Conversations Between Friends

A quick bit from earlier this week. We don't exactly converse in a straight line, so hopefully you can follow.

 

Kim: Yesterday Max told me in the sweetest little voice, "I love you so much I'm going to fart.

 

Dana: :) What a riot.

 

Kim: I had to ask him to say it again and it came out the same way. No space, no forgotten comma.

 

Dana: Probably at the same time that Ember was saying "poop on Mommy's head" and giggling ecstatically like only middle-school aged boys should about something like that.

 

Kim: Ha! We talk lots about poop + head + butt + stink. But its funnier coming from a girl. ;)

 

Dana: How does she even know that's inappropriate, which makes her giggle?

Kim: You deserve her because you love me so much. You know that right? I'd have a girly girl because I wouldn't know what to do with one, and you have one just like me. :)

Dana: Yes, it's like living my life with you all over again. Only now I'm in charge and supposed to be responsible. Thanks for that.

 

Kim: Ha! Daycare? Its not an Easton thing at all. If she lived with Gage I could understand it.

 

Dana: At least I can rest assured I'll like her as a teenager and grown-adult. :)

 

Kim: Hahaha! Let's hope so.
 

Dana: No, definitely not day care. I'm praying she doesn't say it at day care. 

 

Kim: I love it!! My kids pick up lots of things at daycare. Its been a great gateway drug for elementary school.

 

 

On Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to you all. Whether you are my mother, someone else's mother, want to become a mother, or had a mother you deserve to be celebrated.

I know it sounds Gouda Cheesy, but it is true. (A dairy foods pun for my former students.)

As I begin my 6th year of motherhood, and have permanently moved out of the challenging infant phase, I find myself reflective in the people who have impacted me as a mother themselves, or influenced my role as a mother.

So thank you.

Thank you for guiding me. Teaching me to nurture. Teaching me responsibility. Showing me how to be vulnerable and encouraging me to learn.

Thank you for listening. And then telling me that my children are normal. Telling me that their habit of sorting things doesn't make them weird. Encouraging me by thinking my children are interesting. And funny. And bright.

Thank you for your consultation. Peeking at a strange rash on the back of his leg when I see you in the grocery store? Pouring over sleep remedies when you run into me buying paint? Answering seemingly obvious questions when I find you online? Offering the suggestion of your favorite drink after a particularly challenging day? Those things matter.

Thank you for sharing. Your insight and experiences are a goldmine. Even if you do not have children, I'm fairly certain you used to be one and that means you hold information that could potentially be helpful in my quest to not screw up these children. I appreciate you telling me how you did not eat the food off your plate either, and still grew up healthy.

Hundreds of miles may separate us, or I might see you nearly everyday in our hometown but our interactions are important.

A special thanks to my kiddos - without them, I would celebrate Mother's Day by sleeping in. Instead I will celebrate by getting up way too early to enjoy another day as "Mommy! Mommy! Mommmmmmmy!"

Perfectly Different: On Losing Things

Ever since Gage was old enough to communicate we have noticed some quirks. He remembers things. Pretty much everything. Combine this with his quirk to sort and hide things all over the house and its made for some pretty entertaining episodes.

"Hey Mom, remember that blue bouncy ball I got at Pizza Hut when we went to visit your friend Dana? I put it in the red bag under my bed with the ball the Easter Bunny brought me when I was two."

Kid's toys knowingly come with dozens of pieces. Some children (Max) actually play with these toys. Gage? He spends "play time" looking for the 1 or 2 pieces that have seemingly grown legs and walked away.

"I cannot find the little sheep. Not this little sheep. I'm looking for the little sheep that has paint missing on one of its feet."

I used to think it was so annoying. We have spent hours looking for things he KNOWS are missing. If he cannot find them, its because I have moved them or his brother has moved them. Because obviously, if he put it somewhere he knows exactly where he left it.

"Mom, we have to go back to the park. Last week, I left a green crayon under the silver slide."

Now I think Gage's "Find It" superpower is pretty much the coolest thing ever. I no longer need to keep track of a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. Lost my wallet? Just ask Gage. Can't find the remote? Just ask Gage. Misplace a paper bag we used that Sunday we learned about David and Goliath at church? He will know where I left it.

And then there's Max.

I'm convinced Max doesn't give a crap about locating anything. His personality is so much more laid back than Gage's was at this age. Also, his brother retrieves misplaced toys and food before Max even knows they're gone. I swear I could ask the kid where his face is and he'd smile and say, "I don't know." Tonight he was looking for "two army guys and cowboy fighter" toy figurines while he was sitting in his bed. I literally picked up the blanket covering his legs and they were right there.

Two and a half years separates these two cuties in age. Their interests and personalities separate them even further. Thankfully, for us, they are the perfect compliment to each other.

If you missed previous installments of Perfectly Different, check them out below!

Perfectly Different
Perfectly Different: Sock Fetish

Parenting: Disheveled Decisions

I've been a little busy lately. In the last two weeks, I have cooked three meals and I haven't run the dishwasher since Monday. There are building block scattered throughout the house, and I have no doubt that they'll be there in the morning. The level of my organized insanity escalated to a new level this week and tonight resulted in a spontaneous effort to grow up the baby.

Let me side trip for a moment and share that while Max will likely end up being our youngest child forevermore, we're trying our hardest not to let him be "the baby". Mentally, I tell myself that maybe someday, there will be another kid or at the very least a dog younger than him. He has not taken a bottle for six months, we force him to use words, say please and thank you, eat food sitting at the table like Gage and suffer the consequences of poor choices. (He is the cutest in time-out. He pouts his sweet bottom lip out and sits where you put him until you welcome him out with hugs.)

Tonight we marched a little further from baby and a little closer to big boy.

Because of my preoccupation with 1000 items on my to-do list:

1: We ran out of diapers. My only option is training pants. Potty training full speed ahead. It really is for the best. The poor boy has terribly sensitive skin so he wears unbleached (read: expensive) diapers. A while back I had grabbed some of the training pants from the brand that works for us (Seventh Generation) and that is what he's wearing at the moment.

2: I can't find any binkies. The binkie gnomes have acquired no fewer than six of them from my house in the last 7-10 days. We are binkie free as of today. I put him to bed tonight and he didn't even cry. That's normal as Max is a rockstar sleeper (and I totally deserve it), but he does have an opinion so it did surprise me. Here's hoping the night proceeds without a hitch. He has not been using a binkie at daycare for quite a while, but he likes to have it in when one is accessible. Its super annoying to have to yank it out of his mouth to understand what he's saying.

3: Also, we went out for pizza tonight. I let my "baby" take a hit out of my Strawberry Dew and we started feeding him fruit snacks before he finished his pizza. But its Friday night. We're tired and the last thing we want to hear is some kid screeching for a "nack! nack!"

Awesome are we.