Making #2 is Hard to Do

I know, I know, potty humor. I apologize. If you've been reading my blog for the last 2 years you know I have a 1st grade mentality when it comes to these things. However, today's post is not about the act of making "a" number 2, so much as growing one.

Yup, that's right. Here is the wee one now, vamping it up for his/her mama. If you notice the little white spot above the nose, that is it's hand, waving to us. Only 11 weeks old and already a charmer.

So if you're wondering where the heck I've been, you can pick any number of activities to visualize during the last 11 weeks. Firstly, blowing chunks in various locations around town (last time at Target!). Ok, so maybe you don't want to visualize that one....Second, sleeping whenever the opportunity presents itself, which isn't often considering I have a 2 and a half year old wild man. Hmmmm, if you REALLY want to get a good sense, maybe you can picture me stuffing my face full of powdered donuts, cool ranch Doritos, and stuffed olives while wearing Brian's sweatpants and old t-shirts. That's mostly what's been going on.

Oh that, and I've been growing a human. (This is the phrase I use with Brian when I want to get out of making dinner and take a nap instead. It's pretty useful).

If you give a toddler a donut.....

(If you've ever read any of the "If you give a _ a _" books by Laura Numeroff, this post will make much more sense to you. Ok that, OR if you've been a parent to a 2 year old.)
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If you give a toddler a donut, he's going to want some chocolate milk to go with it.

From January 2010

Drinking his chocolate milk will remind him that he found some chocolate in Easter eggs a few weeks ago at the park, so he'll want to go immediately back to said park just in case he overlooked any nooks and crannies.

Because he is going to "hunt for treasure" he'll want to wear his pirate hat. He'll also want to wear his pajamas with the treasure boxes on them, but will thoroughly protest to a diaper change.

While you are holding the bucking bronco down to change his diaper, he'll remember that he ALSO wants to bring a shovel to the park. Not the little shovel, but the BIG shovel papa uses in the backyard.

After searching for the shovel in the garage (and sticking his hands into numerous spider webs and other yucky things), he'll change his mind and decide that a ride in the car would be more fun.

On the car ride, you will pass by the library and he will scream murder until you stop at the library and find him a book on cats with swords. (This is directly in opposition to the grocery store trip you were planning to make).

You will use the library computer to reference "cats" and "swords" and while you are standing at the computer, he will disappear in 10 seconds.

You will find him easily, because he'll have completely forget his "inside voice" while doing a song and dance solo on the story-time stage.

From March 2010

The LOUD little ditty might go like this:

WHO MADE A FART? NOAH! NOAH!
WHO MADE A FART? BROTHER NOAH MADE A FART!
(sung to the tune of Raffi's "Who Built the Ark?")

You will be mortified. You will start to sweat. You will probably remember that you needed to go to the grocery store specifically to get more deodorant. You will think to yourself, What in F is wrong with me? Am I nuts? He's 2 and I'm 31. I CALL THE SHOTS! This crap needs to stop right now.

Sensing your parental epiphany, your toddler will cock his eyebrow and promptly take off running down the aisles.

Once you catch up to him and have a very concentrated grown-up talk about proper behavior, he will give you the raspberries. After that spectacular parenting moment, you might just give up and promise him a donut to get back into the car.

And chances are, if you promise him a donut, you are going to have to buy some chocolate milk at the grocery store to go with it.

Mama, Nooooooooo! Keep Your Face On!

It tickles me that I learn something new about parenting every day. And by "tickles me" I really mean that in the heat of the moment I want scream and throw things, but later I manage to find some semblance of humor in the situation.


Today, like many days, I dragged Noah somewhere we wasn't too excited to go. After a week of dark circles and the discovery of yet more fine lines (nothing "fine" about those jerks), I was in serious need of some beautifying. Since Botox scares me and is a bit out of my price range, I decided a nice brow wax would suffice. I think I read in Cosmo once that brow waxes are like a mini-face lift. Sure if your brows look like this, I guess...



But mine was nothing so dramatic. I just wanted a little pampering before a Valentine's Day date this weekend.


Anyhoo, off to the spa we went. I came armed with cookies, milk and a download of the Wiggles on my iPhone. (This is the part where I am supposed to seem experienced and wise as a parent).
I mean a brow wax is what, like 15 minutes? Surely he couldn't cause that much damage in such a short amount of time.


I waited until we were going down the hall to the spa to pull out the goodies and Noah began to wolf down the cookies as soon as the treatment door closed. 45 seconds after he finished the cookies (seriously there was a whole freaking bag of them. gone in less than a minute) he began to pay more and more attention to what was going on.


Noah: What Mama doing?

Me: Don't worry about it sweetie. Here, check out this video. It has Captain Feathersword, your fav-or-ite!!!

Noah: Hmmm. No thanks. What Mama doing?

Me: Well honey, Mama's getting her eyebrows done. I want to look nice for Papa.


*first strip is ripped off*


Noah (voice elevating): Noooo! I don't like it. Don't do it anymore!!!


*rip*
*rip*


Noah: AHHHHHHH. NO MAMA. KEEP YOUR FACE ON!!! DON'T. HURT. MY. MAMA!!!


This lead to inconsolable crying and screaming, which may have put a damper on the woman in the next room's therapeutic massage. The poor girl working on my brows is so freaked at the intensity of the crying that she actually backs up into the corner with her hands up.


So, yeah, I left with one eyebrow done.


Currently, I look less like Freida, and more like this:





But at least I kept most of my "face on."

Lesson learned. Good thing I didn't go in for a bikini wax.

Ya Scummy Scab Scraper!

After thinking about Kat's writing prompts this week, I decided to be bold, to be fierce, and to be more than a little gross. I have chosen to tell you about that scar. Or in my case, the many little scars.

(If you have an easily excitable gag-reflex, just know, you've been warned.)

It all started at the tender of I really don't remember. I must have been around 5? I remember doing a lot of running around at that age. You know, chasing boys around the playground in kindergarten, saying, "now you have cooties!" One of those times, in my attempt to spread my girly disease, I must have taken a tumble and ended up with a large scrape on my knee.

I was in love! No, not with the boys, but with my scab! It was fantastic! I was amazed that red liquid has slowly turned to a solid chunky mass; a band aid my body had made on its very own! I was so intrigued that i thought, this phenomenon must be studied. So I peeled that sucker off and put it in an empty baby jar.

Can you guess what happened next? (Well, after the initial tears and more blood) It came back!!! What resilience! This one wanted to hold on a bit longer, it must have known what was coming, but with the help of mommy's tweezers, it ended up in the jar too. (ha, ya bastard!)

Over the years the jar grew from baby jar to jelly jar. Sometimes, I would take it out from under my bed and stare at all the unique and amazing forms my scabs have taken. They were my badges of honor! This one from falling of my bike, that one from the corner of the coffee table (that one was long and straight!) Each time I would find one, off he would come, into the jar to join the others.

As you can imagine, all this "scientific exploration" had some backlash. I ended up with tiny scars from the places I picked, then picked again and again. I'd take a picture for you, but most have faded with the help of years and a little Mederma.

At this point you have lost a little faith in me. You are scratching your head wondering if I purposely injured myself. Keep heart. I never became a cutter. I never turned into a sociopath. I just kept a jar of scabs. Now that's not too weird is it? :P

2

Dear Noah,

Today you are 2 years old. As you can see, Mama hasn't been writing in her blog lately. This hasn't made me sad. I have been having so many wonderful adventures with you, that I am just not in front of the computer that much anymore. Gone are the 2 naps a day, with one spent on housework and the other blogging. We spend our mornings playing at the park or going to classes. Our afternoons are filled with play dates and you "helping" Mama out with chores. I can't believe how much laundry you go through, but after watching you fill your socks with sand this morning, and then later "paint" your hand and shirt with markers, I can kinda guess why. Lucky for me you are almost always as willing to help clean up as you are to make messes.

From December 2009

From June 2009

You should know that your 2 year old self is quite a character. Anyone that doesn't think a toddler has personality yet needs to spend a few hours with Noah. Like Mama, you have a love of people. You often introduce yourself to older kids with a friendly handshake and a smile. Right now you are saying, "Hi. I'm Noah. What's your name?" to children (and often strangers) you encounter. It's pretty adorable until you tell me "Mama, your turn," and you drag me up to strangers in the grocery store and make me introduce myself. No one can ever accuse you of being an introvert.

From December 2009

From September

Not only do you enjoy meeting new friends, you also enjoy spending time with them. Right now you tell us your best buddy is Elsa. When you see her you give her a giant hug and the two of you end up in giggles. I love to watch you play chase and run and scream. I can tell you are going to have lots of great friends when you go to school, even though the thought makes Mama just a tiny bit jealous.

From September

From July 2009

From July 2009

Now I know this may surprise you (especially if you are a teenager and reading this), but your very BEST friend right now is me. Often you will voluntarily (gasp!) grab my hand and says, "friends." One of my favorite memories from this year was when we were sitting on a bench, eating lunch and you reached for my hand, leaned your head on my shoulder and said, "best friends." My heart melted into a million pieces.

From October 2009

From July 2009

Your Papa and I are continually surprised with how much you understand of the world already. You identify emotions with ease. You know that people have the power to make others feel happy and sad. When Mama is sad you say, "You ok, Mama?" and give me a pat on the back. You also observe and will note, "Papa's happy!" or "I hear a baby crying. It's sad." You certainly got your perceptiveness from your Papa. He may be quiet, but he always somehow know what people are thinking and feeling. If you ever need a good judge of character, go ask Papa.

From October 2009

From November 2009

A trait you received from Mama is your incredible imagination. Right now you are enamored with pirates. You have a pirate sword and hat and love to make believe you are a pirate. Today at the park, you climbed the rope ladder and shouted, "Avast, you scurvy dogs!"

From December 2009

As I know from experience, with great imagination often comes great (and often irrational) fears. Currently you are scared of a man that lives in your window. We can't quite figure that one out, but we let you sleep with your night light and your pirate sword in case the man gets any funny ideas.

From December 2009

Dear sweet boy, there are so many more things I would like to write about you; your love of music (singing and instruments - this year you were so into the drums and guitar!), your interest in anything with wheels, and your fascination with football (despite the fact Papa and I couldn't care less about sports). You however, have other ideas. Right now you have woken up from your nap and are saying, "Mama, where ARE YOU?!? I need you Mama!" And I simply can't resist.

Here I come turkey. Ready for new adventures and challenges with you. Thank you for all that you make me feel and how much you fill up my life.

From July 2009

I love you Noah James.

oxox,
Mama

Lucky

It's been a while since my last post. Thank you for those of you who are sticking around to see how it all turns out. :)

I usually try and write with a sense of humor, (What?!? You don't think I am funny?) because I feel like life with a toddler can be full of shits and giggles if you only look at how ridiculous getting angry about things like pooping on the carpet is. However, the last few weeks I think my sense of humor got a case of H1N1. My "funny" has been stuck in bed, replaced by a more anxious/tense self who has little patience for people or difficult situations.

I actually had a post written, then edited, then re-written, then deleted and it was all about anxiety and how crappy I have been feeling lately. (I was anxious about my post even. Irony, much?) Reading it made me want to upchuck. I have way too many things to be thankful for to let myself be dragged into a pity-party. So I am making a list, lest I forget what a beautiful life I am blessed with.

Things I am LUCKY for:

1. HH. Is there a stronger word than "amazing?" I don't think that quite describes him. He puts up with my multitude of moods and still wants to come home early from work to see me. (That's usually when I shove Noah into his arms, grab a glass of Merlot and throw on Gossip Girl.) I can't believe how lucky I am to found a man so supportive and selfless.


2. My family. We don't always see eye to eye, but I know no matter how many grumbling texts or angry emails are sent, we are still there for each other. It's also nice to realize that EVERY family has problems. I mean, sheesh, turn on a daytime talk show. It least I know who my "real" daddy is and stuff. I will try to keep this lovely thought in my heart as we enter the holiday "how long are you staying at our house, again?" season.


3. My son. Oh baby. I get heavy in my heart just thinking of how much he depends on me. Its funny how that feeling can lead to such guilt and joy at the same time. BTW, Noah: Thank you, thank you for not crying when you got the flu vaccine. Mommy had a REALLY hard time wrestling with her decision to get it for you. I cried. You didn't. You are angel to trust your mommy so much. I hope I deserve that trust.


4. Friends. Amanda, Ali, Lisa, Sarah I am calling you out. You have helped me so many times the last few weeks. You are my sunshine. Oh and the trashy mags and champagne brunches haven't hurt either...


5. Health. Every day is truly a gift. We only get a set amount of days. I need to be more thankful that I can be active and have the opportunity to pursue the things I want to do (even if that is cleaning, doing laundry and chasing Noah as he runs out of the park).

As a last little nugget to myself, I need to recognize that all the above CANNOT be bought, so I need to worry less about money. With Christmas coming up, you may be feeling the pinch too. This year I will try not to stress to much about what to buy people and realize that happiness isn't something to be bought, but something you have to appreciate and nurture. I am hoping my list of "Lucky" does this for me. And maybe, when you are feeling stressed this holiday season, make yourself a little list of "lucky." I hope it helps.

A Bedtime Story

While I was busy sipping cocktails and dancing on tables in Vegas, I left HH with toddler-sized problem and guess what...he fixed it. For this I owe him big-time, though I have tried making payment with blueberry pancakes and a 6 pack of Guinness. That counts as currency in man world, right?

What fantastic feat did HH do to deserve such service, you ask? He taught our 21 month old how to sleep in his toddler bed. In one weekend.


Don't you wish every problem could be like that? Your toddler gives you yet another puzzle to solve and you promptly leave on a trip, letting hubby figure it out.

Me: What? Noah's biting his friends again at the park? I think I will fly off to Italy tomorrow and let YOU handle this one honey. Have it solved by Monday morning, ok?

Ummm, yeah, so it didn't totally go like that. It was more like... "Oh frick. Oh frick. Noah's jumping out of his crib again and I am leaving for the weekend. Please God, what is this crappy timing about? Can't this wait until he's 5? Yes, I think 5 is a good time for a toddler bed..."

Then later:
"Double frick! Now that he's in his toddler bed, he won't stay in there. I think we have to lock his door at night...Does this make me a bad mother? Am I damaging him emotionally?"

Yah, so I was a little stressed out. I left for Vegas with a very guilty mommy conscience.

So how did HH perform his miracle? With a simple little trick - a nightlight. On Saturday, he and Noah went out and bought this:

It charges on a dock, so you don't have to worry about a cord and it doesn't get hot. It also turns many different colors and has a timing mode that shuts off automatically in 15 minutes.

For some reason this little gems works wonders. I guess, like his Mama, Noah is not a big fan of the dark. HH, knowing his wife so well, thought maybe his son might benefit from a night-light friend he could hold while he slept (I call my friend my iPhone).

Phew, what a difference it made! No more screaming and banging on the door. No more hyper-ventilation crying. At the end of his bedtime routine each night, we hand him is GlowMate. He whines briefly when his door is shut and sometimes will check the door knob, but mostly he just lays in his bed, playing and talking to his light until he falls asleep.

I no longer feel guilty for locking his door, because I know he is much safer not roaming around the house. And I can sleep easy, with a happy heart, knowing his "friend" is keeping him company.

Thank you, thank you, HH for making this story have a happy ending.

BTW, Noah's still peeing on the carpet. I think it might be a good time for me to visit Sufia in Africa. Be back in a week...

SITScation: Gossip Girl Edition

Hey beautiful bloggers, it's the "Sippy Cup" Gossip Girl here, your one and only source into the scandulous lives of the ladies of SITS. What's making the headling on my homepage? Well, it's SITScation, of course.



Which sitsta was caught at cocktail hour being just as cute and quirky as her blog?




What head-band wearing mama completely rocked the house with her speech? Hint: It's not Blair Waldorf.



Fashionista's take note: Black tights are THE NEW THING. Check out S rocking the flapper girl look.


Who's bloggy warmth was just as real in person?


Scandal alert! Which of these lovely ladies was spotted table dancing after hours in the VIP section at a hot Vegas club? You know, I'll never tell.



XOXO

Gossip Girl

Wordful Wednesday - So Tonight We're Gonna Potty Like It's 1999

Ever since watching the Elmo's Potty Time video, Noah's been all about the potty. He requests to watch the DVD at least 2 times a day, then he cracks himself up, running around the living room shouting "Wee-wee" and "Woo-woo." (I mean really, what the hell is a woo-woo?)

Anyways, just like Elmo promised, once Noah had a few success stories under his belt, it was time to go out and buy some Big Boy training pants. The "shot" below is his first time trying them on. He totally wanted me to take his picture to show his Papa. He ran over to me, said "Cheese!" and proceeded to take a big whiz on the carpet.

In case you missed it. I circled it in purple for you. And yes, that IS a mid-stream shot. :P

The Housewife Survival Handbook

The first part of this post starts at our local Barnes and Noble; a mecca for the stay at home mom. As soon as I swing open the door and the rush of cool, coffee scented air fills my lungs, I feel my shoulders relax and my grip on Noah's struggling hand release. He runs to the train table and mama grabs herself a whipped frap and a magazine.

This is one our afternoon routines I look forward to and it usually goes pretty smoothly (unless there are not enough trains for all the kiddies, then the claws come out). This particular afternoon I had finished my US weekly and Noah was still busy with James and Percy, so I decided to check out the clearance aisle. I freely admit I am a book junkie and that the only way to support my habit is either through my enabling friends or books with a red tag. Surely, those book purchases are justifiable. The red label means it's close to free, right?

Anyhoo, the title of this book caught my eye:

It was the Improved Housewife that did it. Clearly I could use some improving. Typically my "recipes" consist of whatever Trader Joe's packages I warmed up and my home-maker uniform/outfit is usually post-park grunge with a smear of apple sauce.

I admit, I was a little freaked out about the words marketing and carving. Was the author still talking about food here? Or were we on more dangerous territory? Did I need marketing or carving? After reading that US Weekly, I wasn't so sure.

I had to laugh then when I opened the book and found the copyright date. 1851. Ok, phew.

Whatever mana of knowledge this book contained has been since drained by the age of the mircowaves and micro-minis. That's more like the mama's I know.

But still, I was left with a yearning...where was my year 2000 survival guide? Where are bullet points on 10 minute recipes that prepare themselves and an accompanying educational activity to do with your toddler while that meal is cooking? Where are the paragraphs under the heading "What to do on Wednesday when you've already been to the zoo once and the park 3 times this week?" or "How to answer important phone calls when your toddler is screaming?"

I searched Google. I couldn't find it.

So ladies, I throw this task out to you. I have read some pretty freakin-awesome blogs out there and I know you mamas are up for the challenge.

If they can have this:

They can have The Housewife Survival Handbook. I mean, it's only fair. That first book might even lead to being a housewife.

Also, you can totally take my title. Just send me a free copy so I can read it while I am sipping my latte at Barnes and Noble and we are cool.

Potty Humor

The War of Extinction (Plus Giveaway Winners)

There is a war going on in my house. A war that we hope will end in extinction. Nope, I am not talking about the extinction of any endangered plant or fuzzy animals, so you can put away your Save the Pandas t-shirt. I am referring the extinction of behavior. I call this behavior The Wheam.

The wheam starts as a small, irritating whine ("coookieeeeee") and when denied develops into a desperate chant ("COOKIE. MAMA. COOKIE. MAMA."). The ignored chant then follows into the "someone must be stabbing me" scream.

The hills are alive, with the sound of Wheaming...

As you can imagine, I want the Wheam to take a hike. It needs to leave soon, or mama is going to resort to wearing earplugs and communicating only through baby signs (or through the door in my padded cell).

So we have gone to war.

So far the wheam is putting up a good fight. In the wheam's armory are volume, repetition and public Mommy embarrassment. All mama has so far is extinction. In behavioral modification, extinction eliminates the incentive for unwanted behavior by withholding the expected response. In other words, Noah starts to whine "cooookieee," Mama ignores. Noah screams and stomps feet, Mama ignores. I may offer him a snack later, when he can ask me in his "sweet voice," but I don't negotiate with the wheam.

Over time, one can hope that continued extinction of the wheam will lead to is eventual disappearance. It's been about a two week battle now and Mama is feeling a little ragged around the edges.

I have, however, called in reinforcements. We are headed to Grandma's next week. Perhaps a change in players and location will change the tides of this battle. I am little suspicious, though, that Grammy and the wheam may be in cohoots....

Because I will be gone on Sept 1, I am announcing the winners now. They are:

Kelly @ Carty Party of Three

Jen @ Buried with Children

Megan @ Megan Goldie

If you lovely ladies could shoot me an email with an address, I will get those sandals off to you soon.

Now back to the trenches.

Wordful Wednesday - Monkey See, Monkey Do

Does your toddler turn into a screaming mess when comes time for a haircut? Do you have to bribe him with cookies just to get him into the seat and the shove them periodically into his crying mouth so that he doesn't throw himself out of the chair? Do you dread the event and sweat through the whole thing?

Yeah. Me too.

I've tried the fancy kid cut places with the fun cars to sit in and the videos. I've tried M&M bribery, which is usually the cure-all for everything. Nothing has worked until now.

On Monday Mama made PAPA go along. PAPA got his haircut first and Noah got to watch. We "clapped" for Papa as he "sat nicely" and oh so still. Bri wore his "this is awesome! cheesy grin" the whole time. Then we cheered for Papa when he got a balloon a the end for "being so good." And all the while said, "So fun! It's Noah's turn next!"

It felt like having to sit through a Barney episode, but man, it worked!

The above pic is my guys sporting their new cuts in the shower. Now they both are mullet-free and Mama is excited to try this new technique with other unhappy events. Hurrah for Papa The Guinea Pig!

WW - What I've Learned From My Toddler

• Coffee is necessary for morning , mommy survival.

(which is related to....)

• It's never too early to throw on a Thomas video.

• You have it. I WANT IT. And don't take too long handing it over.
  

• Cats are quick. The best animals are the ones who are too lazy to run away in fear from you.
  
  

• The best thing about having a cat is that their food is always available in that shiny bowl on the ground. The food doesn't taste too bad. You just have to chew it a lot.

• Can't find your cell phone? Guess who's stuck it in the toilet again?
  
  

• Can't find your wallet? Don't worry, I've cleaned out all that pesky green paper for you. It flushes better than the phone. Whoopee!
  
• The dirtier it is, the better it tastes.
  

• 5 second rule? How about the "as long as i can identify what it once was" rule?
  
• Whoever said "You can never have too much of a good thing," must have been talking about chocolate cookies.
  

• Peeing on the floor is hilarious.

• Peeing in the toilet is for losers. Or for toddlers who will except an M&M bribe.
  
• Keep your friends close and the grandparents even closer. Preferably on speed dial.

• Every day is a gift. (...........well, at least it's an "adventure." :D )
  

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Thanks Kat for such a cute prompt. I totally acknowledge that I stole your format. I love the "pics say it all" idea.

100 Sips, A Toast of Thanks

Wine makes daily living easier, less hurried, with fewer tensions and more tolerance.

- Benjamin Franklin

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It isn't surprising to learn that a quote like this comes from someone who had three kids. Though Ben, I have to wonder if it was actually you who had to wake up with those toddlers. Maybe you should have reconsidered the whole Daylight Savings thing?


But I digress... The purpose of this post is to celebrate, not to complain over sleep we parents will never get back - It's my 100th post on Sippy Cup!

It is in the spirit of Ben's quote that I would like to thank you. Not only can a glass (or two!) of wine help, but it also helps to have the support of the friends I have made here. Your lovely comments have lifted me, made me laugh and helped me get through my first years of mommyhood. Thank you, thank you, thank you.


Thank you also to HH for all that you have done to help me with this blog. From taking Noah to the park (the beach, the hardware store, etc) so I could write, to helping me with technical issues. You certainly are my best friend with benefits.


For busy moms and followers who are still checking in from time to time, I would like to offer you a chance at relaxation as well. No, I am not sending you a case of "2 Buck Chuck." :) On Sept 1, I am giving away a pair of comfy Islander Sandals to 3 randomly picked followers who leave me a comment on this post with your color and size preference.


Feel free to wear them and sip your Chardonnay. And if it has to be out of a covert sippy cup at the park, so be it.


Cheers!
Rachel

It's the Climb

What do you think of our toddler landing pad?

HH and I returned late last night from our 5 day trip. A vacation filled with cool breezes, refreshing drinks and warm sand. A trip........(wait for it)..... WITHOUT THE KID. Now I won't go into the details of the loveliness of our time together, but you parents out there understand, even a trip to Walmart without a toddler can be relaxing, and we had pina coladas....

Not too surprising, however, is the fact that I did miss our little man quite a bit. We are best buds and hang out every day, so its a little spooky not to have my shadow around. I knew though, he was in fantastic care with my mom (Grammy Tutu) and Noah was going to love every minute of her visit. (This didn't stop me from calling twice a day just to sing Twinkle Twinkle to him.)

On our flight home I was thinking, "ah, I am so very relaxed, I am ready for whatever the week ahead has in store. I will meet challenges with a calm and cool head (insert not pull my hair and count to ten under my breath). Nothing will frustrate me. I am the ocean. I am serenity." Here it should be mentioned that we were flying over where a hurricane was supposed to land the next day. Foreshadowing much?

After crashing into bed later that night, it seemed like only moments until 4am when violent screams erupted from Noah's room. HH and I went running and the cats high tailed it under the bed. When we got to the room my mom had her hand over her heart and was saying," Thank you God. Thank you. I was worried it had happened again." From the picture above I am sure you can imagine what that "it" is. My newly 19 month old has discovered he can obtain freedom from his baby jail (crib) by hurdling his body over the side.

Now I know I am just one of millions of mommies with this problem, but sheesh, the Mederma for Kids is still drying from his last "discovery." Couldn't I have a few more months?Until then, I will continue to pad the inside of our house with whatever I can find. It has begun to resemble a mental asylum. Crazy person included.

Serenity indeed.

The 3 Year Old A-hole

I probably won't be winning any sensitivity awards with that title, but you have to admit, that somewhere along life's path you've met a pre-schooler you who just wanted to give the middle finger to. Maybe this kid lived on your street. Maybe he was your cousin or some kid at school. He probably pushed you down when his mommy wasn't looking and dipped your string cheese into the sand just to get a reaction. He pretends to hand you his toy car to share and then laughs at your crying when he yanks his hand back. Sounds personal, huh? Oh yeah. Noah and I know this kid. His name is Gavin and he's a regular at our park.
To be honest, by nature, I think most preschoolers are jerks. It makes sense that at an age when you have enough understanding to realize you are pretty small and powerless in this huge world, you might want to pick on the very few who are smaller than you (babies, puppies, bugs, etc). So, I am not really blaming the kid. It's up to parents/caregivers to teach more positive ways of feeling control. I won't bore you with examples, because I am sure you've read them in Parents magazine.

Who's to blame then? His parents? Should I pick up the phone and call his mommy? Who wants to get that call that your kid is a holy terror and commits minor violence against other toddlers and seems to get complete joy out of it? I mean, she must have some idea, right?

I think it should be said that I have actually never met the woman. It wouldn't really be a "friendly" conversation. We are strangers. Gavin comes to the park with 3 of his siblings in tow and his poor nanny who looks like she is about to have a nervous breakdown at any moment (the siblings ain't that sweet either). Not that I am saying that his mom working full-time has anything to do with it. I know many awesome kids with working parents. Maybe its the fact that the nanny just isn't equipped to handle that many kids with ummmm difficult personalities? (insert demons).

I have used every "teacher" trick I know, positive praise of Gavin's good behavior, setting a good example with Noah and then praising. When that didn't work I went for the disciplinarian approach and used firm words, " No, Gavin, you do not stand on Noah's legs!" "You do not push babies off the structure!" Sometimes the nanny will hear me (b/c I am shouting it loud enough for her to wake-up and pay attention) and will say, "That's a no-no, Gavin." GAHHHH.

Something needs to be done, though, and soon, because as soon as Noah gets to the park now he peers out from under the safety of his stroller and looks for Gavin. If Gavin is there, Noah says, "No. No. Bye-bye park." That is some power this kid has. Maybe I don't want to meet his parents. I am a little afraid of what the adult version might look like....

For the mean time, Noah has come up with some of his own strategies. When Gavin and Co tried to push Noah out of the sand box today, Noah came right back, sat in the middle and proceeded to take a big poo in his diaper. I guess that's the 18 month old equilavent to a middle finger.

Noah James, Celebrity Impersonator Extraordinaire

Like his mama, my son has a passion for entertaining. His many talents include: dancer, "joke" teller, and silly face maker. Recently I discovered he has also been doing celebrity impersonations. It only took me looking through some old photos to figure this out. Here is some of his better work.

This is Kirstie Alley going straight for the brownie mix. This is pre-hair extension Kirstie, of course.

Noah's Trump. He can't actually say "You're Fired," but you can see it in his eyes.


Mathew McConaughey, shirtless with a bongo drum.

The open shirt and blank expression here just screams Fabio. Romance cover, here we come!

This is Noah doing Mel Gibson, Braveheart style. He uses the blue paint to get into character.

Last night, after dumping a tub of Aquaphor into his hair and donning a confused look, I realized my son was going for "heartthrob" in the form of Robert Pattinson.

My hope is that one day he will make it big in Vegas, so that mama can live out her days shopping at Caeser's Forum and playing video poker with Bette Midler. This sounds fair, right?

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