First Day Jitters...

I know most parents are probably counting down the days until school starts, me not so much.

Usually I am the first person to raise my hand at the offer for someone to take my kids off my hands for any period of time, even if it means I can go grocery shopping in peace.  However, when I think about the impending school year I get a little anxious, worried and sad.

I’m not looking forward to leaving the lazy days of summer behind and gearing up for the morning rush that is required to get one kid on the bus and drive another to preschool. Then there is the looming realization that my daughter starts Kindergarten in the fall.  I never really understood why moms got weepy over this milestone in their child’s life.  Even up until a few weeks ago, I was still in denial about how this would affect me.  I remember very vividly the day I went back to work when Maddie was a baby and my friend and co-worker had a daughter starting Kindergarten the same day.  I’m not sure who was more beside herself: me leaving my three-month old at daycare or her putting her five-year old on the bus?  I tried to imagine what she was going through and it just didn’t translate for me.

I remember the angst I felt leaving her each day and would be fine unless I looked through the glass window into the classroom before I left.  At that point, her separation anxiety hadn’t kicked in, so it wasn’t like she was screaming and crying because I left her.  It was more because there she was doing just fine without me.  I know, I know--this is ludicrous especially after the eventual battle I had with her crying so hard she’d throw up each time I left the room from the time she was 15 months until about three-years old.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when fellow mom explained the sight of seeing your child on the first day of Kindergarten on the bus with their little face looking out the window at you as the bus drove away.  That’s when it really hit me; this is going to be like dropping her off at daycare all over again.  I’m not sure what will make me cry more when I see her little face in that bus window--a look of fear and despair or utter joy that she’s a “big kid” on the bus going to Kindergarten without me.

Then the fear of the unknown sets in.  What if the kids pick on her on the bus?  What if she has a hard time fitting in? What if she is too shy to ask to go to the bathroom? What if she doesn’t eat her lunch? What if kids are mean to her?  What if she is mean to other kids?  What if she sasses the teacher back when she tries to help her write her name like she does to me? What if she gets in trouble? What if homework frustrates her? What if she’s bad at math like me?  What if they mispronounce our last name like so many people do and she is too shy to correct them and ends up Madeline Stein for her entire school career!

And when I put it all into perspective, I know she’s going to be just fine.  She is a rule follower and would rather die than be in trouble. She’s also a social butterfly who often seeks out friends at the park and introduces herself, “Hi, my name is Madelyn.  Do you want to be my friend?” I also know that her neighborhood friends, especially her boyfriends who live on either side of us would never in a million years let anything happen to her on the bus.  She is already doing homework in her Kindergarten workbook and loves to learn new things.  I am pretty sure the only person who will get frustrated by homework will be me.  I know her teachers are paid professionals who know how to shape young minds. And as for lunch, she will only go to half-day Kindergarten and will have lunch at home. The teachers in preschool eventually figured out her name, so I’m fairly confident we can nip that in the bud as well.

In the end, I have to remember that my first-born is naturally in-love with the idea of school and will likely excel in every way.  She has already told me that her top three things that she is looking forward to at school are The Library, Art Class and the Lunchroom.  However, talk to me in two years when my son starts Kindergarten. I’ll likely be praying for full-day Kindergarten and hopeful that he won’t be the bully on the bus rather than being bullied.

I Got Out Of IT!

Inquiring minds want to know: Did I have to perform a live concert on my front lawn or what?

For those of you who read my previous blog, "How Am I Going To Get Out Of This One?!" you know my daughter had the grand idea to have a concert on our front lawn where she and I would perform.  (See last entry for details).

Since then, I've had a lot of inquiries, especially from the ladies in my mom's office, as to how everything played out.  The day started out relatively hectic.  I had to sub a cycle class and teach my regular Pilates class at the gym first thing in the morning.  The kids went to our neighbors to play while I taught and I gave my neighbor very specific instructions that her job, besides watching my kids, was to convince Maddie that this concert was a bad idea.

After teaching, I was in a rotten mood because due to several technical difficulties my music for my cycle class had been a disaster.  If any of you who take spin or cycle classes, you know that good music is key and mine kept stopping and starting. On top of that, I hadn't notice that the charger for my iPhone wasn't plugged in at the wall when I plugged it in the night before and since I was constantly messing with my phone and sucking what battery I had left, it died halfway through class.  I had to sprint out of the room to find someone with a charger so I could continue to play my music, assuming I could get the applications I use on my iPhone to play my music to cooperate with me.  It occurred to me that I might have to sing to an audience after all, but instead of to my neighbors on the front lawn, it would be to my cycle participants.  Luckily I was able to eek out another half hour of music and got everything to work smoothly for my Pilates class without any major issues.

Colin using broom for his guitar solo!

When I got back to my neigbhors to picked the kids up, my neighbor informed me that some of our other friends from the neighborhood that we hang out with were coming over at 1:00 p.m. for the concert.  As luck would have it, our friend's 8 year old daughter, Marissa, is a Karaoke fanatic and was more than willing to sing with Maddie as long as she could have a solo.  I was ecstatic!  Not only would my daughter love to perform with one of her "swiends," I was off the hook!

Nick showing off his biking skills a la "America's Got Talent."

Marissa performing her solo-Call Me Maybe

At 1:00 we headed outside with our music and waited for the gang to gather.  We put Maddie's sign in the front lawn and Marissa brought some accessories and costumes for the show. The girls began planning for the show and ended up going inside to choreograph their routines and make more signs. Meanwhile the other two moms and I enjoyed some fresh air and a "cold beverage" on the front lawn.  Not something we normally do, but it was a concert and what kind of groupies would we be if we didn't party like rock stars? (and by that I mean having one vodka lemonade!)

The girls were finally finished practicing and came out to perform.  The boys wrapped up their XBox game and came out to participate as well.  The kids decided that the name of Maddie's group was the "Under Pencils Jumping Pencils."  They wrote it on the sidewalk and unfortunately every time I walked by it I thought it said, "Under Penis Jumping Penis." 

Maddie performing Life's A Happy Song

Colin decided to get in on the act and was the opening act.  He and Ethan, the boy next door, lined up several hardhats and used them as drums to perform "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osbourne.  From there Maddie and Marissa performed "I Love You Like A Love Song" by Selena Gomez, Maddie did a solo to "Life's A Happy Song" from the Muppets and the grand finale was Marissa singing "Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen.  Then Ethan and Nick (Marissa's brother) rode their bikes and scooters across the "stage" like the bikers on "America's Got Talent" do. The best part was all I had to do was play DJ. 

Maya-who also produced and directed the production!

Duelling helmets! Ethan and Colin

I don't think I've ever seen my daughter smile so big and I was so proud of her for having the creativity and bravery to perform in front of everyone.  I admired her ability to inspire others and do something out of the ordinary for a Wednesday afternoon.  I am also eternally grateful to my neighbor and our other friend for rallying the troops to make all my daughter's rock star dreams come true.  All-in-all a good time was had by all. Maddie's only complaint was that more people didn't show up. I told her that next time I would do a better job of publicizing her event. Jeez, what a DIVA!

Marissa and Maddie performing I Love You Like A Love Song

Grand Finale!

How Am I Going To Get Out Of This One?

Today Maddie was working on one of her many art projects making pictures for neighbors, telescopes out of construction paper and a sign to put in the front yard.

She asked me to write, spell and tape various scraps of paper. I got her glue, popsicle sticks and glitter until she finally asked me to write, "Music Concert Tomorrow." She went on to inform me she was going to have a music concert on our front lawn for everyone to come watch. She determined that it should be in the afternoon and instructed me to write our address and that it would be held "outside" so people wouldn't get confused. I asked her what kind of music she was going to perform and she said that she was going to sing and hoped that some of her friends would sing with her. I told her that her friends might not be around to sing with, her hoping it would squash her plan. That was until she informed me that I would be performing with her instead.

I wasn't real sure how that would play out or how I could possibly avoid placing her handmade sign in the lawn with the attached popsicle stick waiting for the neighbors to come watch our performance. I am not sure what will be more disappointing, that no one will show up or my singing?

Someone asked what we will sing...likely it will be some of her vocal stylings she performs to herself that is a hodgepodge of Top 40 songs by Katie Perry, Lady Gaga, Carly Rae Jepsen and Justin Bieber. All the words will be off and/or mixed together and she will likely yell at me for singing it wrong.

Of course as with all doozy of a story that is the foundation of this blog, I called my mom. She almost spit out her cup of tea and promised she would take the day off work to witness that one. Thanks, mom.

Mommy, Where's Your Wiener?

I knew this blog was coming. I knew that somehow, some way when I potty trained Colin, there was sure to be a good story, and boy was I right.

We've been gradually working towards potty training for a few months now. I knew he wasn't ready for awhile because he never woke up dry in the morning and just never had the voids that Maddie did when it was time to potty train her. I also feel like I started a little too soon with Maddie and there were more headaches than victories. There may be a slight chance she'll need therapy as a result of my aggressive potty training technique. To my defense, I trained her when Colin was only a few months old, was sleep deprived, desperately wanted to get rid of at least one set of diapers, and many times rushed her along because I was either nursing Colin on the bathroom floor waiting for her to do her duty while he was screaming at the top of his lungs because I had ditched him on the family room floor in order to rush her to the potty.

We have finally gotten to a point with Colin where he understands "Potty Training" has nothing to do with riding a train and he now refuses to wear a Pull Up. A few months, back we started by simply having him pee on the potty before he went to bed each night. This was more out of necessity since he outgrew nighttime diapers and the nighttime Pull Ups don't absorb as much. As a result he would wake up with a wet bed.

He actually had done pretty well adjusting to this routine, except he usually threatens to pee on Maddie as he aims his wiener at her. Then he goes into a soliloquy about how he is "Pee-Pee Guy" and shoots bad guys with his "pee gun." Sigh. Typical boy.

Over the last week or two, I have started putting him on the potty periodically throughout the day in an attempt to keep him as dry as possible. With each trip to the bathroom comes a new discovery. He investigates himself and asks a lot of questions. The questions started simple. "Mom, what is this?" I decided not to use any cutesy words for it, so we call it either a wiener or quite simply a penis.

I then had to make sure that his "discovery" didn't prevent him from aiming it into the toilet. He is like a contortionist and treats his stuff like Silly Putty. It even makes me uncomfortable. A few days later he moved down to his testicles and began trying to figure those guys out. "Mom, what are these?" Again, I tried to be as straight forward as possible and tell them they are his testicles or some men call them "balls." Then he asked me what they were for. A million answers popped into my head, but rather than answer him I told him to ask Daddy.

The latest inquiry came the other day. I have never really been that self-conscious or discrete with the kids since they usually bust open the bathroom door even if I do close it. It never really made much difference to me and I got used to the fact that I probably will never pee alone again. Of course, with Colin's new found curiosity came the realization that I don't have a penis. He was trying to go on his potty chair and I happened to have to go as well. Without skipping a beat, I dropped trou and went as well not realizing what his view from his potty chair was. (Side note: I can't believe I am going into great detail how I went about relieving myself as it pertains to my son. However, this is the reality we live in as parents and there is no such thing as privacy, modesty or a moment’s peace.)

But I digress, Colin caught a glimpse of what I had versus what he had. Suddenly an alarmed look came across his face. "Mom, where's your wiener!!" I explained that I am a girl and girls don't have wieners. “Boys have penises and girls have vaginas.”

He became even more perplexed and tried to get another glimpse. I feverishly pulled up my pants to avoid being the subject of his anatomy lesson any longer. He finally stopped trying to figure it out and proclaimed, "Mommy, you have a wiener but yours is broken." Oh. My. God. I don't even want to know what image in his little mind created that conclusion. Then he told me, "Mom, you better go and get one!"

I gently explained that it isn't broken and that you just can't go out and get one.  I realized that there was more to this conversation that I am sure he can learn on MTV at some point and simply restated my previous statement. "Boys have penises and girls have vaginas." According to Robert Fulghum, everything I learned, I learned in Kindergarten, in this case it was Kindergarten Cop. Then he started asking about various members of our family to take stock of who had what. "Does Daddy have a wiener?"

"Yes, Colin. Daddy is a boy so he has one."

"Does Maddie have a wiener?"

"No, Colin. Maddie is a girl like me. She doesn't have one."

The list continued to grandparents and close friends.

Later that evening I was helping Colin get his bike out of the garage. He looked up at me and proclaimed, "Mom, I think you're gettin' a wiener."

Hmm. Was it my extraordinary man-like strength lifting his bike that brought him to that conclusion or just wishful thinking that maybe I would just sprout one so we could be alike? Whatever the case may be, all I could do was chuckle and shake my head. My neighbor was watching this exchange from afar and inquired why I was laughing and shaking my head. All I could tell her was that Colin was writing my next blog for me.

The next day, Colin continued his inventory of who had one and who doesn't even outside of bathroom time. "Dad, you know Jimmy right? (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

"Yes, Colin. I know your friend Jimmy."

"Do you know his daddy?"

"Yes, I know his daddy. What about him?"

"Does he have a wiener?"

"Yes, Colin. Jimmy's dad is a man so he has a wiener."

"Oh."

Then Colin proceeded to list off everyone he knows. Let's put it this way, if Colin has ever met you, chances are he has inquired whether or not you have a penis or not. And if he isn't sure, he'll come right out and ask you. Case in point, the girl who lives across the street got caught in Colin's crosshairs as they were doing sidewalk chalk the other day. "Hey G, do you have a wiener?" This poor 8 year old didn't know what hit her. She hadn't been informed of Colin's most recent phase and was completely mortified.

Yesterday the kids were at a friend's house for a playdate and he interrupted playing with his toy to turned very nonchalantly and asked my friend, "Hey, do you guys have wieners?" Luckily I was able to explain why my son asked if she and her 6 year old daughter had penises. My fear is that he will start doing this out in public. I can just picture him asking a server at a restaurant or shouting it through the grocery store at an innocent bystander.

In addition to his curiosity about parts of the body, he is interested in all things poop. I can't say I'm surprised since it is his favorite word. He told me a little story the other day about his poop. I asked if he had to go while he was sitting on the potty and he told me that the poops were still in his butt watching a movie about shooting guns made out of poop. Hmm. Very creative.

The next time he told me there was a mommy poop, daddy poop and two poop kids inside his butt watching a movie. He went on to tell another story about what they were doing, where they were going, etc. etc. Honestly, I just wanted his poop family to come out and join us in the toilet so I didn't have to sit in the bathroom any longer. Unfortunately, most times his new friends end up having a party in his Lighting McQueen underpants instead of where they belong in the potty.

Then there is the eternal question--what is poop? I tried to be as honest and intelligent as possible since most of his future conversations on the subject won't be, and told him it is all the food he eats after his body takes the good stuff out of it. I also told him it is called "waste." That stressed him out and he cried, "I don't want to waste!" I further explained that if he didn't poop, he would explode. Turns out he'd rather waste than explode, and he accepted that answer.

As of right now, Colin has mastered the pee thing. He even tells me when he had to go as opposed to peeing under his train table. The poop thing is a work in progress and we are working on bribing him with Matchbox cars to go tell us before he goes in his pants instead of after-the-fact.

I do have to say that Maddie is paying back her debt to Colin for all the times her potty training left him lying helpless and hungry on the floor while I sat with her. Now she sits with Colin in the bathroom and reads him books. It gives me a chance to actually write this entry as opposed to sitting on the bathroom floor discovering how many parts of my toilet I missed when cleaning. I guess it the silver lining to having two kids 23 months apart and all those diapers I've changed over the last five years.

Sh!t, Damn, Motherboard

E.L. James says she wrote Fifty Shades of Grey on her Blackberry, so I guess there's no reason I can't write blog posts on my iPhone, right?

I know that my posts ping-pong between uplifting, positive and motivational life events and the really ridiculous things that happen to me and the things my kids and husband do to make me contemplate picking up and becoming an aerobics instructor at a resort in the Caribbean. Today's post is most definitely the latter of the two.

Let's start of on a positive note, though. Tom and I were fortunate to go on another trip that he won through work. Tom actually came in a very close second in the sales competition, but the winner's wife was having a baby the week of the trip. So, by the grace of God, we were off to the Cayman Islands. Of course, when we arrived the weather report said it would rain for the next 5 days. I said a prayer to my Pa, who usually comes through and delivers great weather for various events. As luck would have it, the weather held up with only a few spotty showered here and there until the day we left and a tropical depression rolled in. The rain was so bad planes were not landing at the airport, jeopardizing our flight home.

At that point I was missing my kids, had done enough damage to my liver and just wanted to get home. I said one more a silent prayer to Pa and within 2 minutes our plane landed. Luckily we weren't delayed for too long and still made our connecting flight in Charlotte and got home right on schedule.

Of course divine intervention came to a screeching halt shortly after we returned home. It took me a few days to get back in the swing of things and regain tolerance for all the whining, crying, complaining and general shenanigans. Maddie graduated from preschool and I had to make sure I had gifts for her teachers since buying them rum from the Cayman's called "Big Black Dick" seemed inappropriate nor was buying them a case of beer like we did for our neighbors who watched our pets.

Of course returning home also meant returning to the reality of all the drama that comes with our children, including the fact that prior to our trip Colin was suspended from the childcare center at they gym for 3 months for biting again.  We were fortunate to get his sentenced reduced to one month as long as when we return we go later in the day to avoid the busy time in the morning when we normally go.  I could go into a tirade about this issue in an of itself, but let's just say after taking him to the child psychologist, it turns out the problem isn't him. 

The day I took him to the psychologist,  I was nearing the end of a 3-day laundry marathon and moving on to all the housework. Unfortunately the maid service I enjoyed at the Ritz-Carlton was a distant memory. Despite the fact I cleaned the entire house before we left, I came home to enough dog hair to create another husky.

Maddie asked if she could play games om disneyjunior.com while I vacuumed.  Let me start by saying we have two other laptops in the house that Maddie can use, but she is a computer snob and insists on using mine.  Of course, being the pushover that I am, have given her permission to do so.  Now, typically if the kids are going to play on my computer I make sure there are no liquids anywhere near where they are playing since it is a brand new Mac Book Pro that Tom got me for Christmas.

Within ten minutes into vacuuming, Colin had already unplugged the vacuum five times. Between vacuuming, yelling at him and putting him on time out, I didn't notice that Maddie had helped herself to a glass of water and managed to spill it all over my laptop.  She was yelling something at me, which she typically does while I am vacuuming despite the fact she knows full well I can't hear her and it took me a few seconds to realize what she was actually telling me.  I screamed at the top of my lungs, grabbed the computer and did my best to drain the water off and out of it.  It was still operating and I simply shut it and put it aside.

Later that day, I opened it up hoping it would still work, but it was dead.  I promptly packed it in rice for the next 4 days.  On Tuesday morning I set it on the table, said an Our Father and attempted to turn it on.  Nothing.  I called to make an appointment at the Mac Store until Tom told me it would actually be better to take it to CDW (where Tom works and where we purchased it) since repair would be cheaper.  I had to drive 45 minutes each way only to find out the next day that it would cost us a cool $1,100 to repair the mother board assuming there wasn't any other damage.  They did determine the hard drive was still Okay, which means at least all my files aren't lost.  I think the proper reaction to this stituation, besides crying, is to use my favorite list of explitives, Shit, Damn, Motherf*%#r! or in this case, Shit, Damn, Motherboard.

Tom said that he wouldn't pay repair the computer.  For that amount we could pretty much buy a new one since there was no guarantee that spending the money to replace the motherboard would be the end of our expense to fix it.  My heart sank. I know that it is just a machine, but everything I do from writing this blog, to preparing music for my cycle classes revolves around that computer.  All my life's passions and goals for the coming year involving my writing, fizzled along with the motherboard. Guess precipitation we were spared in the Cayman's decided to land squarely on the keyboard of my laptop.  And it was so nice and pretty and shiny and only six months OLD!!!  Of course, I then started on the second emotion--self-loathing.  If Tom used the "Love and Logic" method of parenting with me, he would say "too bad, so-sad.  No new computer for you. You weren't paying attention to what our kid was doing, therefore you suffer the consequences."  And that was basically what he was doing and I can't say that I blame him.  I suck.

I flashed back to my childhood and how I was always messing up.  Spilling nail polish remover on the linoleum floor leaving a huge yellow spot, losing things, forgetting books in my locker when I needed them for homework, losing library books, and the list goes on and on.  Even as an adult I am notorious for losing things (like wedding bands and ruby and diamond earrings), to ruining electronics like my last iPod Nano that I trashed when my water bottle spilled in my purse and fried it.  I am surprised my iPhone has lasted this long!  Even Tom has an under-over on how long it will take me to destroy it.  Too bad we didn't invest in Apple Care on the laptop like we did my phone.

Sometimes I wish I could just give it all up--all the phones, computers, iPods, Apple TV, Kindle and all the electronics that we are slaves to and become Amish.  Of course, I'm not sure Tom would make it since he can't grow a beard. 

The jury is still out on whether or not we will replace my laptop.  Tom tried to take advantage of a promotion at work that had special pricing on Mac's, but he would have had to place the order by May 26th and that was the day the computer met it's maker.  He tried to work his magic with his contact at work explaining the situation, but it was a no-go.  Instead we would have to pay an extra $300 for the same computer. Just our luck.

So, here I sit going between typing this entry on my iPhone and my old laptop that is slow as molasses, and the "i" and "x" keys are popped off thanks to Colin. Clearly Maddie takes after me when it comes to her high standards when it comes to technology. Still, I feel like might be better off chiseling this on stone. For this reason, I apologize for any typos above and beyond my usual amount. 

My biggest frustration is with my iTunes.  I have collected so much music over the last several years especially more recently for my cycle classes.  I take a lot of pride in my play lists for class and feel lost without my library.  I tried getting a subscription to iCloud to see if I can retrieve my music, but for some reason it won't let me even purchase the subscription to see if will work.

I've thought about ways to raise money to replace my computer and a few ideas have cropped up--some good, some not so good.  I've decided pole dancing and selling organs are among the bad ideas.  I'd have to teach an awful lot of cycle and Pilates classes at the gym to make over $1,000 especially since I have just about exhausted my free babysitting resources seeing as how I can't bring Colin to the free daycare at the gym.  I suppose I could hold a 5k, but something tells me a race to benefit my technology addiction and snobbery isn't as compelling as Cancer or sick kids.  That thought alone puts me back into "I hate myself" mode. Unless any of you have some sort of job or task you want to hire me to do, my neighbor and I are going to hold a garage sale in a few weeks and we are going to have Maddie set up a lemonade stand and see if we can have a "I spilled water on my mommy's laptop and she's making me buy her a new one" sign to see if we can get any sympathy donations.  I truly am shameless.

Instead I might take a picture of all the Apple products I've bought with the exception of my IIgs that is now in the Smithsonian and send it along with a compelling letter to Tim Cook, CEO of Apple.  I'd tell him how loyal I am to Apple, how I was trying to nuture a future Apple-user by letting my daughter use my computer and beg and plead for them to fix my Mac Book.  Since I don't have my computer to download the pictures, I guess that isn't possible. I suppose I can make a list, or maybe make it even more compelling by having Maddie draw a picture and mail it to him! That would really tug at his heartstrings!!  If that fails all I have left to do is say a prayer to Steve Jobs and hope that he and my Pa have become friends in heaven and he can pull some strings for me.

Dear Mr. Cook,

Recently my 4-year old daughter spillled a cup of water on my Mac Book Pro and it seems it will cost a minimum of $1,100 to repair the motherboard.  Over my lifetime, I have owned at least a dozen Apple products including, but not limited to:

1) Apple IIgs
2) 5 iPods of various generations
3) 2 iPhones
4) 1 Mac Mini
5) 1 iPad 
6) Nike + Pod for running
7) 1, now deceased Mac Book Pro



I also grew up using Apple products  in school, designed my high school and college newspapers on Mac's and wanted to pass on my love of Apple products to my daughter by allowing her to use my laptop when she spilled the water on it.

I am sure you are a busy man, but as a loyal customer, I am asking for you to consider my request to repair my computer or replace it since I know your new model will be coming out soon.  I will tell everyone I know of your kindness should you choose to accomidate my request.

Sincerely,

Michelle Stien


P.S. I am a blogger and write a column for a local magazine that I can utilize to mention Apple Computers and your kindness.

Bye-Bye, Baby!

Well, we made it.  As of today, Colin will no longer be a two-year old. (Audible Sigh)

After a year of biting, kicking, evil-boy antics, poopy talk, destruction and general unruly behavior, I am happy to say Colin made it to his third birthday without me selling him to the gypsies. Of course, I have this lingering--or not-so lingering thought--that the real trouble has only begun.

In the last few weeks, Colin has shifted into full-force trouble mode and I’m not sure if is his swansong as a two-year old or the beginning of a whole new realm of T-R-O-U-B-L-E.  Let’s start with the knives…

A few weeks ago, Tom was with the kids while I was teaching my early-morning cycle class.  Usually the kids hang in our room and watch T.V. with Tom before coming down for breakfast.  Colin likes to head down and grab a snack from the pantry and bring it up to nosh on while he watches his morning cartoons.  He had gone down and was gone for too long and was too quiet when Tom sent Maddie down to check out what he was doing.  She came running back up immediately and announced, “Ummm, Dad?  Colin is in BIG TROUBLE.”  Tom bound out of the bed and down the stairs (wish I’d been a fly on the wall for that one!) and found Colin coming up the stairs with two steak knives in his hands pointing outward.  Tom promptly removed the knives from his hands and hid them along with every other knife in that was tucked in the way back of our silverware drawer.

He has continued his love for sharp objects more recently when he came down stairs and stood in front of me with something held behind his back and gave be a cunning smile.  He pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal Tom’s razor and then gave me a maniacal laugh.  I chased him down—clearly a risky challenge--and had to find a safe place for the razor.

In addition to his love of weaponry, he has decided to take up running and I don’t mean 5k’s.  He is exercising his independence by running away from me whenever he has a chance.  Whether it is to escape into Maddie’s dance class, the parking lot or Sears.  A few weeks ago we stopped at Sears to pick up a water filter for the fridge and he decided to escape down the aisles of the Sears appliance department, then the electronics, then the lawn and garden section, ladies bathing suits, jewelry department and back around to the bedding department.  The whole time I chased him in my wedge sandals proving that there really is no reason for me to ever dress in anything but yoga pants and my New Balance running shoes.

I get my workout every morning I take Maddie to school when he escapes while I help her get her backpack and jacket hung up and hands washed.  By the time I am finished I usually find him in the church attached to the school on the altar trying to play the drums that are set up.  In my effort to track him down one day, I went straight for the church yelling his name only to be greeted by the Pastor trying to set up for chapel.  I was relieved that Colin wasn’t in there doing his best Animal impersonation, but it also left me explaining why I was screaming like a banshee in a sacred place.  Eventually I just apologized, hung my head and turned on my heels to seek out my little trouble-maker. 

Now that we’ve covered sharp objects, percussion and endurance sports, lets move on to his quite simply making mega messes.  He is now into Legos, which means I keep finding those Goddamn little things all over the house and usually dug into my foot causing paralyzing side effects.  These are definitely giving the Polly-Pockets a run for their money as my least favorite toy.

And the mess doesn’t end there.  Every time I make popcorn for the kids, I can bet on my life that he will purposely dump half the bowl out all over the floor and as soon as I vacuum up every last kernel, he does it again.  He also enjoys filling cups of water and dumping them wherever he pleases.  The other day, he trotted into the kitchen, over to the dispenser at the fridge and helped himself to a cup of water.  I was actually thinking how nice it is that he can do more himself now until I heard the sound of water spilling.  I went into the other room and found he had dumped his entire cup of water onto the ottoman.

But the piece de resistance was the other day when I let the kids in the backyard after lunch while I was finishing cleaning up.  Within five minutes he was back in the house informing me that he had stepped in dog poop.  I was annoyed with myself for not remembering to pick it up before they went out there, but it slipped my mind.  As I approached Colin to remove his shoes I caught a whiff and knew immediately this wasn’t your usual run-of-the-mill dog poops incident.  He was covered from heel to head in dog poop.  I immediately stripped him down and promptly threw out everything he had been wearing including the shoes.  I had no desire to salvage a pair of shoes that were $17 at Target.  Once I cleaned him up, I went outside to check out the scene and found that the entire slide was smeared with poop.  I still couldn’t quite figure out how he accomplished this epic display of disgustingness and rather than even attempt to figure it out, I got the hose and started hosing down the entire swing set along with Colin’s Lightening McQueen umbrella that appeared to be his accomplice in the crime.

And to think, my days of picking up poop and pee are only beginning as we start the potty training process.  Colin isn’t really on board with the whole idea. In fact, he thinks that it will involve riding “The Potty Train” as opposed to learning to use the toilet.  We have started having him go pee each night before he goes to bed mainly because he usually leaks right through his nighttime Pull-up.  (he is too big for diapers!)  Of course, he thinks it is funny to point his wiener at Maddie and threaten to pee on her.  It doesn’t help that she thinks this is hilarious and eggs him on.

I put underwear on him a few weeks ago hoping it would entice him to use the potty.  He was intrigued by the opening in the front and before I knew it he had himself exposed and was doing a “Pee-Pee Dance” that even had me cracking up despite my better parenting judgment.  I wanted so bad to video-record it, but knew it was just too inappropriate even if we never showed it to anyone.  Eventually, he forgot he had the underwear and proceeded to take a leak in his bin of cars and trucks.  Good thing I was planning on sanitizing that bin of toys anyway.

So, I’m not sure what the next year has to offer, but I can only hope that I can keep up and at the very least shave some time off my mile. 

Aging Gracefully

Today I turn 35 years old.  How the hell did that happen?

Most people make New Years resolutions, but I always make Birthday resolutions.  Something about having a birthday in spring always has me feeling a need to “renew.”  In my estimation always challenging yourself and always improving is a good way to age with grace.

Last year I proclaimed that I would finally get my Group Fitness Certification so I could teach cycle classes.  The second goal was that I would get published.  By July I was certified and was employed at Lifetime Fitness by October.  I also was able to get my writing published in Kane County Magazine and on the blog for ViviLeDish.com, MamaLeDish.com.  Not bad, eh?

So, it is that time where I make this year’s proclamation.  I find the more people I tell about it, the more likely I am to follow through because I would never want to run into someone who I told and have them ask, “How did that writing thing work out for you?” and then have to tell them I just slacked off and it never went anywhere.

Indulge me, if you will, with my goals for my 35^th year:

1.     I will edit and publish the 70,000 + words I have written since July 2010.  I don’t care if it self-published or picked up.  Somehow my collection of writing will be available for purchase…even if it is only $.99.
2.       I will write a second book with a topic that will be disclosed at a later date.  All I need is a first draft to have accomplished this goal.

     

     I’ll admit I’ve always wanted to be 35 years old.  It might sound crazy, but I always thought that age would be stable and that I’d be established and respected at that by that point.  So, here I am and now it is time to for 35 to live up to my standards. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some editing to do.