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!

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!

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.

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!

Creative breakthrough

Monkey is a creative child. Her imagination knows no bounds, her dressing skills befits a teenager that scours the September issue of Vogue....but until recently, art hasn't been her thing.

Maybe because we haven't been doing much of it at home...or maybe, just maybe, because Monkey's a lot like both her mom and dad in that we tend to like to do the things we're good at (and not the things we aren't...). No surprises there.

But artwork (and penmanship) is something that is important, so school has really been encouraging Monkey to take chances and put pen to paper (so to speak).

Yesterday, she drew a self-portrait in charcoal, and then signed her name to it.

This is the single most amazing piece of artwork I have ever seen. And yes, I'm slightly proud of my girl.

See? MOMA watch out, Monkey's an artiste!

Jailbreak

Jellybean is on the move.

She took 5 steps last weekend. In a row!

Pretty soon? She's going to make a break from jail.


(seriously, I snapped this photo through the door at her montessori school - that's her all in red. Doesn't it look like she's about to make a run for it? She and her fellow inmate are comparing plans, deciding who's going to distract the warden.....

And, on an unrelated note, I have come up with a new nickname for Jellybean:

She's now the "Mighty Mouse." I came up with this last night, in the middle of the night, when I was wrestling her out of a poopy pair of pjs. Man, is she STRONG!

Talent, redux

Each child is as different as a snowflake.

The second time around it is different.

Everything old is new again.

Dear g*d, this again? Seriously?

So, when Jellybean arrived, everyone told me it would be different. That I would be able to rely upon the things I had learned, so yes, it would be easier, but that I shouldn't expect #2 to be the same as #1. That I would need to be patient, and see where Jellybean's talents lie....to not expect her to take after her sister.

Which is why I really had to laugh when, at the library this morning, my friend T watched Jellybean move around and try to climb EVERYTHING in sight and blurted out "oh dear g*d, you got another one?"

Yes, dear reader - I do. I have another monkey.

Jellybean learned how to crawl a mere 6 weeks ago. Three days ago she dragged a chair across the floor at school, stood up on the chair, and then tried to hoist herself into the sink. That same day, she climbed up on top of a table at school, and then - sans support - stood up. (Needless to say she's freaking her teachers out and they are watching her like a hawk)

Yesterday, she was balancing on the stablization bar underneath her highchair. And today? Today she screamed like a banshee (rage and disbelief) when I wouldn't let her balance on her toes on top of a Radio Flyer "bike."

I have packed bandaids and Neosporin in my purse. Again.

Playing Favorites

So I have a confession to make. I suspect that Jellybean is one of her teacher's favorites. And I can't help but think - OF COURSE she is!

When I dropped her off at school yesterday morning (yes, the day I had POOP on me), she had fallen asleep in the Ergo baby carrier. She was snuggled in and snoring gently. Ah, so cute.

But everyone knows how cranky a baby can be if you wake them up. So, I slipped my shoes off, walked quietly into her room, and attempted to extricate Jellybean from the Ergo in order to gently place her on her napping spot. And....she woke up.

In a great mood! She rubbbed her eyes, looked around the room, and smiled her toothy little grin. And then waved! Like - hi teachers! Howdy!

Now, mind you, at that moment in time every other baby in the room was crying. Or screaming. Take your pick.

One of the teachers looked at Jellybean, looked at the other little ones (the bright red in the face SCREAMING little ones), and said - "oh, she's so easy." With more than a little bit of relief in her voice.

Mind you, they are too kind (and professional) to ever say anything that would indicate they have a favorite.

But in my mind, I think they do. Just a little bit. Because she's just so damn happy, my 'lil bean.

Time keeps on slipping, slippin' slippin'... into the future

Today is Monkey and Jellybean's last day of summer camp at school.

For Monkey, it marks a transition from "toddler" to early childhood. Jellybean will continue in the infant room, but she's going to walk (sooner than later, to keep up with her sister). And this feels like a big deal to me. I know, it's not exactly graduation from college, but it is a moment in time that needs to be marked never the less.

Mostly because OH MAH GAWD when did they grow up on me? Seriously? They are this big ALREADY? But.....they are my babies!

I remember sleepless nights with Monkey thinking dawn would never break. I remember cradling Jellybean's tiny little hands in my hands, wondering at how a creature so beautiful and durable could be so small and fragile.

And now I have these two KIDS.

Ok, granted, Monkey is barely 3 and Jellybean hasn't even hit 9 months yet, but boy do the days fly by.

Monkey haggles like a senior litigator, sleeps like a teenager, and wants to paint her fingernails red. Jellybean shows her teeth when she grins, desperately wants to walk, and knows how to work a room. They are impossibly small and yet impossibly grown up.

And I love them both dearly. Not a day goes by where I can't believe how lucky I am to be their mom. And how grateful I am to have M as my husband and their father.

Requiem for a dinosaur

This past weekend we went to a birthday party for one of Monkey's best friends. His parents put up not one, but TWO kiddie pools in their backyard. Monkey had so much fun I thought we might need to live in their basement, as she was never ever going to want to leave.

But, R's parents made parting such sweet sorrow (instead of teeth-grinding temper-tantrums), by handing out goody bags to the kids as they left. So, you don't wanna leave? OK, no problem, no gifts for you........and lo and behold! Away those kids went! Such smart parents.

Monkey's bag was full of little plastic dinosaurs. Which are now about her most favorite posessions in the world. I think only her books and ABC blankie come first....

This morning she begged to take them to school. She had all of them in a bag, ready to go, and was very sad to be granted permission to only take two. She's such a haggler! I said one, she said "THREE" (while holding up her hand with three fingers....like that unbearably cute demonstration might sway me...oh crap, fine, it worked and she got two. What can I say, it was cute!).

Once we got to school, Monkey wanted to hold the elevator open to "help" out. Of course, her body is in the way so everyone is squeezing in and out and it's chaos. But hey, she's helping! And polite! and OH NOOOOOOOOO one of her little dinosaurs fell into the crack between the elevator and the building floor.

It had plummeted to its death. Tears were streaming down Monkey's cheeks and she was taking little, hitching, breaths as she told me what happened in between these sad little sobs.

I decided not to brush this off. We got to the next floor, and after everyone emptied out of the elevator, I took her hand and said "Monkey, let's take a moment to grieve and say goodbye. Your dinosaur has fallen into the center of the earth and won't be coming back."

Monkey leaned forward, looking down the crack as if she could see that teeny dinosaur at the bottom of the elevator shaft, waved, and said "bye bye dinosaur." It would have been hilarious if it wasn't just so sad!

End of the school year

Last Thursday was officially the end of the "school year" for Monkey. So they threw a party!

All the parents were invited to attend a "social" which, loosely translated, means bringing tons of food, eating tons of food, and watching all the kids go crazy after they've had fruit, muffins, and apple juice. Good times.

I was expecting the usual mayhem. What I wasn't expecting was a short "slide show" put on by the head teacher, J. She took pictures from the year and put them to music. There were a few shows, each focused on a topic - working, running, sleeping, etc.

My favorite was sleeping. I loved seeing all those peaceful faces, including the one of Monkey. It flashed across the screen and I thought - awww, how cute, her best friend R is sleeping next to her.

Only later did I get the whole story. And I got a little choked up.

Apparently, when I was in the hospital after delivering Jellybean, Monkey was having a hard time at school. She was out of sorts because Mommy wasn't home, and because she knew her world as she knew it was changing. So she wasn't napping, crying for her mommy.

So do you know what R did? Every day he would go and sleep next to Monkey, to make her feel better. That's love.

Of all the things that Monkey's montessori is teaching her, I think that friendship has to be the most important.

A rose by any other name

Labels and names are very important to toddlers. They take great pride in being able to tell you their full name, the names of their classmates, their teachers, etc. They are proud to be able to properly name objects. And relationships are also of great interest to them. They want to know that one person is their teacher, while another is their friend, or their neighbor, etc.

But sometimes, sometimes they don’t quite get the nuances quite right.

Monkey’s in a gang of four at school. Two little boys and another little girl, along with Monkey, make up this posse of spirited (and smart) insane toddlers. Naturally, these friends feature quite heavily in the stories they tell about their days.

One little boy, a pipsqueak of a kid with a GIANT personality, tells stories about Monkey all of the time. His grandmother decided that she wanted more information, and asked (teasingly, as grandmothers can do) if Monkey was his girlfriend.

He roared back in anger (after all, how DARE she get that wrong. Sheesh, adults can be so dumb sometimes, yannow?). No, she’s not my girlfriend, she’s my HUSBAND.

But of course she is.

Queen Bee

This morning when I dropped Monkey off at school she did her normal thing, which is to immediately grab a book and sit on one of the (precious, toddler-sized) chairs in the reading corner.

She grinned at me and J (one of her beloved teachers) and chattered happily with her friends.

Then, because I moved something that should not have been moved (heaven forbid her water bottle be in the wrong place!!!! oh noooo!!) she popped out of the chair to redress this grevious wrong.

And Eli took her spot.

I turned my attention to the water bottle issue, ascertained that a UN delegation would not be needed to solve this pressing matter for world peace, and turned back to a scene of toddler brutality. Roman and Caleb were, quite literally, pushing and hitting Eli in an attempt to forcibly remove him from the chair. I was a bit taken aback by this display of testosterone so early in the morning (not to mention in their lives!) but the brawl settled down a few seconds later when another teacher invited Eli to clean up his blocks.....and Monkey retook the throne.

I looked at J, a bit puzzled, and she nodded. "Yes, that was all about Monkey."

Who said chivalry was dead?

the Observer Principle...

We signed Monkey up for an "enrichment" program at school - soccer classes. And according to her "coach," when I am not there, Monkey does a great job.

But, every single time I get there early enough to watch......meh, she won't play. She will kick the ball maybe once, then she lands on the ball or hides in the corner, or generally just declines to play - often swaying back and forth, saying "but I don't WANT to....." It's like that scientific principle that, by virtue of observing something, you change it. Which means that the tree falls in the woods and no one knows what it sounds like or, um, something like that.

Again???

So the whole cookies for breakfast debacle began with a gesture of kindness. M got up a little earlier than usual and made old fashioned oatmeal for breakfast. Now, I just love oatmeal, but rarely do I have the time (or the patience) to make that in the morning. I'm too busy trying to remember to put my underwear on right to be bothered with a hot meal. Therefore, when M does this I am thrilled. It's such a simple gesture, but it makes my day.

Monkey has enjoyed this oatmeal before, asking for more of either my bowl or M's bowl. So, logically (whoops, our first mistake) assuming Monkey would want her own bowl, M served it up. I added honey and raisins, and Monkey went ballistic.

M attempted to entice her into taking a bite - just a bite - by explaining it was like an oatmeal cookie in her bowl. And that's when it started, the begging, the pleading, the crying and wailing.....because in the cupboard, just a few feet away, were the tasty oatmeal cookies Monkey had made with Nana. Now that daddy had said the "c" word (cookie, people! get your mind out of the gutter!) word, all bets were off.

Despite all the drama, and M’s and my laughter at the theatrics, I decided to include a cookie in her lunch bag. Because after all, who wouldn’t want a homemade cookie for lunch, right?

Of course when we got to school, Monkey continued to insist on eating her cookie RIGHT THEN. At one point in time she was laying on the floor, crying and trying to writhe her way to freedom with the cookie in her hand (to no avail - I can walk faster than she can writhe. But it was a sight to see!). And the cookie went back into her lunch bag.

That evening, when I picked Monkey up from school, one of her teachers told me a story about lunchtime: when Monkey opened up her lunch she immediately pulled the cookie out. Turning, she looked at her teacher and asked “Can I have the cookie now? Or is mommy going to say no AGAIN?

Can't you just see that eye roll?

So, ah, polite

Monkey's school sends home accident reports every time a child is injured at school. More often than not, the information written on the report is a repeat of what was already communicated in a phone call to a parent.

But sometimes you can glean a tad bit more information from the report.

For example, a while back I got the call that Monkey had a boo boo - a rather nasty paper cut on the palm of one hand. She got an "icy" and some hugs, and was none the worse for wear when I picked her up. She even had me admire the bandaid she was gleefully wearing, and refused to take it off until the next morning.

The accident report was stuffed into her lunchbox and I only casually glanced at it, since I (thought I) already knew what happened.

A few days later as I was cleaning and sorting the assorted detritus that had accumulated on the kitchen table, I picked the report up and, before consigning it to its fate in the recycling, read it carefully.

It was refreshingly polite.

It said Monkey "was holding on to the end of a book, that another child was reading, and a tug-of-war of sorts began."

Oh.

What it SHOULD have said was: "Your child is insane about books and gave herself a nasty papercut in the process of attempting to steal her friend's book".

Now that, that I'd believe.