The Next Morning

Some hours later, after on and off sleep, Jacob was awake for good. We didn't know that for sure until 3 hours later when Zach finally gave up and took Jacob downstairs. A lot of the stuff we do for him at night might seem crazy, but you have to realize that on most nights now he does sleep through the night (define 'sleep through the night', right?), and on the nights when he doesn't, we're just glad that he's actually staying in the bed. Because that means that we can stay in the bed, in a sort of drowsy half-sleep and at least pretend that what is happening is all a kind of bad dream.

It was 5 or 6 am, depending on whether or not you had changed the clocks back yet. It was our big chance to get an extra hour of sleep and we spent it the way I described earlier. I say we, but I use it the way I use 'we' when I am talking about the addition to our house. "Yeah, doing an addition" and so on. This really means Zach is doing the work and I am either watching/staying away from the house/handing him screws/complaining about the slow pace of the progress. So when I say 'we' referring to the nighttime, I mean I, while Zach soundly sleeps through 98% of what is going on.

So we spent the next 3 hours occupying Jacob in bed, hoping against all odds that he would in fact go back to sleep. Not a chance. At some point during all this, I had the extreme desire to go downstairs and make coffee. This is how deeply my coffee addiction runs; I was willing to risk the chance that A) Jacob would go back to sleep, or B) Zach would be the first to get up with Jacob and I could maybe, just maybe go back to sleep.

I am happy to report that Zach did get up with Jacob and I believe I did fall back to sleep. Before I fell asleep though, I remember Jacob climbing out of bed and his first official 3 year-old words, "Daddy! I'm a big boy! I tan oose knives now!" Look out world...

Then in a dreamy, just-waking state, I remember someone coming at me with something that definitely was not plywood, but can only be described as long, thin and dangerously close to my eyeballs. "It's plywood. I'll show oou what it do-es! Here, I'll show oou Mommy!" I jumped out of bed real quick and the day was off to a running start.

Birthday Weekend

Jakie's little party was at Grandma's house. As each guest left, Jacob politely said "Thanks for coming to my birsday party." I didn't even have to remind him. So this morning he asked, all concerned, "When Angie (this is how he pronounces Andrea) and Evawyn weft, did I say 'thanks for coming to my birsday' to them?" Oh my God, he's so cute! So we set to writing them a thank you note, which we were going to do anyway, and he's just finishing up coloring on it now.

Speaking of God, I'll take this time to comment on one Jacob's recent phrases: He says all the time now, "I swear to God _____ (fill in the blank)." I think this comes from me saying "If you don't get over here right now, I swear to God I'm going to...." *sheepishly grinning*

When we came home from the party there was a string of events and then bed, and a whole other string of events that happened all through the night. Jacob was sitting on the kitchen floor, which is on the back of the house, directly behind the living room and the bay window, which looks out onto the main road that we live on. It was dark but the shade was still open, and all at once Mango jumped up, right onto the seat of the bay window and started barking her head off. Usually such a reaction is set off by a runner going past, but this time was different. There was real emotion in her reaction, a 'what's that Lasssie, Timmy is stuck in the well?' emotion. I walked up to the window and saw the scene she must have been reacting to: Jacob's relfection in the window, set right on the busy road. Was Mango trying to tell us something? "Jacob's playing in the middle of the road and is going to be hit by a car!!" I don't know if she's that smart, or it just freaked her out, but there was a lot of calming down required after this incident.

Jacob eventually went to bed, and I was left alone to decompress from the day. I can't remember what I did, I was that tired. It must have been productive time though, because when I got up in the morning things were pretty much clean.

So there was the night and the kicking off of the covers. What is up with this? I think most kids must do it, because it's something that's come up a lot in conversation with my mom friends. But seriously, why? Why does my son lay there in a cold, dead sleep and kick off the covers when I get into bed? That's when I'm most cold, so I naturally want covers. I put them back on. He kicks them off. It's freezing in the upstairs because we don't use the electric heat that is there, we rely solely on the heat-rising effect from the downstairs radiators. So I put them back on again. He kicks 'em off again. I get mad, put them back on ever..so..gently. He begins bicycling his legs in an attempt to destroy to evil force that is trying to shelter his sweet body. I hold the covers in the air above him as the insane bicycling continues for a good 2 minutes. Keep in mind that he is still in stage 3 or 4 sleep. Also, remember that the whole point of this 'war of the covers' is that it's freaking cold on the other side of the covers and the extreme leg pumping is creating a much unnecessary breeze. I never knew the wind chill factor applied to the temperature in the bedroom.

Usually after the bicycle legs calm themselves, I slowly lower layer upon layer onto my now-still child's body. This well-earned comfort only gets me about a minute of peace before Jacob just goes ahead and wakes up anyway. Still off the birthday high though, he woke in a happy mood .

Then there's Jacob slowly circling my face with his finger tips, then me, turning to him and us rubbing cold noses. A perfect moment. The calm before the storm.

Soon he sits up and thinks for a moment before saying in a scratchy voice, "I want water...please?" And simultaneously doing the please sign on his chest. Way to go kid. It's plainly obvious that he spent that brief moment priming himself, "OK, you've got one chance to get your way here, make it a good one." How could I say no to that? He was so sweet that I was actually happy to get him the drink of water!

After the second time I got up to get him water, and I was just climbing back into the sweet warmth of the bed, Jacob says "I'm hungy." Damn. I know he's hungry, the last thing he had was cake so many hours ago. I know he's not going to sleep well on an empty stomach, and conversely I know that if he eats in the middle of the night he's going to be training his body to awake each night to again eat. But what can I do, he's so skinny that I never pass up an opportunity to get calories into him...I got back up and was just stepping down off the bed, over Mango, when Zach mumbled "Want me to get it?" Yeah, thanks. At least I can't say he didn't offer, right?

At this point he was sitting up, eating, in bed. The covers mostly off, I'm freezing and I don't want to move. I kicked Zach til he woke up. "Good, you're awake," I said. "Reach down to my bottom drawer and get my pink sweatshirt." He reaches down and comes back up with a pair of shorts that he tosses my way. "Nooo. My....chatter...pink...chatter...sweathiiiiirttt!" Stretch Arms finally got it right and I didn't hesitate putting it on.

Jacob: "I don't like that setshirt."
Me: "Too bad. I need it because I'm cold because you won't let me have covers."
Jacob: "Here, I'll snuggle with oou."

After a minute of snuggling, Jacob says "I don't have enough arms for making oou warm." Somehow that sounded bittersweet or something. Maybe it was my extreme exhaustion. And you wonder why I have trouble sleeping...

Little Benny

So you know how I got all those BtB toys from ebay? Well eventually Jacob wanted a 'little Benny', who is not a regular character, so he was harder to find on the internet. One day at Target I found a travel size Benny and bought it for Jacob. That was the first brand-new BtB thing we owned. Go figure that was the one to be chewed by the puppy.

I am ultra careful about keeping Bob stuff way up high so it doesn't get chewed, but this one slipped through the cracks, literally, one day on the toy shelf. We were out when the chewing happened and came home to the most gruesome sight. Poor little Benny had gotten it on both his front and back shovels, and was completely useless, as far as construction purposes go. We tried to hide the evidence from Jacob, but he somehow found out anyway. That was not a pretty scene. I promised to buy Jacob a new one, which usually would be against my rules, but this was a special situation. I thought maybe this would be the instance where the lesson finally hit home, and from then on Jacob's toys would be put away above the reach of Mango.

When we made it to Target for a new little Benny, there were none to be found. I even went to a different Target to look for him, but no such luck there either. Eventually we found a Benny and brought him home to join the rest of the gang, including Deformed Benny. So you think the odds would be against anything happening to Benny II...well I swear to God, the very next day, Mango got to Benny II and chewed his front shovel to high hell, as well as his back digger thingamajig (this Benny had a drill on the back instead of a second digger/shovel). WTF?

Since we have a great deal of toys already, and I have this thing about not wanting Jacob's birthday to be all about presents, I told most everyone to get a gift for the animals at the Humane Society instead of something for Jacob. Later this week we'll head over there to deliver the goods and hopefully a life lesson will be learned. So even though we did it this way, there are still the presents from those family members who wait all year to lavish gifts upon my child. We're spending today at home, slowly going through the gifts, enjoying them one by one, and as we do so, we have to get rid of one thing for each new toy that makes it's way into the mix. That's my rule with anything in this house, now that we have fully expanded into our tiny home.

While Jacob was occupied with his new playdoh cutters, Deformed Benny made his way to the trash can. I had to be careful to cover him up with the used bubble wrap that he also probably would not want me to throw out. I only get one chance with these things because if Jakie happens to find something like that in the garbage can, he'll lose a little trust in me and then will forever be suspicious of me trying to throw out that particular item.

Side note about the bubble wrap: Yesterday when Zach and I were giving Jacob his present from us (it was actually a gift bag with a half dozen random little things that Jacob had been wanting because I knew he was getting all the big stuff from other people), he pulled out the first object (which was a new hard hat because his current one is sucky and always falls off his head), wrapped in bubble wrap (straight from ebay), tore off the bubble wrap, dropped the hard hat to the floor, and when asked what it was, replied "It's for me to jump on!" That's my kid...and I was the kind of kid who removed the present from the box and then excitedly climbed into the box with as much joy as if I had just won the lottery.

I'm having mixed feelings about Deformed Benny sitting at the bottom of the garbage. At first it felt good, but now that I'm writing, it feels as if a story is being lost, put out with the trash. I still have the little Willow Tree figurine with the mom holding her little boy, their foreheads pressed together, that is now missing the mom head. This was a result of Jacob's throwing things phase, back when he was still a baby. I haven't been able to throw it out because there's a story there. And I know if I replace it I will still not be able to get rid of the original. There it sits, now upstairs, so as not to freak out the company, just waiting for the day they invent glue strong enough to hold the pieces together. Maybe it's a comment from the universe about the the inherent nature of motherhood? Lady has baby, but ultimately loses her head.

So this is what I am trying to prevent with the throwing out of Deformed Benny; the hoarding tendencies that I spent the first 20 years of my life embracing, and now am constantly working to keep at bay. I don't want Jacob to become like me in that way. It doesn't feel healthy...because there's the question where does sentimentality end and obsession begin?

Nuggets

And I'm not talking about the chicken kind. A few months ago we were in the parking lot at the vet's office. There's a Panera next door so Jacob and I had run over to get an I-C Mocha...I believe that is what they call it there? Basically a frappuccino. So we were back in the van getting something and the heavenly drink was resting on the floor of the van. Jacob accidentally knocked it over, spilling half of it. It was a total mistake and I didn't want him to feel badly, so I really didn't react at all. I just started cleaning it up. So Jacob goes, "Mommy, say 'oh nuggets!'" What? I thought about it for a minute and I guess I remembered saying that at some point instead of swearing. I swear a lot. But I'm trying to stop, or rather I was then, because for the most part I have successfully replaced my potty mouth phrases with child-friendly ones such as; sugar, friggin, mother, f-er, eff, snugabitz (long story), or possibly the gayest one ever, geeze louise. Actually, I wouldn't necessarily call these child friendly, persay...

Anyway, I figure I must have said it once (as I was always using whatever word was foremost in my mind, but announcing it with just the right emphasis) and Jacob picked up on the fact the I was saying it in a moment similar to that one. So "oh nuggets!" became our all purpose swear word. I usually just say "nuggets" kind of like Richard Fish on Ally McBeal with his "bygones." But when Jacob uses it, it's all drawn out and cute, "O-h..nug-gets..!" with a scrunched up nose and his head tilted to the side, a little whine in his voice.

Sometimes in moments of anticipation, Jacob will patiently instruct us to "Say 'oh nuggets.'" like he first did in the parking lot. But other times, which are not the proud parenting moments, it is delivered (rightly so) as more of a reprimand. As in, "Daddy, don't say shit, say 'oh nuggets." This was Zach putting up the sheetrock in the bathroom on Friday night (did you catch that? Putting up the sheetrock. Progress on the construction front, woohoo!). Or at dinner last night, "Why did Daddy say f**k?" (more sheetrock on Saturday night). I'm making Zach out to be the bad guy here, but the truth is that I am just as serious an offender. These times just stuck out for Jacob maybe because there were tools involved, and for him tools are inherently good, so integrating the coexisting presence of tools and a 'bad' word was probably something that was hard for him to do.

I've noticed recently that Jacob begins every sentence with "So..." and ends with " 'n stuff." This is a 'chicken or the egg' scenario because of late I have also been catching myself doing this. Mostly the 'n stuff part. And I'll do it while actively trying to not do it.

On the phone this morning I actually said the following: "Um...just cleaning 'n stuff..."

Jacob the other morning, "So...Mommy, wanna watch the Dilmore Dirls 'n stuff?"

"So - let's go outside."
"To do what?"
Shoulders shrugged, palms facing up, and head tilted, "Um...(smacking noises)..to dig and stuff, rake da leaves." Totally casual...

Something weird about me...

Tonight at work I cleaned the fridge. Armed with a roll of papers towels and the bottle of Windex, I marched into the kitchen to tackle the job that no one else would consider. I got to throw nasty old stuff right into the garbage and I scrubbed all the surfaces til my heart was content.

The weird part is that I really liked it. It was the best thing I have done all week in terms of stress relief. I just really like to clean. But maybe you don't think that is so weird.

Now I'm home from work - where I also got to empty the vacuum cleaner bag and had a helluva time trying to get the big bouncy-bounce deflated and folded up. That was a pretty picture. So here I am, suddenly thrust back into the one place that I am sick of cleaning over and over again. And Jacob is running around like wild because he fell asleep prematurely in the car at 6pm. Sometimes we think we will luck out and he'll be out for the night. But really the cutoff is at least 7pm, no sooner.

So he's basically had a 2 1/2 hour nap. I had a crazy night at work while Zach enjoyed a peaceful evening at home, and I'm told Jacob woke up shortly before I came in the door. I wonder what time this night will end. 1, 2, 3am? I'm so tired, so I have to balance that with my wanting to freak out about all the things around the house that are still undone. If I had 2 1/2 child-free hours, I could perform miracles! But somehow men are just able to tune out all the messes. When I stand there and complain that the house is a disaster zone he actually looks at me and says "The house looks fine." I stare at my surroundings and wonder if we are even living in the same dimension.

On a nicer note, Jacob and I finished our crazy day of birthday party errands in one piece, to say it politely. He was a lucky boy today. Everywhere we went the women wanted to give him free stuff. I said yesterday that I don't know if it's because I'm his mom that I think he is so smart, but I can proclaim without doubt that he is one of the cutest kids. Everywhere we go, people are constantly gushing over him. I'm not bragging, just reporting the truth. The cashier at the party store offered him a free balloon. The lady at the bakery was just dying to give him a cookie. And at the grocery store he got a sticker (not as cool as a free cookie, but still...).

And now here I am, back at home, where, at the end of the day, I'd most like to be. Jacob is up and pointing at me while he shouts, "Hey, oo're (you're) appropriate!" Yes, I guess I am...

A Dog Called "No!"

Mango came to us fresh from the bayou at 5 weeks old. She was the only one of her litter to survive a miscarriage her mother, Ginger, had 2 weeks before giving birth to little "Miracle" The name was fittingly applied at the shelter where she was born.

I happened to hear by word-of-mouth about a trip some rescue workers were going to be making up this way from Louisiana in an old camper crammed full of over 70 dogs and cats looking for new homes. I quickly searched the link I was sent and immediately saw the picture of the young mom and her lone pup. It was early so Zach was still here getting ready for work. I showed him the picture and the decision was made in an instant. It was fate and there was no turning back.

Ginger and 'Miracle' arrived in May and we brought them home on Mothers' Day.

As she was learning to walk, her name was going through an evolution. Already having a rabbit named Valentine, we traced Miracle's birthday back to Easter or around then. "Easter would be a cute name," we thought. "Or Lilly, it's an Easter flower." Or something to pay homage to where she came from. Lou, Hurricane, Lucy (in honor of the woman who drove the camper non-stop for 2 days). In the end we decided it really wasn't our thing to change such a meaningful name, so we went with Miracle and then took to calling her 'Mango' for short because that's how Jacob pronounced Miracle. She's got a lot of nicknames. Wiggles, Trouble, The Puppy...

But for all the names we've taken to calling her, the one I think she is most apt to respond to is simply "No!" Because, to be honest, she's driving me a little crazy these days. "These days" as in the last 4 months or so. She's really cute, so you'd think I'd be able to put up with the puppy behavior, but I have this thing with dog slobber. I just don't like it. And the wet noses, not for me. The chewing, oh the chewing. At first it was actually sort of refreshing because there was a lot of stuff around here that needed a good excuse to find its way to the garbage. But now, she's pretty much chewed it all, she's left her mark on every piece of furniture we have. Good thing none of it is new. We think maybe when we are done having kids and the youngest is maybe 5 or so, that we might be able to get something nice.

I really should have started this blog 6 months ago when we first brought 'the girls' home. It was quite a ride in the beginning. At first something outrageous happened with them everyday. It just won't be as funny writing about it in hindsight. There was the time though that we had them for about a month, and at this point we didn't have a crate for Mango yet, we didn't believe in locking her up like that. She got stuck between the radiator and the wall and couldn't get out. She was crying and crying and Ginger was just sitting there helpless and it was 1 in the morning. We thought she was going to die. And every time we were able to loosen up the radiator, instinct told her to just keep on truckin' forward and then she'd get stuck a little more. Zach finally had to get his tools out and try to remove the radiator away from the wall. I don't know how we ever got her out from there...I hope someday to repress it completely.

So we have a crate, she's getting a little big for it by now, but from the day we brought it home it was her haven. When Jacob was getting a little crazy, he didn't even have to be coming after her at this point, she just knew what was coming and she'd head right for safety. These days she's bigger and is getting back at him a lot. And Jacob just can't stand her. Really, most days he announces "I don't like Mango." And I know he's serious, I understand how he feels. Oh well, a boy and his dog...

Ginger is another story though. He loves her. He thinks she has super-dog powers or something. The other day, he dropped a marker and it must have rolled under a kitchen appliance or something because we couldn't find it for anything. He said with all seriousness "Maybe Ginger will find it for me." Seriously, he has a really good sense of humor, but this was no joke. "Ginger can help me fold the laundry." You might be questioning multiple aspects of this sentence...and let me say for the record, yes, Jacob does fold the laundry. It's one of his favorite things to do. And cleaning? Forget it, he's totally there. I tell people he's going to be quite a catch. "Those lashes, that slim physique, and what is that? A man who cleans up after himself? Give me his number."

Well, in Jacob's eyes, Ginger can do it all. And she can understand it all. He'll sit there and have conversations with her...and sometimes I wonder if maybe she's talking back?

The Word of the Day

Jacob started talking at an average age. He's still talking, and a lot. Talking my ear off, actually. And lately he's been using some pretty big words.

"I just remembered fumping!"

"Actually, I don't want to."

"Anyway...." (one of my favorites)

Things like that. I'm sure I'll think of more later. So he uses these correctly and it's pretty cool to be able to have real conversations with him. It's pretty surreal. Lately he's been picking up these other words and they must sound neat to him, so he naturally wants to use them.

"You're gen-e-ous!" he says to me last week and then cackles away like he's just delivered the best insult. Thanks Jakie, yes, I am a genius.

Tonight while reading a book he announced, "This book is making me jealous." I don't quite know what he was getting at with that one...but I'll give him credit for creative use of the word.

Basically anything ending -ious is fair game these days. Coming home from Pumpkin Fest on Saturday we spent a good portion of the boring, in-the-dark ride going down the alphabet coming up with words that fit the bill. Jacob had previously established that there were already 3 of these such words. We spent the week prior having this back and forth conversation to each other:

Him: You're curious!
Me: Well you're serious!
Him: No, you're gen-e-ous!
Me: Yeah? You're delerious! (my favorite, as it actually applies to the conversation and was thought up on the spot. Necessity is the mother of invention, right?)

My favorite by far though, is the "Prove it!" exchange we have at random intervals throughout the day. I can't quite remember how this one started, but a few weeks ago there was something I wanted him to do, he was refusing on grounds of some made-up excuse (ie, "my tummy is very full") and I said "Yeah? Prove it." He really hit the ground running with that one.

The Headache

Know how I was saying that I'm a klutz? Today was particularly heavy on the klutz action. This morning when I was reaching into the cupboard for the coffee beans, I slammed my elbow on the shelf in that spot where it sends a vibration shooting up the rest of your arm and you walk around for the next ten minutes with the distinct feeling you have just thwacked a gong.

When I was placing the Advil back into a high cupboard, the bottle slipped out of my hand just before reaching its destination. I went to save it from falling into my my cup of freshly poured coffee. The good news is that I saved the bottle. Bad news: My hand actually fell into the said coffee as I followed through on my sweet save.

As I stood before the oven, ready to retrieve the hot dish which contained homemade mac 'n cheese for Jacob's lunch, I was contemplating my next move. See, ovens and I have a bitter past. Many a time I have risen to the challenge of putting something into/taking something out of/simply 'checking' on the muffins which lay within, and many a time the oven has won. I dropped the dish. However, freshly off the coffee/Advil incident, I was aware of the possible consequence of attempting to be the hero. I thought fast and skipped the part where I burn the back of my hand to high Hell. Score one for me!

None of it though, even comes close to the pain that's been happening inside my head all day. I first felt it as I bent over this morning to grab something else that had dropped on the floor. I remember my first impression clearly; "How did that cinder block find it's way inside my skull?" And not only did I have Jacob to take care of, but Evy was here today too. When Zach couldn't get out of bed for three days last week, it was ok, because Jacob and I were mostly out of town.

Did I do something to deserve this? Was I unkind to Zach while he was sick? I guess the one thing I've got going for me is that the memory of the pain has not yet worn off for him, so I'll possibly gets some sympathy off of that? I don't usually get babied when I'm sick, because being a mother isn't something you can call in sick to, so we'll see what happens this time. Well, I must attend to the large, pulsating cannon ball attempting to exit through my eyeballs.

Pipe Dreams

We're (read: Zach is doing the work and I am watching) putting an addition on the house...one of these days...I think. It was supposed to be done by the end of the summer. It hasn't started yet. Well, the upstairs bathroom is being torn apart so that it can be converted into a full bath. When that is completed, the downstairs bathroom can be torn apart to be shrunk into a half bath to make room for the hallway that will lead to the 'addition'.

I left town on Labor Day Weekend so that the upstairs bathroom could be torn apart and be completely put back together before Jacob and I got back. It's still not done.

Anyway, all this leads to my main point, which is that the plumber has been here A LOT. Jacob loves B*** M*****. He loves saying his name, and talking about him. He's a guy who works magic with tools, a real-live Bob the Builder, go figure.

So Jacob's always poking around the pipes now, asking questions, trying to figure out how stuff works. Yesterday he was peering all over the toilet, examining it as if it held the key to life. Then he asked where the 'flusher' was - momentary lapse in memory?

A few minutes later, after he had relieved himself on his 'little potty', he announced that the "Next time B*** M***** pomes oder, I'm doe-ing to ask him if he tan put pipes in my little potty so I can flush it."

He's so freakin cute! I should have seen it coming.

Scrambled Eggs

If you know me well, you know I am a huge klutz. At least 10 times a day I do one or more of the following: Bump my head, stub my toe, slam my hand on something while gesticulating wildy in the air...fall up the stairs, trip over something (inanimate or living), drop something, oh the dropping of things is the worst. It's like how hard is it to just hold on to something?

I also forget things a lot. Correction, all the time. Everytime I go to leave the house I forget something. But I always remember and the remembering usually involves me suddenly jumping in the air, or at least some part of my body reacting in some way, which, as you guessed, leads to more injuries. So there I am running back into the house to unlock the door and retrieve said item/bag/glasses/checkbook/etc. If I am lucky, the remembering happens before I have started the engine/pulled out the driveway/gotten partway down the road. If the remembering waits to rear its ugly head until I have gotten partway out the driveway or down the road, then anyone watching gets to see a pretty funny scene. And I'm pretty sure there is always someone watching me. Not that I think it is a very likely possibility, I just generally walk around life with that vague feeling.

I don't know if I was always like this? I think for the most part I must have been, but I guess it's just gotten worse in recent years for the obvious reason; I have a small child. First of all, I lost half my brain during my pregnancy, which I figure was flushed away when I gave birth. And since then, I have spent each day of my life in a sleep-deprived haze, so that can't be good for one's brain function either.

On Wednesday when I was running around like crazy trying to get packed up for camp, bobbing up and down between the fridge and the cooler, I was on my way back to the fridge when something went wrong. My mind said "duck!" but my body went with "stand upright." The part of my skull just above my left temple collided with the bottom part of the freezer door handle (picture the open fridge door and you will have a better idea of the actual injury) and sent me into a crumpled heap on the kitchen floor. There I stayed for a good five minutes with both Zach and Jacob standing over me repeating "Are you OK??" That was the worst one I've had in a long time. I can still feel the tender spot where the grapefruit sized lump was.

Anyway...Somehow my progeny has managed to escape this evil gene. He's really good with his spatial abilities. His kinesthetic and equilibratory senses are both highly developed. I credit his father's genes for this. Zach, the super-amazing marathon runner with good body mechanics. I've never had to worry about Jacob falling down the stairs, he's hardly ever injured himself in all of the climbing stunts he's pulled over his 3 short years. Even when he was just learning to walk he never ran into anything. I would stand there watching him get closer to that cord which was stretched across the floor and just hold my breath knowing a fall was imminent. But it never came, and it still hasn't.

He carries things really well, and I've come to trust his locomotive skills more than mine. So that's why I was surprised to hear the container of a dozen eggs (minus the one he had just removed upon my request) fall to the floor this morning. I didn't get upset because I knew it was a mistake. And as I rounded the corner, I figured there was no was all the remaining eggs could have broken. Ah, but they did. About 4 of them were completely lost to the kitchen floor, the rest were somewhat salvageable.

It's ok for dogs to eat raw egg, right? Cuz I had them take care of phase 1 of the cleanup. I remember before we had them and there would be huge food messes, I'd think "Boy, I wish we had a dog to clean this up." This is the first really big mess the girls have been able to help with, and I was so grateful to them ;-)

So I finished making the pancakes for breakfast and omelets were served for lunch. Probably dinner too.

The Dora Toothbrush

I wouldn't exactly call myself a feminist, but something like that. I don't know, you read what I have to write and then tell me what it sounds like...

So Jacob came to work with me tonight and the playground supervisor kept an eye on him while I was teaching my little class. After that we got all picked up and left work, but we were so near Hannaford that I thought we should go in and get Jacob some cheese sticks. I left this part out of the whole Walmart experience yesterday - on our way there Jacob was so friggin excited about getting cheese sticks that he started clapping his hands and saying "I so happy that we going to da store to get cheese sticks!" the pitch in his voice rising with each word. My heart just swelled because Jacob has always been a really happy kid. When he was a baby he was happy all the time and we said it was because we gave him everything he needed (you know, the whole 'attachment' parenting thing). Anyway, we've had a rough few months lately with him, he was just a different kid. Grouchy and whiny all the time. And it was hard to be around him like that, it was crushing. But it wasn't that I wanted to be away from him because I can't remember ever wanting to be away from him, it was that I wanted the old him back.

So anyway, heart swelling: It swelled because I am just getting past the point where I feel like I have to walk on eggshells around him, and I'm coming to expect this super-happy kiddo to be present again, and not the troublesome toddler.

Well, so, Walmart didn't have cheese sticks yesterday. No cheese sticks... really? So I felt awful that I couldn't get them for him because he was such a good little helper with Evy. I was thinking that I could instead get him a Dora video because we don't own one of those, nor do we have cable, so his one allotted 30 or so minutes of TV a day is usually a Bob the Builder video, but lately he's been all about Dora. I wanted a vhs, for certain reasons, but I couldn't find them anywhere (and remember that he is walking and I am pushing a stroller, as well as carrying a basket) so I finally found someone in that department (you can never find anyone to ask) to ask and his answer: "We don't carry vhs." What?? Since when? Did you guys know that? That they are phasing out vhs? Well, we do have a dvd player but we didn't get it until this year.

So we were heading to the store tonight for cheese sticks and dried mango from the bulk isle of the natural foods section. We left with a lot more than that. One item was a new toothbrush for Jacob since the puppy chewed his other brand new one.

Thank God I happened to walk down the aisle with toothbrushes because I had totally forgotten he needed a new one. So there we stood trying to make a decision. I pulled out some choices, all of which were Pooh characters and let him have a look. Then I spotted the Dora toothbrush. I whipped it out and was like "ohhh, would you like this one?" I have this thing with gender roles and how we start the kids so young into thinking that if you are a girl everything you have has to be pink and if you are a boy it has to be all about tools and cars. Where does this come from? Why is it such a big deal to have these strict gender divisions? So I'm always trying to rebel against this and test the boundaries. There's that ever-existing double standard that girls can cross the line and it's ok, but people would get sketched out to see a boy in a dress. She's a tomboy, nothing wrong with that; I was one. But a boy would be a fairy or sissy or whatever. So I think it's cool that Jacob likes Dora and I encourage it, but even I am hesitant to buy him a babydoll shirt in pink or purple just to push the limit.

A couple weeks ago a catalog came for a company where you can custom design a doll to look just like your daughter...your daughter. They didn't have any boys in there! Not in the whole catalog. Why can't a boy have a doll that looks like him? Jacob has dolls, but apparently he can't have one to match his physical description. I was so pissed that I brought the catalog to music class that night to show Danielle and express my disbelief.

I am laughing to myself as I write all of this because 2 or 3 years ago, even last year at this time, I was so puritanical (?) about all this stuff. I used to say that I would never buy my kid something with a character on it. I can't stand the overabundance of crap that we have in America, the constant stream of marketing shoved in our faces all day long, and the obsession with consumerism. I am all about getting rid of stuff that is not needed and the idea that everything that we could possibly need already exists in the world and doesn't need to be made by an 8 year-old in some third world country or whatever to satisfy the 'needs' of us gluttonous Americans. This is where a lot of my hating Walmart comes from, if you hadn't guessed. Well then Jacob started liking Bob the Builder and to see the joy it brought him was something I was not prepared for. I made an 'exception' for Bob. Only things with Bob could I buy him. And the rest, well I don't really know when I completely lost all hold of my value system. This year has been busy like no other, it really could have happened anytime and I was just too busy to realize what I was doing.

So Jacob didn't pick Dora, not even the pink Heffalump one, he ended up with a red & yellow Tigger. And that was fine with me. So we were halfway to the cheese aisle when he went running back to peruse the choices in kids' toothpaste. All along I'm telling him that we are, under no circumstances, buying toothpaste tonight because we don't need it. Then just as I was about to pick him up to get him to the cheese isle, he declared with 100% certainty, "This is the one I want." to the Disney princess toothpaste. I was so proud that I almost broke down and bought it. Almost. That's my boy!

Why I Hate Walmart

Walmart: I hate it, for lots of reasons. I go there, rather I used to. And all year long I had been saying that I couldn't just stop going cold-turkey, that I would have to make it next year's resolution to stop going there. Well one day I had the suckiest time there and I said "I'm never freaking going back to Walmart again." And I didn't. For about 3 months. And just last week I got sucked back in.

I needed one of those Kodak picture makers, but the kind where you can just stick a picture up there and for 28 cents you can get a copy of it in under a minute, because, you know, I don't have a digital camera (for many reasons but mostly I wouldn't be able to figure it out). So it turns out that everyplace in the world has a Kodak picture maker, but only the kind where you stick your digital camera thingamajig in there. So I finally broke down and went in Walmart, but I rationalized several ways. One being that I was going to a Walmart other than 'my' Walmart (the one where it sucked so much that one time) and also that I would just get the pictures and get the heck outta there! But nooo, it's so cheap you can't help it.

And today I went back because of something I saw there the other day. I was watching Evy, so in addition to my almost-3-year-old, I had a 12 month-old who was asleep when we pulled in the parking lot but decided to wake up one minute after I had fully committed to the risky baby-in-the-stoller-and-toddler-walking-by-my-side scenario. Mistake numero uno.

So I needed a basket, right? Well they just don't have them by the door, they like to make a fun game of it where you have to go up and down the checkout aisles looking for them. There was a female employee right in the front of the store and I asked her if they had any, and she said "nope" and then just kept staring at whatever it was she was staring at, because that's her job at Walmart. So I spent 5 minutes looking for one myself. And I know this was stupid because when you've got little kids with you it's like carrying around ticking time bomb, so why was I wasting my time on this? It was the principle of it dammit.

Fast forward...it sucked being in there because the employees are rude because Walmart isn't a great place to work for, so I hear...and the customers are rude because it's not a happy place. I even find myself getting snappy with people when I'm there, and I'm surprised by the things that come out of my mouth because I generally consider myself to be a very nice person. It's sort of like the anti-Disney World if you think about it.

Oh, and an old guy tried to give Jacob a quarter. Are you freaking kidding me? I understand that in his day it was ok to do this, and maybe he could have been forgiven if he walked away after I kindly said "no thanks" with a pleasant smile on my face. I would have even given him the benefit of the doubt after the second time because maybe he was hard of hearing. But after the third time, and my grabbing Jacob and stategically placing myself between him and the guy, and the guy trying to push his way around me to get to Jacob, as if to say "How dare you get in the way of my giving your child money!" well then I was pissed. So we just started walking away and he stood there and had the nerve to say something snide to me.

Then we checked out and I got way too many bags after I said "Just go ahead and stuff it in one bag"...and that will be subject matter for another day...

So that was basically the beginning of the end of today. It was one of those days where everything that can go wrong, did.