Busy to the Left, Busy to the Right

I am far to occupied with THINGS to write a proper, organized, and focused post. We are getting ready for a trip to NY. I am making plans for our trip later this year to France, which includes arranging care for our pets and (I just realized ) getting myself a new passport. Yuck. On top of the fact that we ran out of coffee three days ago and I keep forgetting to get more, and oh, also, Nicholas has turned into a holy terror, screaming and yelling and sobbing at the tiniest things... (think me as a teenager, but smaller and less able to reason.)

And now I must look up information on passport renewal while waiting for the dog lady to arrive and ask me who the pets should go to should we die while we are on vacation.

Easter Monday

No Clive Barker film, no Stephen King novel, can even come close to the horror that is two small children after a day with too much excitement, an entire bag of peanut m&m's, and no nap. Last night I couldn't get NIck to go to bed. I sat there, jaw on the floor, as he pleasded with me to take his third trip to the potty, or, if that wouldn't work, please please please let me give him a Time Out! In the chair! Anywhere, Anything, was better than the bed.

But they both woke up this morning with sunny smiles, before the sun, I might add. And yesterday's Easter was lovely. We had a huge egg hunt (which is basically pointing out eggs "hidden" on the sofa cushion, adn then cringing when it is dropped 5 times onto the floor.) Then we had a wonderful time with Steve's family, which was great. I had a good time.

Pick a Pocket or Two

Yesterday we had quite a few errands to do, so we spent the morning driving all over creation picking things up and dropping things off and spending more money than one would have thought necessary. We went to the post office. We went to the grocery store for just a few items, and then we went to the library to return our books and music and movies.

Then I dragged the kids to the vet's where I had to pick up more flea and tick repellant, for all those fleas and ticks that mob our pets this time of year... the ones that like snow, apparently.

And while I was chatting with the young lady behind the desk and absorbing the fact that a six month supply for all our pets is about $250 ($250!) I turned my head to check up on my children. And caught Nicholas in the act of pulling something out of his coat pocket. "Here are my coins!" he said. And then he pulled one of those small bags of chocolate coins out of his pocket.

"Nicholas," I asked in a loud, astonished, and also horrified voice. "Where did you get those?" Because, you see, I did not remember ever GIVING him a bag of chocolate coins, although I had been trying to keep an eye out for a few to drop in his Easter Basket.

"At the grocery store," He explained.

At this point the other woman in the waiting room and the lady asking me for $250 both started laughing, and I darted across the room to quickly remove the chocolate coins from Nick's grasp and deliver a lecture about how WE ALWAYS ASK MOMMY if we want something and WE HAVE TO PAY for everything we buy and also THAT'S STEALING and VERY BAD and NEVER DO IT AGAIN.

Nicholas was clearly baffled. He had no idea that he had done anything wrong. He also had no idea the coins were chocolate. Go figure. He thought they were just fun coins. I thought about going back to the grocery store to apologize, but in the end decided against it since 1 - it was very much out of our way, 2- It was about $.75 of chocolate, and 3 - I think it would have been more confusing to NIck than anything else. He was unusually quiet on the way home.

The lady with the dog in the waiting room and a few people behind the counter all apologized for laughing, but apparently the look on my face upon seeing the pocketed item was pretty funny. Now I need to figure out how I'm going to teach Nick about money in an age that is so Debit Card dependant.

Wiggly Tantrum

Yesterday, Nicholas cried for twenty minutes because I told him the Wiggles could not come to our house.

"They are not real. They are a band on TV. They are pretend. They just do shows. We don't know them."

I started out just talking, and I felt sorry for Nicholas, who was obviously heartbroken and delusional in thinking that The Wiggles are his close personal friends (he does pretend to call them on the phone quite often). Here I was, telling him he couldn't have his friends over.

But the other part found the request and Nick's reaction so ridiculous that I would snort in the midst of my explanations. And when they failed, and Nicholas kept sobbing, his face pressed into the sofa cushions, I just outright laughed.

Cold Shower

When April Showers
Come your way
They bring the flowers
That bloom in May...

Unless, of course, your shower happens to be made of snow, in which case the shower will KILL YOUR FLOWERS DEAD!

Let me explain. I am ready for spring. The schedule says Spring - for over a week now. And I have been getting ready - putting away humidifiers, getting out the gardening stuff, buying spring clothing for the boys...

Yesterday was overcast and rainy. Until about two thirty when I looked out the window and saw snowflakes the size of dinner plates falling to the ground. By the time I got Nick home from school the ground was covered. And by this morning we had six inches.

All told, six inches is not a lot. Except that it's April, and those six inches are sitting on top of my tulip buds.

Add to that the fact that we woke up with NO ELECTRICITY, throwing us back to this January, when the ice left us in the dark and the cold for three days.

Of course, it was thirty degrees colder then, so it wasn't as cold in the house. And I was fairly optimistic about having power sooner rather than later. And I was right. But it was still a pain to not be able to make coffee, to worry about the meat I had purchased the DAY BEFORE going bad, and listening to Nick ask "Why can't we watch TV? Is the TV broken? Let's watch TV in your room. It's broken? What's wrong with the radio? OK, then what's wrong with THIS radio? Let's play the computer. It's not working? OK, then let's watch TV..."

I'm a little heartbroken about my tulips.

A Mile In His Shoes

It should come as no great surprise that every person is different. Each person thinks differently. And when reading or hearing a story, each person is bound to imagine it a bit differently. I supposed this is why I am usually dissapointed in movies after I have read the book, since my take on it would be... well... different.

The other day we were listening to The Wiggles (as usual) when the song about Uncle Noah's Ark came on. And I realized that Nicholas hadn't heard the story of Noah's ark. All religious reasoning aside, I think it is important to be somewhat familiar with the bible - both testaments - in order to keep up with our culture and the references made. History, Art, Wiggles songs, you name it.

In any case, I started telling Nicholas the story of Noah's Ark. He stood there with wide eyes as I described the Ark, a big, big, huge boat. And then I started talking about the animals and listing them off. "He had to get two lions, and two tigers, and two giraffes, and two elephants, adn two mice, and two rabbits, adn two ducks, and two horses, and two cows -"

And that was when Nick interrupted me. "Me don't like cows."

Yes, to many Noah ensured the survival of man and of all those animal species. But to Nicholas, he's just the guy who plagued us with cows.

Tulip To Be?

My Gramma loved flowers. At least, she loved gardening. And for awhile when I was small she tried to pass along her love of growing things. But unfortunately, it never took. I am hopelessly inept when it comes to plants and flowers.

Last spring and summer I planted a number of wildflowers. I actually made an effort to trim back the bushes and to keep the weeds out of the beds. But with Nicholas "helping" me and Nathan eating rocks, even pulling a few weeds required exact timing, extreme concentration, quick reflexes, the alignment of several stars, and a couple of shots of vodka.

Over the past few years I have noticed the brush on the side of our property creeping towards our house. Not friendly brush, but thorny brush. This is the type of thorny foresty brush that surrounded SLeeping Beauty's castle and that killed several faint of heart princes - obviously princes who couldn't stand the sight of blood and didn't like to get splinters. I myself would have let the thorny bushes take over, but then I realized they were taking over the hammock, and one was unable to use it and move. You'd have to lie motionless or the thorny brush would grab onto your skin or clothing and you would end up needing antiseptic and a band aid. Not relaxing.

So I started cutting it back.

It's actually quite an undertaking. I had to buy special gloves with leather palms to keep the thorns out, and no matter what I need to be wearing long sleeves. These suckers really HURT! I am determined, though. I may not be able to grow anything, but I can use the clippers and the pull up weeds!

And then, the other day, I noticed these little sprouts in the front of the house. Last fall I planted tulip bulbs that lillian had gotten me, thinking I would just plant them, because she had gotten them for me, and then whatever, I had no control over it, we'd see what happened... and look! Little sprouties! There are actually a whole bunch of them! I'm very excited and now I'm picturing tulips lined up in front of my home. Hope has been restored - isn't that what spring is about? I have a whole bunch of wildflowers to plant, and I'm going to give it another go, as soon as the rain stops.

And I will finish taking care of those thorny boshes.

And here's Nick - he's got gloves his size (not for thorny bushes) and he's ready to help!

At Last, More New Photos!

I had a different post in mind for today, but that was before I woke up this morning to find that Nathan had puked during the night and fallen asleep in it, spreading vomit all over his pillow, his sheet, and his HAIR!!!!!

Where Nate Likes To Nap

I swear, he crawled in there all by himself, and then started squealing because he was stuck.

Of course I had to take a picture before freeing him.

Happy April Fool's, everybody. I can't beleive it's April already.

Like Son, Like Mother

There's nothing more fun to my boys than a strip of fabric.

In fact, I have had to put my foot down because they kept stealing my clean sheets, towls, blankets, pillowcases, what have you, to pull over their heads and bump into things with. And for the life mf me, I couldn't understand why they were so excited, and why I couldn't just fold the laundry and put it away and be done with it.

Thursday I popped in at the fabric warehouse I get my fabric at, just to check the price and types of muslin. But I couldn't be in there without browsing a bit, and looking at all sorts of prints and fabrics. I especially like the fancier ones, the velvets and the sheer fabrics with flowers embroidered. I can't help but put my hand out to stroke each one and see how soft it is... And I suddenly had a thought: That I would very mush like to pull the sheer fabric over my head and face, like a veil, and turn and run out the door into the sunlight, waving my arms, the fabric streaming out behind me, unspooling as I went!

Joy of Grandparenting

Nicholas sometimes gets confused about extended family. This is hardly surprising. Steve's family, who we see more often, has many Great Aunts and Great Uncles, and many of his father's cousins, but everyone is introduced as "Aunt" or "Uncle." There are only a couple of children, by Steve's cousin, and we have only seen them a few times.

On my sinde of the family Nick has many Aunts and Uncles, but he doesn't see them as often. There are also many friends of family that he sees just about as often as the real family, and it starts to get confusing after awhile, too.

Yesterday I had a doctor's appointment - just a check up - and Lillian came to watch the boys. When I returned I expected to find them as I always do, TV on, and eyes glazed over with the joy that is Grammy. But instead the TV was off. They had, apparently, spent the entire time playing "Airplane."

"Airplane" is a game where Nicholas makes everyone sit in their seats, fastens everyone's seat belts, and then talks everyone through a very short plane trip. "We're taking off! We're landing!"

"Tell your mother where we went on the plane!" Lillian urged Nick.

"New York!" He shouted.

Lillian obviously wasn't satisfied with the abreviated answer, and went on to add "We visited his Gramma Jean, and his Grampa Charlie - "

Nick shouted "And Gramma Linda!"

Linda - you've been promoted.

Pushmi-pullyu

Nicholas and Nathan have taken to fighting over every little thing. Yesterday the practically came to blows (and would have, had I not interceded) over lunch boxes. Nicholas was using a new lunch box (because I left his regular one at school) and Nathan was feeling left out, or at least I guessed he was, since he kept running up and snatching the lunch box and running away with it and screaming when anyone tried to reclaim it. So I got a small soft cooler that the hospital gave us when Nate was born, and gave that to Nathan.

Nick loved this, and he then tried to get Nick to play "Going To School" with him. Nick slung his lunch box strap over his shoulder and walked around the dining room. With a little urging, Nathan did the same, following in his brothers footsteps. It worked while they walked, but them Nick said "Now we put away our lunch boxes. Put your lunch box up here, Nate." Nathan had been going along with it, but suddenly Nick was taking away HIS LUNCH BOX! Nathan wasn't about to give it up. Nicholas was frustrated because Nathan was NOT PLAYING BY THE RULES! And of course Nathan had no idea there were rules to begin with.

Both boys were screaming and screeching and red in the face, each with one end of the lunch box and pulling with all his little might.

Nathan has also started to get jealous of Nick. I can tell because when I sit with Nick on my lap, which isn't all that often these days, Nathan tried to push him off.

I see them litle Dr. Dolittle's Pushmi-pullyu. As the duck said "Lord save us! How does it make up its mind?"

Surfin' In My Imagination

There is this kids song called "Surfin' In My Imagination" ('cause I won't get to go on a vacation, oooo eee oooo ooo ahhh!)

We actually ARE taking a vacation, provided I can figure out what to do with our pets. The trouble is, it's planned for late June. And June is far, far away. Too far. I just can't wait that long.

And I have no idea what I think I'm going to get out of it, besides sun and family and good food. Because I am taking my job with me. I'm hopful that by then getting the boys dressed in the morning will be less of a test on my patience. Right now getting Nathan dressed is a bit like putting eyeliner on a greased pig. He's not exactly fighting me, he's just trying to get away. He's not interested in me, he's interested in whatever is in that cabinet I won't let him open.

We saw the movie "Sherry Baby" the other night. Not an upper. It's about a drug addict who's on parole and who is trying to get reaquainted with her young daughter. But there is this one scene where she is trying to help her daughter change her clothes, her pants, her shoes... and the girl is standing there and the woman is saying "You have to help me. Lift your leg. Lift your leg. No, the other - wait. No - You have to HELP me. I can't do this by myself. You have to help me." And i TOTALLY UNDERSTOOD. Because that is me with Nicholas every morning. I hold out a pair of pants, and I expect him to put his foot in through the leg hole, and he half lifts his foot, and then puts it on the floor again, and then half lifts it, and then puts it back on the floor, and then he puts his foot in his pants but then puts his foot down before it gets to the leg hole, so the pants slip out of my hands, and then I lift the pants and try to guide his leg into the hole, and I look up and he's staring at the window and trying to reach some toy, and I redirect his attention to getting dressed. and then he grabs my head for balance, so that his whole thirty pounds is on my head as I pull up his pants, even though his feet, somehow, are still glued to the floor...

This will follow me on my vacation. It will still be there. Perhaps. Perhaps, perhaps perhaps.

Cabin Fever

This is a picture of New York. Well... part of it. It has nothing to do with this post. We had technical difficulties with the camera last week, so I didn't take as many pictures as usual.

Last night Steve and I watched a movie, and afterwards I tried to think but I just couldn't remember what day it was, or what day it would be the next morning.

When I first started my maternity leave I didn't think I could ever really get tired of it. Sure, I got tired, but that was lack of sleep tired. Or later on, it was pregnant tired. It was physical and mental. I enjoyed making my own schedule, being free to watch daytime TV, having time for my hobbies, and being there with my kids.

Here. Being here with my kids.

But the truth is, I'm starting to go a little batty. I make my own schedule, but it is just recycling the week before. I make time for hobbies and TV, but honestly most of that is done away from the kids, and there isn't a lot of time for it. And I love being with my kids... but...

After (almost) three years of being a mother, I find myself actually aching for a workplace. I would love to be responsible for doing something that didn't get undone practically before I finished doing it. I would like to be away from my kids for a few hours, to be surrounded by grown-ups and grown-up stories and grown-up issues.

I am not ready to hand over the care of my children to other people - especially Nate. But maybe, just maybe, in a year, I might be able to find something work-wise to keep me busy.

still sleepy?

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but the boys are both sleeping through the night. I can go to sleep and not get out of bed until they wake up. These days they are waking up around 6 or 6:30, and when they wake up the first thing they do is NOT to scream and yell and cry for me, unless one of them had a leaky diaper.I can count on a few minutes of the boys playing together. When I go in to their room, both of them are usually in the crib, both smiling.

I should feel better now that this is the case. I should have renewed energy. I should feel like a new woman.

But instead I'm just tired.

What is up with that?

What's Different?

See the whispies? His hair? The ones that make it looks like he's about to take off?


I know every other photo pf Nate has his shoving some sort of cake into his mouth, but ignore that part. LOOK AT HIS HAIR!


That's right. First haircut. No one got emotional but me. And now my baby looks like A BOY.

Saturday Story

One of the things about having a dog is that you inevitably end up having to clean up after it. I myself do not relish the idea of scooping up dog poop. For some reason changing diapers fourteen times a day offends me much less.

We have a great deal of outdoor space for Gunther to go in. He has a few spots which he goes in, most of them far, far away from the house.

The other day Steve noticed that a dog had pooped right in our driveway, feet from our front door. And we all had a hunch it was not Gunther. Gunther only poops on grass. He would not poop on hard driveway surface. But the dog next door, Buck, just might. Gunther is a hyper and friendly dog, barking at everyone, and wanting to play with everyone. Especially Buck. But Buck is a hunting dog. He's nice enough, but playing with other dogs is not high on his to do list. He enjoys taunting GUnther, walking across our yard while Gunther barks and scratches at the door to be let out. He stands at the edge of the property, just where the invisible fence keeps Gunther in. Gunther barks and yaps and jumps and goes crazy, and Buck just stands there, looking anywhere but at Gunther.

Given Buck's plan for driving Gunther nuts, we figured it was probably Buck who pooped in front of our door. Which wasn't TOO big a deal, since it hasn't ever happened before.

But it was located in a pretty prominent place.

This morning the weather was warm, so I put vests on the boys and took them outsde, taking them out the front door instead of the back, to try and avoid the mud.

Naturally, Nathan headed right for the poop. We had no chance of stopping him. It was as through an invisible force PULLED him towards it, and he even sped up as he approached it, so that when he finally stepped in it he was going about fifteen miles an hour.

This alone would have been funny. Lillian, who was visiting, was trying to get Steve to get some paper towels to remove the poop, and I was trying to get Nick's vest to zipper, when Nathan then turned and came back towards us. This time, however, he was going downhill.

I saw what was going to happen before it happened, but I just couldn't get to him in time. Nathan stumbled down the incline, and then pitched forward. He did put out his little hand to break his fall. His little hand landed RIGHT ON THE DOG POOP! HIs vest clad tummy landed right on top of the dog poop.

Lucky for us the poop was dry, so there wasn't a mess. Which, in many ways, made it even funnier because there was... no mess. I could laugh without being too grossed out.

Oh - and Steve gets points for them cleaning up the poop.

Grey's Anatomy

I haven't been getting a lot of sleep recently.

And it's my own fault.

Blame it on the fact that I found the ONE Jodi Picoult book at the library that I had not yet read. Or you can blame it on the fact that I just discovered Grey's Anatomy on Netflix, and I've been trying to squeeze in a couple of episodes a night, but I always watch just.... that... one... more... and I love the show with an intensity which... well, it's like the crush I had on Leonardo DiCaprio back in his Titanic days. Unrealistically all consuming. Only instead of a guy, it's an entire TV show, which, by the way, I will not watch on regular TV because I haven't gotten there yet. I'm only halfway through season 2. And like many new love affairs, at the start it may deprive you of sleep.

Anyway, the point is, I've been sleepy and distracted, which would explain why, at the breakfast table this morning, Nicholas slowly and carefully placed his spoon on the page of the book (Songs of the Humback Whale) I was reading. To get my attention.

So today I am making it a busy day, with lots of things to catch up on. On that note, we've got to go get Nick's hair cut.

Nothing Slows Him Down

Nathan has an ear infection. This is the first time that both Nick and Nate are on antibiotics AT THE SAME TIME. Don't worry. The meds are different colors, so there is plenty for them to fight over.

It hasn't really slowed them down much, though. Nathan might sound like a lung will pop out of his throat at any moment, and he cries a bit more than usual, but he's still as impish as ever. He doesn't like to do what the rest of us are doing, but instead he heads towards my bathroom, where I know I will find him sitting on the floor with my eye liner.

I am really not a make-up person, but I do own eye liner, which I have taken to applying every day in an effort to look like a grown up, and a good looking grown up, not one of those grown ups strung out on meth. Nathan loves my eye liner. I'm glad someone loves the eye liner, because I, for one, have always been a little afraid of it. I never know what I'm doing, and as the point approaches my face I know that I will inevitably end up either looking like a racoon, or poking myself in the eye.

Nathan has no such fears. He stick the eye liner just where he wants it to go, in his mouth. Nicholas, for his part, does the same thing with my colored lip balm (which I use instead of lipstick). He loves it. Oh, how he loves it.

When I was working in day care, the three year old boys loved pretending to put on make-up more than the girls. I know it is a natural part of pretending, processing gender roles, etc. I also happen to be one of those people that thinks a man should be allowed to wear eye shadow and lip liner if he wants. And a sequined dress. Go for it. As far as I'm concerned it's a big old bother, but if a man wants to go through the trouble to put on panty hose he should be allowed to wear them. And then he can show me how to put them on without running them. But it's different somehow when you're looking at your own children. There is still a very strong voice in my head that wants me to say "MAKE-UP IS FOR GIRLS!" and snatch it all away.

As of yet, I have not. Yelled. I have snatched, simply because I don't want my stuff to get ruined. I HAVE said "Usually Girls are the ones that wear make-up, but you're too little for it, anyway."

But my favorite line, the one I love and will keep repeating when it comes to things like make-up, jewelry, hairstyles, and clothing: When you get to be 18 and become a famous rock star, then you get to wear all the make-up you want.

Dangerous Hobbies - Scrapbooking

In my efforts to be Organized and Efficient while Bettering Myself and Getting Things Done, I have started scheduling in things like playing piano, quilting, and working on my scrapbooks. The idea behind thi is so that, if I ever happen to find myself with a few moments to spare, I don't waste them on trying to figure out what needs to be done, or what I should do. And even if I only spend ten minutes putting photos in an album or cutting out shapes of fabric, it's better than not having done anything at all, right?

Since I spend nap time running (or sleeping, if I'm sick with a cold as I have been this past week) I need to balace these hobbies with the boys. So now, when I do scrapbooking, I hand Nicholas a sheet of paper and some stickers, and sometimes a photo that I am not using. He practices with scissors, and he likes fooling around with the ribbons and the things I use.

The other day I realized he had run off with one of my ribbons. He was walking around the house with it. Nathan was following him with the other end wrapped around his neck.

Let me say that again in case you didn't catch it.

Nathan was following him with the other end of the ribbon WRAPPED AROUND HIS NECK. This is why you aren't supposed to give ribbons to babies. They have this uncontrollable urge to cut off their own airways.

I didn't panic because the ribbon was so loose one could really one say it was DRAPED around his little neck.

"Nicholas, what are you doing?"

"Taking my dog for a walk."

Apparently, Nathan gets to be the dog.