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."
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
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.
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!
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!
Friday, April 2, 2010
Sisters
Grandma Larson and M took the girls to the Bronx Zoo today.
I think they're having a good time:
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.
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.
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