Sunday, September 2, 2012

Leia's tragic reality

Leia's inner dialogue during an all-to-familiar situation this afternoon. Please read with the voice of Stuey from Family Guy.
"Last time I checked, I was a cat ... not a pillow."

"I recognize I'm a little on the fluffy side, but that doesn't mean you can just do whatever you'd like."

"You're about to get a paw in the face."

"I'm so done with this. You're cute, but I need to retain my dignity. You're lucky I didn't go Lucifer on you (see Cinderella)."

"Are you following me?"

"Sonofa ..."

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Why? WHY?

Honestly.

I have truly understood what God goes through with us here on earth through the first two years with my daughter - particularly the last year when she has had the capacity to misbehave.

There are times I just don't get it and it frustrates me to no end. Something so simple I ask her to do, she refuses. Just because.

Today she threw a Memory game on the floor. All the pieces went everywhere. I asked her to pick it up. She wouldn't do it.

We were supposed to go to my parents' house so she could play with some new toys they got her and visit. I asked her if she wanted to go see Grandma and Papa and she was excited and ready to go.

I got her dressed, put her shoes on and I packed the bags to leave. Jack was in his carseat. All she needed to do was pick up the pieces from the Memory game and put them back in the box.

Would she do it?

No.

She wouldn't do it for an hour and a half. AN HOUR AND A HALF.

I explained to her in as simple a cause-and-effect terms as I could. If she picks up the pieces, we will leave for Grandma and Papa's house. Do you want to go to Grandma and Papa's house? Then pick up the pieces.

No. No, no, no, no.

She screamed. She whined. She misbehaved by climbing into Jack's rocking seat and yanking things off the end table.

I put her in her room telling her she would have to take a nap. Five minutes later I went back in there, asked her if she still wanted to go to Grandma and Papa's. She said yes, so I told her great - all we need to do is pick up the pieces.

Would she do it?

No.

More screaming. More asking for food. More attempts at playing with other toys.

I called my mom to tell her we wouldn't be able to come over because Abby wouldn't pick up the game she threw on the floor. Mom asked her to please pick up the game so she could come see her.

She put two pieces in the box and abandoned it. Back to screaming, whining, responding to me by saying I needed to "help" her put it away.

I tried the nap method again, going back up there in the hopes that it had sunk in and she'd clean up the game. Nope.

Finally - at 10:45 (I was ready to leave at 9:30), I put her upstairs in her room for good. I have no idea how long I'm going to let her rest up there, but I just sit downstairs perplexed.

Such a simple task. Put some pieces in a box. Not difficult. All she had to do was put pieces in a box and she would have had everything she wanted.

Makes me wonder how often we do things like that. Deny God's promptings for no good reason and miss out on great opportunities.

I really hope Abby puts the pieces away soon so we can go to my parents' house and she can play with new toys. I would be so happy to give her exactly what she wants.

I'm sure that's how God feels too.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

A little mush. Just a little.

As much as I love the entertainment element of writing about my motherhood, I feel I need to write a bit about my children on a serious note.

My kids (yes, I can't believe I have 'kids' in the plural) are amazing and watching them grow and develop is quite the experience.

I've always been around kids, but there is something about seeing something that wasn't there one day suddenly show up the next. It's like Michelle Pfeiffer's character says in "The Story of Us" - "All of a sudden there were no people and now there's people!"

To see Abby be a baby and then suddenly have imagination is astounding. She'll be mixing water in a bucket in the bathtub and she says, "Cooking ... noodles, chicken, broccoli." The fact that she is even able to have that sense of imagination out of nowhere is crazy to me.

Of course, I don't express my astonishment over my daughter often because it just doesn't translate through conversation or writing. You have to see it for yourself.

Yesterday Abby was "talking" on the phone (it was a flip cam) to a lion (hey, she knows lions. Maybe it was Calvin). She said a few words of gibberish to said-lion (making sure she paused in intervals for the lion to speak) before busting out in a sense of unnatural, pretend laughter.

Then today Abby was pulling puzzles out of a shopping bag one by one while Tom and I were in the kitchen. One box after another that she put on the floor. Then all of a sudden I hear her dragging the heavy bag across the carpet. When she passes the wall and is in my sight I see that she is dragging the bag with Leia inside. Leia looks slightly pleased with the ride, but quickly changes her tune as the bag starts to tilt and Abby doesn't stop.

We were sitting at the dining room table and she suddenly said to me, "Peggy ... buh-bye ... see you later ... alligator!" I said, "Aunt Peggy said, 'See you later, alligator?'" She gave a resounding, "YEAH!"

As much as I've heard some celebrity parents say that teaching children to say please and thank you is teaching them to be robotic, I have grown to see my daughter say, "Thank you, Mommy!" and "Thank you, Daddy!" all on her own when we give her things. I melt every time. She gives hugs and kisses and is just her own person.

I just don't have the words to express it because talking and writing about it doesn't do it justice, but it's been a wild ride so far and we (speaking for me and my amazing husband) absolutely love it.

Another proof-of-God experience is to see just how different Jack is from his sister. Up until this point, at least, she is me in every stretch of the imagination. She's bold and stubborn; loving and affectionate, yet not overly sensitive; funny (naturally, she gets that from me).

Jack is so clearly NOT all of that.

He is sweet by nature. Where Abby could be set down alone as an infant to swing or stare at hanging objects in her play gym, Jack needs interaction. He needs human contact and affection. He screams when left alone, but when we start talking to him, he just coos and smiles in a way I don't think I've ever seen a baby coo and smile. He is just so, so happy, but he needs that affection and human touch. It is so endearing.

Even in the womb, Abby would jab at me when I would set my hand on my stomach as if to say, "Hey! I'm occupying this space right now! Lay off!" Jack would move when I would put my hand on my stomach, but it was to snuggle up to the touch. My strong girl and my sweet boy.

Abby nursed, but wasn't attached to it. She loved the bottle and went on strike three or four times over the 10 months we did it. Jack was at the breast within a half hour of being born, knowing exactly what to do and knowing it was exactly what he wanted to do. Fits their personalities to a tee.

It's fascinating to see both of our children be loving, yet need us in very different ways and I'm very much looking forward to seeing Jack grow into his own personality and see just how different he and Abby are (and what similarities they have).

I will often say that Abby is me and Jack is Tom - even down to appearance - but I know they will each have some of each of us as well as some God-given uniqueness. The bottom line is that we have the privilege of being their parents and being with them as they mature into adulthood.

So far, it has certainly been an entertaining, thrilling and humbling journey.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

A big smell from a small boy

So I'm sitting on the couch with Jack while Tom and I are watching Project Runway, when an overwhelmingly-awful smell fills my nostrils.

Me (in exasperation and disgust): "Is that YOU?!"

Tom: "What ..."

Me: "That smell. It smells like rotten eggs."

Tom (actually checking to see if it's him): "No ..."

Me: "Is it the litter box? I mean ... Wait a second ..."

I put my face to Jack's diaper.

Me: "Oh my gosh, it's JACK!"

I was in true disbelief. The boy channeled the gastrointestinal system of a beer-drinking, fast-food eating, middle-aged man. He is 11 weeks old.

He looked at me, grinned and cooed.

I fear for what the future holds.

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Disposable undershirts

Jack has managed three (yes, three) diaper blow-outs in less than two days.

Carters comes with five undershirts in a layette and we have had to throw away three of them.

I have no idea what is going on, but it smells.

"Is that a Buzz shirt?"

Woke up today and Abby was wearing her red Buzz shirt when I woke up this morning.

Me: "Are you wearing your Buzz shirt?"

Abby: "No."

Me: "You're not wearing your Buzz shirt?"

Abby: "No, no."

Me: "What shirt are you wearing?"

Abby: "Buzz shirt!"

Thursday, August 9, 2012

How our kid sleeps

A) Can you tell she likes Toy Story?

B) She is, in fact, sleeping with her head at the foot of the bed.

C) I enjoy that she and Woody are "sleeping" in the same position.