Pretty Princess Parfaits

We had a knights and princesses party here for the Personal Assistant and Mr. Baby's birthday. It was super fun. The menu was pretty easy, but I did make a few special treats. Like these yummy parfaits. Mmmmm.

 

No TV

I am aware that the American Association of Pediatrics has some rather prudent guidelines about TV, media, and screen time. Apparently, two hours a day is too much. Kids should be playing, reading, engaging with their environment. I'm cool with the first two, but I could do with a lot less engagement with the environment.

My Personal Assistant's behavior yesterday was so horrible that he has lost TV privileges for an indeterminate period of time. Basically, he can't watch tv or have tech time until he stops asking for it-constantly-at a screaming volume-using phraseology he has not been exposed to under this roof. I am so upset. I really do not know how I will cope.

The following is a true story of what happens when we loose TV privileges. It is not for the faint of heart. You have been warned.

Quick Fix: Conflict of interests, snow day

We had a conflict of interests this morning. Kiddo wanted to play in the first snow of the year (sans pants), Baby wanted to sleep in, Mommy wanted to take a shower (solo) and curl up with some tea on the couch.

So we got out my daytime parenting partner: the activity tray.

The Potty Fairy

Kiddo wants to potty train in theory, but not so much in practice. It has been a struggle. His CSID has not helped. Because I respect my readers (somewhat) I will not elaborate. Let's just go with "It's been a rough year, " and leave it at that. But he's old enough that if I don't do something, he's gonna have issues. So when a member of the CSID support group suggested we needed a potty fairy, I was all over that like white on rice.

The fundamental flaw in my parenting style.

Playing with butter

"You LET him do WHAT?"

The thing that people question the most about my parenting is The Mess. It is always about the mess. Not the experience, not the fun, not the learning, the mess. As if one should care about the mess. As if the mess is the most awful thing one could imagine.

If I had a quarter for every incredulous question, raised eyebrow, or disapproving look I would be a rich woman rocking a designer diaper bag.

The Ultimate Evening Continues.

The Personal Assistant wanted to make his boat float, so for the first time ever, he took my hand and marched me up to the bath. Then he needed to use all of the colors of bath bombs-blue, red and yellow, so the water was a lovely shade of ick. To make bath time complete, I gave him a few big squirts of Crayola finger paint bath soap and dared him to "paint" his penis blue. So it was also the first time since the he could talk that I didn't have to negotiate to "clean his under carriage".

At 4am Himself woke up screaming, I ran to his room to find him in the chair, no pants. He calmly explained the problem: "I need help getting my shirt off so I can sleep in my streakers". He ended up "in his streakers" in our bed at 4:30, and was nearly asleep when Mr. Baby woke up with a full diaper and teething pain. Mr. Baby then proceeded to pee on me during the diaper change, and thus came back to bed to nurse in his streakers, much to Himself's exuberant delight.

Not wanting to have anything to do with his rather hirsute Daddy, Himself snuggled into my back because, as he explained: "Mommy is one of my favorite characters, not Daddy, just Mommy. Let me see your face. No. Turn your head my way. (Backwards) To my cheek. No! Don't put your head that way! (Not backwards) I need your face! Softie! BE QUIET MOMMY IS TRYING TO SLEEP! Now look of me Mommy, look of me." And so passed the wee hours and my last chance to sleep until bedtime tonight.

Laugh all you want. This ain't over kid.

-Jen

 

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The Ultimate Evening.

Back when Hubster and I were dating long distance, a client asked me to show her step son around town. Ok. Fine. He, knowing absolutely nothing about me or my relationship, spent the evening trying to convince me that the love of my life was cheating on me, and promised to show me 'The Ultimate Evening.' So of course I told the bartender to hold the alcohol on any and every drink I ordered, no matter what I said, and to charge him top shelf prices. Then I went home and called my future Hubster and we laughed and laughed. Fast forward twelve years (!?) later and we still laugh about 'The Ultimate Evening.'

Guest Post: Maternity Leave Personal Records

Liesa is a mother of two energetic boys as well as a new baby girl.  She is a high school math teacher in Columbus, Ohio where her husband is completing his Ph.D.

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I’m a runner and so, life is measured a string of PR’s (personal records).  Since I wont be setting any super awesome race times while home on maternity leave with my beautiful daughter, I need to measure PR’s in a new way.  So here goes:

When to be a Conversation Topper

In general I dislike, and discourage conversation topping.  You know what I mean.  You want just a little bit of sympathy, "My day has been so difficult..."  and the response follows, "You think THAT was hard?  Let me tell you about MY day."

The Toddler Vortex

Everyone is fussing about the polar vortex. They have no idea. The real trouble is what happens to kids and therefore stay at home parents, when everyone is stuck inside for days...it gets WEIRD.

I call it "The Toddler Vortex." It is much more frightening than a little bit of cold weather.

If I could, I would totally put on my long johns and happily go to some office somewhere, rather than stay home to weather the storm my toddler has been brewing.

Here's a sample of our morning, before I was able to so much as drink my tea.

Zen Entertaining and the art of faucet repair.

I hosted my first Christmas this year for my family, because my brother just wanted everyone together, and I am too pregnant to travel comfortably. It was going to be great. Perfect. Beautiful. The menu was set, much was preped ahead of time so I could relax instead of cooking, the decorations were beautiful, the house was clean, so what if the paint wasn't all touched up, and the closets completely cleaned out, faucet was a little loose, it's an old house. I could get to all of that later.

Creating Life

While Jenny is busy creating real people life, we have ventured into the land of Sea Monkeys!  I am having an ethical dilemma regarding the little critters.  First of all, as evidenced by my fails to even grow bean sprouts and carrot tops, I'm a little shaky in the life sustaining department.  And then, my son was given a Sea Monkey "kit" for his birthday.

Top 5 Recent Fails

It can only get better from here.

I hope...

How well do you balance?

I live a particularly charmed life (though maybe not successful, it depends on your definition).  I work about 30-40 hours per week from September - May and then I work 10 hours a week from June-August.  I work "Mother's Hours" and am usually able to pick up my son from school.  So why is it that I feel guilty when we're both home and he's all, "How can you expect me to play on my own?"  And I'm all, "Dude!  This curry isn't going to cook itself, and do you WANT fresh underwear?"

Things I can smell.

Part of being pregnant, for me at least, is smelling things that my husband swears are not really there.

This Post is LESS Gross

Jenny!  I have experienced the same scum, soap, mildew, random crud caused by bath toys!  I, however, have a very quick and easy solution.

This Post is Gross.

Ugh. Bath toys. Hands down on my top ten list of unexpected joys horrors of parenthood. Including having some one poop diarrhea in your hand. They are really, really gross, and they hang out in your bath. If bath toys are not a good reason to have a separate "adults only" bathroom, then I don't know what is.

Lady Friends

The highlight of my week, my month, happened tonight; Jenny was in town!  Jenny and I used to live together in college.  We perfected the speaking while brushing teeth, laughing until we almost peed, fighting over milk, and dishing about boys while living together. 

But now we live too far apart to visit often, and the "boys" we talk about are our sons, and our gossip consists of family shenanigans and weird produce.  Don't judge, you'd laugh too if you received that parsnip in your CSA! 

Life without Internet

Currently I am writing to you from the parking lot of a cute pub in my neighborhood across from a lovely harbor.  You'll have to picture it because I have no photos...

The children are jumping into the water from the dock, and the laughter rides the ripples of water to the shore.  There is a line at the ice cream stand and children with sticky smiles of chocolate.  Someone seriously just ordered Gummi Bears on their ice cream sundae just because she can.

But I'm not here for pleasure...the internet provider who shall remain nameless has bumped us again...that will make two weeks with limited contact with the outside world.  At first I was FURIOUS!  But now....

We're Moving!

Okay, we moved.  Past tense.  My therapist says that the stressful / challenging things we do in life allow us to "meet ourselves."  Hail, and well met!

After a lovely crew of friends and family arrived to help us move on a Thursday, we were left with the dregs on Friday.  Moving that couch makes a huge impact.  That cord?  That compost bucket?  The baby picture that needs to go into the album that is already packed and at the new place...wow.  The sorting, cleaning, second round of packing took about 13 hours the next day.

But I learned some important things!