Nebraska kick the snot out of CU, and hung out with my siblings.  I, unfortunately, didn't get to see my old drinking buddy, Jody, but, hey, tickets there are CHEAP!
*Played a soccer game...in goal...those of you that know me understand how hil-frelling-larious this is.  Needless to say, we got our asses handed to us.
*Babe's 8th grade boys basketball team won their championship game.  Go them!
*Babe and I both managed to get sick at the same time.  Sore throat, hacking cough...fun times at our house sure to be on their way.

Meh.  That's all I got.  

Bay Brag

I've talked about Boo a time or two, but not much about Bay, so here's an entire post dedicated to her...

1.  She's talking in sentences!  My mom was watching her yesterday and Bay was sleeping when my  mom left.  15 minutes after she woke up from her nap, she looked around and did the "huh?" shoulder shrug and asked, "Where Baba go?"  Other favorites are, "I lal oo Mama!" ("I love you Mama!" Or Dada or Dacky--which is what she calls Boo)  "Me eat peese!" and "Um here, Mama!  Now!"  Um, I said she was talking I didn't say she was tactful about it.

2.  She's polite!  Her recent addition is, "You melcome," after saying thank you.  Last night, before bed, she took her ketchup-encrusted Elmo plate (gotta have ketchup with chicken nuggets, yo!) and tossed it in the sink.  Awwwww.  Maybe I can train her to unload the dishwasher and pair socks too.

3.  She's empathetic! She gives kisses if you're hurt.  You're usually hurt because she is also biting, but still...  I *did* stub my little toe on the corner of the wall in the kitchen and she asked me, "You otay Mama?" and came over and rubbed my back.  This was, of course,  after I freaked her out by yelling, "MOTHER FUCKER!" at the top of my lungs.  You know, I really should start watching my language around her. (See item number 1.)

4.  She's tall!  She's pushing the envelope on her 24-month and 2T clothes, especially in the arm length, but all the 3T stuff is sooooo big on her.  She's going to be tall and skinny like Babe, that's for sure.  She's comes to Boo's shoulder now, and they're a little over 2 years apart.

Now, I present...the Bay!

Bread+Nutella=Happy Girl!

Yayyyyyyy! Leaves!

Snuggling with Dada.

Friday Night Dance Party

Babe is coaching boys basketball right now, so the kids and I are solo until 5 or 5:30 on practice nights.  Lately, I've been getting Bay from the sitter and then we run to Boo's school to grab him and then we rock out to the Lady Gaga station on Pandora radio. (Yes, Boo lurves Lady Gaga, Shakira, Madonna, Rihanna...anything you can shake your ass too.)

Upon getting home, we continue to rock out and I look over and Boo is busting out the Robot!  Yes, the mother-effing ROBOT, people!!  So, I taught him to do: Stir the Pot, Shopping Cart, and Lawnmover.

Later that evening, in the tub, we had a recreation of the Maniac scene from "Flashdance" with two nekkid booties.

I think next week, we'll break down The Sprinkler.