Snazzy Dressers

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Top Ten Signs of Spring

1. 64 degrees!! Woo-hoo!!!!! . . .  And more to come later this week.

2. Are those daffodils poking through the mud?

3. It's still light when we get home. (Of course, I'm still missing that extra hour of sleep!)

4. But, it's still light when we get home!!! That's worth an hour of sleep!

5. Mud, mud, and more mud.

6. Rain, not snow!

7. Puddles . . . Luke's new favorite playground. (And, did I mention mud?)

8. Birds and they're happy little songs.

9. Flower show this weekend!

10. Sunshine, and lots of it!

Bedtime Moments

I've always loved bedtime with my kids.

There's something cozy and tender and precious about those few moments after the bedtime story and our goodnight rituals are finished.

When they were babies, I found those moments some of the most peaceful and relaxing.

Now that they're older, those are the moments I often fall in love with them all over again.

Even after rough days when all of my patience has been exhausted, I often find myself lingering just another minute, or two, or five, to enjoy those last few minutes of the day before they slip off to sleep, looking so young and vulnerable and sweet.

Sometimes, especially after rough days.

And so it was tonight.

Ashley and I are in the midst of a week-long effort (aka battle) to get her room clean. The combination of her stubbornness and distractibility and my slow recovery from strep throat is not creating the ideal environment for success. We've both been frustrated and angry with each other several times over the last few days.

But tonight after our bedtime routine, we snuggled, we talked, we giggled a little.

And suddenly in place of the child who was trampling all over my very last nerve was my feisty, too-smart-for-her-own-good little Ash-a-boo, who gets the cutest little wrinkle in her nose when she smiles.

Yes, I love bedtime with the kids.

Dress-Up Day Disappointments

I let my daughter down today.

It probably won't be the last time.  But, as far as I know, it was the first.

Today was a dress-up day for Ashley's preschool class. They were able to dress as their favorite fairy tale character -- and there was a parade.

I saw the note when I dropped Ashley off on Monday, and we even talked Monday afternoon about what she wanted to be -- a fairy princess.

But then on Tuesday, she was sick and we both stayed home.

And on Wednesday she and I were both sick, so we stayed home.

Yesterday, I was sick, so her father took her to school. And, since he doesn't do the school thing very often, he's not in the habit of checking out the notes on the board.

By this morning, fairy tale dress-up day had totally slipped my mind. (And apparently Ashley's, too, since she didn't say anything.)

But then we arrived at school -- where there were princesses and fairies and knights. And I remembered.

As Ashley was taking her jacket off, one of her friends asked, "Ashley, what did you dress up as?" And Ashley remembered.

I watched Ashley blink away tears, trying to convince herself that it didn't matter. But, of course, it did.

"I won't be in the parade," she said through tears. And I knew what she really meant: I won't be a part of the group, like all the other kids. I'll be an outsider.

And I felt like crying. I remember that feeling. And I suppose I had the naive belief that somehow I could protect my children from it -- as if any kid ever escapes it totally.

My "solutions" sounded lame even to me. Perhaps there's something in the dress-up box in your class. Maybe we can use some art supplies to make a crown and some wings.

One of  the teachers came to the rescue with a unicorn costume from the dress-up box in another class. Ashley put it on, but it wasn't a fairy princess.

Fortunately, I work for a social service agency that works with young children. And we have a playroom. So, I raided our dress-up clothes and came up with a crown and some scarves.

I went back to Ashley's school. We crafted a fairy princess look of sorts -- not quite what either of us imagined on Monday. But Ashley was satisfied. And I was forgiven -- at least this time.

Some random Tuesday thoughts . . .

Saying Goodbye to Babies

We got rid of the bassinet this weekend.

We haven't used it in over two years, but it had sat in our bedroom -- a catchall for various things. But we finally got around to taking it apart (one step in my goal of sorting through all the old baby stuff we still have hanging around).

And as glad as I am to be finally putting it away, it made me a little sad, too.

There are so many days that I'm ready for my kids to be just a little bit older, more independent.

I'd love to be able to take an uninterrupted shower. Luke's making great progress on potty training, and I'm eagerly looking forward to the day when diapers are a thing of the past. And, I love the fact that Ashley has finally gotten to an age where she can get up on a Saturday morning, find herself something appropriate to eat and entertain herself for an hour or so before I get out of bed.

But some days I miss my babies. And they do seem to grow up so fast.

As I was disassembling the bassinet, Luke asked what I was doing. I told him I was taking it apart and putting it away because we don't have babies anymore.

And because Luke is very proud of being a "big boy" now, he said to me several times throughout the day, "We don't have babies anymore."

No, we don't have babies anymore.

Sometimes I really miss those babies.

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As I Was Saying

I’m no longer shocked when I hear my mother’s words come out of my mouth.

I have learned to accept that it’s just one of those things that happens when you have kids – for better or for worse, you find parts of your mother that make their way into your parenting.

But I am still shocked when I hear my words come out of my children’s mouths. (Usually because the words that make their way out of my children’s mouths are the ones that I’m least proud of.)

At two and a half, Luke has quite an accomplished vocabulary – but there are times it seems much of it (maybe too much on some days) comes from me.

There are ones that are kind of cute (and that show off my good Mommy side): “Good job, Mommy!” or “I did a really good job!” or “I’m a snazzy dude!”

And there are the playful ones: “Okey dokey artichokey” and “See you later alligatordile” (His unique blend of the “later alligator, after while crocodile” routine.

But then there are several that make me cringe (at least a little):

• When we’re stopped in traffic, he often yells from the back seat: “Come on, peoples!” or “Get out of my way peoples!” Guess I’m a little impatient in the car sometimes. Although, in my defense, I’m glad he spends more time in the car with me than with his dad (whose language when driving is slightly more colorful than mine).
• 
  
  Speaking of colorful language, Luke has picked up a couple of colorful phrases. I’ve never been a big swearer, and I’ve made a conscious effort at monitoring my language since I’ve had children. (Okay, if I’m honest, since Ashley was Luke’s age and chose to use a couple of not so nice words.) But, Luke gives me occasional reminders that I need to be a little more vigilant.
• “Get in time out, NOW.” I may once have worried about Luke’s ability to stand up to Ashley, but he is rapidly showing that he can hold his own with his big sister. He relishes telling her to go to time out – and he has mastered the “I’m so frustrated I’m ready to scream” tone of voice. (Oops...)

• In the midst of my usual morning routine of herding distractible children to the car, I said to both of them: “Stop playing around and get to the car right now.” Luke turned to me and with a concerned look said “Mommy, are you crazy?” This is because when I get really frustrated at them, I say “you are making me crazy.” (Not my proudest Mommy moment, but it does slip out from time to time.) I guess on that particular morning I was using my “you’re making me crazy” tone of voice.

Oh, the things children teach us. Maybe I should go ponder ways to change my language.