Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Santa! Was that you?!

Sunshine sings all the time.  You know when people say their kid sings and then when you meet them they don't crack a note the whole 5 hours you're with them?  Yeah, that's not my daughter.  Sunshine sings all the time.  All.  The.  Time.  You are sure to hear her singing in the following places: while she's going to the bathroom, watching tv, putting on shoes, brushing her teeth, coloring and doing crafts, or just randomly doing things and singing while she does it.  Sometimes she sings songs, sometimes she makes up her own little songs.  The made up songs are usually about what she's doing at the moment spoken out loud in sing-song or using the tune of another song..  Nevertheless, she is still singing.

When it comes to singing actual songs, well that's a whole different thing.  She will sing different songs throughout the years.  Christmas in July.  Thanksgiving in February.  Nothing stays where it's supposed to and of course there are songs that are simply fun songs to sing.  The difference in singing a made up song and a song you hear on the radio is this:  One has no words and you can say whatever you want and the other has definite words and it is very obvious when you don't know all the lyrics.  Sunshine is notorious for not knowing the words to songs.  It unknown spot may be hummed or it may be improperly sung.

And now, without further delay, Sunshine's lyrics to "Here Com Santa Claus"

Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm
Here comes Santa Claus
Here comes Santa Claus
Here comes Santa Claus rain
Down at the farm someone farted
not just anything
Down at the farm
Du du du du du
Down at the farm
du du  du du
Santa Claus comes tonight.

I have no clue where she got this from.  Hubby and I heard her at the same time and asked her where she heard that and she said that she heard it on the radio when all the Christmas songs were on.  I asked if someone taught her the words or if that's what she thought they were.  She said that's what they were.

If you are utterly confused on what the real lyrics are, here is one verse (I think the one she thought she was singing "Here Comes Santa Claus":

Here comes Santa Claus
Here comes Santa Claus
Right down Santa Claus lane,
He doesn't care if you're rich or poor
He loves you just the same
Santa knows we're all God's children
and that makes everything right
So fill your hearts with Christmas cheer
Cause Santa Claus comes tonight.

I know when I think of Christmas cheer, God's children, and love I always think of farting.  Lots of farting.


Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Turning 5!

Another week, another birthday.

My little Monkey man turned 5.  Five.  One whole hand.  Five.  No longer a preschooler.  Five.  The age you need to be to start kindergarten.  Five is the age when people seem to expect them to no longer throw tantrums, they need to know how to behave in restaurants, sit quietly when told, and understand what lying is.  Five is none of those though as five is merely one day older than 4 and 364 days old.  He is still my preschooler who has ants in his pants.  He tries to sit still when we're out but who wants to wait for 15 minutes for their food and then wait another 15 minutes for everyone else to finish eating?  He still is trying to figure out right from wrong but there are plenty of adults who sometimes forget.

He is still so little, he loves wearing his pajamas and wants to have his special toys with him at bed.  He will sit and cuddle with you and genuinely means it when he tells you he loves you.  His emotions are still black and white with no shades of gray, "You are my friend and I love you", "You are not nice to me, I don't want to be friends".  I don't know too many people who don't like Monkey.  How can you resist liking a little boy that comes up to you, gives you a great big hug, looks you right in the eyes and tells you he loves you.

He has facial expressions that you can't help but laugh at, even the ones he has for when he's angry.  He can tell elaborate, detailed stories using voices for the different people.  He is so smart, if you don't understand him, he has the capability to explain what he means, even for words that are abstract, and he's able to do so without getting upset.  The time that sticks out was when he kept saying he "Had a fan." A what?  Back and forth we went, a man, a fan, a pan.  Was it big or little?  He laughed and said no.  Can you describe it?  He emphasized the 'f' sound trying to get it out properly and when I asked him to use a different word he said, "It's yike a idea."  Oh, a plan.  Throughout the whole thing, he never got frustrated, yelled, or got discouraged and said never mind.

He is a wonderful little boy that I love to pieces.  Happy birthday Monkey.


Monday, January 21, 2013

My Baby

Sunshine is 7.  She and I have a unique relationship.  Not that we do fun mother-daughter things or exclude the boys in anything.  Our relationship is deeper than that and one that she will never realize until she has children of her own.  Sunshine is the one who made me a mom.  She is the one who had all of the firsts.  I found out I was pregnant and had my first ultrasounds with her.  It was her kicks I felt for the first time and her hiccups I felt in the middle of the night.  She was the one that I labored first with and had the doctor announce the sex of the baby.  I pushed and out she came, a screaming, slippery little thing, weighing in at 7lbs 7oz and 19" - I was a mom.  In less than a blink of the eye, I was a mom, somehow there wasn't a baby and then there was and I was a mom.  I had cried and laughed and held her in disbelief.  I had created this.  This was my husband's and my creation.  We were the sole caretakers of her, the ones responsible for her, the ones to protect and shelter her.  We would be the ones to take temperatures, kiss ouchies, change diapers, look for monsters under the bed.  Just like that, I was a mom and she was my daughter and she and I would forever have this unique bond.

Now she's 7.  No longer a baby to others but always a baby to me.  I will always want to protect her and take away all of her pain.  She is seven.  She is growing.  Every day she is growing but for now she is still a little girl.  She still loves her horses and playing pretend.  She still lets me pick out her clothes.  She still gets upset about small things, because she's seven, and she's supposed to get upset and sad about things.  One of her best friends is still her dog.

Happy birthday to my little girl.


Friday, January 18, 2013

Bad Mommy Moments

I'm not quite sure how it happens, but somehow I consistently miss the reminders in Monkey's backpack.  I almost missed his Halloween brouhaha they had.  I almost missed his parent/teacher conference.  Then today, my luck ran out.  I missed the sheet of paper that said, "Bring your teddy bear to school on January 18".  It was in his backpack and I had pulled it after school on Monday, I know this because on the other side was a picture Sunshine had drawn of the Easter bunny.  She had even shown me the piece of paper from across the room and asked me if she could use it.  It wasn't until I got home and saw the piece of paper, proudly displayed with a pencil depiction of Mr. Bunny himself, that I really read it.  I flipped it over and there was a teddy bear with the request from his school.  Oh. No.  What day is it?  I looked over at the calendar, hoping in my heart it wasn't the 18th, knowing in head it was.  Sure enough, there on the calendar, staring right at me was 18.  It was practically mocking me and my bad mommy moments.  On my sister's somewhat illogical reasoning I call the school to see if he's upset with the thought that I might drive the stuffed animal over to school.  It is already a 1/2 hour into preschool, it's an 8 minute drive, plus 5 minutes of wrestling Bug into a coat.  He's not upset and, not to worry, they had "brought in extra teddy bears for just this situation".  "This situation" of course means cover-for-the-terrible-moms-that-forgot-to-bring-their-kid's-bear-on-"Bring-Your-Bear-To-School-Day".  I lamely justify it in my head and, ready to relay the excuse to Monkey, that he doesn't actually have a teddy bear.  Dog, giraffe, skunk, and bird?  Yes.  Bear?  No.  I suppose I was really saving him the embarrassment of all the kids asking him why he brought a skunk on teddy bear day.

Yes, that is why.


Wednesday, January 16, 2013

What's up with the glass?

Monkey is slow to go places.  Any place.  It is beyond frustrating.  Going to the zoo?  Monkey is dilly dallying getting ready and doing headstands on the couch.  Going someplace not so much fun or he's not in the mood to go to?,  he will complain about everything from his underwear itching, the shoes he wore yesterday suddenly not fitting, being hungry still, and lying on the floor - whining.  This was the case today.  In fact he was doing all of these, including the underwear.  But the itchy underwear was the dirty underwear he was still wearing but he couldn't decide which pair of underwear he wanted to wear and couldn't he just wear the pair he wore yesterday.  The dirty, itchy pair?

On and on this went until I ended up putting his clothes, shoes, and socks on while he kept saying he didn't want to go to school.  This makes me very nervous as he really does like school and everyday after school he says "School was awesome!"

Regardless, we were running out of the house, yanking coats, hats, and mittens on.  Complaints about specific pairs of mittens being worn and not being able to find a hat (that was later found in the car).  Off to school we drive, my nerves a bit too frazzled.  I turn out of the neighborhood and less than a 1/2 mile out there were 2 cars that looked like they had been dancing with each other.  The fronts and sides of both cars were either missing or smashed.  The police were there directing traffic around it and the ambulance and fire truck were approaching.

I found myself saying a silent thank you to Monkey for making us run late.  A few minutes earlier and that could easily have been us.  I mentioned once to Hubby how that could have been us.  His response had been that if we had been there, we might have been able to keep the accident from occurring at all.  This didn't exactly make me feel better and left me with a terrible feeling.  Although, if this was true, how many accident did I actually prevent?  Any at all?

So who's right?  Would I have been in a dangerous accident with my children in the backseat or would I have prevented the accident from occurring?  I suppose it would depend on who was at fault in the accident.

Is there a way to think of the glass half full on this or should I just be grateful that it wasn't me and hope that everyone involved is safe?


Thursday, January 10, 2013

I said NO!

Bug is 2, this means he likes being helpful.  He likes to unload the dishwasher, switch the laundry around and generally help do things in twice the amount of time that it would take you but you let them help because it's building character (and it's easier to have him throw something away than getting up off your own butt to do it yourself).  This is generally how it happens.  Until it generally doesn't and then you're stuck with a typical terrible two year old.  One that goes from sweet and loving to crazed, pea soup spewing, beast.  There is a reason why people say terrible two's, and this is the reason:

The other day my mom, Bug and I were sitting around the kitchen table.  We had finished the milk container and I said to Bug (thinking he was the sweet, helpful angel) "Could you throw this away for Mommy?"  He shook his head No.  This wasn't the cute no that we sometimes (for some strange reason) encourage our children to do, this was a definite no-I-don't-want-to-and-you-can't-make-me no.  So I said again, thinking he surely couldn't have meant it, he shakes his head again, says no, and flings the empty milk container onto the floor.  "Bug, pick up the container and put it in the garbage."  I wasn't asking nice anymore and it was no longer a question, this was a definite, you need to do this.  Again, head shake.  I pick up the milk container and before I can say anything, he grabs it and throws it across the table.  I decide to do what some baby experts would say (stupid baby experts, what do they know?) and I tell him, "Let's go do this together!"  Because when you say it all happy like, it makes chores fun!  I grab the container, grab him, and in my attempt to bring him and the milk container across the floor, he screams, brings his hands in so close to him they're in his armpits, and does the limp cat trick.  So I drag him and hold the milk container next to his body, I'm winning, right?  He continues to scream, honest, I was just trying to get him to walk across the floor, a mere 6 baby steps.  When we get to the garbage (so much for putting it in the recycle bin) I attempt to put the container in the garbage bag, he screams, takes the container OUT of the garbage and throws it across the floor.  I take the container, place it BACK into the garbage bag and tie it closed.  I must add, there was pretty much nothing in the bag, only the milk container and some nasty tissues.  He takes the garbage bag with the milk container and runs into the family room where he then proceeds to throw it behind the television.  I then take the bag (with the milk container) and put it in the laundry room where the big garbage can is.  He stands outside of the laundry room, crying and pounding on the door until he finally decides that standing is too difficult and lays on the floor to continue crying.

He's not stubborn is he?  I can't wait until I tell him he needs to take the garbage out to the curb!


Monday, January 7, 2013

Finding relief - at the grocery store

Any mom will tell you that a great way to escape the kids is to go grocery shopping without the kids.  Going by yourself accomplishes a few things, 1. you can go faster 2. you don't have to listen to them (argue, ask for stuff, or just general whining) 3. you spend less money and buy what you really need 4. you can be alone.  Oh, being alone.  Those coveted words that I will say in conjunction to going to the grocery store.  To stare at rows and rows of fresh produce, try the samples at the deli counter, push a cart that is about 30 pounds lighter, these are all things I delight in.  I know on grocery shopping days (nights), Hubby makes sure he gets home at a reasonable time, he puts the kids to bed while I'm off to the grocery store.

This has not happened the last two times I've gone to the grocery store on my coveted grocery shopping night.  Tonight I went to the store, I stop at the deli counter (where they always let you have a sample), I stare at the produce and pick up what I need (the kids haven't touched them*), and continue around the corner.

As I turn the corner I see him.  The stock guy that last time I was shopping he followed me down the cereal aisle and then again through the organic food aisle.

Apparently I made an impression on him because when he saw me he says, "Hey, you're back!" Uh, yeah.  I do my grocery shopping here, although I am considering changing my store.  Down the cereal aisle I go with my 6'2" shadow following after me, telling me all about his father's business, growing up and being sent to his room, and then, this is the best part, his ex-girlfriend.  Oh my gosh, is he really telling me about his ex?  I am frantically going through my coupons, hoping he'll see that I'm busy (doing my grocery shopping) but on and on he drones, never stopping.  I temporarily consider doing a self-induced coughing fit (remember the flu I had, yeah, now I'm coughing) but then I realized that I would probably just end up peeing.  Yes, having a girl pee in front of you is indeed a turnoff, it's also probably uncomfortable walking down the frozen food aisle with wet undies.  Instead I continue and do the only logical thing I can think of: I call Hubby and quietly demand he call me back.  He too remembers the store stalker and calls me back while laughing.  I make my escape and continue to see him throughout the store.  When he says something about it, I say to him that I think he must be following.  I said it as though I was joking but I think he got the point and walked away, either that or his section ended at the cleaning supplies aisle.  Hubby says it was a hostile sh

Half of my coveted alone time - gone.  Who knows when I will go grocery shopping again (probably next week) and if this guy will be stocking.

Hubby says it was a hostile shopping environment.

Now, some of you may think that this is just a one time, crazy person thing.  No.  I go into a store, any store, and someone stops and starts talking to me.  Usually someone of my parents' age or older, but they will stand there and talk to me, or should I say they talk at me, because I end up just smiling and nodding.  Hubby didn't believe me.  He thought I was making it up so I could lengthen my time at the grocery store.**  Then after I started telling him the stories these people were telling me, he started paying attention more when we went out.  We would be walking along and he'd turn around and I'd be gone.  Taken by some conversationalist who saw a sucker willing to stand there and listen to their woes, their advice, their stories.  Don't get me wrong, sometimes it is nice hearing a grown up's voice directed at you in a friendly manner (not yelling at you out their car window with their middle finger up) but sometimes it is just so nice to be alone.


*Please, always wash your fruits and veggies.  This is not to wash off the pesticides, this is to wash off the germs that have accumulated from all the little kids touching the food while on grocery shopping trips during their mother's alone time.
**The grocery store is nice and all, but I don't recommend making it your usual hang out place.  Please, try to mix it up a bit.  Or at least go to different grocery stores.