Nobody touch anybody

This has been a tryng week in the sibling relations category. Jack has been especially aggressive with Emmie and it's wearing on everyone's nerves. Lucky for me, Josh is home this week so he's been able to share in the fun.

Filed under "things I never thought I would say to my almost-3-year-old":
* You sister is not a road. Stop driving your trucks on her head. She doesn't like it.

* Stop touching Emmie. No, I mean it. Not at all, ever again. Never.

* When you head-butt your sister, it hurts her and makes her cry.

* Emmie doesn't like it when you close the toybox on her. And neither does Mommy.

* You know what? You are not watching Elmo tonight. In fact, you are not watching anything for the rest of your life. That was NOT NICE.

His response to any or all of these was to laugh and do more of the same. There's been a lot of timeout around here the last few days. Also, a lot of crying on Emmie's part. And a lot of whining on Mommy's part. And a lot of sighing on Daddy's part. We're just a fun bunch to be around. Who wants a playdate?

So we're going to start a star chart. Good behavior earns stars, bad behavior gets them taken away. If you don't have enough stars in the good column at the end of the day, you don't get to watch a video. Just to be clear, this is for Jack. I do not, contrary to what Josh thinks, need to earn my TV time.

If you've done something similar, can you give me any advice on how to implement this?

First preschool lunch

Today was Jack's first day of four-hour preschool. He had been going two hours, two days a week, but his school offers what's called "enrichment" for the second semester. That means he spends another two hours at school doing another class (science on Tuesdays and cooking on Thursdays) and eats lunch there, and I spend a leisurely morning at home eating bonbons and reading celebrity gossip.

I kid, I kid. I actually spent the extra two hours playing with Emmie, cleaning the kitchen and taking a shower. It was nice not to have to rush around like a crazy person trying to get stuff done, get Emmie down for a nap and shower all in 90 minutes.

Last night I packed up Jack's first school lunch in his new Laptop Lunchbox (no BPA or plastic bad stuff and it's super-cute) with great excitement. OK, not great excitement, but lukewarm enthusiasm. You see, his school requires nut-free, vegetarian lunches. So I couldn't pack his standby much-loved almond butter sandwich. Nor a turkey sandwich. Instead, he got a cold cheese sandwich. Doesn't that sound ... appetizing?

In addition, I threw in some carrots and some blueberries, a squeezable yogurt tube and some milk. All things he eats for lunch at home. All things he likes. I even put in a little note for him telling him to have a good lunch with love from Mommy, Daddy and Emmie.

When I unpacked the lunchbox at home after school, it contained empty spots where the cheese sandwich and milk had been. The carrots, blueberries and yogurt were still nestled into their original spots. Allrighty then.

Next up for Thursday: hummus and pita. This ought to go over real well.

He did it!

Last year on Jan. 1, Jack peed on the potty for the first time. I remarked then that 2008 would be the Year of the Potty. And I wasn't far off, as he was daytime potty-trained by July 4. Except he wasn't pooping in the potty. He just waited until naptime and helped himself to a diaper.

Today, he didn't take a nap. I was at Target and he told Daddy that he had to pee on the potty. Josh told him to also try to poop and a minute later, he came out and told Josh, "Poop potty!" Josh didn't believe him, but went in to investigate and low and behold, he had pooped.

HOORAY! There was joy in Mudville and he got the special Diego matchbox cars we have been trying to bribe him with and we made a huge deal about it and called all the various Grandmas and Aunts and he was very proud of himself.

Now let's hope he can do it again tomorrow. I might buy stock in those little Diego cars if he does.

It was a good year

Emmie (rocking her new hairstyle) and Jack (rocking his shameless commercialism) would like to wish you all a Happy New Year!

When 2008 dawned, I was trying my best not to go into labor while Josh was at the Rose Bowl. We had one child and a multi-unit house.

As 2008 draws to a close, we have a single-family house that is home to two kids. This year has been very good for us both personally and professionally. But we are most thankful for our family, friends and good health.

I wish all of you a Happy New Year! Now I am off to eat Mexican food and drink some adult beverages, followed by a morning of sleeping in. Apparently, 2009 is going to start off on the right foot as the children are sleeping over at Grandma and Grandpa's house!

Merry Christmas from all of us at Snarky Mommy

Santa was good to us this year. Hope you and yours had a delightful holiday.

Advice needed please

A parenting dilemma: Jack started crying/screaming that he had to poop on the potty right as I was putting him to bed tonight. He was so insistent that I let him go to the bathroom.

We then sat there for over an hour while he tried, unsuccessfully, to get the job done. I feel like he was being sincere, but maybe couldn't do it for some reason. He's never pooped on the potty, despite being totally out of diapers during the day since July 4.

Josh got home at 9:15 p.m. and said he wouldn't have let it go longer than 10 minutes. I told him he could have a go at it then, if he was so smart. He gave him to the count of five, picked him up and put him to bed. Where he became lunatic-hysterical until I gave him one more chance, then put him back to bed myself. Within two minutes, he was asleep.

So, have we just set him back in the quest for full potty training? Or was it all a ploy to delay his bedtime?

Easy to please

Last night, I was super-excited because we were going to watch "Charlie Brown Christmas" when we got home from dinner.

I turned to Jack and said, "I have a surprise for you on TV when we get home!"

He got a huge smile on his face and said, "Obama?"

Seriously.

This is also the kid who when I was promising various things for going poop on the potty, asked if he could have an Obama present if he successfully performed the task.

I am really hoping for two terms from this administration. It will help the parenting process around these parts.

Ho ho ho!

Everybody loves Santa! This is great!


Emmie: Wait a minute, who the HELL is this dude and what am I doing on his lap?
Jack: Emmie, shut the hell up or he won't bring us any toys!


Emmie: Mommy! I don't want presents. I want you!
Jack: Emmie, seriously, I can't carry us both here. I want presents, knock it off.


Sorry about that dude, she's crazy. Now, about those presents...


Santa, I really don't want to pull your finger. Seriously. Just no. OK, OK, just once.


Why yes, I AM wearing a mink coat with a baby peeking out of it. It's freaking 10 degrees.

What was he thinking?

Wednesday afternoon we were getting ready to leave for Thanksgiving when I asked Jack to please go use the bathroom. I wanted to make sure he went before we got on the road so we wouldn't have to stop.

He told me he didn't have to go, I insisted he try, he ran away laughing and I told him if he didn't get in the bathroom THIS MINUTE that we weren't going to go to Grandma's to eat dinner. That got his attention, and he went into the bathroom.

I was busy getting the last of the stuff together and yelling at Josh to get off the damn computer for the love of GOD I am so sick of being late all the time. Jack ran out of the bathroom into the kitchen laughing maniacally with the front of his hair wet.

Looking at him suspiciously, I asked why his hair was wet. He yelled at the top of his lungs, "Jack put his hand inna toilet! Jack get hair wet!"

I tried to remain calm, failed, and told him to knock it off because that is disgusting and he could get sick and it is gross. Not to mention, he still hadn't peed on the potty. I sent him back in, but this time the door stayed open.

As I walked back from the dining room, I saw the the back of his butt, fully clothed. I could not see his head BECAUSE IT WAS IN THE TOILET. He stuck his whole head in the bowl, in the water.

I grabbed him by the arm, yanked him out of the bathroom and got right in his face. I told him that he was never, ever to do that again. Josh happened to walk by as I was down on my knees with my face inches from his and asked what the problem was. When I told him his son's HEAD was in the TOILET, he grabbed him and told him that was a timeout.

Honest to God, I have no idea what he was thinking. But I can tell you if this is what his little boy brain thinks up at almost 3 years old, I can't even imagine the surprises I am going to be in for in the next few years.

I walk out to the

Happy Thanksgiving!

Gobble, gobble all you pilgrims.

Today I am thankful for my children, my husband, the rest of our families and our good health. May you and yours enjoy your turkey and pie and football.

At school last week, they asked all the kids what they were thankful for and posted the one-word answers on the door. Almost every child answered, "Mommy and Daddy." My kid? He said "school." Brownnoser.

What are you thankful for this year?

Busy day

Emmie and her double ear infection slept until 8:15 a.m. this morning. She did wake once at 6 a.m. and then we threw her in the swing and got two more hours out of her. So that was awesome.

Not so awesome was the fact she ran a fever off and on today. So apparently the three doses of antibiotics have yet to kick in. And I took her for the Thansgiving celebration at Jack's preschool this morning. In my defense, I had no other option and I didn't let her touch anyone else. And it's an ear infection, for God's sake. It's not like it's leaping from her ear to someone else's.

But oh my, what cuteness the Thanksgiving was. There were headbands and snacks and stories and snacks and did I mention the snacks? Because those were Jack's favorite part.



After turkey day at school, I put Emmie down for her nap and headed out with Jack for his flu vaccine. Lucky for Jack, he is old enough for the flu mist so he didn't have to get a shot. He was a trooper and collected his two stickers after allowing the nice nurse to "look in his nose," as Mommy put it.

Then this evening, Josh and I hosted a cocktail party for the parents in Jack's preschool class. We had a great time and it seemed like everyone else did as well. At least they left with a few glasses of wine under their belts, so it had to be somewhat fun.

Tomorrow, we begin our holiday travels hither and yon -- with two kids this year! One of them sick! I can't wait!

Look at my kids

NaBloPoMo: Making my blog suck in late November for three years!

Since I have nothing to say, let's look at pictures of the kids. I haven't posted any recently, anyway.

Goodnight kittens, goodnight mittens

Today I had to take the kids out in the stroller in the freezing cold to the post office. Granted, the freezing cold is relative at this time of year. It was 34 degrees. Which in January would be downright balmy in Chicago, but in November, is bone-chilling. But soldier on I did because Josh really needed something overnighted and he had my car in Bloomington.

So I got the kids all packed into the stroller with their respective foot muffs encasing their legs and torsos. Jack dutifully tucked his arms into the muff and looked extremely warm. Also quite cool with his hat and sunglasses. He's a pimp, you know.

But Emmie, well she was another story. I got her equally bundled up in her coat and hat and tried to tuck her little hands under the cover. And she pulled them out. And then I tucked them in. And then screamed and pulled them out. And then I laughed and tucked them in. And then she started to cry and pulled them out.

Because I didn't buy her any mittens, knowing Jack never would keep them on at her age and it would be a waste of money, I was at a loss. But! I am resourceful. I have a college degree. I am 34 years older than her. So I ran upstairs and grabbed a pair of her socks, shoved them on her hands and away we went.

She kept her hands out the whole time with a smile on her face and I averted frostbite with a smile on mine.

He's a little runaway

Several times a week, I take the kids out for lunch. Sometimes with other moms and their kids, sometimes just us. Today we were out running errands after school and as we started to head home, Jack asked in a little voice from the backseat, "Out eat Mommy?"

I was all set to give him almond butter and jelly at home, but since he asked nicely and he was well-behaved in the stores, I said we could stop. Plus we were right across the street from a Corner Bakery and I love me some reuben.

It was pushing past naptime, but I figured I could feed him and get him straight into bed when we got back. Either way, he needed to eat. But I should have known when we walked in the door and he started touching everything in sight that we should have just gone home. That would have precipitated a tantrum of epic proportions, and I just didn't want to deal, so I started bribing him.

"If you don't stay with Mommy, no Elmo tonight." That brought about the desired effect for about 15 seconds. Then he was off to the races again.

I finally got the lunch ordered and everyone settled into a booth. I fed Emmie with one hand and ate my sandwich with the other while I kept up a constant stream of "Jack, sit down. Jack, turn around. Jack stop touching that. JACK. Jack, I am going to put you in a high chair if you don't turn around and sit down right now."

We are a pleasure to sit near, let me tell you.

After I was finished and he was done eating the inside of a grilled cheese sandwich, I got his coat on him and then turned to put Emmie's on. In the split second that I reached for her coat he ran away from the table to a door three feet away. A heavy door. One that I was almost sure he could not open, but still used my very stern Mommy voice to hiss, "Get back here NOW."

He looked back at me and then opened the door and ran out. Literally ran away from me. I ran after him, catching him by the arm three steps from the parking lot and dragged him back inside. He, of course, was cackling. I, of course, was shaking.

I sat him down and made him look me in the eye while I told him he is never, ever supposed to run away from Mommy because he could get hurt very badly. I think I was about an inch from his face when I was saying it.

Poor Emmie, she was just dumped in her high chair while all of this went down, staring at us like we were crazy. Another mom asked if I needed any help, and I smiled and said no, thank you. I think I have the "almost letting my kid run into a parking lot" parenting technique all wrapped up by myself, thankyouverymuch.

Apparently I should go with the Josh approach to dining out with the kids alone: just don't.

Good report

Yesterday was our first parent-teacher conference at Jack's school. Yes, conferences at preschool.

Now, not having ever experienced a positive parent-teacher conference as a child, I must admit I was a little tentative. The recurring theme when it came to Amy the Student was "Amy talks too much in class. If she spent as much time on her schoolwork as she does on socializing, she would be a straight-A student." Some variation of those phrases were used for 12 consecutive years on my permanent record. It got a little old by my senior year, but it never did spur me to change.

But I was pleasantly surprised when we sat down on the tiny chairs in his classroom. His teacher said he is a joy to have around and he is doing great. He plays well both with others and alone, he communicates well and he's a bright kid. She said he'll do awesome in all-day Montessori next year and that it will be good for him.

But. You knew there was a but, didn't you? He needs to temper his enthusiasm for school just a tiny bit. He is so excited to be there that when they walk up to the classroom in the morning, he runs down the hall. As in, runs away from the group and his teacher in his excitement to get started. He gets points for enthusiasm, I guess.

Apparently, we'll have to wait until he can actually speak in complete sentences all the time before we find out if he's going to take after his Chatty Cathy mother.

An elephant never forgets

We take the same route to preschool each week, one that takes us past the hospital where Jack and Emmie were born. You know, the one where I spent more days than I care to count during two high-risk pregnancies.

I am usually too focused on running yellow lights and flipping off slow drivers to pay attention to our surroundings during the drive. That and listening to NPR. Which has become my new go-to station, much to Josh's chagrin, because I used to make fun of him for listening to it.

So I am driving by the hospital and I hear a little voice from the backseat say, "Mumber (remember) Mommy go dat store? Jack come see Mommy, bring Emmie a bunny."

I almost drove into the El supports when I heard that. My son -- my bright, articulate little boy -- pulled something out of his wee brain that happened almost 10 months ago. When he was days shy of 2 years old.

Not only did he recognize the building, but he recalled the fact he brought Emmie a present and what that present was. I am still amazed by the whole exchange.

Now if only I could harness his freaky memory capacity for something useful, like counting cards in Vegas. We could be rich!

New 'do

Today, I decided Jack needed to shake things up a little bit, style-wise. I took him for a haircut this afternoon and told the woman to give him that spiky/messy cut that all the fashionable young men are sporting these days.

After she was done, I clapped and laughed and just could not believe how different he looked. Amazing what a little hair product can do for a toddler. Every time I look at him, I do a double-take because he just looks so different.



He's really not a baby anymore. He's definitely my little boy.

Get out and vote!

As you can see, Jack is carefully reviewing his ballot for accuracy while Emmie has already cast hers. I had the same look on my face as she does after voting for eleventy-billion Cook County judges. I am not kidding, there had to be 50 on the ballot and you had to mark each one.

I would not, however, advise you to vote with two children in tow. By yourself. With no stroller. Actually, they should just rescind my voting rights for even thinking I could do such a thing.

We vote at a firehouse. So of course, everything in the garage is of the utmost importance to an almost-3-year-old who can't keep his hands to himself. He somehow got ahold of a hose and dripped water on the floor and then started pumping some blue gunk out of a bottle. He was never more than 36 inches from me while this happened.

Through gritted teeth I hissed there would BE NO ELMO TONIGHT while I grabbed him and wedged his upper arm between my knees. He then freed himself and melted into a puddle while yelling "Elmo! Elmo!"

Not to mention my left arm lost all feeling because I had to balance Emmie while trying to fill in the little lines with my right. She was squirming all over the place and looks like she was trying to be the ballot, as there is black marker all over her hands from where she kept trying to "help" me vote (read: grab the pen and eat it).

I walked out of the firestation after completing my ballot -- with one mistake where I voted yes and no for a judge because SOMEONE was grabbing my pen -- and I do believe the election judges were cheering as we departed. I did get a few dirty looks from other voters during this debacle, so thankyouverymuch Mr. Asshole In The Brown Jacket Who Clearly Has No Kids And Probably Hates Puppies And Rainbows Too.

However, as we walked up to the machine to insert my ballot, Jack pointed at the election judge and yelled, "OBAMA!" So at least he understood why we were there.

Monkey see

I have always looked forward to the day when Jack would make friends with the other kids at the playground. I had visions of him running and kicking balls with a group of boys while I sat on a bench nearby and read a book. Somehow in this vision I don't have another child who requires my attention, my hair looks awesome, I am wearing a really cute outfit and it's a perfect 73 degrees with golden-hued lighting, but that's neither here nor there right now.

Today, a beautiful late-fall day here in Chicago where the temperature was in the mid-60s, my vision came to life. Kind of. Although I was wearing slouchy pants and a T-shirt and I hadn't showered.

Jack was playing on the bridge to the slide and two boys were up there with him, running back and forth and yelling. So Jack starts running after them and yelling. I realize they are yelling, "FIRE! FIRE!" So he starts yelling it too.

Great. Now I have a kid screaming about fire. I hope he's never in a crowded theater.

Then they throw themselves down the slide, headfirst. Of course, Jack jumps right in and does the same. So now I have an almost-3-year-old careening down the fast slide, face first. I am having visions of stitches and disfiguring facial injuries.

He gets to the bottom, stands up on the edge of the slide, jumps off and laughs hysterically. He repeats this about 47 more times and has the time of his life.

From now on, I am hoping he just hangs out in the sandbox with the little kids. It's a lot safer there.

******************

I also have a CiCi update for those of you wondering. She is making progress! She was taken off all the blood pressure meds and was moved to a smaller ventilator this weekend. She also got a visit from her twin sister, which everyone thinks is going to help so much. You know what they say about twin bonds. She also reacted to a toy being brushed across her cheek, which is a great sign. She is still on sedatives so she is not awake or moving, but scans showed there is activity on both sides of her brain.

Tomorrow they will perform the big MRI to check her brain, so if you could spare the positive thoughts for one more day, I know her family would appreciate it. What a fighter she is!

Trick or treat 2008

Trick or treat!


Elmo gets an early sugar rush.


Our little pumpkin.

Close observers might notice a major haircut in that last photo. That would be the result of 4 inches leaving my head this afternoon. I chickened out on bangs. Again. They scare me.

And how 'bout that road soda in that there picture? Who knew trick or treating involved beer?

(Also, an update on little CiCi: she is taking baby steps toward improvement, but they still don't know any more. Please continue to send your positive thoughts her way. Mom Jenny says knowing how many people out there are pulling for them is helping more than we can know.)

Who need a fork anyway?

I really think it's important to teach your kids good manners from a young age. With Jack, we try to instill saying please and thank you, among other things, which he does almost all the time.

But teaching table manners to an almost-3-year-old boy is like herding cats.

For the last three months, Jack has been sitting in a booster seat at the dining room table for all his meals. For the most part, he does pretty well. Sure, he has his moments, which are represented by the applesauce stain on the wall two feet behind his seat, but these things are to be expected sometimes.

Usually, we go through two placemats at his spot per day because someone insists on eating HEAPING spoonfuls of oatmeal and half the spoonful ends up next to the bowl. Occasionally, he drops some food on the floor. I haven't seen him throw food in months and now when he is finished, he puts his cup on top of his plate and hands it to me saying, "All done Mommy!" It's a place I didn't think we'd get to six months ago when he would show us he was done by flinging his food or untensils on the floor.

But tonight, he decided to test me. I was sitting with him, telling him if he ate all his peas and carrots, he could have a special treat. "Candy?" he asked with a smile. Let me be clear, this child has never had any candy. He won't even poop in the potty to get his hands on some candy. So why he would think that, I have no idea. "No, cookies!" I said. He got excited.

He then leaned over and tried to eat his vegetables, without using his hands. In the process, he laid on the plate, getting ketchup all over his shirt.

I told him firmly that we don't do that because it's bad manners. I reminded him to use his hands. He smirked at me and while giggling, leaned over again and tried to do the same thing.

I swooped in, removed the plate and told him dinner was over. He, of course, broke down into hysterics. Clearly, we have a future pie-eating contest winner on our hands and I just ruined his training.

I'm not scared

Actual conversation that took place in my house today at naptime.

Jack: (Screeches at the top of his lungs, about an octave higher than a note capable of breaking glass)

Mommy: "Jack, why do you DO that?"

Jack: "I scare people!"

Mommy: (Dying of laughter) "Well I'm certainly scared my hearing is damaged for life."

Stand up and be a man

Jack has decided he wants to pee standing up now. He's observed and practiced and he's gained a mastery of the equipment, so we let him have at it.

He needs to stand on a stool at home, but he can handle public restrooms pretty well, from what I have observed. I wonder when he'll start asking for urinals in the women's restrooms I take him into?

While I must say it's a little cleaner from the standpoint of not having to worry about the potty seat anymore, I can only imagine the condition of the floors around the toilet in the coming weeks. We have three bathrooms he uses throughout the day, so that's three times the amount of mopping. On an everyday basis. I'm going to need a raise.

All about Mommy

Not that I am complaining in the least, but the last few days have seen a marked shift in Jack's excitement about me. Usually, I am fun to have around and play with and serve his meals, but he's not really that into sitting with me or covering me with kisses.

But something has shifted as he gets closer to 3. He's been climbing into my lap unexpectedly. He's been throwing himself at me, hugging me. He's even asked me to lay down and watch Elmo with him, which involved him actually lying still with his body touching mine.

He has not laid down next to me for more than 2.5 nanoseconds since he stopped the nonstop nurse-athons in our bed when he was a year old, so this is foreign to me. This evening, he was sitting next to Josh on the couch watching a video when he climbed down and announced "Jack sit Mommy" and climbed into the chair with me.

Everyone says little boys are so into Mommy, but I hadn't really experienced it until now. I sure hope it stays this way for a while. Makes me feel like a million bucks.

Who needs pets?

Let me share with you the single greatest parenting decision Josh ever made. One night after eating quesadillas and guacamole at Chipotle, he decided to take Jack into Petco to look at the animals. And thus was born Jack's interaction with pets that doesn't require any effort on our part.

We take him to the pet store, he runs around looking at fish, frogs, turtles, hamsters, ferrets, bunnies, snakes, birds and mice. We follow him around until he gets tired of it and then we go home.

No early-morning walks, no litter boxes, no cages to clean. We can leave for weeks on end without figuring out about who will watch the pets. We don't have to worry about his allergies. There's no fur strewn about the house. In short, it's perfect.

Now if we can just convince him no one has pets that live at their house, we'll be golden.

Boy behaving badly

Today could have been my single-most embarassing day as a parent.

We are in Peoria at my in-laws' house this week so the kids can see Josh after work. Today, my mother-in-law and I took the children to a department store so I could shop for shoes.

I have written about the hell that is shoe-shopping with the kids before, but suffice it to say I did it once by myself and I would rather walk barefoot over hot coals before doing it again.

So I brought reserves with me. I tried on a few pair and didn't find anything I really liked, and we admittedly might have stretched it a wee bit too long. To pass the time, Grandma gave the kids some books to look at in the stroller. Emmie thought hers resembled a sandwich, so she tried to gum it into oblivion. Jack's made music and he was grooving on it, so all was well.

Until we reached the checkout.

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNN ... cue the foreboding music.

He somehow got Emmie's book in his hot little hand and didn't want to give it up. Not sure if he didn't want the clerk to touch Emmie's stuff or if he wanted to deny Emmie her purchase or if he felt we were being overcharged, but he lost his damn mind.

There was crying of real tears and the wrestling of the book from his hands and promises he would get it right back and finally I told him with a stern face that he needed to stop and act like a nice boy.

I handed the cashier the book, she rang it up and I handed it back to Jack.

He then THREW THE BOOK AT THE CASHIER.

I had to stop for a split-second because I didn't believe he really did it. Oh, but he did. He looked me in the eye and laughed.

I immediately grabbed him out of the stroller, put him in a timeout near the door and then marched him back to apologize to the woman. Which of course he didn't really do. But I did, profusely.

Abd then I took him to lunch, because I was hungry. Stellar parenting right there, isn't it? Throw shit at people and get rewarded with pasta. I will now slink off to the Bad Mommy corner.

Road weary

I definitely need a vacation after my vacation.

We stayed out late every night, gambling and/or drinking, and I still woke up early every morning to pump. I consumed way too much junk food, dairy, beer and wine. I bared my post-baby body in a bikini and no one ran inside after being blinded. I single-handidly propped up the economy in Nevada and learned three glasses of champagne at 1 p.m. is probably two glasses too many.

But when Emmie saw me this morning at the side of her crib, it was the best feeling in the world. She blinked, and then her eyes got huge, and she buried her face in my neck with a smile. Then she demanded the boob.

Jack smiled and kept tackling me and jumping all over me when he got up from his nap. I guess that was his way of welcoming me back.

It's nice to be missed. I'm glad to be home.

Wedding bells

I finally have some pictures of the kids from my sister-in-law's wedding and I could not be more happy with how they turned out. But when did my baby turn into a little boy?

Why?

It's started.

Three times this past week I have said something or other to our boy Jackson in the course of a conversation and he has replied, "Why?" When I heard that word my eyeballs spontaneously melted and rolled down my face.

I am not ready for The Why yet. I need a few more months! He's not supposed to be asking that until he's 3! I feel gypped! Why am I using so many exclamation points?!

However, the good thing about The Why is it shows how far his language has come. Shortly before he turned 2, I was worried because he wasn't even saying two-word combinations. But just yesterday, he said to me, "Ma go home, work in office." Subject, verb, compound sentence -- I think he's doing fine in the language department now. (Ma is what he calls Grandma.)

But he still says really cute stuff too, which I know will go away faster than I can write them down.

"Jack go home, play chicken." -- He calls his little play kitchen "chicken."

Applesaucer -- Emmie's exersaucer.

Narnie -- Aunt Marnie.

Fansin -- Aunt Marnie's dog, Madison.

Miss Wiz -- His teacher, Miss Liz.

Noodle cheese -- macaroni and cheese.

Mook -- Milk, different from "Guk," which is what he called it for a long time.

Fwim Shrunks -- Swim trunks.

Peepot -- Pizza.

Twenty-eleven -- The number he says after 22 every time he counts.

Love you too -- How he says "I love you," even when he says it first.

Covered in snot

We went to the lake again this weekend and both my children decided it would be a good time to cover ever available inch of me and the house with their snot. Jack started first on Friday and Emmie wasn't far behind a few hours later.

Of course for Jack, it's not that huge of a deal. We chase him around the house with a Kleenex a few times and he acts like a whinybutt and he sleeps more than usual. No biggie.

But Emmie is a whole different ball of wax. I finally had her sleeping 7 p.m. to 4 a.m. this week, putting herself to sleep in her crib, and now the sickness strikes. She can't breathe with a pacifier or her fingers in her mouth because her nose is running like a faucet, so she can't soothe herself to sleep or back to sleep. So she screams and cries mutliple times a night and I have to go in there. Last night I ended up putting her to sleep in her swing so she would be propped up and able to breathe.

Of course, she fights me on the nose sucker like she's drowning and heaven forbid I should try to wipe her nose. Oh, the horror.

This little illness should strike me down in about two days, which would make it just in time for our trip to Vegas and San Francisco later this week. Because nothing says "child-free vacation" like a stuffy nose and the smell of Vicks.

Doing his own thing

Jack has always been a bit of a "free spirit" when it comes to classes (music, art, play). He's always been one to run around when he's supposed to be sitting in the circle or doing an activity all the other kids are doing. In art class, he was pretty good, but I was the one keeping him on task the whole time and making him sit rightnexttome. Not to mention the fact 99 percent of the projects at that class were done by me. I am Picasso with the fingerpaints, let me tell you.

Now, he's doing the same thing in preschool. The three days he has gone, I have looked in at the end of the class and the other kids are on the rug singing a song and my kid is on the other side of the room playing with toys. I asked his teacher about it Tuesday and she said he does not participate, but she doesn't think it's that big of a deal. That day, all the kids made an art project and Jack played with toys. Maybe he has something against construction paper and tissue, but I haven't seen him express a preference for working with clay or paper maiche as his medium, so I have to discount that theory.

His teacher told me their classroom beliefs are such that they would never force a child to do something and that she will try to engage him to take part every few minutes, but if he doesn't want to do it, he won't have to.

Now, I understand this is only his second week of school. BUT. This is a pattern. He acts like this in all his other classes and now there. We even had the same thing happen at his first soccer class last week and it was a disaster because all the other kids listened and followed directions and Jack refused to do any of it. They said run this way and he ran the opposite way. Let me tell you, that's not the way to train for winning a World Cup. Josh left the class with him because it was such a production.

I know he's only 2 1/2. I know I sound like a paranoid helicopter mom. But should I be worried? I don't want to see this become something that he does forever. Being a free spirit is fine, but you have to learn how to play the game when it comes to education or you won't succeed. I know it's just preschool, but I am really thinking this is a part of his personality. Josh thinks it's because he has no fear of us punishing him for not listening, so he doesn't ever have to do what we say. I don't think that's it, but I am stumped.

Of course, the only time he sits as he's supposed to with the other kids? Snack time. He's no fool.

Something smells

For the last week, Josh and I were under the impression that the recently-remodeled bathroom downstairs had a funk to it because they didn't properly seal some sort of pipe. Or the toilet. Or something (waving my hands in the air, encompassing anything that may or may not be smelly down there).

Today, one of the guys working on our house informed us that no, the pipes were fine. It was the ceiling that was rank. You see, a small bubble in the drywall on the ceiling that we thought was old and innocent and nothing to worry about was -- wait for it -- a leak from the toilet upstairs.

Seriously. Is this a joke? Are we on some sort of weird candid camera house rehab show? Is someone going to jump out of the crack between the baseboard and the floor (that would be the result of the half-inch drop we've experienced in the living room since the sill beam was replaced) and yell "surprise" and give us a whole new house?

No? Well, that sucks.

So we had to shut off the toilet on the main floor for the next week until they can replace the seal and let it dry. Yes that would be the bathroom Jack uses to pee several times a day and now he is all in a tizzy about it not working and crying "Pa fick it! Pa fick it!" Translation: Grandpa fix it. Because my father-in-law is a super genius and can fix anything (seriously) and Jack knows where it's at when it comes to getting his potty repaired.

In the meantime, I am just putting my fingers in my ears and singing "lalalalala" and ignoring the whole affair.

So in the spirit of ignorance, here's some pictures of my kids! Together! Which never happens anymore because Jack acts like I am the papparazzi and he is Lindsay Lohan.


Raw sewage in the ceiling? We love it!

Puddle jumper

This afternoon we were enjoying a perfectly lovely outing at the park, when Jack decided to be a boy.

Emmie and I were sitting on the bench right next to the sandbox, she was grabbing my face and kissing me with her open mouth, and I was both interacting with her and telling Jack not to dump another child's bucket of water into the sand.

As an aside, let me tell you how much I hate the water fountain next to the sandbox at our park. The kids fill up these huge buckets from the spigot and then flood the sandbox. And I hate the messy. So this is displeasing to me.

Anyway.

Of course he doesn't listen to me and dumps a 40-gallon bucket into a hole the size of a grave. And then he jumps in it. He's wearing tennis shoes. Gross. Now his socks and shoes are not only filthy, but sopping wet.

I then see him look right at me, with a gleam in his eye. I am not even kidding, it was eye contact of the worst kind, with a full-on smirk accompanying it. He then sat down IN the puddle. And moved his little denim-covered butt around for good measure.

"Jack, that is just gross," I announce from my perch. He laughs, grabs a handful of sand and EATS IT. What is he, eight months old again?

I order him to rinse his mouth out and spit and he laughs hysterically the entire time. I know kids getting dirty is good for their creativity, but seriously? Rubbing his ass in a puddle is not going to win him any points with the ladies.

Jack's first day of school

You'd think a child who has never seen the inside of a daycare center or the face of a babysitter other than immediate family members might have been a tad tentative about going to school. What with the leaving of the parents. And the staying there alone. Without mommy or daddy.

If you are talking about my child, you would be wrong. Because he was so excited to be at school today that when we arrived, he dropped our hands, launched himself into a hug with his beloved teacher, Miss Liz, and took off to play with the toys, leaving us in his wake.

We said goodbye and told him we were leaving and we walked out into the hall. We heard most of the other kids crying, one even ran down the hall after her parents. Our kid could not have cared less. No tears from him, nosiree.

We came back two hours later, after a delightful child-free morning at Starbucks (Emmie was with her aunt so we could make this morning all about Jack), and peeked in the window of the classroom door. We saw the kids singing a song on the carpet, while Jack and another boy were on the side playing with trucks.

Afterward, his other teacher, Miss Melissa, told us Jack had a great day exploring the classroom. Translation: your kid can't sit still and participate in circle time. I hope he can get it together by Thursday.

All the other kids ran out to greet their moms and dads, hugging them and smiling. Mine refused to come out of the classroom, and did so only to say hi to one of my Mommy friends. When we told him it was time to go home, he cried and said, "No go Jack's house! Stay!"

Apparently Jack is a fan of preschool. And I couldn't be more proud of him.

Operation Wedding a success!

We are just back from the big wedding weekend and getting ready for FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL in the morning, but wanted to let everyone know the kids performed perfectly at their aunt's nuptials and all went off as planned.

Jack pushed Emmie down the aisle in his little wagon, he hammed it up for the guests, let people take his picture and acted like a little gentleman. Emmie held on for dear life, smiling and generally looking like a little queen being carried about by her servants.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief after they made it up the aisle and grabbed a drink straight away after the ceremony.

Would you believe, we have no pictures of them? Seriously. The professional photographers won't have the pictures ready for my sister-in-law until November. There were a zillion camera flashes going off while they were walking up, but so far, no one has any shots of them.

I know some family and friends read here, so if anyone who was at the wedding has any pictures, please send them along to us via e-mail would ya? The masses need to see the cuteness.

Wedded bliss

We're in Peoria this week, getting ready for my sister-in-law's wedding.

Jack and Emmie are supposed to be in it; Josh and I are in it. In theory, Jack is going to be in his tux and Emmie is going to be in her flower girl dress and he's going to push her down the aisle in a little wagon.

I am not sure that is actually going to happen. When you're dealing with a 2.5-year-old and 250 people looking at him, all bets are off.

If you know me, you know I am diabolically opposed to kids at or in weddings. I just don't think it's appropriate and I can not stand the sight of a young child sliding on his or her knees across a dance floor. At a friend's wedding a few years ago, her pre-teen cousin cleared the dance floor and performed a dance routine by herself to a Justin Timberlake song. The bride is still pissed about it four years later. I mean seriously, WHAT were the parents thinking letting that happen?

So the fact that my kids are in this wedding is a huge deal. If it was anyone else but their aunt, they would not be allowed within 50 miles of the venue. But since she's the bride, and it's her day, she gets to call the shots.

She can't, however, stop me from wearing a huge sign on my back reading: "I am not in charge of my children today. See the bride to complain about discipline issues."

Nice boy! Nice boy!

Last night my mother-in-law and I made the mistake of taking Jack out to dinner. A few weeks ago, we took him with the whole family to a nicer place and it was a disaster of epic proportions that saw one half of this parenting team dragging a laughing/hitting/jello-legging toddler into the lobby and the other half sitting with same child in the car while everyone else shoveled food into his or her mouth in an attempt to get the hell out of there with a minimum of embarrassment.

Upon leaving that restaurant, I had aged 15 years and vowed that was the last time we were taking him anyplace besides Panera or Chipotle. But last night, I faltered in my reserve and was witness to some very nice behavior at the park, so I mistakenly thought I could trust him to handle it.

NOTE TO SELF: The toddler, he is the master of deception.

We arrive at the restaurant, J. Alexanders, and get both the kids situated in high chairs. I order Jack a grilled cheese and set about feeding Emmie her avocado and sweet potatoes. He takes three bites of his sandwich and flings his milk to the floor, screeching and trying to grab everything off the table. After several warnings, I told him we would be leaving and going home, where he would be going straight to bed. It was 6:20 p.m., but I was not backing down.

The waiter was literally bringing our food to the table at the moment I am dragging jello legs out of the high chair, so my mother-in-law gets the food to go and stays with Emmie while they pack it up.

If you were driving through Lincoln Park last night just before 6:30, that would be me you saw with the toddler who did nothing the whole way home but sob, "Nice boy! Nice boy! Jack nice boy!" over and over and over again. When we got home, I took his shoes off, marched him straight upstairs, put his pajamas on, read him his book and put him in bed.

I was downstairs by 6:30 p.m. and he was asleep by 6:40. He ended up sleeping 12 hours and was bright and chipper for oatmeal this morning.

Tonight, he kept unbuckling the straps on his carseat (a whole other post, but suffice it to say it raises my blood pressure by about 30 points every time he does it) and I told him if he did it again, we would have to go home. He looked me straight in the eye with a smile and said, "Right bed?"

ARGH.

Picture time

Jack is going to be in his aunt Marnie's wedding in a few weeks, so we needed to try his tuxedo on. I think he looks dashing. The fake smile here is a lot better than him crying, putting his hand in front of his face and yelling, "No picture! No picture!" like we're the paparazzi. We get that every time he sees us pull out the camera these days.


Emmie, on the other hand, is still our sweet little girl who obliges our daily incessant snapping of photos. The dimples will distract any pitchers who dare to pitch her inside. She's going yard.

So happy together

On our recent vacation to the North Woods, one in which we saw an actual BEAR run across the road in front of us, Jack and Emmie spent some time playing together.

I managed to get their antics on camera. From her reaction, you can tell how much she adores him. I think he's starting to dig her, too.

Continued travels

We shook all the sand out of our swimsuits, rinsed off all the sunscreen, packed up the car and left the lake today.




But our tour of Wisconsin is not over yet! Because the drywall is being installed at home, it's too dusty to take the kids there. So we went to my parents this morning, where the wee children were scheduled to stay for the weekend anyway so Josh and I can celebrate our anniversary and attend Lollapalooza. I believe the traditional gift for four years is Radiohead tickets, no?