Takes her lumps

Jellybean, despite her diminutive size, is a bit fierce. She will lay into her big sister and fight like she's twice her size. And, not surprisingly, she gets time outs. Same thing for jumping on furniture, etc.

Only, here's the funny part. When she's in the mix and being defiant, if we ask her "do you want a time out"??? Well, she says YES. And then, you know, goes and does her time out.

I bought a book on positive discipline. Because time out sure ain't gonna cut it soon.

Gravity

The stomach flu is making its way through Manhattan. Monkey was a recent victim and spent an evening throwing up. She was a trooper, poor thing. And soon it was over.

Leaving me with one question as we cleaned up. Why, why, why doesn't kid puke follow the regular rules of gravity?

I mean seriously....it practically ended up on the ceiling.

Jaded

One of Monkey's after-school activities this past fall has been a class called Broadway Bound. They learned all about a song, "I won't grow up," from the broadway musical Peter Pan. They practiced the song, learned their lines, learned how to move around on stage, and generally had fun.

Many of the students in this class also attended the show, currently running at the Madison Square Garden Theater with Cathy Rigby at Peter Pan. We didn't end up going with the group (moved too slow for tickets) so we went this past weekend, along with Monkey's two closest friends and their moms. It was wonderful.

Now, by wonderful I mean it was a wonderful show for kids. It really was. They hawked cotton candy in the aisles, there was a lot of singing dancing and acrobatics on wires as the characters "flew" through the air, and Peter Pan even flew OVER the audience sprinkling them with fairy dust (aka glitter). 

At some point I gasped out loud at one particularly amazing feat of "flying" (that Cathy Rigby is in AMAZING shape (like, I'm jealous of how insanely in shape she is!!)). 

I figured Monkey would be as impressed as I was - but perhaps for a different reason. I was imagining wonder, amazement, and a brain exploding with joy at seeing people fly.

Instead, Monkey turned to me and said "mom, those people have strings on them, you know."

My broadway baby. Already knows the tricks of the trade. 

A future in politics...

Last week I busted Jellybean in the living room with a cracker. I scolded her, retrieved the cracker, and went back to preparing dinner.

Jellybean zoomed around in the kitchen a bit, and disappeared into the living room again.

A second later I followed for an unrelated matter, and found her - again - with a cracker in her hand. On our new chair.  Our. New. Clean. UNCRACKERED chair.

I walked up to her, and in the sternest of voices, admonished her. We do NOT eat in the living room.

Wherein she sweetly replied "I wasn't going to eat it, I was just putting it in my mouth."

Yeah, and Bill didn't inhale.

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.

Psych 101

During Hurricane Irene I stayed up late with cousin H to watch a movie. The next morning Jellybean got up at 6am.

Yesterday, her nap ran late so she went to bed later than usual. Thinking she would sleep in, to account for her late bedtime, I stayed up late to start painting the kitchen. And - wait for it - she got up at 6am.

I seem to recall that the definition of insanity is repeating your actions, and thinking you'll get a different result....

Babyproofing

Recently, we spent some quality (and quantity) time with family. Several of those days were spent at 'Andpa and Grandma's house. During that time, Jellybean:

1) Cut 4 inches off of her hair;
2) Spilt permanent ink on the dress she was supposed to wear to a family wedding; and
3) During her 'nap' found a sewing kit and methodically inserted about 50 straight pins and needles into a mattress, with another 20+ straight pins strewn about the floor and embedded in the carpet....by her bare feet. (is her tetanus shot up to date?)

If you go to stay at my parents' house anytime soon? You MAY want to sleep in the foldout couch, not the guest twin beds. Unless you don't mind sleeping on pins and needles, of course.

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?"

Smelly

What do flying fish roe, chocolate ice cream, and soy sauce have in common?

They are what Jellybean smells of right now.

Verdict: two

Jellybean had a rough day at school this past Tuesday. We talked about it that evening.

She told me "I yelled at my teachers" and "I threw my lunch on the floor." When I asked why, she said "I was sad."

So, just to be on the safe side, I took Jellybean to the doctor yesterday to rule out strep throat, burst eardrums, etc. (she's been full of boogers for almost 3 weeks now). The pediatrician recommended Claritin.

And the final diagnosis for her terrible day of tantrums and defiance?

Says the doctor: "Well, she IS two."

Travelin' blues

Recently, we took the girls on a bona fide vacation. Beautiful beaches with white sand that squeaked when you walked on it. It was awesome. The girls loved it. We all loved it. Who wouldn't - check this out:

However, I would like to point out that it took 9 hours of travel, with a layover in Atlanta, to get there.

And, while most of the time Jellybean looked sweet, like this:

There was a lurking, evil little sprite, waiting to be unleashed - napless - into the world:

(doesn't she look spooky?)

Murphy's Law

This past Sunday, a friend of mine came over and I gave her lots of hand-me-down clothing (she's got twin 9 month old girls).

One of the items I passed on was Jellybean's snowshoes. Since it's March, they're a bit small, and Spring has SPRUNG! Right? right? right???? oh.

It's snowing.

Flattery will get you....

Monkey likes to play dress up. A lot. "Dramatic play" is something this kid EXCELS at. We have princess clothing, ballerina clothing, kiddie-friendly hats and jewelry and all the scarves I forgot to donate after the '80s ended.

But most of all, she likes to wear my clothing. Specifically, my shoes.

We have had to institute a rule that she can only take one pair out of the closet at a time. And it's almost always a strappy three or four inch heel. Which she then puts on and clomps around in. Even Jellybean is in on this routine! It's adorable. And likely very annoying to our downstairs neighbor (sorry).

Recently, however, she's really moved on to accessories. Jewelry. Bling. Layers and layers of it. We have pink necklaces and purple necklaces and sparkly fake diamond & jewel rings and on and on and on.

Most of my costume jewelry - big necklaces, bangles, chunky turquoise pieces - are in a bag hung inside my closet. Some of which is right at eye level for Monkey.

And of course, she now wants to wear all of my jewelry. Which is OK, in theory, but there have been a few (ok, several, I learn slow!) necklaces that have succumbed to rough play and need to be repaired.

So while the shoes are generally OK under my supervision, the jewelry is off-limits.

Yesterday morning at 7:15am Monkey wanted to play with my shoes. I said no - too early to clomp around on our downstair neighbors' heads. So she turned to jewelry.

Monkey: Mom can I wear your jewelry?
Me: No sweetheart.
Monkey: Puhleeze?
Me: No. It's time to get around and eat breakfast.
Monkey: Just one piece?
Me: No.
Monkey: How about if I just get that blue one out for you? You would look so charming.

Post vacation blahs....

We were fortunate enough to spend time (on vacation in DC) with one set of grandparents over the recent holidays. Monkey and Jellybean LOVED it. 

Unfortunately, they are now profoundly disappointed to realize that:

1. they must now walk again like a commoner (versus a princess), as granddad isn't here to carry them around;  and
2. my pockets are NOT full of candy, like Nana’s are!

Bummer. Real life is soooo boring (to quote Monkey).

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.

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.

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!

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.