Positive Reinforcement

First, I apologize for the lack of posts lately. To say October has been busy for the Feldmanns would be an understatement. Traveling for D, loads of fall-related activities for the girls (aka - fall-related projects at school for Paige and fall-related separation anxiety everywhere for Blair) and haunting at The Children's Museum for Mommy.

Expect an October-recap soon. Like, a week from tomorrow or so.

In the meantime, a quick post to keep you satisfied.

On the advice of our pediatrician (and numerous fellow mommies), we have started a system of 'positive reinforcemnt' for Paige. Meaning, Mommy will hopefully yell less and Paige gets to have stickers on a chart (a decrease in the amount of yelling is directly related to an increase in the amount of stickers...see how smart I am? Wow. Sometimes I even impress myself).

Soooo, Paige's first chosen prize was a trip to the ice cream shop (or 'ice cream factory' as she calls it) with her Daddy. Second chosen prize was a trip to The Children's Museum. Both were quickly achieved.

Then, as expected, she lost interest. I was forced to choose her third prize for her, because "I don't care Mommy, you just choose something" was the response I received when I asked Paige what she wanted.

I chose a witch Pez dispenser. What I would consider a hot-ticket item.

It's been sitting on the counter, next to the stickers and the sticker chart, for 5 days.

Folks, let me just clarify - the bar for getting a sticker on that chart is pretty freaking low. Like, all-Paige-really-needs-to-do-is-try-not-being-sassy-for-a-few-minutes-in-a-row-or-stop-trying-to-strangle-her-sister low. And she only needs 10 stickers to get a prize.

Anywho...she FINALLY got the stupid awesome witch Pez dispenser this morning. As I opened the package, I noticed something on the label.

M: "Paige. This Pez dispenser glows in the dark."

P: "Are you kidding me, Mommy?"

M: "I'm not kidding. It says right here on the box, 'GLOWS in the dark.'"

P: "Stop it, Mommy."

M: "I won't. It's a true story."

P: "This. Is. Awesome."

And it was worth all five days. Because, let's be honest. Who doesn't enjoy a little sassiness with their positive reinforcement?

**Story update - since I've started this post, I've heard Paige explain to Blair that she can't have any Pez  because she is "a baby and not a good girl." This is a direct quote:

P: "Bear, you can't have any. You grab. You push. You tried to bited me. You have no stickers on your chart."

Hello, pot? This is kettle, and my name is Paige. You're black.

Super Why

I'm not sure if you're familiar with 'Super Why.' It's a kid's show on PBS, and it's one of Paige's favorites (although it rarely makes it into the rotation onto the TV, since we don't have it on that often).

These are the characters, and they all have "super powers" that have to do with literacy and reading. Princess Presto can spell and Pig can "build" words (hence the tool belt). Little Red Riding Hood is part of their crew, but I'm about 99% sure it's because they feel sorry for her. To date, she has no super powers I can identify, except that she has mad skills on those roller blades (yes, I spend a considerable about of time analyzing these shows. See what a good parent I am? What with my judging Little Red and all?).

Whyatt is the main character, and he has the power to change stories. Each episode the crew "jumps" into a story to get clues to help them solve their own real life problem. Well, not necessarily a 'real life' problem, since they live in Storybook Village. Oh, and since they're cartoon characters.

Stay with me people, I promise this is going somewhere.

So, occasionally Whyatt has to step in because a character in a story wants to change, but can't. For example, the Giant doesn't want to throw tantrums, but it's part of his story. The Big Bad Wolf doesn't want to blow down houses, but it's part of his story. They all say "But Whyatt, it's in my story. What should I do?"

Ahem. Wow. That was a LOT of time spent writing about this kid's show. Thank God I went to graduate school. Money. Well. Spent.

So, the other day a friend of mine came over and brought goodie bags for both of the girls. They were so cute, and they had tons of fun Halloween stuff inside: candy, tattoos, spider rings ... did I mention candy?

Because Paige mentioned candy. About 800,000 freaking times. Before bed that night. And starting during breakfast the next morning (which, mind you, is around 6:30 am). 

Obviously I DIDN'T give her candy after breakfast, but by the time 10:00 am rolled around my patience was wearing VERY thin with her questioning (seriously - someday this girl could interrogate terrorists. She's THAT good at wearing you down until you snap).

"Paige!," I yelled calmly said. "I am serious. If you ask for candy one more time, we are putting every last bit of it into the trash can. And you will be helping me throw it away." (Seems harsh, I know. But that seems to be the only tactic that works with this girl.)

There was a pause, so I thought the conversation was over. I ran upstairs to hide went to put away laundry and a minute or two later Paige walked into my room.

She looked at me with those cute pink glasses and gave me one of her big, missing-tooth smiles.

"Yes, honey?" I said.

"But, Mommy. It's part of my story. It says, 'Paige keeps asking for candy.' What do I do?"

I stared at her open-mouthed for what I can only image was about half an hour. I then gave her a little pat on the head and turned around so she couldn't see me laughing. While biting my cheek to keep from smiling I told her that we would just have to change her story.

Well-played, Miss Paige. Well-played.

Microcosm

**Warning - this post is very sappy. It's what happens when I am low on sleep, and watch too many television dramas while also taking allergy medication. You've been warned.**

There are so many days when it feels like I wake up, blink my eyes and then all of a sudden it's time to put the girls down to bed again.

So many days when I get irritated at the drop of a hat. Become focused on marking things off my 'to-do' list. Yell 'Speak loudly' a little more often than I'd like. Get frustrated with things that wouldn't normally bother me.

And then there are the days where I feel like the Grinch. Not in the bad, stealing-Christmas kind of way (although, if I were going to steal a holiday to keep for myself, it would for SURE be that one). But in the my 'heart grew three times' kind of way.

And it's the little things that make time stand still. An unsolicited hug or a kiss. A little girl that stops mid-field during her soccer game to turn, wave and yell "Hi, Mommy! I love you!" A baby girl that wakes up in the middle of the night crying, and stops immediately the second her daddy puts her in your arms.

And I've had an epiphany recently (okay, after watching 'Parenthood' - seriously, that show. I wish I lived next door to the Bravermans).

I realized that my little family of four is a little microcosm of my larger, extended family. And I'm continuously being reminded of just how important family is.

Paige and Blair do things that drive me crazy. They do things that make me laugh. And they oftentimes seem schizophrenic in the way they can annoy me one second and make me feel over-loved the next. Honestly, there are times that I look at them and I literally can feel my heart ache with how very much I loved them.

Just like family. We laugh. We argue. Okay, we fight. We do things that disappoint. We do things that uplift. But we know in our heart of hearts that there are always people who will love us not matter what. There are always people who will love our children, even when it seems like they're trying to make themselves impossible to love. There are ALWAYS people who root for us when it seems like no one else is around or even cares. There will always be a group of people who genuinely want to see us succeed. And who know just how great our best-selves are.

And, that at any given time during the day, there are always people who are thinking about you. Telling a story about you. Smiling at something you did, whether it was today or two decades ago. Missing you. Wishing they saw you more often.

And it hit me. THAT'S why I became a mother. Those are the feelings I can only hope I instill in my girls, and the feelings I know my family and my husband's family will help me pass along. What it feels like to be unconditionally loved, and to love unconditionally.

Our little household is a microcosm of the larger Whitacre and Feldmann families. It includes the good (laughter, love, overall silliness) and the bad (impatience, and occasionally a little swearing).

And I can't wait to see (okay, I can wait a while...like 30 years) what the next little microcosm looks like.

Four Eyes

I sort of always knew she'd end up in glasses. In fact, her opthamologist told us last year it was a strong possibility.

I mean ... her eyes were sort of crossed sometimes. Okay, they flat-out crossed when she was tired.

Seriously, I love this picture. It's one of my favorites of the two of us. We were hanging out on our screened-in porch in the late afternoon while Blair was napping, and it's a perfect snapshot of Paige and her personality. Missing tooth. Crossed eyes. Sometimes I really can't stand how much I love this girl.

So, a few weeks ago we went back to Dr. Roberts (LOVE him, by the way!!), and he said it was finally time. Not only does Paige have an astigmatism in one eye, but the poor kiddo's prescription is +6 in each eye. Meaning, she is SEVERELY far-sighted. Like, might-not-even-be-able-to-see-details-of-her-hand-in-front-of-her-face far-sighted. 

After a two hour appointment (which included dilating her eyes again - an AWESOME experience for those of you who haven't tried it. And if you want an example of sarcasm, see the previous sentence.) it was time to pick out her frames. She marched in, went right up to a specific pair, and never changed her mind. It was meant to be, and her sassy glasses suit to a 't' - and match all of her outfits, which helps. 

I've said if anyone can rock a pair of glasses, it's Paige. I wasn't wrong.

So, so stinking cute. Every time Derrick and I look at her we have to give her a smooch. If it's possible, she's even cuter than she was before. The lenses are so think that they make her little eyes look huge. And I love it.

Our only concern is that she might be channeling The Church Lady. Especially in the morning when her hair is crazy.

Well. Isn't that special?

Plane Trip

Okay. I finally feel ready to talk about it. I've had some time to mull it over and process the experience. I've had some wine. I had some more wine. I've slept. I've forgiven my children (for now, right?).

Here's how it went down. The car ride was uneventful, and sweet Blair even took a little snooze. Paige was very well-behaved, and one potty emergency aside, she seemed ready for the trip.

We got through security fine. The girls had some snacks, and checked out the airplanes. There were a few arguments, but nothing out of the ordinary. They had slyly lulled me into a false sense of 'this-won't-be-that-bad' optimism.

Then we boarded the plane. And the shit hit the fan.

Nani had generously upgraded us to Business Class, and the girls and I were grateful for the extra room. The flight attendants were happy to see us. The two gentleman sitting on the aisles in the row in front of us, not so much.

Blair began entertaining the boarding coach passengers with her newly-perfected animal sounds. Her favorites to-date are the elephant (high-pitched screech) and the bear (high-pitched roar). Sensing a pattern here?

The man in front of Nani plugged his ear with his finger.

Oh dude. You don't even know. If you think these cute sounds are worthy of your irritation, it's gonna be a LONG flight for you.

And so it was. We took off, Paige settled into her seat to watch 'Tangled' for the millionth time. And Blair proceeded to throw a fit.

A screaming, wiggly, don't-hold-me-mommy-but-hey-why-the-hell-are-you-putting-me-down-mommy!!! fit.

I was sweaty. People were starting. I alternated between begging her to please be quiet to actually just holding my hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle the screams.

Nani tried to help. "Perhaps she wants some goldfish?" I handed Blair the bag (the off-the-shelf bag, mind you - not just a small Ziploc baggy). She threw the entire thing on the floor.

Douche-bags in front of me now both had their headphones on.

Fast-forward an hour and a half. Paige had enjoyed a nice snooze, the rest of her movie, and plenty of free Business Class snacks. The laptop was put away. The tray tables were in their upright position. Blair was still screaming. The men in front of me had started shooting me dirty looks. But, we were close. I could feel my ears popping.

I had spent the previous 30 minutes asking Paige if she needed to potty. Like, asking her every 2 minutes or so. To the point where she finally gave me a curt "Just stop it!" Fine. You don't need to go. I get it.

Ding goes the Fasten Seat belt sign notifying us we are preparing to land in a few minutes. Paige turns to me. "Mommy. I have to potty. Really, really bad. I don't think I can hold it."

Cue the total breakdown of Row C, Seats 1 and 2. Blair continued her massive fit, and now Paige was screaming. SCREAMING that she had to pee. At one point I'm pretty sure Blair headbutted my lip, but I'm not sure if that pain was from her or just from being affiliated with these children. At another point Nani just looked at me and said "Just let them cry." Because I'm pretty sure she thought I was either going to suffocate Blair or hurt Paige.

Sidenote for the a-hole sitting in front of Nani: Perhaps you don't have children? Fine. Perhaps you have forgotten that you were once a child? Perhaps you think I woke up this morning and thought to myself "Self, if these girls could be on their WORST behavior during a 2 hour flight in a cramped space, then I will call this day a roaring success!"? Perhaps you think I'm sitting back here having a cocktail and ignoring my two screaming kids? Perhaps you think I haven't pulled EVERY FREAKING TRICK out of my magic bag to try to make it stop? Perhaps you haven't heard me smack my 3 year-old's mouth for telling me how mean I am and that I am a bad mommy? 

Oh? And perhaps you think I am under the assumption that your choices for flying were either your own private jet or the Business Class section of an Airtran flight?

Dude? It's a $50 upgrade. Don't act all hoity-toity with me, okay? My kids have ruined enough clothes on this vacation alone to sponsor your ticket. Get over yourself.

The plane landed. Paige had people feeling sorry for her because she was crying hysterically that she had to go potty. (Folks - you've been had. This is all drama, no action. I would not have been surprised if we had gotten to the bathroom and she looked at me like I was a crazy person and said 'I don't have to go potty?!?').

I think the icing on the cake was probably somewhere around baggage claim. Nani took the girls outside to the van while Derrick helped me load up the suitcases and car seats.

I climbed inside to latch the girls' seats, and Paige asked me for the 300th time if she could have her ring pop back (No, because I made you throw it in the trash because you hit me, remember?). I calmly told her no. I less calmly told her that if I heard the words 'ring pop' come out of her mouth one more time I was going to take her blankie away.

This next part is not a joke - I cannot make this stuff up.

Paige pulled her toy cellphone out of her backpack and started quickly typing on the keypad. She looked at me and said "I'm just texting Susu to tell her what a mean and bad mommy you are."

Um, what??

So, I may or may not have snapped. I may or may not have jumped out of the van, pulled down her little pants and underwear, and spanked her little bottom.

And I may or may not have looked up to notice that there was a priest (in full priest regalia) standing three people down from me.

Yep, perfect ending to the perfect travel day.

We loaded into the car and Paige sweetly says "I'm feeling happy now, Mommy! Where are we going now?"

"To the orphanage," I responded. And I swear to God (or, at least to that priest standing outside baggage claim), if we had passed one on the way home, I would have dropped them off.

Fast forward through dinner, baths and bed (because, honestly, I wasn't involved. I was sitting on the front porch drinking my wine and reading an Us Weekly). The girls we in bed by 5:30, and asleep by 6:00.

We woke the next morning and Derrick had to go to a speaking engagement. The girls and I bundled up and headed to our first Farmer's Market of the Fall season. They were wonderfully behaved and even held hands.

Jeesh. There you go. Making me fall in love with you all over again.

Little stinkers.

Beach Baby

Let me just get this out there. I don't like the beach. And yes, for those of you who know me well, it IS extremely ironic that I need a wave sound-machine to lull me to sleep at night.

I'll explain. I love the IDEA of the beach. Sipping pina coladas, watching pretty people walk around in swimsuits, listening to the surf and the seagulls while reading a good book.

In reality, the beach is a lot more less idyllic. Really fat people walking around in too-small swimsuits. Seagulls trying to steal food out of your hand, and then pooping on you. And sand. Everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE. For weeks after you visit the beach. I took a drink out of my water bottle this morning and ended up with gritty sand in my mouth. And I didn't even HAVE my water bottle at the beach yesterday!

Okay, okay. It's not just about the sand (although, it's A LOT about the sand). I'll let you in on a little secret about me: I am TERRIFIED of the ocean. Not just "oh, no thanks, I don't want to get salt water in my eyes" scared of the ocean. Literally having a mild panic attack every time I think about even getting in the ocean past my ankles. Don't get me wrong - I am fascinated with all things ocean-related, and even thought about being a marine biologist at one point. Yes, I realize how crazy multi-faceted I am. I'm cool like that.

I'm pretty sure my fear stems from the fact that I was attacked and mauled by a jellyfish at a young age (I may be exaggerating, but that's how I remember it. Right, mom? Back me up here.). And also that my mom and step dad got cable when I was at a young, impressionable age - and a babysitter may or may not have let us watch 'Jaws.' (And that babysitter may or may not have been my stepsister. And she may or may not have been more focused on the party she was probably having in the backyard by the pool.)

Anyhoo - it was pretty much destiny that I would have a daughter that loves the beach AND the ocean. Paige cannot get enough of it. She loves to sit in the sand (ugh - SITTING. In the sand. See? Sand. E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E.) and build sandcastles. Or, actually, knock down the sand castle I spent 15 minutes making for her. She loves to jump over the waves and is constantly begging to go further and further out into the water. She has ZERO fear of the ocean. Every time I see her take one step further into the water I'm pretty sure a little piece of my heart arrests. It honestly takes everything I have not to establish a fake world for Paige and pretend that the ocean doesn't exist. I'm willing to go to that length to not have to watch her swim in it. But, I'm not mean. At least, not if you ask me (Paige would tell you differently. In fact, I have been told twice today that she's not playing with me anymore because I'm mean. Guess what? She's LYING. Two minutes later she's back to play with me. And I had JUST gotten my new magazine out. Jeesh.)

So, today I had to do it. Paige was with her daddy out on a sandbar, and Blair was on the beach with me screaming "Daddy! Da!!! (I think 'Da' is Paige at this point, but don't hold me to that). I had to wade out to the sandbar holding Blair, and I had to pretend like it didn't bother me at all. I'm trying really hard not to pass my neuroses along to my girls. I'm pretty sure they're already screwed on the OCD front, so I'll hopefully spare them from the rest.

And I did it. My heart was racing. I was sweating (no shock there). I could have used my inhaler. But I did it. I waded out to them and we played on the sandbar. (Okay, maybe the water only was as high as my waist, and maybe I made Derrick come walk with me halfway out. But, I DID it!).

Luckily, Blair seems to have inherited my feelings about the beach. She HATES it. No, that's not even strong enough. Blair LOATHES the beach. So much so that Paige opted for the pool this morning because "Mommy, Bear hates the beach. She just cries and cries and cries. Let's go to the pool so she doesn't scream anymore." I agree, Paige.

Blair does that funny little thing kids do where she pulls her feet high into the air any time I try to put her down on the sand, or in the water. She also does that less funny thing kids do when they throw a fit any time you try to make them do something they don't want to do.

Let's just say she gets it honestly. She loves the pool. She would spend all day basking in the sunshine and hanging out poolside. Which, incidentally, is right where I hope to be too.

Blair expressing her feelings about being at the beach. People - we were just walking home from dinner and trying to watch the sunset. I never even tried to put her down. She was just THIS pissed that we were even out there.

Paige-isms

It's been a crazy week (and, yes, I realize it's only Tuesday), so I thought I'd entertain you all with some recent 'Paige-isms':

Oftentimes, Paige is the life of the party. For example, she regularly grabs her drumstick, pretends she's a conductor, and says to me (loudly, and quite bossily, I might add) "1,2,3,4,7,10 - hit it!!!!" After which, I am expected to immediately burst into song. Not that I actually know which song I'm expected to sing. Usually I pick the wrong one, just FYI.

Also, Paige likes, ahem, making her presence known when she enters somewhere. For example, an arrival at walk Nani and Botsie's house is typically announced with a loud "Let's get this party started!"

Sometimes, she's surprising me with her knowledge of words I had no idea she even knew (note to self - I'm guessing she's picking them up from me. I should probably clean it up a bit.). She reprimanded Blair one day by yelling "Bear Elizabeth! Don't spill your bottle! You are making me SO upset right now!"

She also was enjoying a piece of bubblegum and said to me, "Mommy, this gum is very interesting."

Or, the time we were on the boat and Botsie was having to drive around and around in a circle because the motor seemed to be dragging. She turned to me and said "This is a calamity." It really was - mostly because we were giving poor Bots a hard time.

Other times she's this close to understanding a word. She tries it out a variety of ways until she seems to find a way that works. For example, after finding out that her cousin was coming to lunch with us she turned to her and excitedly said "Addison (pronounced "Addy-son")!! You are coming to lunch too!! That is so acceptable!"

Hmmm...not quite. She tried again a few days later. I asked her if she had fun at a party. Her response? "It was fun, Mommy. But not too much fun. It was acceptable." Nice. I agreed. It was acceptable.

Most of the time, she's making me (and others) feel rather silly...or really just like a big ol' idiot. Like when she was making me laugh and I asked if I could be the President of her fan club. She informed me that "That's a very important job, Mommy. I think I will be the President, okay?"

Or, the time when we were at Benihana and the chef was doing the 'shrimp in the picket' trick. She politely raised her hand and told him, "Um, excuse me. You should not throw food." Poor guy. Never had a chance.

Or today, when I was trying to get her to tell me what she said to her class about the pictures of her pets she took to school. Finally, after about 10 minutes of me begging her to tell me something, anything about her day, she said "Okay Mommy. I told them 'blah, blah, blah, blah.' And that's it." Yikes. Message received.

And then other times, she reminds me that she's only 3 1/2. And that I wish I could freeze the way kids this age talk so they never grew out of it. Sure, it would sound a little silly for adults to say things like "Holy cow! I am soak and wet from playing in that sprinkler!" or "Speaking of walruses (we weren't) I think I'd like an Icee."

Or, one of my recent favorites. We were in the bathroom at Paradise Cafe a few weeks ago:

Paige (loudly) announced: "Pew, it stinks in here, Mommy! It's disgusting! Why does it smell so bad!"
Me: "I know honey. That's because the potty is where things come out of people's bottoms. It can be gross."
Paige: "Well, it's disgusting. And I'm TRYING to think about donuts here!"

Well said, Paige. Well said.

Are You Ready For Some Futbol?

Folks, you ain't seen nuthin till you've been to a soccer game played by 3 year olds. It is quite possibly one of the most awesome things I've ever seen.

Let me set the scene - there's 30 minutes of practice, and then 30 minutes of a game against another team. Paige's team is the Twisters, and her friends Simon, Griffin and Tatum play (their daddies are the coaches. Tatum's daddy is also our dentist - a fact which blows Paige's mind. "Dr. Ted is my toof doctor AND my soccer coach???? That's crazy!") Practice consists of stretching, some running a lap or so, lots of waving at mom, and more than a few tears (no, we're not sure why, either. I guess soccer is just really sad sometimes?).

During the game, the coaches often had to stop to tie a player's shoes midway down the field. Oftentimes, a player would swing by their parents' seats for a quick smooch and a hug (Paige, please never stop doing this, okay?). A little girl on the other team stood with the ball locked between her ankles while all the other kids just stood around and stared at her. When Paige wasn't in the game, she was on the sidelines sitting in someone's lap and sucking her thumb. 

At one point, a mom was actually on the field holding her son's hand while he was chasing the ball. I cannot make this stuff up.

Paige's favorite part of soccer? The snacks after the game. 

Her least favorite part? "I think it's very rude that the other team doesn't share the ball, Mommy. And they keep trying to kick the ball into our goal! It's not nice!"

This is Paige post-kick. She does this little thing that's part skip, part hop and all joy. It makes my heart happy to see it.

Paige also spent a bit of time rearranging the field. She yelled "Mommy, dis cone should go riiiiigggght here. Okay?" Okay, Paige. Because, let's be honest. I probably know as much about soccer as she does, and I agree - the cone DOES look better there.

Blair was VERY pleased with herself in her little chair. She sat here and kicked her little feet for a good 15 minutes. Then she decided to eat grass and put my soda can in her mouth. I swear, it's a surprise sometimes that this girl makes it through the day without a trip to the ER or a call to poison control.

A post-game lunch at "Shake and Steak". Go Twisters!!!

What the Hell?

Last week Paige had her first day of preschool. That was on Thursday.

Then, this happened:

Blair had been throwing massive fits in her high chair the past few days, and Friday morning it finally clicked with me that maybe it's her chair she hates (i.e. not me). So, I put her down and asked her if she wanted to sit in a chair. She smiled slyly out of the corner of her eye, then climbed up into this seat. 

Oh? I'm sorry. Apparently you've decided you're done with your high chair.

Then, later that same day, this happened:

Sob. Last look at the bangs. I had to do it. Grief from my family members aside, this little stinker had figured out how to remove her ponytail holders, and I was afraid she would swallow one.

She FINALLY gets to sit in the driver seat of a Barbie Jeep!

Have I mentioned ... SOB!!!!

Paige, patiently watching and waiting her turn.

Paige, picking the hairstylist's pockets

The finished 'do. I have to admit it. She looks pretty STINKING cute.

THEN, this happened:

Bye bye, morning bottle.

I decided it was time to start weaning the bottle. (Again, if Dr. Boyce is reading this, ha ha - just kidding. The bottles were gone ages ago. Just trying to make other moms feel better.) Let's just say she was ... um ... how you say? PISSED? This cup was tossed multiple times, accompanied by a scream of "Ba ba! Ba ba!" But after putting on a TV show calmly explaining how it was time to switch to a cup, she relented. Or, gave up. For today.

Then, THIS happened today:

Seriously.

Seriously?!?!?!?!

SERIOUSLY! Blair started PDO. She was all ready to go this morning. She was excited when we dropped Paige off for her first full day of preschool (Paige, by the way, didn't even say goodbye to me. I turned around and she was gone. Before entering the room, I was briefly made aware of the fact that "This lunchbox is WAAAAY too heavy today. Don't do that again, okay?" Sure, Paige. Tomorrow I'll just pack you a Weight Watcher's shake and call it a day.)

Blair was great walking down the hall. She was happy when we walked into the room. Then, I said "Okay, honey. Say 'bye-bye!'"

And she leaned forward to kiss the teachers goodbye. 

Uh-oh. No bueno.

I gave her a kiss, and handed her to the teacher. A look of realization and panic crossed her face. The sobs began. Oooooh, man. Why does this have to be so hard?

Her teacher, Ms. Leslie, is pretty no-nonsense. Thank God. "Bye, Mom!," she said, basically shooing me out the door.

I spent the rest of the morning feeling like a band-aid had been ripped off. Sort of a state of shock. I called, and they said she was fine, and in fact was snoozing. 

I went in to pick her up, and she cried for a second when she saw me, then a huge grin spread across her face. "Mama!" She reached for me, turned around, and blew her teachers kisses. 

I'm not sure how next Monday will go, but I know today went far better than I expected.

What the hell.

These girls are killing me. I feel like all the growing up is happening this week. Like it's all starting to snowball and it's only going to feel even faster from this point on. Then I look back, and I think I've actually felt that way all along. It's just that the moments seem bigger because now I can literally see the steps towards independence. They're not just rolling over or eating solid food. They're actually walking away from me and leaving me for hours at a time to go to school. 

I don't even know if that makes sense. All I know is that I need a massage (hint, hint.).

One of my favorite quotes sums it up well:

"Making the decision to have a child - it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside of your body." Elizabeth Stone

First Day - Sort Of

Yesterday was Paige's first day of preschool ... sort of.

I say 'sort of' because we were actually only there for an hour, and the mommies stayed the entire time. But, I was still a nervous wreck and was certain I would cry.

The very first thing out of my mouth when I woke up was "Derrick. Our baby is starting preschool today. How did this happen? Wasn't she just born a week or so ago?" He smiled knowingly (as in, knowing I was very close to the edge and keeping his mouth shut was probably in the best interest of all parties involved).

She was up at the crack of dawn (duh), and we decided to make a pre-preschool donut run.

Paige and Derrick do this all the time together, but Mommy and Blair never get to go. So Paige knew this was a very special day.

Blair was just happy to be along for the ride. And even happier to figure out a way to have her bottle AND her donut hole at the same time (unless you're her pediatrician reading this. Ha, ha, Dr. Boyce. This isn't really a bottle. I swear we put them all away at one year, just like you told us to. And just like I told you I had at her last appointment).

Next stop, home. Time to pick out a special outfit and get ready to head to school! She had already picked out a cute little romper to wear, but at the last minute she decided she wanted a dress. Mind you, she had already picked out her accessories (large bow) and shoes. Ahh...a girl after her mommy's heart. 

Last step (which, by the way, took the longest) was updating her calendar in her room:

You'll notice behind her that 'Today's Activity" is 'School" (with the school bus). She has been waiting all summer to use that one! She also noted that she was feeling 'Proud.'

And we were off. She was so brave. All the way to school we chatted about what the morning would bring. I asked her how she was feeling. 

P: "I'm so excited. And I feel proud, too. Because I'm so brave and getting to be such a big girl, Mommy." (Can you tell we've been talking a little about this day here?) "How are YOU feeling, Mommy?"

M: "Very excited. Because it will be so much fun. And a little nervous." 

P: "Why are you nervous?"

M: "I'm not sure. I guess because you're getting so big. But nervous is okay."

P: (after a loooong pause) "It's okay. I will be there. I love you so much, Mommy."

I'm pretty sure time stood still for a moment. I wished I had a little locket or something where I could take this moment and keep it with me forever. Play it over and over again. Just to feel that feeling and hear my little girl making a huge leap from baby to preschooler.

And to be honest, this was the only point I really got choked up all morning. She was so excited, and her excitement was contagious. 

She marched to her classroom, showing her Daddy the right way to go (and making sure to get irritated when he mistakingly started walking down the wrong hallway):

She pointed out her 'owl' on her coat hook, finding her name all by herself:

And that was it. She headed into her room, giving the teacher waiting by the door a high-five. During circle time, she leaned over to check in on her friend Audrey, who can get shy sometimes. "Psssst. Audrey. Are you okay over there?" She participated, even saying "excuse me" before talking. She played. She painted. She had a snack (and attempted to go back for seconds and thirds). After an hour, when it was time to go, she said "I'm not ready to leave yet, Mommy!" (And, I don't blame her. Her teachers are A-W-E-S-O-M-E. And you can honestly tell how much they love spending three days a week with seven 3-year-olds. So, basically, they're crazy people.)

So, basically, I didn't cry. I marveled at the child Paige has become. As much as she frustrates me and as sassy as she can be, she is also compassionate and caring. As big as her fits are and as loud as her screams can get, she is also full of life and excited to try new things. I can't wait to experience how much she loves preschool. Seriously. That girl was BORN for the routine and activities these teachers have planned.

Now, Monday I will walk her to the door and she will walk in alone. 

(I'm also dropping Blair off for the morning in the 'Beginners' class. She clung to us like a leach while walking through the halls. That will NOT go well. For either of us. Stay tuned.). 

So, basically expect a post about that sometime next month. 

When I can finally stop crying.

                             

Paige's first day of PDO (Parent's Day Out) - September 2010                 

First day of Preschool - September 2012

Scavenger Hunt

I admit it - I'm completely obsessive-compulsive.

So OCD, in fact, that I can't bring myself to hire a cleaning lady (because, let's face it, I'd clean my house for her before she got here). And, I may or may not be in a constant state of rearrangement for all cupboards, closets, drawers, etc. in my house. Nothing is safe. Really. Don't bother really learning where anything is (as Derrick will attest to).

So, I don't really mind cleaning our house. I count it as a workout, and I know my kids could eat off the floor when I'm done. Because, let's be honest - they're usually eating things off the floor anyway.

One thing I'm liking about cleaning now that both girls are mobile is that it's not becoming a scavenger hunt. Full of constant surprises. I never know what I'm going to find.

For example: yesterday I was cleaning our living room. I took the cushions off the couch to vacuum (See? I'm not exaggerating) and found: a handful of Panda Puffs, a pen, two 'sippydips', a long-missing remote control and a Little Person (Maggie, the bus driver, to be specific).

While sweeping under the side table I found a sippy cup (with water, thank God - the milk ones go straight into the trash), a large dust bunny I considered keeping and raising, and another Little Person (Zookeeper, in case you're wondering).

Last, but not least, I moved the large ottoman. Found: one drumstick (the musical kind, not the chicken kind), a book we've been looking for, two blocks, a ball and another Little Person (the mommy who drives the mini-van, so you know).

Side note: what is with these Little People? Do I need to be concerned we have an Indian in the Cupboard situation here?!??!

Folks - I clean like this once every two weeks. Moving furniture, taking off cushions, restoring things to their rightful homes. And I pick up toys twice a day - once during nap and once after the girls have gone to bed. How is it possible that just ONE ROOM of our house has enough toys squirreled away to fill a small box for Goodwill to put away for my kids to play with again?

It's insane. And I'm super-excited. Because I'm cleaning BOTH Paige's and Blair's room tomorrow!!! Let the games continue!

Just One Day

You know what? Just for one day, I'd like to live my life as if I were a toddler.

Now, wait. Don't give up on me. This isn't one of those sappy posts about how we should all take time to smell the roses, dance as if no one's watching, blah blah blah. Sure, that's all true and they seem to have a beat on getting the most out of life, but honestly, they don't have much to worry about, do they?

No, what if we all decided to act like our kids on a regular day?

Here's just a few of the things that would happen. (I had to quit after 10 things, because it's rainy and I'm getting sleepy and think I'll take a nap. Just kidding. Paige woke up from her nap):

1. I would wake up and demand to know what was being done that day to entertain me? "Derrick? Where are we going today? What are we going to do?" And, if I disapprove of his choice? I'm going to lose it. "No! I don't WANT to go see a movie! I WANT to go shopping at Nordstrom! Now, just stop it!" (Actually, that doesn't sound all that out of the ordinary. Let's just say my kids get it honestly.)

2. I will loudly announce every time I'm going to the bathroom. And, if the door is shut and I can't get it open, forget about it. I am going to seriously melt down. Unacceptable. In fact, I'm just going to announce everything I do just in case their might be an obstacle that would prevent/delay me. In fact, just follow me around to make sure everything is easy-peasy, K? Thank you!

3. I'm going to open a piece of gum/Capri Sun/anything that has a wrapper and just hand the trash to whoever is closest to me. If no one is close, no worries. I'll just drop it on the floor.

4. I'm going to complain loudly when someone tries to put me down for a nap in the middle of the day, in a nice, dark room with cozy blankies. Honestly, what is wrong with these kids????

5. I'm going to wear my shoes on the wrong feet, put my underwear on inside out, and most likely wear my pants with one leg through the waist, and the waist around a leg (seriously? You'd be SHOCKED at how often this happens at our house.Usually all at the same time). I will also pierce your eardrums with my screams if you attempt, nay - even suggest, I change these mistakes.

6. If I am finished with my snack, I will simply grab the snack of the person sitting next to me. If they get upset, I'll just explain we're "swapping." "Here, take my empty bowl. This is your snack now, okay?"

7. If you dare to upset me in any way, which might even just mean making eye contact with me at any given time, I will pull your hair. I'm not kidding. I will grab a chunk with each hand and pull in opposite directions.

8. In most conversations I'm just going to repeat the person's name over and over and over and over and over again. I will also say said person's name at the beginning of each sentence. Especially if we are the only people in the room. Just so they know who I'm talking to. Oh, and hopefully that person will be on the phone or talking to someone so I can be sure to interrupt.

9. I will protest LOUDLY anytime anyone wants me to use the restroom before we leave the house. In fact, I will throw myself on the floor until people just give up and tell me "Fine! You don't have to go! I get it." Then, as soon as we get on the road I will say I do indeed need to pee. And that it's an emergency and I can't hold it. I really, really can't.

10. I will be indifferent to the stares of others when they react to my display of emotions. And I will display whatever emotion I am experiencing loudly and the instant I feel it. And I will change that emotion constantly, like the flip of a switch. I will hate you, then I will love you, then I will be hungry, but if I have to get up to get a snack, I will not be hungry anymore. I will be tired, and I will want you to carry me to get a snack. No? Fine. I will scream.

And I will win. I will beat you down until you give up and I get my way.

And you will love me anyway. Because I'm cute and the funny things I say totally (okay, mostly) outweigh the fits and screams.

And, let's face it. I keep life interesting with all my personalities.

Polite

Okay, here's a few things you know about Blair.

1) She's cute. Gorgeous even.

Look at those brown eyes. Can't stand it. I just can't!

2) She will scratch your freaking eyes out if threatened. Seriously. Do. Not. Poke. The. Bear.

See that LONG scratch on my face? No, no - past the sunspots. Uh-uh, below the dark circles under my eye. (Good Lord, I look horrible!!!) Yep - the two part, deep scratch. From Blair. In this case, "threatened" was me daring to take a pack of gum out of her mouth. She had snagged it from my purse during the dolphin show at the Zoo. Needless to say, that's the last second she saw of the dolphin show.

3) This is a new one - apparently, she's polite! I don't have a photo to go along with this to prove it, so I will illustrate with a story and you'll take my word for it. 

The girls and I were at Paige's swim lesson this afternoon, and while Paige swims Blair and I hang out in a viewing room. Today there were only two other Moms there, so Blair was able to be loud and go through people's stuff walk around and stretch her legs a bit. 

And she was actually just sort of hanging out right in front of me. That is, until she discovered the woman sitting a few chairs down. She was on the phone (the mom, not Blair), and Blair toddled up to her. "Hi!" she yelled. Seriously. She yelled it. Over and over until the woman said "Hi, cutie!" Blair smiled, tilted her head to the side, and said "Ta tu", or "thank you" in Blair speak. Then she toddled back to me. (Um, hello? Fish for compliments, much??)

Oh yeah, she had this lady hook, line and sinker (or do you say hook, line and stinker?).

A few minutes later she walked back over to her again and began examining her daughter's hot pink sandals. Hot pink sandals with sparkly ice cream cones on them. They were super cute. Blair agreed. She picked them up (I am not even making this up) in one hand, flung them over her shoulder, stood up, smiled at the woman and shouted "Bye!" over her shoulder as she toddled away with what I'm pretty sure she thought were her brand new shoes.

Um, I can't say I don't understand her obsession with shoes. She gets it honestly. And, at least she was polite? I guess?

So she's got that going for her. Which is nice.

It's Probably About Time

Well, it finally happened. It really shouldn't be a surprise, not with the past few week's, um, issues we've been having.

Yes, I'm talking about Baby Blair.

She'd had a rough morning already (which is what I told her would happen if she insisted on waking up at 5:30 am - she obviously didn't care to listen to me). About 5 minutes after breakfast (so around 6:00-ish) I tried to read a book to she and Paige, with both girls sitting on my lap. Blair either didn't want to share the book or my lap (most likely both). So she gave Paige a shove and turned around and gave my face a pinch. (Actually, a surprisingly hard pinch for a 15-month-old. I might want to ease up on the milk to weaken those muscles a little.) I immediately put her down on the floor and continued reading to Paige. Although it was really more like shouting the book to Paige at that point, as Blair's screams were reaching an all-time height in volume.

Yep. Baby Blair experienced her first time-out this morning. She was NOT happy about it, but she had pulled her sister's hair YET AGAIN. And, Paige decided to give her a well-deserved smack, so we actually had a tandem time-out. (Obviously, not in the same spot. I'm not starting a toddler version of Fight Club here, people.)

She knew she was wrong (I really, REALLY hope she knew she was wrong), but I'm a little frightened to report that the general mood of her time-out seemed less sorry and guilty -  and really just pissed and plot-y. 

Lord help us all. But especially Paige and Mommy.

Alarm Clock

By now you all realize how much I dislike the morning. Or, at least a lot of hubbub in the morning. I need just a teeny bit of quiet time to get moving (and happy). And you also realize that I married a man who jumps out of bed ready to face the day. Regardless of what time it is.

By some cruel twist of genetic fate, my girls have gotten both of these traits. They are up with the roosters ... and yet they are in HORRIBLE moods. Seriously. Every. Single. Day.

In fact, just this morning I said to Derrick "Just once I would love to wake up hearing cute giggling, not screaming. Perhaps it might make me in a better mood." (His smirk and lack of comment suggested otherwise.)

Each morning Paige sits in her bed and screams "MOMMY! MOMMY! I'M AWAKE! COME GET ME! I'M HUNGRY!" Then she realizes she's barking (or, er, screaming) up the wrong tree and the shouts change to "DAAAAADDDDDYYY! DADDY! I HEAR YOU OUT THERE! I'M HUNGRY! COME GET ME!" Which, if he has the audacity to actually finish whatever he's doing before going in to get her, quickly becomes "I MEAN IT! GET IN HERE! RIGHT! NOW!" (See? Sounds pleasant, doesn't it? Keep in mind this is typically around 6:15 am).

So, we came up with a plan (Derrick and I, not Paige and I). We needed for her to realize when it was okay to yell for us, and when it was too early. (Yes, as I'm typing this I see it sounds ridiculous. But trying to just teach her not to scream is a task I'm not willing to undertake. I'm not Jesus. No miracle-working here.)

We bought her a clock. A "Tot Clock," to be specific. It plays songs when it's time to go to sleep. The face of the clock turns a light blue for naptime, and a dark blue for bedtime. You can set a timer so it stays blue for a certain amount of time during nap. And you set a different 'alarm' so that when it's time to wake up, the face of the clock turns yellow.

It's pretty freaking cool. And it was NOT cheap.

So, obviously, problem solved, right?

Wrong. What happens now?

The screams sound like this "MOMMY! MOMMY! MY CLOCK IS STILL BLUE, MOMMY! MOMMY, WHEN WILL IT TURN YELLOW?? MOOOOMMMYYY! I THINK IT IS STILL TIME TO BE ASLEEP, RIGHT?" Then change to "DADDY! DADDY! I HEAR YOU OUT THERE! MY CLOCK IS STILL BLUE! WHEN IS IT GOING TO TURN YELLOW?" And finally, to "GUYS! I MEAN IT! THE CLOCK IS NOT GOING TO TURN YELLOW! IT IS BROKEN! IT'S ... OH!!!! GUYS! THE CLOCK IS YELLOW! IT'S YELLOW!!!! IT'S MORNING! TIME TO GET UP!!!"

Every. Single. Morning.