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.

Bus stop conversations

This morning, as I waited for the bus with Monkey and Jellybean, one of our kind neighbors walked by and paused to say hello.She leaned over and engaged Jellybean in a conversation.

Q: "Where do you go to school?"
A: "With my friends."

I thought it was a pretty good answer.

Subtle

I like the understatement inherent in this MTA notification....

All subway service has resumed but customers are advised to expect longer waits and slightly more crowded trains.

Would sir like a mint?

So today, on the way home from school, Jellybean made a subway car of passengers laugh out loud.

How?

Well, as C2 related to me, he was holding Jellybean in his arms, standing in a somewhat crowded subway car, when she leaned in and sweetly told him he had "orangutan breath."

To my adoring fans

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

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.

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.

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."

There's a bathroom on the right*

Monkey has been introduced to The Sound of Music, and she's in love.

"Is is a school night?" is the introductory question (since no TV or movies is allowed on a school night). As soon as she verifies that it isn't, she will ask to watch the "singing movie."

And, as we walk through the streets of the city on our commute to and from school, more often than not we're belting out "Doe a Deer" at the top of our lungs (to the amusement of most, the annoyance of some....).

The part that always makes me laugh is her mangled lyrics:

"Tea, a drink with jam and bread" has become "tea, a lick of garlic bread." It cracks me up every single time!

*sorry Creedence Clearwater Revival, but everyone gets your lyrics wrong!

Sisters

On the ride home from school today, an adorable little boy and his father boarded the bus and sat down by us.

Monkey perked up and said "hello Paul" immediately. The father and I shook hands and figured out that our kids were in class together, and as as our brief conversation faded away the two kids were giggling and chortling and playing a silly word game that - really - didn't make any sense to us. But they were having a blast.

They laughed and giggled and leaned into one another, resplendently unaware of how every single adult on the bus was watching them. When Paul and his father departed the bus, Monkey knelt on her seat to press her face to the glass and say goodbye over and over again. Meanwhile Paul was waving furiously at us as the bus drew past him. An elderly woman across from me caught my eye and smiled.

As Monkey settled down from the excitement of seeing her friend, she leaned in a bit closer to me. And Jellybean, nestled against me in her Ergo baby carrier, did something I have never seen her do before.

She leaned away from me, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against Monkey's back, snuggling against her sister. It was unbearably tender. Jellybean doesn't really "kiss" people - she shows affection by gently touching her forehead to you. It is a benediction, a moment of grace. And she's never done that to her older sister before. Until today, on the bus, as her sister's cheeks were flushed with excitement from frolicking with her friend.

I think these two are going to be great friends.

Sometimes, commuting is the best part of the day. (Sometimes)

A few random stories....

Ok, where to start?

SOO much is going on. These girls, they just blindside me with all their growing up! I need to freeze each moment in time, and every day they do something that makes me think “oooh, this MUST go on the blog” and then……they do something else…..and then suddenly it is hours, if not days, later and I can’t remember half of it.

So, a few recent vignettes:

Jellybean is one tough cookie. This weekend she: 1) wiped out in the tub and bumped her noggin against the drain thing-a-mah-jigger hard enough to raise a lump; 2) got walloped on the other side of her head by her sister who was swinging a bucket of chalk around and around; and 3) got a third nipple in the form of a pinch/bruise on her chest from her pacifier clip attached by – oh yes – me. Ow.

And yet? She’s in a great mood. Man, she’s tough! Maybe her new nickname should be “timex.” (oh come onnnnn, you remember – it takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’ don’t you?)

_________

Monkey? Also tough. And perhaps learning some caution. Perhaps.

Last night she fell off the couch and hit her head hard enough to raise an egg and break the skin. After some snuggling and some very anxious moments for me as I waited to see if her pupils looked funny or she got nauseous or dizzy, she was finagling more goldfish crackers and two books before bed (instead of one) – we think she’s juuuuust fine. But I’m still going to watch her.

M asked me if I was worried last night. And I told him yes – as in “yes, that’s my job.” And it is. Best job, ever.

__________

So this past Monday I was doing my schlep and carry routine (aka getting the two kids to school, plus diapers, and wipes, and formula, and 12 jars of babyfood, and Monkey’s spare sweatshirt, and her lunch, and her water bottle, and apples for the classroom, and and and and you get it – LOTS of HEAVY STUFF. Ugh).

I got the seats directly across from the exit in the back of the bus, which is prime real estate, and was very happy that I wouldn’t have to waddle/struggle/swim like a salmon going upstream to get me, the two girls, and all that stuff off the bus in a timely manner. We pushed the button requesting the stop, the bus stopped at our stop....and then two seconds later left.

Back into traffic before I could even stand up! And let me tell you, I am quick on the bus to avoid this very situation! I mean COME ON you MF’ing busdriver – are you kidding me? He didn’t stop for even three seconds!

I called out “stop please” and my call was taken up by everyone at the front of the bus. The hue and cry had his attention because he looked back and then, in the quintessential “whattya gonna do about it” attitude of poorly paid civil servants across the world.....he shrugged and kept driving. I was pissed. He couldn’t have cared less that he was doing a shitty job.

And then, I did it. I muttered “asshole” under my breath. Only it wasn’t quiet enough. Yeah. I was *that* mother this morning....the one that teaches her kids to curse. Sigh.

I'd feel worse if the label wasn't appropriate.

Octagenarian Toy

So apparently there is an 80-year old toy-mouse that lives in my stroller.

What’s that you say? An octogenarian toy mouse? Yes, yes, you heard (*read*) that correctly.

How else could you explain the fact that Monkey named the mouse finger-puppet "Ira?"

I mean, seriously! Only grandpas are named Ira. Not that there is anything wrong with that.*

*kudos if you get that reference!

Feminists march on Manhattan...

As a Manhattanite, Monkey gets an almost daily dose of safety lessons for walking on the sidewalks, across busy streets, etc. This occurs both at home and at school.

Approximately a year ago, when I first started walking with Monkey to school (i.e., walking to the bus stop and not using a stroller), I started a dialogue about the "walking man" and the "red hand that means stop."

By now, Monkey has it down pat. In fact, if you start to cross before the "walk" signal has officially turned on, she'll pull you back and chastise you "no mom!" (cough, not that I've done this....ahem)

However, last week was the best. On the way to school with a very happy insane toddler, I announced "let's go, it's the walking man".....

Monkey immediately whipped around and loudly announced "No, it's the walking GIRL!"

That's my girl!

Top o' the morning to ya

Monkey had a serious case of the grumples on the way to school this morning.

This is the face I got when I explained for the 10000th time that no, she could not have cookies for breakfast.

Her face perfectly telegraphs her disgust at my laughter (because I was, indeed, laughing at her!).....

ah, the joys of motherhood.

Jaded

I love living in New York City. I really do. Some might find this strange, considering how I grew up hunting and fishing in Minnesota. But really, where else in the world can you live in this type of an urban environment, electric and eclectic, and yet be only a few hours away from one of the largest parks in the US (the Adirondacks), where unfettered wilderness is accessible and (well-nigh) pristine? Really, it's the best of both worlds. That is, in my humble opinion.

Of course, the Adirondacks aren't the only source of wildlife.

Last week, on St. Patrick's Day, I was making my way to work. As I walked up Broadway I passed a young(ish) man who was wearing a set of pink wings. Yes, wings. Like a fairy, or a Victoria Secret model. (only trust me, this schlub of a guy was NOT someone who should prance around in his underwear. shudder)

The funny thing about this encounter wasn't the fact that he was wearing wings. What was amusing was my response.....all I could think was, hmmm, those are the wrong color. They should be green.

Sunshine and roses

Well, in comparison to a few days ago, Monkey's mornings both yesterday and today were full of sunshine and roses. Maybe her cold has passed (turns out lots of her classmates at school are now uber cranky with head colds....).

Yesterday we walked to school (i.e., Monkey was in the stroller and I walked the 27 odd blocks). She sang and chattered and had me read Winnie the Pooh meets Gopher (the abridged version) again and again.

Today we took the bus, and Monkey spent most of the time commenting on how slippery the seat was (and then scooting around on her butt and giggling) or asking why. You know, why did the bus stop? Why did the little boy get off the bus? Why can't I have ice cream (as we passed a delivery van decorated in pictures of ice cream). Why why why.

Somedays, it is just such a pleasure to be her mom. I love that kid. Even after answering 1450 "why" questions in a 30 minute commute.

Weekend of Adventure

Saturday we tried to make it to Darien, CT to see close friends of ours and their three kids. We wanted Monkey to meet their twin daughters (not too different in age) and their son, and we were looking forward to just hanging out with friends.

Alas and alack, it was not meant to be. In the midst of the parking lot also known as the freeway south of Stanford, Monkey puked all over herself. At the first available turnoff we hit a CVS for some (more) wipes, paper towels, and a clean Hanes tshirt (you know, boys underwear). And home again, home again, jiggity jig we went.

Sunday was much more fun. M's company had its family picnic up in Tarrytown. Back in the car we went (and yes, I had washed the puke off the carseat) and boy was it worth it!

The company went all out, renting those inflatable obstacle courses you see at Church picnics or the carnivals that pass through town. Monkey jumped and jumped and jumped and jumped. And then jumped some more. She loved it.

Lunch and four tattoos later, we were all in the car, covered in cotton candy and happy as clams. I wish we could do that every weekend!

Big Sistah, can't resist her....

Red beans and rice....oh never mind, I was channeling "Baby got back" for a minute there....

Monkey picked out her outfit for school today: leggings and the "Big Sister, aka Divine Ruler" tshirt that Uncle N and Aunt G (and HP!) gave her for her birthday. Thanks guys!

The tshirt is white (for now) with pink and red lettering. Combined with green leggings, white sandals, and pink/red/white ribbons on her ponytails, Monkey looked super cute this morning! Just ask the construction worker that whistled at her! (kidding. he just said "mornin' little one" and no I don't think he's a pedophile).

Then, to add onto the preciousness of it all, she insisted on bringing her "I'm a big sister" book with us on the bus, and we read it on the way to school. Not a bad commute if I say so myself! (finally)

Think she'll be that adorable and excited when her little sister ACTUALLY arrives? Really? You do???? Oh thank goodness and THANK YOU for fueling my delusions! You rock.

The great commute experiment

So my experiment with getting Monkey to school without the stroller continues.

This is all preparation for when:
1) I'm too fat (ok fine, pregnant) to waddle 1.76 miles (thank you, www.mapmyrun.com - now I know precisely how far I walk!)
2) It is raining, and walking isn't an option
3) I'm back in the grind post-birth by hacksaw (i.e., c-section) and trying to get TWO kids to school....

And again, I have to say that Monkey was EXCEPTIONAL! She walked, without fussing or complaints, happily holding my hand. She was cheerful and cooperative.

The bus, however, has NOT been cooperative.

My week thus far:

On Tuesday I waited a total of 60 minutes for my bus to arrive. 35 minutes in the morning, and 25 at night. With an insane toddler, bored out of her skull, a few feet away from a busy Manhattan street. Nice.

On Wednesday I got on our bus to head home and, well, I had made the mistake of trying to use the stroller. So I got on the bus with a stroller, my lunch bag, Monkey's lunch bag, Monkey's bag of clothing to come home from school, my purse, my insane toddler, AND my 5 months pregnant bump and lack of balance. And fell on my arse when the bus lurched. It was so pathetic that a little old lady gave me HER seat. Now that's embarrasing, when a 80 year old is in better shape than you. And I'm on the maximum dosage of tylenol today, because I wrenched the muscles in my groin, up around my side and into my back. Nice.

Today? No real problems, per se. Just Monkey decided to get into my purse and before I could say boo had dropped my makeup on the floor. I'm down one set of eye drops, one tube of lipbalm, and one tube of MAC lipstick (Del Rio, best shade on earth). Dammit!

I have bad bus karma. I just do. Wonder what I did in a prior life?