My savior

Tonight, had you stood outside the door to our apartment, and listened in between the hour of 7 and 8 pm, you could be forgiven for thinking that either 1) I was completely abusing my children, or 2) my children are unable to communicate except through screaming, crying and yelling at the top of their lungs.

Jellybean and Monkey yelled and cried because I wanted them to eat. Because I wanted them to keep the milk in their cups instead of on the floor. Because I insisted that hair brushes are not intended to be dipped into milk and then sucked on. Because chocolate is not a main course. Because air must be breathed. Because the light is burnt out in their overhead lamp. Because I am not dad. Because baths are required when your face is covered in dirt. Because it was night time. Because the cat wouldn't stay anywhere near them as they S>C>R>E>A>M>E>D>>>>>> at the top of their miniature lungs. (good lungs, those!)

(they were a tad bit overtired, I think)

And then, it happened. They cried and asked why  - WHY - wasn't Ollie cat staying with them.

I told them the truth. Ollie cat doesn't like it when they cry. She likes it when they are quiet. And happy.

And I swear to G*d, it took Jellybean precisely 4 seconds to simmer down and plaster a smile on her face.  When I carried Ollie into the living room it took only another 10 seconds for Monkey to stop the hiccuping and dry her tears.

Jellybean, bless her earnest little soul, turned to me and said "I can be happy now mama"...as she stroked Ollie's soft fur.

I am totally brushing Ollie an extra 10 minutes tonight. She can even have my pillow, if she wants it. She's earned it.

My cheshire cat

Ollie cat is an old cat. A wise cat. A kind cat. And pretty, too! She likes attention, and generally lolls about the house with her belly showing, like a dog might. She sleeps each night on my feet, and tolerates the girls petting and brushing her.

In short, she's amazing.

However, earlier this week Jellybean pointed out a flaw.

"Mama, my cat doesn't talk."

That's right, sweetie, she's a cat.

"why?"

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.

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!

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.

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.

The trouble with cats

Sometimes you get a lot of trouble with cats. See my best friend's blog, here, about that very topic...

And sometimes, Ollie really is a lot of trouble. Every time I bring the comforter into the local drycleaners/laundry spot they ask me..."again? the cat threw up again?" and shake their head. If I could get the dang thing dried in our machines downstairs I'd do it myself...but they are too small, so the local business thrives off of cat puke. Good to know I'm doing my part to help out the economy, right?

But lately, Ollie hasn't been sick. She hasn't been trouble. Just ask Monkey! She constantly reminds us that "Olie's not sick. She doesn't have to go to the doctor" and breaks my heart with her doe-eyed expression of love when she says this. (It really worried her when Ollie was sick...)

But still, when we brought Jellybean home we worried that it might be too much. That she would just not thrive....that we would lose our beloved cat.

And, she's thrived. Not only that, I think the cat is THRILLED! Because I am company - I am someone to PLAY WITH ALL NIGHT! She even sits on the chair when I nurse Jellybean at night and purrs and purrs and purrs. And purrs.

And last night? Well, she stood on top of the boppy, leaned in to sniff Jellybean's head.....and then licked her! I about fell over laughing....that was the last thing on earth I expected the cat to do.

Now, either the cat really likes her.....or the small bit of formula that had dribbled down Jellybean's face tasted good. Let's just pretend that the cat really likes her and leave it at that. I'd hate to think my cat is trying to eat my kid's face....

Hmm, where to start

Dear reader, it's been a week since I've posted. Forgive me....it's been a tad bit busy at the Insane household.

So, where to start.

Thanksgiving came and went. Still eating leftovers. Still thinking they are yummy!

My sinus infection came and went. After three hours at the doctor's office (and no, I am NOT kidding about this one. I was there so long I fell freakin' asleep on the examination table. Boo - long wait. Wahoo - nap!) and after much dithering about whether or not to give me antibiotics, I blew my nose and showed off the spectacular color of the contents of my kleenex. Antibiotics were prescribed immediately. Next time I'm blowin' and showin' faster.

I think M has been to Target every other day, stocking up on 'stuff' we need for Jellybean. Diapers and wipes and pacifier clips and lions and tigers and bears oh my. He keeps muttering how a shower woulda' been nice. You know, so he wouldn't have to schlep every single baby item on earth home after work each night and could start his dinner before 8:30pm....but don't mind him. He is nesting as much as I am, and can't wait to meet his daughter!

And, well, thank g*d for this one - our beloved cat Ollie has started to eat again. I know that sounds as boring as can be. But when your beloved cat (FIRST BORN! HRM!!!) stops eating and starts to waste away for no good reason, your heart breaks. And breaks. And breaks. I am profoundly grateful that she is getting better. I want her to be around long enough for Jellybean to get to know her, and claim her as "her Ollie cat" the same way Monkey does.

I am also profoundly grateful that A) Monkey did break her neck when she fell off of the swing onto her face and then rolled over, the hard way, onto her back and B) I did not lose her (literally, not figuratively) when she got onto the elevator by herself at school and went on up to the 8th floor without me. Yes, while she was under my supervision. I SO am qualified to raise two kids, considering how well I'm minding one. I'd post more about losing Monkey at school but it still makes me sick to my stomach. Let's just say that those were worst 3 minutes of my life, ever. And be done with it.

Tempting the gods, or, he'll never say THAT again

So this weekend was a bit of a repeat of last weekend:

1) We had a sick daughter and visited the pediatrician. Copious amounts of ibuprofin were consumed.

2) We had a sick cat and visited the veterinarian. Copious amounts of 409 cleaner were used to wipe up cat vomit.

3) Aaaaaaannnnnddd........we didn't get that much sleep. Understatement. HUGE understatement.

M got less sleep than me, because in a fit of absolute generosity he let me sleep in on Sunday AND take a nap. Which greatly helped alleviate the exhaustion I was suffering from being 1) 8.5 months pregnant and 2) getting the crappiest nights of sleep I've had in ages, compliments of crying child and puking cat. (See #1 & #2, above, for details.)

Now, my brain is pretty much addled today because I've been up since 4:30am (see #1, above). But I am pretty sure that sometime this weekend, M commented to me that's he's getting used to this no-sleep business. You know, like it's no big deal. And then, right on cue, we had some of the crappiest nights of sleep in ages.

WOE. We should NOT be tempting the gods like that. I'm betting that right about now, as the afternoon wears on and on and the sky gets dark, that M is really wishing he'd bitten his tongue. Or knocked on wood. You know, something, ANYTHING!, to rebut his nonchalant statement that he could handle no sleep.

Here we go again

I feel like we should put the pediatrician on speed dial.

It is 4am and I am wide awake after settling Monkey back down. She has been alternating between awesome, cranky and listless the last two days - but no fever - so we've just chalked it up to being two.

But tonight as she went to bed she complained that her ears hurt.

Poor little girl. She had some ibuprofin around 9pm as we were trying to settle her down for the night, and sure enough, 6 hours later when the meds wore off she woke up crying. Tylenol this round. Doctors office in the morning.

Meanwhile, Ollie has spent the greater part of the last two days puking first hair balls and then just bile.

And I am awake. Wishing I could make all my creatures feel better.

As soon as my tylenol eases my headache I'll crawl back into bed.

Dawn breaks early in the swamp. See you all in two hours.........

Whoops

Remember back in elementary school, when you first started having crushes on the opposite sex? And how there were some kids that just didn't quite know how to express their admiration for that special someone, and went a little overboard? And how there was always one little girl or boy that EVERYONE loved, and they got a little pissy about it?

That's Ollie. She's that special someone.

I say this because the love fest between Monkey and Ollie continues unabated.

But Monkey just....doesn't quite know how to woo Ollie.

I mean, she gets it in principle, but it doesn't always work out in practice.

Which is why she spent a good amount of time chasing Ollie around the apartment last night, hollering "SORRY SORRY SORRY OLLIE CAT" at the top of her lungs. As poor Ollie ran for the hills and looked at me balefully. Like it was MY fault that Monkey kept trying to play with her with the new cat wand, and you know, kept beaning her in the head.

Sheesh cat, glare at M - he's the one that paid for the damn toy.

My Ollie Cat

Ollie, our beloved geriatric cat (even when she misbehaves, she's still loved) has always been "my" cat.

M likes to joke that she wants to kill him off, so that she can have his side of the bed. And, admittedly - when he's out of town? Ollie sleeps on his side of the bed, purring away and thrilled at the complete access to me. She'd sleep ON me, but this whole "sleep on your left side or kill your unborn child schtick" makes it hard to perch on me. And yes, I'm REALLY looking forward to sleeping on my back again.

Sunday we took Ollie into the vet for her annual physical, shots and teeth-cleaning. Monkey came with us, since her frighteningly high fever of the day before (104.8 and boy is that spooky - her pediatrician had to assure me that her brain was not cooking in its own juices) was down to a reasonable 99-100 or so. She got a little clingy/whiney so I brought her into the examination room with me while Ollie got the sedative shot so she could get her teeth cleaned. (what, you think that otherwise she'd willingly LET them clean her teeth? um yeah, she's old, not docile!)

Monkey seemed ok with this, but when we left to get lunch at a local diner (to return an hour later to retrieve Ollie), she was bereft. She was crying over and over for "my Ollie cat" and saying "I want my kitty cat."

M and I looked at each other and smiled. Our hearts were simultaneously breaking and expanding with joy. Monkey loves Ollie! We never knew just how attached she was to Ollie until right then.

Ollie is no longer "my" cat. She belongs to Monkey.

Treat her well my daughter. Give her lots of love and affection. Comb and pet her beautiful fur gently. Feed her treats.

And remember, when you wave the cat dancer toy, try not to bean her on the head with the stick each time....or "your" cat might just bite you. With love, of course!

Invitation to my pity party?

I am 34 weeks pregnant and in addition to general intestinal misery, my body hurts. Sleep is elusive, even when I am in bed.

My cat keeps taking dumps on the floor of the bathroom in the middle of the night.

M, my beloved husband, is on the other side of the world (Geneva, Switzerland).

Monkey now has croup. After steaming her, I sat in her room and listened to her breath for a few hours last night. You know, to make sure she COULD breath. Croup is spooky in the middle of the night.

I am extraordinarily busy at work.

I just want to not be me right now.

You bring the cheese, I'll bring the whine............

Cat (gently used) 4 Sale - CHEAP!

So, the adventure continues. Monkey woke at 4am. But (thank G*D I'm getting better at this middle of the night crap...just in time for #2) I got her to sleep and was back in bed by 4:45am. SUCESSS! I ROCK!!!

Yeah. Until some 20 odd minutes later when I was woken out of what was promising to become a deep slumber by my CAT. YOWLING. In that exact same high pitch that sounds like Monkey keening.....so of course I bolted straight up, convinced she was awake again. Pulse racing, I verified that Monkey was still sleeping and went back to bed.

Heartburn. OK, up for some medicine and a glass of milk. Feed the cat and return to bed yet again. It is now 5:25am.

Lay awake for a few minutes.....and then smell something suspiciously similar to cat shit wafting through the air...but hear nothing, no litter being scratched. Get up to investigate and voila! Cat shit on the bathmat. Why? No clue - the f'ing litter box is right there, clean, and Ollie has been fed.

I fume. I put on gloves to clean the mess up (since - OH YES, it IS so - M is out of town) and officially give up on sleeping.

Check email and learn M landed in Geneva safely. Reply with growly email about wanting to sell cat to the gypsies. Consider posting an add on Craig's List for gently used cat.

5:45am. Hop in shower and pray Monkey won't wake up while I'm in there. Take the world's fastest shower and pop out to.....silence.

Creep around the apartment. Verify that child and cat and now both sleeping, blissful and adorable in their repose.

It's a damn good thing, too, or the gypsies would totally be raking it in this week...

Wrong side of the bed (crib, whatever...)

Poor Monkey, she really was a disaster this morning.

She's not feeling well, with a cold, and that made her miserable, and then every thing kept going wrong.

Like what? Well......I opened the door to the kitchen and smushed her foot/scraped her little toe. (Cue award music for mother of the year.)

Then she tried to grab a heavy book out of her crib and dropped it on her foot. Same one, bien sur.

And then, adding insult to injury, the cat hissed at her when she hugged poor Ollie too vigorously. I think that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Monkey just looked at me and sobbed.

If she were a few years older, I think she would have just told me she was going back to bed for the day. That or said "it's five o'clock somewhere in the world" and cracked open a beer.

Two new (FUN) games in the Insane Household

So Monkey has two new games. She'd like to explain them to you....

1) Sneak up behind Ollie, our beloved geriatric (and, um, maybe not smart) cat and flick the hair on the top of her ears. Watch her ears twitch. Scream with delight. Repeat 300 times and act offended/traumatized when Ollie tries to bite you.

2) March up to mommy and yank up her shirt (preferably while in public). Attempt to push her distended belly button back into her stomach. Scream with delight. Repeat 300x. Act offended/traumatized when Mommy insists you desist.

What fun games do your insane toddlers like to play?

Random things

Did I ever mention that Monkey got to watch two Vietnamese PotBelly pigs being walked (on leashes!) in DUMBO a few weeks back? When we went to have brunch with Carey & Jody, a couple we love to hang out with (esp. since they are super tolerant of Monkey, for whatever reason...thanks mom, keep sending those checks their way!). How strange/cool is that? And that the minute we walked over to check them out, the pigs started pooping on the sidewalk? How nasty/gross is that? Um, yeah. And right before breakfast.

I may have mentioned that we had an early birthday party for Monkey and her cousin Emma back in Minneapolis, and that her Auntie Lauri and Uncle Jason gave her a set of Nemo sheets for her big girl bed? Did I mention that? Super cool present: Monkey lurves these sheets. She sleeps with the pillow case each night. No pillow....just the case. Well, Granddad Carter comes to town tonight to spend a few nights with us. And, since we got rid of the guest bed to turn what was the guestroom/closet/office/storage space into Monkey's "Big Girl Room" the only bed in there is a twin. With the Nemo sheets on it. Which Granddad now gets to sleep on. How cute is that?

And, while we are talking about rearranging the apartment for BabyGirlCarter#2, can I just mention that I keep having nightmares about where to keep the freakin' vacuum cleaner? I know, talk about pregnancy hormones and anal-tendencies run amok! But seriously, both Monkey and Ollie are afraid of the vacuum cleaner. So I don't want to leave it just sitting out (plus admit it, unless it's a perfectly clean Dyson on display at MOMA, vacuum cleaners are ugly). But it will have to move from what is presently the "closet" in what is to become Monkey's Big Girl Room. And I use those quotation marks without a sense of irony: this f'ing closet is only 7.5 inches deep. So it's useful for holding the vacuum cleaner, the broom, wrapping paper, and random things like a soccor ball and Ollie's pet carrier. We'll figure out a way to use it for Monkey's clothing (since I know Nana is not going to stop buying pretty dresses for her beloved insane toddler!). But still............the vacuum cleaner. It haunts me! Argh.

The things she says these days...

Monkey: Open this?
Daddy: No sweetie, daddy's head doesn't open up.
Monkey: Open this?
Daddy: No, his neck doesn't open, either.

Monkey: I'm going to be a naked girl (as she got into the bath)

Monkey: Ollie play ring around the rosie? (as she knelt on the ground and crouched to put her face next to Ollie's face)
Ollie: No answer, but she did touch her nose to Monkey's nose.

It's not just me

This thing with my absolutely fearless child running away from me on the sidewalks of New York really worries me.

On top of the normal "I don't want her to die" fears and anxieties, there was this small, niggling little fear that maybe it was just me.

That maybe she was acting out against me because I'm pregnant, or because I'm not doing an effective job of monitoring her, or you know, that I was just failing as a mom.

And yes, these are the worries that creep into my brain and keep it busy at night when I can't sleep because: A) it is too freakin' hot out; 2) my geriatric cat likes to paw my face and nuzzle my eyes for attention at 1,2,3,4 and 5am; and finally)because at 19 weeks pregnant my bump has started to interfere with my sleep. And yes, I realize that my 3am fears tend to be a (ahem) wee bit melodramatic. Give me a break, it's 3am! (btw I can see your eyelids twitching, dear readers who notice lapses in grammer and punctuation. I did that A 1 finally thing just for you. You're welcome)

Therefore, I confess that I felt a little bit better last night when I picked my insane toddler up from her Montessori school and they told me that Monkey was running away from them, too! And had received a stern lecture about not running away! They even let the entire class walk into the park without her, to emphasize the point that if she didn't hold either the rope or a teacher's hand, she could not go to the park. For an almost-two year old, that's hardcore.

Monkey's sidewalk privileges have been revoked until further notice. And it's going down on her permanent record.

Poor Ollie

I must confess, I am pretty impressed at how tolerant our cat Ollie is....she lets Monkey hug her, pet her, even touch and grab her feet and tail (and that's something, in a cat).

But the other day, Ollie had enough. She took a swat at Monkey and even growled/hissed.

What drove this kind, munificent cat over the edge?

Well.......Monkey tried to blow her nose - the cat's nose. You know, with a kleenex.

She chased Ollie around and around and around and kept putting the kleenex to her nose. I about fell over laughing, it was so funny.