Friday, December 29, 2006


Laurel is stumbling (crawling pretty much being a thing of the past) through the kitchen. She notices a toy car underneath the kitchen table. It's Ian's, so of course she must have it. Step, step, wobble, balance, sway, and balance. Step, step, step, step, wobble, plop onto the butt, outstretching her arms so as to not fall backwards onto the tile floor. Close enough to the table, she decides to scoot on her bottom the rest of the distance. She clutches the car in her hands and cackles. I kid you not, the girl cackles with glee!

Of absolute necessity, Laurel decides to show her find to Ian. It is, after all, a little sister's responsibility to torment her older brother. She leans forward to prop herself onto her hands and knees, squats, and then slowly raises her body into a standing position. BANG! "Aaahhh, " and she quickly squats down, still clutching Ian's car.

There is only a couple seconds more of complaining before she's slowly raising her body upward again. BANG! "Aaahhh," she wails, squats down and looks upward in disbelief.

One hand still tightly wrapped around the prized car, the other on top of her head. She whimpers a few seconds more while looking upwards to figure out what happened. The third attempt begins. She keeps her eyes on the ominous table above her as she slowly stands up, and then BANG! "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

The wails continue to get louder until I finally come over and rescue her. Poor thing, she had no idea that a table could deliver such a blow. A table, that merely a few weeks ago, she could stand underneath without concern.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Cookie Monster, Eat Your Heart Out!

Counter top clean...check.

Dough made and refrigerated...check.

Rolling pin out...check.

Powdered sugar open...check.

Cookie cutters at the ready...check.

Cookie sheets prepped...check (yeah, I cheat, I use parchment paper).

Ruler out so I can figure out how thick to make the dough...check (I know, I know, I'm lame. I can't just guess 1/4 inch, no, I need a ruler.)

Empty Santa cookie jar waiting,
ever so patiently waiting to be filled

Anxious kid to cut out and especially decorate cookies...

...ummm, hello, Ian, where are you?

Ian? Ian?

Oh, there you are! Anxious kid to cut out cookies...check.

Ok, Ian. On your mark, get set, GO!

Bring on the frosting and sprinkles!!!!


A double fisted sprinkler.

You can never have enough sprinkles!

Oh, the silliness.

You're so busted!

Toxic waste land? No, well, maybe. You'll want to choose from the other pile. Seriously, they're the most beautiful cookies I have ever seen.

Delightfully fun Christmas memory made
(especially for me)...CHECK!

Merry Christmas from our family to yours!


Thursday, December 21, 2006


Ian usually doesn't care what he wears. But lately, socks matter to him. He definitely knows what he wants on his feet. Of course, the colors he chooses doesn't always color coordinate with the other articles of clothing he is wearing. But then again, that's part of the toddler charm, isn't it?

He's in the holiday spirit, wouldn't you say?

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Having a Ball

From the living room I hear Ian sweetly sing, "Here's a ball for baby, big and soft and round." Giggle, giggle, from both Ian and Laurel.

A few seconds later, I again hear, "Here's a ball for baby, big and soft and round." Giggle, giggle.

And again, but this time with lots of heavy breathing and giggling in between the words, "Here's a round." Giggle, giggle, giggle.

I peek around the corner, and see Ian chasing Laurel, desperately trying to give her a soft, fuzzy ball. She's not cooperating in his efforts to play a game with her. Every time he approaches her with the ball and places it next to her, she crawls away. She skitters ahead about three feet, stops and glances back at an excited Ian, and delightfully laughs at him.

We sing this song in tot class and we read a book about being a big brother and how you can play ball with baby when the baby is old enough. Evidently, Ian has determined Laurel is old enough, and he wants to play ball, NOW! And, Laurel is old enough to know she can tease Ian by continually running away from him. (I fear for the boys that chase after her in high school and college.) So yes, indeed, they are playing a game and loving it. So am I!

Saturday, December 16, 2006

For the Baby Who Has Everything

Laurel might get this for Christmas...

And Ian may get this...

I just can't help myself. Do I really have to wait until January 21st for the new Battlestar Galactica episode? Heavy sigh.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Baby Steps

November 30th, Laurel takes her official first steps. One step, two steps, and then plop, lands onto her padded behind. She proudly looks up at her gleeful, applauding father, and begins clapping herself. Paul delightfully calls, "She took her first steps!"

Where was I? I missed it. Even when I was made aware of Laurel's newest accomplishment, I didn't go running to see. I kept doing whatever mundane chore had to be done and simply nodded. Where was my enthusiasm and support for my ten month old daughter? Paul had to repeat the exciting news to get me to verbally acknowledge this milestone in my daughter's life.

The last few weeks, I've been trying to come to terms with the fact that with each step Laurel takes, the baby disappears and the toddler emerges. Don't get me wrong, I love toddlers, it's just in my eyes, it's too soon for the baby to leave. I'm selfish. I want Laurel to be a baby for longer than she wants to. She's ready to run with Ian, while I'm ready to sit and cuddle.

How quickly the last ten months have flown by. I want need to hold her in my arms and look forever into her sweet, blue eyes. I need to feel her hand wrap around my finger. I need to feel and hear her breathe as I hold her close. I need to watch her shake her little derriere as she quickly crawls by, most certainly off to destroy whatever project Ian is working on. I need her to spin herself around while sitting, just like a little top. I need her to babble incessantly. I need her to coo. I need her to glide her wet fingers on my cheek and squeeze my nose. I need her play with my hair while she nurses. I need her to delight in the magic of bubbles. I need her to open and close books, over and over again, trying to figure out why the picture changes. I need her to crawl after me when I leave a room. I need her to coyly hide in my arms whenever she first sees her grandparents. I need snot bubbles blowing in and out with each breath (gross I know, but funny as all heck!). I need drooly wet, mouth-wide-open kisses.

Now I realize many of the things I've listed above continue, in fact into adulthood. But let's face it, babies do it differently, the way only a baby can. The look of innocence as Laurel blows raspberries with a mouth full of food, can only exist now. We try to preserve these moments with cameras, camcorders, and by writing them down. These efforts help, but I selfishly want to freeze time in a manner that allows me to enjoy my family just as they are today, but only for a much longer period of time.

I know, I know, come back to reality. I should delight in all the discoveries Ian and Laurel make on a daily basis, and believe me, I DO!!!! It's just, Laurel, could you please slow down a bit on growing up? I need time to catch up.

Blogger Frustrations

I've been trying to post comments on several blogs, but Blogger refuses to let me log in. I'm not sure why, perhaps it is because I haven't switched to Beta. At any rate, I've found a way to post comments on Beta. I type in my comment, leave my name (because of the following), click anonymous, click preview, then publish. A lot of work, but it helps. Does anyone else have the same problem, or is it just me?

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Christmas Wish List

TAG - and I'm It. The wonderfully funny Amy of binkytown, has tagged me to do a Christmas wish list. Ok, so I had to slow down and give this some thought, what would I like for Christmas?

1. Time. I know, not original, but seriously, how do I get more of this? I want to spend time with my family and friends doing all sorts of holiday activities, and bake, and shop, blog (so many topics, so little...well, you know), and veg with hubby and watch the Lord of the Rings Trilogy uninterrupted except to answer the door to get pizza and Chinese Food.

2. Health. Poor Ian and Laurel keep getting cold after cold after cold. This week they caught some stomach virus and had to endure a couple days of upset stomach and vomiting. Today, they seem to be past the worst, and now Paul has some nasal/respiratory thing going on.

3. Ian magically potty trained. We started the process a couple months ago, but when the little fella started teasing us with, "I go pee on the floor," with a knowing smirk on his face, we gave it up for a while. Potty training scares me, perhaps because I've just never gone through the process. He's only 2 1/2 years, I figure we have some time before people begin to wonder.

4. Patience to deal with a two year old. Patience to understand that dawdling is the official pass time for toddlers. That it is not how fast you can get your socks and shoes on that is important, but that the cars, trucks and trains are lined up just so. Patience while watching my wonderful quirky son during meal times treat his sippy cup like a trash barrel on garbage collection days. (MMMrrrrMMMrrr, and up over the head goes the sippy cup.) Patience in knowing that I would learn more about the world around me if I took the time to observe it through the eyes of my children.

And finally...

5. A bike! That's right, you heard me, a bike. Not just any bike, but a pink one with streamers. Oh yeah, and a bell to warn unsuspecting quail that often run through our neighborhood.

Oh, isn't she a beauty, especially with her lovely white seat and whitewall tires! She just needs streamers, a bell and possibly a flowery basket in the front.

In the spirit of giving, I tag Elizabeth and Lady M. Tag, you're It!

Friday, December 08, 2006

Great Helper

I'm changing Laurel's diaper on the floor. She has it in her mind that this is not going to happen. Legs are kicking, arms are flailing. Her torso twists and turns as she tries to escape. I finally have her pinned so I can remove her pants and undo her diaper, but the moment they are off, she manages to squirm right out from under my grasp and crawl away. Quickly, I grab my little streaker and try to return her to a diaper changing position. Singing songs, making funny noises, and contorting my face doesn't interest her enough to calm down.

Desperate, I yell out, "Ian, I need your help. Please, get Laurel a toy."

I see his bobbing head behind the couch, as he runs over to the overflowing toy filled bookcase. He doesn't move for a few seconds, obviously considering his choices. His head bobs again to bring his finds.

"Here baby," Ian informs Laurel as he carefully hands her a floppy Winnie-the-Pooh (her absolute favorite toy) and a bumpy teether. Absolutely perfect choices in my mind, Laurel's too for that matter since she now calmly lies still.

To encourage such helpfulness in the future, I exclaim, "Ian, you're wonderful! Thank you for the toys."

Happily he goes bouncing off, and I return to cleaning and putting a new diaper on Laurel. Seconds later, Ian is back. He gingerly drops a book and a puppy near Laurel. She continues cuddling her Pooh, not even looking at the new items next to her. Feeling I need to recognize his thoughtfulness, I tell him, "Oh, Ian, thank you. That was very nice." Happily he runs off.

You guessed it, he returns shortly, this time with a Snoopy and a cow flashlight. I'm thinking hard of what to say so as to get him to stop, but not discourage his help in the future. "Ian, thank you, but Laurel already has toys. You can stop bringing her toys."

The toys are left next to Laurel and he runs off to get more, and more, and more. I eventually am done changing her, and have gone off to wash my hands and dispose of a smelly diaper. Laurel crawls off to another part of the house, and yet Ian continues in his quest. Finally, I distract him by playing with his beloved trucks, which you'll notice are missing from his generous offerings.

I like the assortment: books, stuffed animals, instruments, teether, flashlight, baseball, stacking rings and legos. He's got all the bases covered.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Who's the Parent?

It's about 6:00 a.m., and I open my eyes to find Ian staring at me. I'm thinking, "No way is it time to get up," and I scoop him up into bed between Paul and myself. A few minutes of him wiggling, tossing and turning, kicking his legs, flinging his arms and socking me in the nose, he finally settles in and falls asleep. Sleep, blissful sleep. I'm hoping for another hour of the coveted stuff.

"Aaaahhhh. Aaaahhh, aaaahh, aahhh, aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh." Laurel tells us she's awake. The clock says it's after seven, I should go ahead and get up. Oh, but it's so warm and cozy under the covers. My cold nose and cheeks tell me there's a slight chill in the room. I really don't want to leave the comfort of my bed. I stay put and rationalize that maybe, just maybe, Laurel will go back to sleep.

"Aaaaaaah. Aaaaahhh, aaaahhhh, aahh, aaahh, aahh, AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Alright, so she's not going back to sleep. Paul isn't moving, but Ian bolts upright. "Mommy, baby's awake."

I don't move, I don't say a word. I hold the covers tight around me and ignore everything outside my cozy space.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! AAHH, AAHH, AAHH, AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Laurel's screams are now continuous. Boy, she sounds pissed off someone's not there to do her bidding.

Barely heard over the crying coming from the other room, Ian simply states, "Mommy, baby's awake."

Paul and I continue being still and quiet. Concerned, Ian repeats his observation, "Mommy, baby's awake," and begins climbing his way out of the layers of sheets, pillows and covers. I feel him try to go over my legs, and he soon falls on top of me. I still refuse to move or say a thing. Paul now has to be awake, but is not letting on.

Ian wiggles his way over me and onto the floor. Somewhat disoriented due to the abrupt wake up call, he shuffles his way out our room and sweetly calls out, "Laurel, I'm coming. I'm coming baby."

Ian flips the light switch on in Laurel's room. "Hi, baby!" he cheerfully sings out, and her screams turn into giggles.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Brrrr...Winter Has Arrived

Finally, it feels like winter. In my neck of the woods, the high today will be 57 degrees Fahrenheit (14 degrees Celsius). That's downright cold to us native Arizonans. Being the dutiful mother, I dressed the kids accordingly. Laurel has on sweatpants, a onsie, a sweatshirt, socks, shoes, coat, hat with flaps to cover the ears and mittens. Ian is wearing corduroy pants, a long t-shirt, socks, shoes, coat, hat and mittens. Yes, yes, over the top I know, but hey, when else will they get to wear this stuff? This is about as cold as it gets. Ok, all you guys living in actual cold climates, I can hear you snickering at me.

Donning their duds and being silly.

An Eskimo kiss for the occasion.

The kiddies are asleep, time to grab a mug of hot cocoa and read some blogs.

Ha! That cocoa never happened. Laurel woke up, took her pants off, threw them over the side of her crib, and began screaming bloody murder. Ian never actually fell asleep to take a nap, just kept playing in his room. Gotta' work on getting the kids to take their naps.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Thanksgiving Recaptured

The day before Thanksgiving, my husband Paul and I busily tried to get things ready for the big feast. Both sides of our family were coming over, about 20 people. We were going to have Paul's parents watch the kids, but Ian had a bad cold, so only Laurel got to visit her grandparents. Poor Ian had to hang out with us while we cleaned house and prepped food. Not exactly a fun place to be for a toddler, even a sick one.

Turkey and turkey breast thawed and swimming in brine, check. House cleaned, check. Patio and patio furniture hosed off/cleaned, check. Traditional Thanksgiving treasure hunt for the kids created and gifts wrapped, check. Cornbread casserole made, check. Sweet potato casserole made, check. Waldorf salad made, check. (Family members were to bring other sides and dessert.) Appetizers ready, no check, except for the dip. At midnight, we decided this could wait until the following day and headed to bed.

Thanksgiving morning, we knew we still had a lot to do, but tried to relax a bit with Laurel and Ian. We turned on the parade. Laurel could care less, but Ian was excited to see the big balloons, floats and marching bands. TiVo helped keep it interesting for him. We happily skipped over the mindless chatter and commercials, and just watched what interested Ian. I don't know how we survived before TiVo.

Finally, Paul and I kicked our butts into high gear. Paul made a quick trip to the store, while I tried to set up tables. When he got back, I didn't get anything done except take care of the kids. He got the turkeys into the oven, and the ham into the roaster. When we put the kids down for a nap, I was finally able to set up the tables and hide the clues for the treasure hunt.

When the doorbell rang as the first of our families arrived, we had just started getting the appetizers set out, YIKES! In fact, I was still rinsing off veggies and making iced tea as we were saying hello to people. Mental note, make sure ALL food is prepped and ready the night before.

Thanksgiving day was a beautiful 80 degrees (Fahrenheit, 27 Celsius), so we ate outside. Our patio is long enough, that the 20 of us were able to sit altogether. Ian thoroughly enjoyed chatting with everyone during dinner, while Laurel decided it would be fun to blow raspberries with baby food in her mouth. Sorry to those sitting next to her.

Pictures of the family on one side...

...and the other side of the table. Still couldn't fit everyone into the frame. Sorry Diana, Sam, Papa Dave, Jimmy and Kathy (oh yeah, I'm also missing from the pictures since I had the camera).

Everyone had a great time. Paul and I feel especially lucky to have so much family living nearby. We love having everyone over.

During cleanup the following day, Ian decided to take the role of supervisor and tell us where to vacuum. Daddy, it's dirty over there.

Of course Laurel had to point out some of the mess too...

I think I've finally recovered from Thanksgiving. You know you're old when you have a holiday hangover and you didn't have a single drop of alcohol. I was walking around on autopilot Friday morning, until my body forced me to take a nap. And I do mean forced. I was feeding Laurel and Ian lunch, when suddenly I started crying for no particular reason. The waterworks started and I just couldn't get them to stop. I handed Laurel over to Paul and went straight to bed. The second my head hit the pillow, I was out. Three hours later, I woke up refreshed and energized. Look out Christmas, here I come!

Happy Holidays everyone!

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Cancer Awareness

The American Cancer Society is sponsoring I Fight Cancer badges for bloggers. I've put one on my blog for my father (just look down the left sidebar). About three years ago, he found out he had bladder cancer. He successfully underwent aggressive treatment. Those rounds of treatment made him feel sicker than he ever has in his life, but thankfully has fought off the cancer within his body.

My family is lucky to have my dad still with us. My children are able to play with their grandfather, and I can still joke and laugh with him. I am so grateful that he is in our lives.

Thankfully, there are organizations such as ACS, that are researching new methods in treating and preventing cancer. If you or someone dear to you has dealt with cancer, add a badge to your blog to show your support. There's a counter on each badge that automatically increases as more and more people add them to their blogs. Let's get that counter rolling.

Monday, November 13, 2006

Losing It

You read my last post, yes? So you think our little boy is a saint? HA! You think I've got my mommy superpowers all lined up in a row? HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAAHAHAHAAAA!

Raising one child was cake. I could focus entirely on his needs. Consistent discipling was a top priority. Now with Laurel in the mix, it's a whole different story. Let's fast forward to a current example of disciplining meltdown:

Ian's playing with his trucks, while Laurel and I decide it's nursing time. I get situated with Laurel on one end of the couch, using the soft, pillowy arm for support. She latches on. It is peaceful, with the occasional beeping and rumbling truck sounds from Ian.

A couple minutes pass, Ian knows something's up. He springs into action and heads our direction. He sees Laurel and I on the couch and knows...absolutely, positively knows that he is in the presence of MILK! I can see the gears turning in his head and try to distract him, "Hi, Ian! Are you playing with your trucks?"

"Mommy, I need milk and Teletubbies."

Not wanting to disturb Laurel, I simply state, "You can have milk in a few minutes."

"Mommy, I NEED milk and Teletubbies."

"Yes, you can have milk once Laurel is finished."

He looks at Laurel. "Laurel's all done. I NEED MILK AND TELETUBBIES!"

Trying to be sympathetic to his needs, I stroke his arm with my one free hand while cradling Laurel with the other so she won't roll off my lap. "Hey, bud, you can have milk in a few minutes. Why don't you play with your trucks or trains." I'm really hoping he can be distracted by his toys.

"NO! I NEED MILK AND TELETUBBIES!" With that exclamation, he decides to get up on the couch. He tries to squeeze between my body and the couch's arm. His efforts cause my body to jostle about, unlatching Laurel who consequently rips my nipple off in the process. I'm in pain and I can feel my body getting tense.

"Ian, you can sit on the couch, just go to the other side." He continues to push and squirm his way up.

"Ian, go to the other side!" My voice is starting to rise. Still he tries to push himself up onto the couch.

I decide to move to the other side. Laurel grabs my shirt and hair as I slide over. Once situated, I try to relax and Laurel begins nursing again. Ian is now up on the couch watching us from the opposite end. It's not long and he slides over to us and tries to squeeze his body between my back and the couch. "Ian, stop that!" my voice getting louder.

He continues his shenanigans, and I desperately yell out, "Ian, get down or you'll go to time out!"

The pushing and shoving continues. I hoist Laurel and I up again to move to the rocking chair where there is absolutely no room for Ian to try anything. He follows and decides to climb up into my lap with Laurel. "Ian, STOP THAT NOW!" I've lost it and my voice is shrill. Laurel is startled and begins to cry, soon followed by Ian.

I feel like a total heel. I cuddle and try to comfort both of them, wailing screams ring in both my ears. Once they both calm down, I go to the fridge, get Ian a sippy cup of milk, and turn on Teletubbies. He settles in and I am able to nurse Laurel once again.


Reliving this horrifies me. It is absolutely unacceptable for me to lose my temper with a two year old. I made so many mistakes, and I often think of how I should have done things differently. For example, knowing how much Ian loves milk (and it's not like he's asking for soda), I should have thought ahead to get him a cup to drink while Laurel was nursing. Just the milk would have pacified him, no TV necessary. Another big boo-boo, was threatening time out. There was no follow through, and unfortunately I've let that happen too often. I need to be consistent in order for it to work.

The good news, I am continually learning from my mistakes. And, thanks to the blogosphere, I read about others' dilemmas and find out what did and didn't work. Those of you out there sharing discipling problems, successes and techniques, I send you a humongous hug and thank you.

I'm a firm believer: It takes a village to raise a child.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Time Out: Pre-Laurel

I'm in the kitchen making dinner. Ian walks in, looks up at me and sincerely states, "Mommy, time out."

"Do you need to go to time out?"

"Mommy, time out two minutes."

Confused, I squat down and ask, "Why do you need to go to time out?"

Solemn look on his face, he explains, "I touch DVDs."

I don't know if he actually touched the off limit items, I was too busy chopping onions to notice. But I figure if he's willing to admit guilt, then in all fairness, I need to follow through with our established rules and consequences. Matter of factly I remind him, "Ian, you are not allowed to touch the DVDs, time out two minutes."

I place him in time out, set the timer for two minutes and continue making dinner. He accepts his consequence without tears or shrill screams. Two minutes seems like an eternity when you just want to pick up your child and give him a bear hug. I'm so proud of him for doling out consequences to himself. It shouldn't be too long and he'll avoid touching the ever tempting DVD cases altogether.


His sweet little voice sings out, "All done."

I walk over to him, bend down to look him in the eye and say, "You are in time out for touching the DVDs. Do not touch the DVDs. Say, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, Mommy."

I pick him up and give and receive a huge hug. A quick peck on the cheek and he's off to play, to cause more mischief, to test the waters.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Baby Signs

Ian and I took the Baby Signs class when he was 8 months old. Results were slow at first. It wasn't until he was 10 months old he began signing milk. Other words soon followed: eat, drink, duck, frog, bath, moon, book, more, to name a few. Both my husband and I enjoyed communicating with our son at such an early age, and felt it alleviated a lot of frustrations within Ian. He had an outlet to let us know what he wanted or was thinking about.

At 9 months, Laurel began the Baby Signs class. Within a couple tries, she was already mimicking and soon meaning milk. Just the other day, she let out a delightful little squeal in order to get my attention. I looked over at her and squealed back. She stopped crawling, sat up, looked right at me, held up her little arm and opened and closed her fist. I asked her, "Do you want milk?" Her head bobbed excitedly as she continued signing milk.

Wow, she is telling me what she wants. No screams, no tears, just clear communication. In the last couple of weeks, she has learned to sign duck, bath, moon, more, light, and bye-bye. Her sweet face lights up every time she signs something and we verbally talk to her about it. Ian loves to get right in there and show her the signs too. He'll even take her hands and demonstrate how a word is done. Paul and I definitely will need to keep up with the two of them, otherwise it won't be long before Ian and Laurel will be talking in front of us without us having a clue as to what they're saying.

Friday, November 03, 2006

We're Going to be on Time...NOT!

One of my biggest challenges as a mommy with two in tow, is trying to be on time. Doctor's appointments, dentists, tot classes, family and friend gatherings, you name it, I'm going to be a few minutes late.

One morning, I decide we WILL make it to Ian's tot class on time. Knowing I need to check Laurel into the daycare center they provide at the recreation center, I figure out exactly what time we need to leave by. Now, if I actually try to leave at that time, I will most likely be late. No, I need to come up with a time that takes into account all the things that might possibly go wrong:

  • Let's start with diapers. Add 5 minutes to change one, two, maybe even three or more diapers. You're puzzled, two children and she might need to change three or more diapers? Yes, there is a history with Laurel pooping right after I just changed her.
  • Next, possible clothes changes. This goes hand-in-hand with diapering. Someone just might squirt something out while the protection is off. And it might not be the kids who needs a change, it may very likely be me. Add 5 more minutes.
  • An additional 2 minutes is calculated in case Laurel spits up on my shirt as we walk out the door.
  • Add 10 minutes for nursing. Laurel tends to be a spur of the moment drinker.
  • 5 more minutes to gather items I thought were placed on the bookshelf by the door. Ian, where did you put _____________ this time?
  • 3 additional minutes for Ian to put his shoes and socks back on.
  • 3 additional minutes for me to chase Ian around the house and put his shoes and socks on for him.
  • 1 minute to get out the door and lock it.
  • 1 minute to open the van and strap Laurel into her car seat. I'm lucky here, she's fairly easy going about being strapped in.
  • 3 minutes to continually encourage Ian to climb into his car seat, and then buckle him in.
  • Add 5 more minutes for ???? Anything goes where children are concerned.
Ok, let's add this up. Hmmm, could this be right? 43 additional minutes? Ian's class starts at 9:45. I need to be at the rec center by 9:30 so I have time to check Laurel in at daycare. It takes 20 minutes to drive there and 5 minutes to park, unbuckle both kids and walk them into the building. I must leave the house by 9:05, except I still need to account for the unexpected. 8:22 is my new time of departure.

The morning is going well. Both kids have had their breakfasts. Laurel takes an early morning siesta while I get Ian ready. Teeth and hair brushed, diaper changed, fully clothed (socks and shoes included, although who knows for how long), Ian is set. Laurel wakes up, and I begin attending to her needs.

I nurse her, change her diaper (whew, only one needed so far, and I can keep wearing my outfit), get her dressed, and then excitedly pick her up to grab Ian and head out. I look at the clock, we're doing great. We walk out of her room and I happily chirp away to her, "Laurel, we're going to be..."

"BBLLLLAAaaaachhhhhh!" And with that, Laurel vomits all over me, her, the carpet, the wall.

We're not going anywhere today.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Halloween Time Warp

Is it possible? I blinked, and Halloween came and went.

Ian is officially a fan of Halloween. We have some books about growing pumpkins and Halloween festivities. His favorite book is Trick-or-Treat, Little Critter by Mercer Mayer. For the last two weeks, we've read that book everyday at nap or bedtime, or both. We always tell Ian a fly by the seat of your pants short story just before going to sleep at night. He always requests a garbage truck story, but lately he's demanded a trick-or-treat one.

Of course, it wouldn't be Halloween without a jack-o-lantern, and the accompanying whining of a toddler during the creative process. "Ian do it," kept ringing through our ears as we cut into the beloved pumpkin. One of us needed to restrain Ian from grabbing the knife.

At least he thoroughly enjoyed taking out the seeds and gooey pumpkin guts.

Laurel peeked inside and let us know in no uncertain terms, she wanted no part of it.

Spooky, yes? He turned out pretty good, especially for us amateur pumpkin carvers.

Both sets of our parents came over, along with Ian's friend Riley and her parents. With all the people over, and trick-or-treaters ringing the doorbell, Ian got overly excited and just could not sit long enough to eat dinner. I finally had to place him (more like wrestle and hog tie him) in Laurel's highchair in order to get him to eat a few bites. Getting him dressed in his costume didn't go much easier. Too busy pushing Riley around in a car, he just would not willingly sit down to change his clothes. After much chasing, we finally cornered and dressed him. Finally, it dawned on him that it was time to go trick-or-treating, so out the door he bolts, leaving the rest of us in his dust.

At each door, Ian and Riley seemed hesitant. But the minute they saw the candy, the shyness dissipated. Just happy to be out and about, Laurel watched from either Paul's or my arms, taking notes for next year.

Well, hello there, Bob the Builder!


Thursday, October 26, 2006

She's What?

That's right, Laurel's pulling herself up. She's standing! She's cruising the furniture! She's getting hold of anything on the edges of tables. Better yet, she likes to hang off tables. The girl has more upper arm strength than I do. With both her and Ian upright, all I can say, is...


Saturday, October 21, 2006

Toddlers are Cute for a Reason

...otherwise, the human race would have been extinct long ago.

I'm actually taking a moment (or two) to pull some laundry out of the dryer. Laurel is playing nearby and Ian is playing with his trains, or so I think. I quickly try to get the shirts and pants on hangers, trying to avoid wrinkles, because once a garment is wrinkled in my house, it stays that way. I am seriously iron phobic.

As I busily hang clothes, I hear unfamiliar noises coming from Ian's direction. Scratch, scratch, scratch, repeatedly over and over again. "Ian must be rolling his cars and trains on the wall," I think to myself. Wanting to get the last few articles out of the dryer, I ineffectively yell out, "Ian, put your cars on the floor."

Ian's two years old. Without direct intervention on my behalf, he of course continues rolling the vehicles on the wall. Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch. The sounds are becoming shorter in length, but quicker in repetition, so I finally give in and decide to intervene. I turn the corner around the staircase, walk into the living room and find Ian busily expressing his artistic self. Ball point pen in hand, he continues to draw line after line after line. For a minute, I stand there numb, observing this innocent act. Innocent? Yes, innocent. So far, the rule of not writing on the walls remains to be explained to this exploring tot.

Eventually, I regain my wits and grab his wrist mid stroke. The intent, focused look on his face fades as he turns and smiles at me. "Mommy, lines," he proudly points out.

Touching the stereo, yet again, Ian winds up in timeout. He is familiar with this routine, and accepts his consequence without a single whimper. Squatting down to be at his eye level, I matter-of-factly state, "Ian, you are in timeout for touching the stereo. You are not allowed to touch the stereo." I stand up, set a timer for two minutes and walk away.

Two minutes later, beep, beep, beep. "All done," a little voice sings out.

I walk back to Ian's residence of reflection to hear his apology. Before I squat down, something next to him catches my eye. "What is that on the floor?" I ponder.

Bits of paper lie in a pile beside the kitchen cabinet. "Ian, did you tear up a newspaper?" I ask since the recycle bin was within reach.

"Mommy, paper come off wall," he points out.

Then I see it, a now white area where there once was wallpaper.

Trying to look innocent are ya? Yeah, you're cute, darn it. Just don't push it. These actions won't fly ever again.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Playing at the Pumpkin Patch

Ian looking like a farmer in his overalls.

Ian braved the tunnel slide.
Whoooooaaaaa, look out below.

Ian won't touch the goats, but he desperately wants to climb their ramp.

Gotta have corn on the cob!

Laurel and Riley, a friendship blooms.

Pumpkins, pumpkins, everywhere!

Oh, little pumpkin, you will be mine.

This is the one!

Riley found one too!

Laurel, happy as a PUMPKIN!

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Taggies Scam

As parents, we have all observed our children's fascination with tags. Found on clothes, blankets, stuffed animals, anything, tags are tempting to say the least for those pudgy little fingers to manhandle. They're also great to chew on. When Ian was a baby, I observed him go to town on every tag within reach. Of course, Laurel does the same. With this knowledge, I anxiously purchased a taggie book full of sown in tags made from pretty ribbons. I was absolutely positive Laurel would love it, that she would spend hours of the day manipulating all the silky tags found on the edges of each page in the soft book.

I could never have been so wrong...

What is this thing? Is it a book? Is it a blanket?

I mean really mom, what is the point of this thing? I just don't get it.

Now this thing I know. This I play with all the time. See look, this is what should be all around this book/blanket/thingy.

Oh, bother. I'm bored, it's just not worth my time.