Rapunzel

M's been calling Monkey a hippie for the past few weeks. And even I'm willing to admit it - the girl's hair has gotten really really long.

Jellybean's gotten a little scraggly, too.

So we scheduled haircuts. For this morning. The morning after the biggest snowstorm I've seen since moving here. (there was even thunder during the snowstorm! cool!!!)

Needless to say, we were disappointed. We schlepped through the snow, with the girls, to this salon in the west village.....and the owner was there only to call and cancel all the appointments. Her stylists couldn't make it in.

We went inside to use the bathroom before repeating our trip back home.

And while we were inside, Monkey gazed forlornly about, muttering how we weren't going to get to watch the movie, as promised.

The salon owner asked 'what?'

And Monkey repeated: "it's just SO unfair. I don't get to get my haircut. And it's gotten SO long....I'm like Rapunzel!" as she finished it off with a (melodramatic) sigh.

Under the entry for gullible

For the past 24 hours, Jellybean's been walking around, shrugging her shoulders, and saying "it walked away...."

What, you may ask, is she referring to?

Why the christmas tree, of course.

If you ask here where it went (since we took it down to the curb during her naptime), she'll shrug, put her hands up in the air, palms up, and chirp "it walked away!"

Because perhaps -  just maybe - her dad's been messing with her.

A name by any other

I've always loved that quote about how a rose by any other name would still (or wouldn't? hmm) smell as sweet.

Ok, so my literary allusions are off tonight. Sue me. It's the night before the night before Christmas, and my eldest daughter (who believes in Santa) just asked for footed pajamas for Christmas. And I'm not even sure they make them in her size anymore. Huh. Yeah. Anyhoo, I'm tired and need to find footed jammies tomorrow....

where was I?

Oh yeah.

So the whole think about Jellybean's name is that it can be broken down into multiple nickname possibilities. Some of which I adore, others I'm not keen on, and some....meh - indifferent.

But there's one? One that - for whatever reason - I simply didn't think about. Maybe because it's boyish. Maybe because it doesn't seem to roll off my tongue naturally. Who knows.

Yesterday I gave Jellybean a quiz. I told her that she had multiple names she could go by - including her full given name - and asked who she was. What does she want to be called?

And wouldn't you know it? She pounded her chest with her open palm and said "I'm ______" - the one nickname I hadn't considered. Not even once.

Just goes to show you. She's her own girl. And I love her for it.

Terrible Twos

The terrible twos are upon us.

When Monkey was two, she was an....oddly logical creature. A Vulcan, if you will. You would stop a temper tantrum by giving her a reason - any logical reason - for the offending behavior. And she would stop her tantrum, adjust herself mentally with a shrug, and say OK. Done. Now, she still had some pretty f-reaking spectacular tantrums (there's one in my memory, of demanding multiple cookies, with echoing shrieks and screams of displeasure echoing across Columbia's campus....), but still - she was oddly logical and collected for an insane two year old. Three? Phew. Three was hard. But two? Two rocked.

Jellybean? I am thinking she is going to do the terrible twos up right. Tantrums. Time outs. Fisticuffs and shenanigans. After all, she already broke my nose.

But this is the weird part. She LIKES timeouts.  In fact, she gives them to herself. Happily!

We're screwed.

My girls

Sunday was a rough day. We essentially cancelled Jellybean's second birthday party because she was just freakin' miserable. Fever, cough, boogers like snakes trying to charm her upper lip. Good times. I couldn't walk out of her line of sight without her going ballistic. And yet? It was perfect. She turned two and we celebrated, albeit quietly. She smiled (a bit), hugged us (a lot), and tried to enjoy her (demanded, and delivered) chocolate. That's my girl.

It's a good thing we called off the party, too. Because that evening? Monkey came down with the stomach flu. She puked one, took it like a champ, and went back to bed. But then....she continued puking. And puking. About every 30 minutes from 10:30pm - 3:30am. At the end she was dry heaving - more tears were making it into the bucket than anything else. She told me "it's hard being sick." So it is love, so it is. But the amazing part was when she figured out that I was "sleeping" on the floor of the front room where we'd sequestered her - and she commented that "daddy and jellybean must be lonely tonight" since we weren't with them. That's my girl.

They're my girls. Our girls. And they're perfect.  (and - knock on wood - healthy again! phew)

Princesses

Guess who's turning two this weekend? AKA, look ma - I got me some POCKET!

That's right, Jellybean is turning two!

I've been able to intercept most of the presents coming into the apartment these days, and sequestered them in various hidden nooks and crannys (oh fine, they're all piled precariously in the play/guest room and I'm locking the girls out!). But yesterday, our lovely sitter C2 (not the original C, who was bitten by a baby gila monster), was kind enough to bring the package in and say "oh look, Jellybean, it's for YOU" and that, well, that was the end of trying to nip that package out of her prying hands to pretend it wasn't there.

Which is a looong way of saying we opened up her bday present from Uncle N and Auntie G early.

Jellybean loves this dress. LOVES it. Why? Because the necktie portion folds itself into a huge pocket. When we left for school today, she had shoved so many toys, necklaces and princess crap in there she clanked when she walked!

Forgive the crummy cell phone photo - but that look of wide-eyed glee needed to be shared. I think she thinks pockets are the best invention evah!

Santa's a tippler, but shh...don't tell the kids

We met Santa, shopping in the beer aisle at Stew Leonard's this past week.
Monkey was ASTOUNDED to learn that Santa grocery shops.
I was amused that it was in the beer aisle. But then again, he does have that rosy glow to him....

School photos

Monkey is a good looking kid. No, really - see?

 

Which is why I kind of wondered who this kid was, when the photos came home. Needless to say.....we didn't buy any photos. I know, I know - I should have. You know, for bribery material when she's a teenager.

But even I couldn't be THAT mean:

 

CHOCOLATE!

Jellybean turns two soon. In 10 days to be precise. So Monkey and I keep talking to 'lil bean about her party. And she listens, and nods, and then....every single time.....hollers CHOCOLATE. I WANT CHOCOLATE.

I think we shall have chocolate for her birthday, don't you?

Meanwhile, I still get those annoying milestone emails, saying "your 23 month 3 week old child *might* be doing this....". A recent one commented that my child "might" be having an opinion on things. I about fell out of my chair laughing. That's like saying the pope "might" be Catholic.

Hello....anyone still out there?

I know, it's been radio silence. Hope readers still exist...

We've been busy. I'm on augmentin for a sinus/bronchitis infection and am feeling much better (aw, thanks for asking!)  - as a result I once again have the mental capacity to actually note the happenings in our lives....going to bed 38 seconds after the kids do leaves little time for things like blogging. Or, you know, life.

But life has been happening! Let me fill you in:

Jellybean broke my nose. She head butted me. (stop laughing, little brother!) I have been calling her a butthead at work for the past two weeks and only today did anyone get the joke. Head butt....butthead. Oh g*d my jokes are bad that I need to explain them! (I'm here all week! don't forget to tip your waitress! har)

But, no joke here - we're potty training our Jellybean! She's had three days at school without an accident! She's my big girl. We started this process at the prompting of her school - and also because she won't tolerate a dirty diaper. The kicker was that she kept taking off poopy diapers and I had to go find the - ahem - nuggets that rolled away. That was pretty motivating, between you and me.

Monkey wants in on all the praise we're heaping on Jellybean for using the potty - so now she offers to "show her sister how to use the potty" each time she heads in. And what the heck - she's a great role model, so we praise her. I love that kid. And I'm not the only one...

It's amazing how much Jellybean adores her big sister. She wants to sit by her at breakfast. She wants to wear her big sister's clothing to school (she wore two of Monkey's pj tops to school today. Yes, that's right, two. And yes, Jellybean is now picking out her clothes. sigh)

Anything that Monkey does? So does Jellybean. It's (no pun intended) monkey see, monkey do. And it's adorable. We used to think we had Jellybean for Monkey, but I think it's the other way around.

Monkey is thriving at school. We just signed her up for summer camp, and part of it will be Spanish immersion. I give her about 6 months before she starts teaching me things to say in Spanish, and tricks me (you know, like the lead in My Big Fat Greek Wedding who says "I have three testicles" to his fiancee's family....funny).

Monkey has also bought into the Santa thing, hook line and sinker. I was talking to her the other day, suggesting that if she was good maybe Santa would bring her and Jellybean a table that they could do artwork on together, and wouldn't that be fun...and she sighed, said yes it would be great, but "how will Santa get it down the chimney? the chimney is only 18 inches wide!!" Funny kid. Especially since we don't have a chimney!

Guests, be forewarned!

Guests....be forewarned. If you come to visit, Jellybean will put you to work reading!

photos

Recent bon mots

Jellybean at breakfast: "I love you sausage..." (no, I love you daddy or mommy, though! the stinker)

Monkey at 9:45pm at night, when her little sister is wailing in her crib: "Shush!"....the response?... silence. (the guilty parents? we shrug and call it a night....)

Monkey when we did something dire (you know, enforcing bedtime, etc.): upon repairing to the couch, she informed her mother "You've ruined all my love for you. I only love Ollie, because she's nice to me. (and the academy award for best dramatic actress goes to....)

Monkey when I pick her up at school at 5:55pm: "Mommy, you're TOO early." (as I'm thinking, phew, I'm tired kid, let's go home already!)

Jellybean when we exhorted her to eat the "bears" (aka gummy vitamins): "no, mama, those are vitamins." (I stand corrected, kid - can't pull one over on you!)

Gone fishin'

Been offline, off the grid, and on vacation. 

Here's a preview, with B-Bear, HP, Monkey and Jellybean meeting "frog frog"!

More to come, later!

My princess

So here’s the thing.

My brother and his lovely wife G have a history of sending awesome, yet totally (how shall I say this politely? Urm…) ANNOYING presents to Monkey.

A set of bongo drums.
A harmonica.
A tambourine.
Etc.

Now, mind you, each of these items was selected with love, and sent with hopes that she, like they (and their beautiful kids), would appreciate the music she could make! The beautiful noises and sounds and thumps and squeaks – just all the NOISE that a joyful toddler can make. (Clearly they live in a house, on a lot, without annoyed neighbors pressing in close and listening through walls and ceilings and floors.)

But really? All joking aside? These presents are awesome. I think Jellybean likes them even more than Monkey; watching Jellybean figure out how to use the harmonica has been charming. To date, she can make it work by sucking in, but blowing out still confounds her. It is hilarious! But I digress….

This year they did not go the musical-annoy-the-neighbors route. Nope. Instead, they sent….. an ENTIRE BOX OF PRINCESS COSTUMES. (By Disney, of course)

AN ENTIRE BOX. With 23 or more pieces to keep track of. Color coordinated tops and skirts. Necklaces and tiaras and rings and earrings and lions and tigers, and bears OH MY.

Monkey about had an aneurysm with pleasure when she opened this box up.

On the other hand, I confess that my first reaction was not as positive. It’s not that I don’t like princesses – I do! It’s just that, well, it pisses me off that Disney always kills the mom off, the sought-after fairytale ending is always getting married, and most of all? Most of the kids toys “The Rat” produces are poorly made. Just dreck. Sh*t that falls apart the first time you use it. Built to self-destruct so that you need to buy another one to replace it.

And that really bothers me. I bought a beautiful castle with Monkey’s name in vinyl wall art from elephannie on etsy, and it is beautiful! I hung it with pride, with love, without wondering just how many seconds would pass before it fell apart and broke my daughter’s heart. The Disney stuff? I think it’s all going to break her heart as it falls apart in her hands. How am I supposed to explain profit margins to a 4 year old, when she is sad and angry that her favorite things fall apart?

Until that happens, however, I am going to watch Monkey, with my heart in my mouth, enchanted by her behavior. She’s so in love with these silly princess outfits, it takes my breath away.

When Monkey puts away her costumes, even with her mom and dad rushing rushing rushing her to just get to bed already? She slows down, and lays out each item with such care and reverence you would think she was holding items spun from gossamer and gold. Priceless yet infinitely fragile. Watching her put each item away in its allotted space is like watching a Japanese tea ceremony. No unnecessary motion is made. She is poetry and grace.

She IS a princess.

Princess Fever

It appears that Monkey isn't the only one afflicted with Princess fever. Here's her best friend from school, sportin' the Snow White costume. Which she wore to school every.single.day....for two weeks! ha

Sometimes, money CAN buy you happiness

Jellybean is precocious in the manner of all second children (or any number other than first!). She watches her big sister and imitates her.

She imitates her reading. She imitates her silly voice. She imitates her dancing. She imitates her mad toothbrushing skillz..... and, she imitates her using the potty.

In fact, the other night we put her on the potty, and she actually peed in it! I'm not sure who was more startled - her, or me!

Now, as a resident of Manhattan that isn't wildly wealthy (or wildly underwater on a jumbo mortgage), we have limited living space. Our bathroom, shared by 4 humans and a geriatric cat, gives new meaning to the concept of family closeness. We simply don't have much extra space.

When Monkey was potty training, I bought her a special Elmo potty training seat. Which she thought was cool (in theory), but I hated. HATED.

See, this g*dam&n potty seat was HUGE. It took up half of the available space on the floor of our bathroom. And worse yet? When you touched Elmo's hand? He'd cackle, and say something congratulatory like "way to go" in that highpitched voice of his (shudder).

Then, when we were visiting Grandma and 'Andpa, we saw...THE potty seat. The BEST potty seat - ever. The kid part is hidden (held by a magnet) in the lid of the regular seat. No extra stuff in the way. No creepy voice in the middle of the night when your foot brushes Elmo's hand, causing you to leap 3 feet into the air.

And do you know that it cost about $30? That 30 dollars really made a vast improvement in our life.  Sometimes, just sometimes, money really can buy you happiness.

Interlude

Usually, evenings are a hectic mashup of the girls being hungry, being tired, struggling to garner my attention, etc. etc. etc.

This week, school is closed. In fact, Monkey will not be going back - she's graduated! But I digress.

This evening, I came home to reliever the sitter and, as I was leisurely preparing some baked salmon, I heard the girls....doing nothing.

I heard nothing.

So, I investigated. And found the two of them, side by side on the guest bed, reading books. It was lovely.

And then Jellybean objected to the excerpt she was reading and threw herself screeching on the book.

Interlude, interrupted. As it should be.

Mud Pies

When Monkey was little I... well, OK I confess - I sort of wrapped her in bubblewrap and didn't want her to get dirty.

She was mah baybeeee.....and I was in charge of single-handedly protecting her from every atom of dirt, every possible allergen, and of course - ALL germs.

And then life moved on.

And then we had baby number 2.

And I relaxed (some).

This is Jellybean making mud pies at her sister's birthday party. At one point in time, she took her pizza, dragged it through the mud, and then ate it. I shuddered....and then I laughed.

She makes tasty mud pies, that one!

Baby I'm a star...

Why yes, she's sitting on a cream carpet with red fingers...why do you ask?

I was going to call this white trash baby.....

You may call me Lola

Chowhound

Jellybean may be tiny, but watching her pound pizza is like watching that skinny kid win the hotdog eating contest on Coney Island. You can't imagine how her tiny stomach expands enough to hold it all!

Here's an action shot, catching a quick slice at one of our favorite neighborhood haunts.

Oh, baby my baby

Poor Jellybean is teething.

I know, she's been teething for what seems like ages. AGES.

But she's got 4 teeth (eye teeth? canines? gah, I'd be a terrible dentist) breaking through all at once. And she's miserable.

Yesterday, she picked at the gums over one tooth until she was bleeding. My beautiful little baby was wandering around the house with bloody drool, like a pre-school version of cujo. Her pale, pale skin ruddy with blood. Even the wispy blonde tendrils got a bit pink.

She's also got a cold. Of course.

She's in bed right now. She went down well. But ever 4 or 5 minutes she cries. This woeful, piteous lament of mama, mama, mama.

She's had tylenol, and an icy (frozen teether). There's not much more I can do....

It breaks my heart to hear my baby cry.

To my adoring fans

(and NO, I did not pose her! she does this on.her.own.   I swear!)

Cahoots

A lot of the time, the girls are either 1) ignoring each other, or 2) fighting and/or struggling with one another over something – a toy, a seat on the couch, mom or dad’s attention, etc. Monkey wants the book, Jellybean wants the cat, etc. etc. etc.

This morning, however, they were in cahoots. Secretly collaborating. Plotting and scheming. Being sisters.

Once I would get one settled/ready for school, the other would run off and cause some havoc. So, I would turn to that child and either get their shoes back on, or try to contain the mess, or – whatever - and as my attention was divided…the OTHER one would get into something. I’m not talking terrible mischief, just – you know – mischief. Shoes off, books on the floor, bags pulled out from under the stroller, etc.

At one point, I turned my back on them to shut a door, and as I was doing this they started screeching at each other. I turned back to see Jellybean with a blanket over her head (playing “spooky ghost” so she could reveal her face and say “boo!”) and Monkey tugging at it. (evidently Jellybean wanted to be in control of the reveal, not her sister!)

I raised my eyebrows to say “now girls, what’s the story here….” And before I could even say a word – they BOTH STARTED CHORTLING….and then took off in separate directions. It’s like they just know, innately, that if they run in opposite directions I can’t catch them both. I don’t know how they know this, they just do.

They are troublemakers. Rabble-rousers. Partners in crime…..

They are sisters.

Four!

Yesterday Monkey had her 4 year checkup. And, unlike last year, this year she opted to actually participate in the vision and hearing tests! (she passed)

Her weight and height have her in the 35% and 50-75% ranges, as she has been consistently since birth. She put on around 5 pounds this past year, and grew almost 4 inches....all of which happened, I swear, in the last two months! Matter of fact, I bought her shoes in June and she was in 8.5T.....last week (after she got REALLY grumpy about putting her shoes on) I brought her to the shoe store and she's now wearing 10s. Oops!

And, despite some early morning tears when I told her teachers I'd be picking her up early to go to the doctor's office, Monkey was fiercely brave and didn't cry one bit when she got her shots! (she's very proud of this, and reminded me several times of this feat!)

Here she is, fiercely rockin' the bandaids....

Artwork

A recent impressionistic rendition of the sky by Monkey.
(ok, really? no clue. but it's pretty!)

Chatty Cathy

Jellbean is starting to talk more and more these days. I love listening to her ever-expanding vocabulary.

Yesterday she started saying "rabbit" and pointing to the ears on the rabbit in a book. It was perfectly enunciated, but since I always call it a bunny, it took me a moment to figure out what she meant. It was like my brain needed to catch up to the fact that my 20 month old was talking to me!

She's using two-word sentences, and assigning possessive terms to things - so I'm "Monkey's mommy" and our cat is "Monkey's Ollie," etc.

She loves to talk! (atta girl, that's my baby!) Combine that with her love of technology and every phone call becomes an excuse for her to show off.

Yesterday we got a spate of (wonderful!) calls from family and friends to wish Monkey a happy birthday. Monkey was being a bit of a stinker, however, and by the end of the evening she simply didn't want to talk anymore.

Jellybean? No such problem. She was chatting everyone up! She regaled Uncle N with "woof woof" and "roar" and "meow" and a variety of other animal noises. Then closed with "bye bye."

After Uncle N rang off, M actually said - out loud! - "maybe we should get her a phone"....of course meaning one that doesn't work. But really, there is NO way she'd go for that.

She's totally going to need a dataplan, dad, so she can text her friends. Like OMG, unlimited texting would be gr8!

My imaginary friend

When I was little, I had an imaginary friend named "Mousie." She was, you'll be surprised to hear, a mouse. And I would pretend to be a mouse, too, and bite my cousins when they did annoying things like pile all of the cushions from the patio furniture on top of me and then sit on it. You know, since my mouth was the only thing not pinned down. But I digress about the biting...

The point is, I had an imaginary friend.

Now, recently Monkey has been obsessed with Princesses. Really, I mean obsessed. It's like my very own version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Aliens landed and replaced my child with one that only.wants.princessy.things. ALL.THE.TIME.

Princess shoes. Princess toys. Princess books. sheets. underwear. tiaras. costumes. wands. dolls. castles. toothpaste. toothbrushes. headbands. etc.......

So, when Monkey came home from school and started telling me stories about Yasmine, I figured she had read something about Jasmine (from Aladdin), and had an imginary princess friend!

Imagine my surprise when she introduced me to Yasmine....her new friend in late care at her Montessori.

Whoops. And here I thought you were just telling tales!

Happy Birthday baby

Four years ago today, Monkey was born. We celebrated yesterday with family and friends.

I love you baby!

You win some, you lose some

So this morning was a mixed bag. Monkey referred to The Girls' Room as "my room" (see! told you it was coming!). And that made me smile.

On the other hand, when I dropped the girls off at school I learned that Jellybean, aka Jaws, is biting. Again. She bit two kids yesterday because she didn't want to share (her toys, her space).

Like I said, you win some (sharing is good!), you lose some (sharing stinks, am biting in outrage!).

Sharing

Now that the girls are sharing a room, we're talking to them about sharing a lot more. In fact, we no longer call that room Jellybean's room, but affirmatively make a point of calling it "The Girls' Room" - and this title has taken hold to the point where if I ask Monkey where something is, she's more likely than not going to tell me it's "in The Girls' Room" which cracks me up. She hasn't yet said "my room" but that will come. Even though last night was a little rough, they are doing a spectacular job together.

However, we moved them into each other's space *just* as Jellybean's language skills have expanded to include the second favorite word of toddlers ("no" being first on the list, bien sur)....mine.

MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE

Ah, timing. You can't make this stuff up.

Murphy's Law

I think I shall stop crowing about our successes until they are SO FAR back in history, I can barely remember why I even cared at the time.

Why yes, tonight isn't going well putting the girls to sleep in their shared bedroom....why do you ask?

Sigh.

Bonding

Well folks, we did it. We officially moved Monkey and Jellybean into a room together. Yes, yes, I know that Monkey has been camping out on her sister's floor all month long, but now....she has her very own BUNK BED! (caps are necessary, as that's how she says it!)

Ok, calm down, we aren't actually letting her sleep on the upper bunk. Matter of fact, there's no mattress up there and instead houses only the ladder. So no jumpin' and fallin' off the bed for our Monkey. (I am now presently humming that nursery rhyme..) She's not allowed up there 'til she's 6. (yes, I know, two years from now, I can do math really I can!)

And she loves it. The gawdawful princess sheets help! (blech. shudder)

The best part, however, is watching Jellybean scramble up and over the end (it's too hard to get up on the side, as the mattress and comforter just don't give enough traction) of the bed, flop onto the pillows, and mutter "night night" as she giggles into the pilllows. I swear to g*d, if that kid only knew how to get out of her crib? I bed we'd find her in bed with her sister every.single.night.

Of course, Monkey might be cheesed to discover her sister snuggling up to her....but still, it's so cute.

Need caffeine...brxzzzzzz gah

Our beloved cat is at the "dentist" today, getting her teeth cleaned by the vet. To accomplish this goal, she is sedated. I mean, why else would a cat willingly let you do that to her, right?

As with humans, the concern about sedation for cats is vomiting - so she wasn't allowed to have any food after midnight last night.

Since her usual routine is to bug one of us in the middle of the night for food, last night was rough.

I'm not sure precisely how she tortured M, but for a good amount of the night Ollie sat on my chest and gently patted my lips with the paw. Over, and over, and over and over andoverandoverandoever andlaskdj jfkjdvjj  zzzzzzzzzzzz

Sorry, just fell asleep.

Man, I'm tired.

I am not good at hiding things, apparently....

Getting Monkey out the door this morning was was tough.

She is getting a new (bunk) bed so she and Jellybean can share a room. So, to sweeten the pot (fine, BRIBE HER), we purchased some truly gawdawful "Princess Sheets."

This morning, Monkey found the princess sheets (no clue why she was digging to the bottom of the pile of clean laundry!!!) and went NUTZ with happiness. She wore them around the house like a robe, rolled on the floor, kissed and snuggled them, and basically ignored me while she petted her beloved sheets.
35 minutes later, we left.

Shake n Bake

This morning was - um - uneven.

The bad:
I spent 20 minutes looking for Jellybean's shoes, only to discover them at SCHOOL when I dropped her off. Grr. (babysitter decided to take her home, sans shoes, for whatever reason)

Then, once I lacquered the girls with sunblock, Jellybean made a beeline to the bathroom sink to wash her hands, and before I could provide the stepstool to her - she stood on the lip of the (dirty) catbox. And, well, catapaulted the litter (sh*t and all), all over herself, the bathroom floor, and even the bathroom door. The fine dust at the bottom of the litter pan clung to her legs like shake and bake. Needless to say, she got an impromptu bath before we left the house.

Gah, clumping litter does not wash off well when it's stuck to your sunblock-misted toddler.

The good:
The girls shared goldfish crackers on the bus as we went to school together. Each time Monkey fed Jellybean a "fishie", Jellybean would burble "thank you Monkey" and giggle, pleased that she was saying the right thing.

Jellybean is enjoying learning to talk. She is clearly full of ideas and conversations, brimming to get out!

These two get along so well, it is just amazing to me. I love my girls.

Miss September Issue strikes again

Yesterday, since the heat wave abated (high was only ONLY 87  - whee!), I walked the girls to school. I loaded everything into the bugaboo (thanks 'Andpa and Grandma - we are still loving the stroller), and got ready to walk out the door.

Since the summer is tough on my feet, I decided to forego the usual flipflops (that leave my feet SOOO grubby) and put on my favorite sneakers - my chuck taylors, in unfashionable black.

Monkey took one look at the shoes, and said "no mommy, you can't wear those with me. Put on 'pretty' shoes."

Oh.

Fire Island rocks

This is how we spent last Sunday. It was HEAVEN.

In which I pretend that she doesn't speak English....

This heat wave is pretty brutal.

I'm going to stop making jokes about it (for the next 5 minutes) as I just stuck my foot in my mouth with a colleague. I opened up the conversation with a bit about how this heat was killin' me, only to learn he's recently been released from the hospital, where he was treated for heat exhaustion. And he spent 2 days there, he was so sick. *cough, cough, let me remove my foot from my mouth*

Like I said, the heat is brutal.

Our a/c at home just can't keep up. We have a huge window unit in the living room that usually does a good (enough) job, but because of the odd layout of our apartment, Monkey's room stays hot. Too hot. Hot enough that it feels like you are walking into a sauna. So hot that, for the past few nights, she's been bunking with her little sister, crashed out on the floor with a sleeping bag.

I wasn't sure that this would work out. I mean it's worked well on vacation to have them share a room, but on vacation we run them ragged: walking all over Washington, DC., or spending hours at the Milwaukee County Zoo. So that when we put them to bed, they're both so tired we don't worry one will wake the other.  But we've never had them share a room, not even for one night, at home after a regular day.

The first night I was worried that Jellybean would wake Monkey, or vice versa; it was a roaring success. Both slept well, and when I went in to spring Jellybean from her crib (she was singing and talking), I found Monkey wide awake and happy! My normally sullen in the morning teenager was awake and happy on a school day. It was so pleasant I was shocked. I kept thinking I must have wandered into the wrong family! Monkey loved it, and was charming as she told stories to me and M about how she and Jellybean were telling each other jokes. (JOKES! how does she know about jokes?) She even talked about the sleeping bag and pillow on the floor as "her bed."

The second night was also a roaring success, in part, as the 5 times that (poor, poor) Jellybean woke up crying (and screeching) in pain from heartburn (we think), Monkey slept right through it. She didn't even wake up that night to go potty.

I'm telling you? Monkey sleeping in a/c is a VERY GOOD THING. And, quite frankly, after Monkey expressed an interest in sharing a room with Jellybean after our recent visit to the Midwest, we started to talk seriously about doing just that.

Last night over dinner, I prompted the girls (in a leading question) if they liked sharing a room together. Monkey immediately piped up with a cheerful YES.

Jellybean? She looked at me, looked at her sister, looked back at me and said "no."

Monkey told me that Jellybean said no, and she sounded a little puzzled/confused.

So I asked the question again.

And.........no.

And that is when I might have hinted that Jellybean doesn't really understand everyone yet, as she's still learning to speak English....

hades

At 3:30 p.m. it was 102 degrees in Central Park, with a heat index of 107 degrees. Damn, that's hot.

a glimpse of the 99,888,495,201 photos I took on vacation....

Flowers

When Monkey was born, and I started to walk the city streets (rather than run, or at the very least stride along QUICKly....), one of the things I always pointed out to her were the beautiful flowers and plants we would pass. It is part of our routine on our commute. And now part of Jellybean's commute, too.

Yes, I know, I live in an urban jungle. I'm surrounded by asphalt and cement, and my kid (so far only Monkey) knows how to hail a cab as well as she can breath. (seriously, she just knows: it's the same way she knows how to carry a purse or match up her pink clothing - she just does.)

But this urban jungle is covered with beauty. There is a wild, overgrown rose garden by a building that used to be part of the Croton Resevoir Aqueduct just a few blocks away. The roses reach out through the wrought iron fence, inticing us to stop and smell their fragrance.

There are thousands of small plots of land, little well-tended (or not) gardens around the trees planted in every sidewalk we follow. Some have fences. Some have flowers. Some are elevated. Some are blank slates, waiting to be filled.

And even though I have repeated my mantra that flowers and plants are for everyone to enjoy by looking, smelling, or gently! touching - sometimes she just can't help herself and she plucks a flower. Usually claiming it is "for daddy" which is so endearing it almost breaks my heart. And then she sways with happiness as she carries this fragile blossom, this treasure, down the street.

Yesterday she plucked a flower out of flower box we walk past every day on the way home from school. When I admonished her that flowers are not for picking, she told me that she wants to visit Grandma and garden in her backyard. I think that's a brilliant plan.

Karma

Otherwise known as, payback's a bitch.......

BFF

Monkey has made some amazing friends at school. Bonds that are profound, complex, and important. I've written about these friendships before. But I think this photo? It says it all.

Jaws

Every day I get a report from Jellybean's teachers about her day at school. You know, because she can't quite muster up the language to tell me she hated what I packed for her lunch, and ugh - can you believe it? They made us dance the hokey pokey again! I am SO over that song. I want Lady Gaga.

All joking aside, I do enjoy hearing what she did during the day. I miss her during those hours, and learning what songs she sang, or books she read - that knowledge makes me happy!

For years I've been thinking I should scan in one of the reports, so it can be preserved for posterity. I'm not going to keep every single one - but just one, one would be good.

This one made me laugh. Because of the sentence (which I underlined) about the book they are reading. I gave them that book. And we have another copy at home.

You know, so "Jaws" gets the same message over and over again.

What makes me laugh, however, isn't the book itself. It's how unflinchingly chipper the message is! Your child is biting but HEY WE'RE READING A GREAT BOOK!

Her teachers rock.

Cold Turkey

Sadly, I had another (two in one day!) conference with Jellybean's teacher at school yesterday. When I picked her up at the end of the day, I learned that she bit another classmate. Body count is at 4.

So, last night was it. Yup, we've pulled the plug on the na na and are discretely tossing every pacifier into the trash. Sadly, this will come as a rude surprise to Jellybean when she goes to bed tonight.

Yes, that's right. We're going cold turkey. No na na for bedtime tonight. May g*d have mercy on our souls (and ear drums).

Body Count

So, yeah. Not sure how to start this one. But let's just say the body count is piling up at Jellybean's school.

This past weekend, M and I went to Paris to celebrate our 30th birthdays (snort, chuckle). We left both girls at home with Granddad and Nana Carter, and really enjoyed ourselves. It was wonderful.

We had never left Jellybean before. M had traveled for work, but I'd never been away from her longer than a working day. And we'd certainly never both left at the same time - at least not for longer than an evening out. So she wasn't too pleased about it.

(Sidebar: Monkey was thrilled to have Granddad and Nana watching her for the weekend, and keeps asking me when they are coming back. And could Granddad bring some more mints? And they can have pizza again? And isn't the dress that Nana gave her pretty?And do I like the swim goggles Nana gave her? And can you see why she's FINE when we leave?)

In addition to wandering around the apartment looking for us (oh, so sad!), Jellybean also went on a food strike, popped a fever, broke out in a viral rash, and generally was off her game this past weekend. Which meant that she used her pacifier (the "na na") a lot.

And, since her Montessori school stopped using her na na a while back, when Jellybean got to school on Tuesday she had a rough time.

Yesterday? Well it got worse.

She bit three classmates.

The na na has to go.

No surprises here, she's still a wee one

Jellybean has been called many things. Jellybean. Bean. Barnacle. Hey You. Monkey (often when I'm frazzled - hey, at least I never called her the cat's name, right???). And last but not least, cousin H mostly calls her "midget."

Well, midget had her 18 month check up today (HOW DID SHE GET THIS OLD ALREADY??? Time is pulling a dirty trick on me) and - no surprises here - she's still tiny.

Weight:
19lbs 13oz.
Yes, that's offically beneath the 3rd percentile.

Height:
31.25in.
In the 25-50th% range.

Which is the same as she's always been. She's on track, just on HER track. And that's all right with me.

Graduation. I'm going to blink, and this will be MY little babies in robes...sob.

Oh boy. The world just keeps going faster and faster. I'm going to blink, and MY BABIES will be like our beloved babysitter, below, dressed in robes and about to venture forth and save the world (you know, a little field work, perhaps some more education at the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine, like I said, simple saving the world sort of stuff).

We're going to miss you, C.

This one made me laugh so hard I cried

Shit My Kids Ruined

Murphy's law

I should have known better. What was I thinking, saying the girls were healthy?

Monkey now has a fever of 103.8.

Baseball

A few weekends ago, M won the office raffle and got his company's tickets to see the Yankees. I took Monkey with me.

We had a blast. It was wonderful, sunny and warm - OK hot. We slathered on sunscreen and went on our way with sufficient UVA/UVB protection. Did I mention it was hot out? Apparently our cheeks got so red and flushed from the heat that strangers were taking pity on our nordic skin, and offering up sunblock to us, unbidden. (and who ever said New Yorkers didn't care? all together now, awwwwww.......)

Two seasons ago we took Monkey to see the Phillies play, and she became a fan (of the Phunatic, their mascot) - when they went on to win the Championship, M groused about how it wasn't fair that in her first year of fandom, her team won. He's a fan of the Milwaukee Brewers, so you can imagine why he's bitter.

The last thing that M said as we headed out the door was "Do not convert her to a Yankees fan!".........and I didn't try. Really, I didn't.

But when someone asked Monkey how the game was? She said she loved it. And that she loved the Yankees! What can I say? She's my kid.

Old man winter

I really thought that we were done with winter. No more snow. No more sniffles. The end of boogers and misery.

Nope. Just like the weather pulled a fast one on us, going from 90 and sunny to 50 and cold/rainy, the effects of winter have lingered on. Long past when I wanted them to leave. The boogers? They have officially OUTSTAYED their welcome.

I should confess, however, that now, NOW both girls are fine. Well, at least they were when I dropped them off at daycare this morning. Who the heck knows now!

We've had more colds, another ruptured ear drum (poor Jellybean), followed by an upset tummy from Augmentin (to treat said ear infection/rupture), then the stomach flu that went from Jellybean to me to M, and then Monkey got a bad cold/croup, rallied and then crashed so hard (high fever) she fell asleep STANDING UP on the stroller on the way home from a picnic.

Phew.

Can summer come out and play now? Winter/boogers are no longer welcome at our home.

Motherhood is awesome

Mother's Day Montage

The BEST one, IMHO, is the "desitin twins"........

Hoo. Got to go wipe the tears off of my face from laughing so hard!

See! They DO look alike....

Meet B, Jellybean's little cousin (the youngest daughter of my brother and his wife, G). I showed this around the office this morning, and no kidding, my assistant asked how old J was in that photo.

You lookin' at ME?

This is Jellybean this past weekend. In glasses I'm pretty sure she either cadged off another kid or found on the playground. Call me crazy, but she looks like her cousins HP and B in this photo! It's the blonde blonde hair.....

Also, between the animal print top and the sporty sunglasses, she kind of looks like she's an extra on MTV's show the "Jersey Shore"...only she needs a better fake tan.

An Obituary

Alas, the Dorothy shoes (aka the red sparkly ones Nana gave Monkey for Christmas) have gone on to heaven; they were - officially - loved to death.

Long after all the sparkles on the front had been rubbed off, leaving bald spots....long after I colored in those bald spots with a red sharpie (again and again and again)......they were still worn, and much loved.

Sadly, we bid adieu to them yesterday when the elastic strap gave up the ghost and snapped. Rendering them useless on the foot of a child that runs like the wind.

We took a moment to discuss how Monkey wouldn't be able to wear them any more, and she was sanguine about it.

I was puzzled by this cheerful response to the loss of a loved paid of shoes (since we all know how crazy and particular she is about shoes!) until I heard her say, almost to herself, "it's OK, Nana will bring
another pair when she visits..."

Oh.

And then - uh oh! I can't find them on Target any more.........eek. Anyone know where to buy sparkly red shoes that will please my September issue fashion forward child that runs and runs and runs?

Good bye Dorothy shoes. We'll miss you.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Most mornings I send M a quick update about the girls. How dropoff went at school, anything interesting, etc.

Today we had a 50% chance of rain during our commute.

Thus, my update to M:

"Dropoff went well this morning. Although Monkey needed a moment to adjust to the inhumanity of my request that she go outside when it might be raining."

Dictionary entry

Main Entry: de·fi·ant
Pronunciation: \-ənt\
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle French, from Old French, present participle of defier to defy
Date: 1583
: full of or showing defiance : bold, impudent
— de·fi·ant·ly adverb
: see Monkey, or; see Jellybean.

Family Tree

Over the Easter/Passover/Spring Break/We’re just closed indefinitely break at Jellybean and Monkey’s school, Grandma Larson came out to help watch the girls. And, while she was here, the girls had a GREAT time. (Grandma, on the other hand, worked. She’s STILL tired out, I think!).

And, because school was closed for sooooo f’ing long (seriously, 8 days. EIGHT DAYS! That is SERIOUSLY f’ing with my girls’ schedule! And they LIKE their schedule. Messing with it MAKES THEM CRANKY) , well, things got a little out of whack. Naps were missed, bedtimes slid around, and sometimes, just sometimes, people got cranky.

Monkey threw some whopping tantrums while Grandma Larson was here. Seriously, messing with their schedule really messes with their heads. That – that or she’s just three. You decide.

One day, she declined quiet time. It had gotten late, she didn’t want to stop doing what she was doing (probably building a fort or otherwise demolishing the apartment), it had been raining all day so she’d been cooped up inside, and she was defiant. She was NOT going to take a nap. I assured her that I wasn’t laboring under the delusion that she would sleep, but she still needed to be in her room, by herself, for quiet time. This did not go over well. It involved yelling. It involved some screaming. It involved some whining (piteously, with a swelling chorus of violins in the background) “no, don’t leave meeeeee, I don’t want to be aloooooone….”, and finally, it involved me being disinherited.

Yes, she officially told me that YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER ANY MORE. Note the abuse of caps? Well, it’s nicer that the abuse of my eardrums – this message was screamed! (my neighbors were very unhappy at this point in time, I’m sure).

So I asked if I could reapply tomorrow. You know, to be her mother again.

Monkey paused (which is funny – ever seen a tantrum just halt?), stretched her index finger up to the sky, shook it at me and said YES……….BUT ONLY TOMORROW!

Sisters

Grandma Larson and M took the girls to the Bronx Zoo today.

I think they're having a good time:

Dear. Lord.

"Dear. Lord."

That's the response I got from my gorgeous sister in law, G. We had an email exchange this morning and she told me that B had started to walk while pushing things! Just in time to turn 1.

And, while G is proud of her little girl, she's mourning the loss of her baby. Because really, once they are walking? They shed that "baby" aspect and become a toddler. Which we love! We do! But the baby? That innocent, sweet baby stage? It goes away.

I comiserated with G by telling her what hijinks Jellybean's been into lately:

Yesterday she jumped and actually got BOTH feet off the ground. Isn’t that something they’re supposed to be able to do by – oh, I don’t know – THREE?? Oy. I also found her standing on the toilet yesterday. She got up without a stepstool – not sure how she got up there, but she did. She was ransacking the shelves above the toilet…nothing is safe from her, these days! (not sure why I’d expect anything less…the kid walked at 10.5 months!)

I turned around (because I was literally right there in the (teeny) bathroom with her) and my jaw dropped. I think she climbed on the edge of the tub and then scooted onto the toilet, then stood up. Otherwise I’ve no clue how she could get up there, the toilet is almost up to the middle of her chest.


She also dragged the overturned laundry basket across the living room, so she could get on it, then get onto this rattan cube we have, so she could get on top of our media cabinet, so that she could kneel there and try to pry our TV off the wall. No joke. Thank g*d we paid some professionals to install that thing, or she’d have had 200+ pounds of TV squishing her….

If there was ever a kid that prompted the invention of a baby jail? She’s that kid - reincarnated.

Yup. I think G's response just 'bout sums it up: Dear. Lord.

Ballet

Today was Monkey's first day in ballet class. (originally we called it "gym with music" as she had decided she "hated" ballet...OK, um, insane one... you don't even know what ballet IS!)

Needless to say, she loved it.

I'm not sure she is EVER going to take that tutu off....(that's her new friend on the left)

An oenophile in the making?

Every time I read an article profiling an oenophile, there is something charming (yet still pretentious) about tasting each wine for its "terroir," which while it may technically refer to a a group of vineyards (or even vines) from the same region, belonging to a specific appellation, and sharing the same type of soil, weather conditions, grapes and wine making savoir-faire, which contribute to give its specific personality to the wine blah blah blah....really it makes me think you're tasting the wine for it's dirt.

Today, Jellybean was testing the terroir.....of the sandbox.

It was her first time experiencing sand. When I took off her shoes and plunked her down in the sand, she got this amazing wide-eyed look of wonder on her face, and she kept scrunching up her toes to push the sand around. Then she leaned down, patted the sand, looked at me with that same look of wonder, and laughed. Laughed and laughed and laughed.

She was in LOVE.

She toddled around the sandbox, scooping the sand up and offering it to other parents (strangers to her), chattering away with glee. She had many admirers by the time we were done.

She also tasted the sand. TWICE. (um, genius, you didn't like it the first time!)

But, in her defense, it was at each far end of the sandbox....so really, she was testing for its terroir. Right?

Right.

The September Issue

When Monkey was little, I dressed her to the nines. Her outfit would match, including coordinated hair ribbons, socks and shoes.

Each day, I'd comb out her hair and put it into delicious pigtails. And she'd let me! She'd sit still long enough that I could get a straight part, adjust the ribbons, etc.

Now?

Not only does she NOT let me pick out her clothing or do her hair, she often throws a fit when I suggest that she wear - nay, even TRY - something on that she didn't select.

I have already written about her contempt for the color green. What I haven't written about is the battle royale that occurred last week.

Last week, the weather shifted from unusually cold to unusually warm. And I was caught unprepared to dress my children for school. Monkey's down-filled puffer jacket was way too hot to wear. So, we layered - threw a fleece on under a raincoat. The only problem was that this was a NEW raincoat, and Monkey didn't like it. Oh, the drama. The crying and whining and proclamations of "I don't like you; you're not my friend ANYMORE"...it was the pits.

So, I went to Baby Gap the very next day, eschewing lunch so I could shop for my beloved daughter, and I bought a cute pink windbreaker/spring jacket. I was proud of myself! (You realize that shopping, unless it is online, is limited to what I can do in ten minutes at lunch....(places like Duane Reed, CVS, and thaaaaaat's about it!) .....I have no other time to run errands in this vast city, so getting to the Gap was a coup for me! but I digress....)

The next morning I unveiled the fabulous FANTASTIC pink jacket. And it was worse that the day before.

It was an episode of Under The Table And Screaming (apologies to Dave Matthews...). When I finally got Monkey calmed down again, and the tears and shaking and shuddering had ceased....I asked her why she didn't like the jacket.

She told me that it was pink.

But you love pink, I exclaimed.

She looked at me like I'd pulled a kafkaesque metamorphosis into a giant turdball, rolled her eyes, and said "NO mommy. It's DARK pink."

****

Meanwhile, I was grateful that at least with Jellybean, she doesn't fight with me about her clothing since she's only 15 months old! Yeah, famous last words.

She threw a temper tantrum that very same morning, because she wanted to wear a different jacket than the one I'd picked out for her.

******

Part of me wants to know where in g*d's green earth these two get this from. After all, I don't think I'd looked at an issue of Vogue until I moved to NYC!

The other part of me? Is proud. My little (stubborn stinkers of) girls are going to do just fine.

My foody

Jellybean continues to be an adventurous eater. Which is great!

Only, now I have to make twice as many brussel sprouts.....the stinker eats my share!

You win some, you lose some....

Happy St. Patrick's Day to you

For the record, I have no less than 10-12 entries floating around in my brain. I'll get to them eventually, I promise....

I wouldn't have thought that the question of whether or not Monkey and Jellybean wore green today would be something post-worthy. But apparently I was WRONG. No less than 7 people I work with today asked me what cute little green outfits I put the girls into this morning......

And the answer? I know you are BURNING with curiosity, yes you are! Nothing.

Not one stitch of green between the two of them, unless you count the green on the front of Jellybean's diaper. (at least I'm pretty sure that there's green there - I googled Pamper's Cruisers to be sure and yup - there's a teensy bit of green).

Why? Because Monkey hates green. HATES IT! Hates it with the white-hot intensity of a star going super-nova. I tried to get her to wear a green shirt and once the tantrum ended and I mopped the tears off the floor, Monkey informed me that she did not like green AT ALL and therefore I should "give it to Jellybean..." (and apparently I haven't bought anything new for Jellybean that's green, either)

Sadly, yes, my eldest child has now learned that she can "give" anything she doesn't like to her little sister.....it's like the gambit of feeding veggies to the dog under the table. Not that we have a dog, or that she hasn't asked for one "when Oliver dies" every day for the past week. But I digress.

The point is? No green. Apologies to my children's Irish heritage.

And for the record? On St. Andrew's day they aren't going to wear tartan, either. Most days I'm lucky I can get them to put a coat on!

Jellybean is pretty advanced, physically. She walked at 10.5 months, she dances and stomps her feet, she walks backwards for fun, and she RUNS. A lot.

But what she doesn’t do, much, is talk. She’s communicative, all right, but real words are slower for her than they were for her big sister, Monkey. She’s got mama, dada, bye, and a mangled approximation of kitty-cat. But that’s kind of it. Not so bad that we’re going to put her in speech therapy, but it’s definitely something I think about. (that damn mommy brain, I can’t turn it off!!)

Which is why, last night, I was thrilled to see her pull out the age-old favorite, “no.”

I know. I know. I’m going to rue the day she learned that word.

Still, last night it was a hoot.

Jellybean was (once again!) being naughty and fiddling with the electronics. I came around the corner and busted her taking the Xbox controller out of the cabinet, and firmly said “NO” to her. She jumped, tossed the controller in the direction of the cat (like hey man, I was just carrying it for a friend….), and ran to the couch on the other side of the room. You know, so she could pretend that she definitely, certainly, one hundred percent for sure was NOT just busted. No way.

Once there, she casually leaned against the couch, furrowed her brow, raised her hand with her index finder outstretched, and with a firm tone of voice shook that finger at me as she said “MO.” Twice. Like in case I missed the first time she scolded me.

I about fell over laughing. Funny kid. She hasn’t mastered the “n” sound, but boy can she do a spot-on impression of me!

Would you post bail?

Jellybean is a tiny little thing, but BIG on personality.

Lately, she's been testing boundaries. Repeatedly she does something she knows she's not supposed to, and when you catch her in it, she'll literally either jump away, or toss the offending item away from her....if she could figure out how to finger her sister, or blame the cat, oh - she would! Busting her is funny, but it can go on all.day.long.

This is the stage of life during which my friend called her son a velociraptor, since he was 'testing the boundaries' to see which fence wasn't electrified.*

She isn't verbal yet, but she sure is communicative. You know exactly what she wants or doesn't want to do...and lately, it's a lot of things she doesn't want to do. Not because the activity is, in itself, offensive, it's just that she's being.....opinionated. Wants to control her own destiny. Head strong. Stubborn.

As M said to me the other night in his pre-sleep fugue state, Jellybean's going to be the kid that gets us called down to the precinct at 2am.

Let's just say I was knocking on wood......


*I was going to say bonus points for anyone that got this reference, but since there are only two recent movies about dinosaurs that are decent, gah, you all got it. So, yeah, never mind.

Scrap Heap

For a long time, Monkey's been into Robots. Robot pajamas, robot books, robot flashcards, robot movies....and robot artwork. Anything about robots, she loved.

Now, alas, I fear they've been scrapped for the almighty PRINCESS obsession. (I confess, I like robots better. But it's not about me.)

A few years back I found this awesome robot print off of Etsy. It's cool. And it's hung with place of pride in Monkey's room ever since she moved into the Big Girl Room. (It was also in her nursery....)

Until about a week ago.

Monkey asked me to take it down. Even insisting that I remove the nail from the wall - as if she knew I might sneak back in, once she was asleep, to rehang the offending piece of artwork. (wha...me? crap, my kid knows me too well already!)

When I asked her why, she told me it was because it was "looking at her all night."

When M asked the same question, a few days after I took it down, he got the exact same answer. Only, he asked how she knew that at night, the robot didn't close its eyes?

Monkey gave him a look, and said, " because it's not REAL, daddy...." The funny part was that you could literally HEAR her eyeballs rolling around as she told him this.....

Digital native

These days, there is a lot of talk about digital natives versus digital immigrants. As in, those that are born to it versus those that learn later in life. I am a digital immigrant. I only got a phone (and data plan) that could handle texting in any quantity because that's how my babysitters communicate. Now that I text I confess I really like it. But I had to be convinced.

Monkey and Jellybean, on the other hand, are bound to view texting as downright archaic by the time they demand their own phones: they are growing up with this technology and will never realize that life didn't always exist this way.

Kind of like when my mom would tell me the story of what a big deal it was when the first family in her neighborhood got a color TV. I was flabbergasted that TV had ever even existed in black and white! And somehow, putting a man on the moon always seemed like something that - of course! - we could do. Mind you I was born less than six months after that event...but to me, life had always been that way.

Jellybean is funny. Her temper tantrums in public almost always involve me denying her access to my phone or blackberry. When we were in DC back in December, we let her play with the DVD remote at the hotel because it didn't matter if she turned it on or off, it wasn't like the whole system would turn on (versus here, where we have one godwand with ALL the devices programmed into it). And even at one year of age, she'd hit a button, then turn and look at the TV expectantly...she knows how remotes work. (god I can hear myself now....Jellybean, I had to walk up hill both ways when I was a kid, and I even had to (the horrors!) get off my tush and go to the TV to change channels, can you believe it? Also, I had dinosaurs as pets, since I'm that old....)

Jellybean's love of all things electronic includes a blossoming love affair with the humidifier in our room. Even when we latch the door in a semi-closed position, she'll wiggle in between the door and the jamb, barely eeking through, so that she can go turn the humidifier on, then off, then on, then off....it's love, I tell you. In fact, anything that she can turn off or on is adored. And some toys? They're getting left behind....alas, no battery or electricity required.