Compare and Contrast

Sam, February 10, 2007

Fred, January 27, 2012

Relief! And a Story!

The pie is in the oven. Now if I can just manage to wait the three hours required before I eat it. One to cook, two to rest, every second torture. Also torturous? My camera is all cleaned up and ready to come home, but my kids are sleeping, so it stays trapped in it's retail prison. Blast.

While I have some time to kill, let me tell you a story. On Sunday I mentioned that my kids were driving me a wee bit insane, especially Sam, in regards to disregarding every word that comes out of my mouth. We had our little 'run away from mom' incident at the Y Saturday afternoon, but Saturday evening was when he pulled out all of the stops.

SOB's chairman hosts a welcoming barbecue every year in mid-July after the new residents start. It's the kind of thing where most everyone in the department shows up, even if for only to make an appearance. We headed over and for a while things were going well. Our hosts had a big back yard and some balls for the kids to play with, plus there was a hammock and swing set for them to mess around with as well. My kids, in particular, loved the hammock. They would climb in and beg for me to swing them, and I obliged. I snapped a few pictures of them looking adorable together in there, and the evening seemed like it was going to go just fine.

But somewhere along the way, Sam flipped his internal switch from 'cute' to 'evil' and all hell broke loose.

The swing set was an older, metal model and the slide was high and steep. Despite several sharply worded warnings, he continued to push and be rough with the littler children, his sister included, while at the swing set. After several time outs, he was banished from the swing set all together. Then he started snatching balls away from the kids playing in the yard.

Finally, he ended up back in the hammock with Lucy, and pair of sisters. They were all playing nicely when the two sisters' older brother came over carrying their seven week old baby sister. He proceeded to get into the hammock with the baby as well, and I asked my kids to move away so that I could snap a photo of the four siblings together. The boy looked about thirteen or fourteen, and was rightly protective of his baby sister. He asked that no one touch the baby. I repeated that to my kids, and again asked them to get out of the hammock. All the while I'm snapping pictures.

Lucy, while unhappy, obliged and got out of the hammock. Sam, on the other hand, wouldn't budge. All of a sudden he started to lean over. I shouted, 'Sam! Don't you touch that baby!'

And here is the last shot I captured right before I grabbed my son by his toenails and dragged him back to the car.

Now do you see why I need pie?

Remeber that Time I Had to Forcibly Remove Sam from Swim Class? That Was Fun.

Oh, today was a fun one.

Ever since we got home on Saturday both kids have been like little Jekyll and Hyde's. One moment sweet and loving, the next instant making curse the day they were born. My mother-in-law came for a visit on Sunday afternoon, which, while fun, only added to the chaos for the kiddos. All morning Sam was on good behavior, so I should have known I was in for it. But the cock-eyed optimist in me was hoping the trend of goodness would continue.

WRONG!

As soon as we got outside to leave for swimming he took off through the yard, attempting to slip through the small space in the fence that leads to the neighbor's yard. You know, the space that I, or any other adult, could never fit through but that a 2 year old could slip through with ease. Yeah, that one. Luckily I caught him in the nick of time. He's really been into running away from us lately, and god help me I'm going to end up giving him a separated shoulder. I usually just barely manage to grab him by one arm just before he darts into traffic, slips through fence holes, falls down the steps, etc. So I grab him up and we pack into the car.

As soon as we got into the pool I calmed down. He was so excited that the water wasn't freezing (like at the beach) that he kept laughing and telling me that the water was hot! Yay! But when our regular teacher didn't show up and the fill in was instructing from the deck, things got ugly.

He started by grabbing my hair, clumped into a bun on top of my head so as to keep it dry, and yanked it as hard as he could to get me to put my face into the water. All the while he's screaming 'Mommy do! Mommy do!' None of the other kids, naturally, are trying to drown their mothers, so they are all giving me the stink eye over the yelling.

Later in the class the kids get little toys to throw and swim to. Usually Sam is really good during this portion of class because there is this one particular toy he adores. It's a cup that is shaped like a monkey head (a very realistic monkey head, I might add) that has a handle and a spout at the mouth. He calls it the whoo-whoo bucket, and if given the choice he prefers a yellow one. For a few minutes he was pleasant and cooperative. However, when it was time to put the whoo-whoo bucket away, things got ugly. Specifically, he took the whoo-whoo bucket and used it to smack me in the face as hard as he could. Almost instantly I could feel my lip starting to swell. I pulled him in close, explained that he gave mommy a big boo-boo, and that if he had one more incident of bad behavior we were leaving class early.

Well, that's what I meant to say. What I actually said probably wasn't that, um, nice.

Not even two minutes later all of us mommies were putting the kids on the deck for their jumping exercises when Sam spied the lap lane dividers. Occasionally someone will want to swim laps during our class time and the lifeguards will pull the lap dividers into the pool, and Sam is just fascinated by this. As soon as he saw them, he started moving towards them, all the while watching my face. I used my 'nice but threatening' voice to call him back over, but he was already too far gone. 'Mommy, NO!' he exclaimed, and when he turned to run he ended up pushing the little girl next to us into the pool. Thank god her mother was right there to catch her. And that the woman who teaches the class right before ours was still there, because she grabbed up Sam before he could hurt anyone else or himself. The water is almost five feet deep where we were, and it's is almost a foot below the deck so I was having trouble climbing out. She offered to hand him back to me down in the pool, but I just shook my head, climbed out and headed us off to the showers.

Unfortunately the bad behavior didn't end there. There were several tantrums thrown, and at one point he slammed our locker door while my head was inside, giving me a nice bump to add to my fat lip. I had intended to squeeze a small workout in after swimming class, but he was being too rotten for the babysitters too, so we headed home.

During the entirety of our ten minute drive he kept repeating 'Sorry Mommy. Mommy, sorry.' I could tell from his voice and his face that he meant it, too. It was breaking my heart just a little. As soon as we got home I put him in his bed even though it was almost two hours before his regular nap time. He was asleep in less than two minutes.

Two hours later he is still asleep.

Two hours later and my swollen lip has gone down.

Two hours later and I am keeping my fingers crossed that I get my sweet Sammy back after this nap. And maybe that I can get in a workout sometime this afternoon.

Finding My Rhythm

Life with two babies is finally getting marginally predictable. Sam's eat/nap/eat/poop schedule is solid as a rock, and Lucy, while still a little fluid, is getting the gist of things. Most weekdays I make it to the gym, and then I actually shower afterwards! I made these Valentines for Sam's class, which prompted several people to tell me how I was such a good mother.

(Really? Because I melted some crayons? Spread the word unfit parents of the world! All you need is 30 minutes and a busted up 64 pack of Crayola's to win mother of the year!)

But then I look around and see that a bunch of the internets are pregnant again, and I start thinking. And I wonder, is it true that the 2-to-3 transition is a piece of cake? Do I want to contemplate even a crumb of that cake? Does my ass really need more cake?

(I mean that both figuratively and literally, by the way.)

A few months back I mentioned how our cracked out health insurance wouldn't cover any contraceptives for moi. They're happy to pay tens of thousands of dollars for prenatal care and labor and delivery, but not $900 for an IUD. This week SOB and I finally got around to discussing how we wish to deal with that whole issue. We decided to wait until fall, when his company's open enrollment period begins, and change our plan. We've vowed to "be careful" until then. Which is kind of a joke considering we were "being careful" when I got pregnant with Lucy. Is that some kind of silent endorsement from both of us for a third?

I don't really know. I guess we'll find out sometime between now and October!

--

P.S. Here are some purdy flowers that I got on February 13th. I don't know, either.



Double P.S. We've also had our first official poop on the potty, along with several more pees!

Blurg

My brother and his fiancee are in the midst of a horrible break-up, and it's all that I can think about lately. Maybe that's why it's been The Lucy Show around here lately. I mean, who can argue against a cute baby when faced with the alternative of sad-saddy-sadness.

Dan and Raney have been together for almost six years now. When they met they were very young, both in age and maturity. But they've grown a lot together. Most of their friends are now married, and some are even reproducing, so in the fall Dan decided to was time for them to 'settle down' as well. He bought a ring. For two months he kept that ring in his pocket waiting for the perfect moment. Finally, on Christmas day, it came. She said yes, but while he was on the phone calling me and our parents and everyone else to share the great news, she watched TV. She never told her family or friends.

She went to work, and when a male co-worker heard the news he decided that he had to confess his true feelings to her before it was too late. Unfortunately, his romantic overtures get inside her head, and possibly inside her heart a little and she started wondering what she was doing getting married. That night she went to my brother with her questions and doubts.

For over a month she's kept him hanging on, always dangling the possibility of a reconciliation just out of reach. Saying she'll come home after work to talk, but ending up at the bar instead. Usually with That Guy. It's been tearing him apart, piece by tiny piece.

Last night he left. Hopefully for good. Our uncle, his godfather, lives nearby, so he's going to stay there for a few weeks. My folks are flying him up to Pittsburgh for Sam's birthday and hopefully he'll use the time (and computer) to figure out where he's going to live.

It's so hard being far away from him as he goes through this. All I want to do is take him out for a few drinks and let him lay his sorrows on my shoulders, even if just for a few minutes. I'll have to settle for being avaliable day or night for phone sessions, and maybe for sending some positive vibes his way.

I love you, Dan.

There. That's a good start.

It's Fun to Play at the YMCA!

Sam and I have been taking swimming lessons for almost a month now at our local Y. He is really getting into it. Just yesterday I had to hold him on my lap to keep him from climbing into the pool while we waited for the ExerSwim class to end. You don't mess with the ladies in the ExerSwim class. This is a huge change from the earlier weeks when he would cling to my neck for dear life. Now he'll float on his back with my hands beneath him, he'll jump in from a seated position on the wall and he'll swim on his belly with my hands supporting him. He looks forward to swim day so much it's hard not to get excited on Tuesday mornings.

However, I get excited for a slightly different reason.

Sam's swim teacher, Mr. Tyler, is A-dorable. I've always had A Thing for swimmers, hockey players and geeks. And any combination of the three drives me absolutely bonkers with lust. Mr. Tyler is a lovely blend of swimmer and geek, from what I can deduce. He makes up all sorts of delightful songs for the kids, like 'If you're happy in the water splash your hands.' Plus, he bears more than a passing resemblance to a boyfriend I had in 10th grade who was also a YMCA swim instructor and life guard. And also dreamy. The best part is that he has no idea he has this effect on me, making said effect even stronger.

But given that the name Tyler didn't even appear on the 'top 100 names' list until the 80's, I think it's safe to say that Mr. Tyler is a wee bit young for me. He's at least out of high school since he teaches our class on Tuesdays at 10am, but I doubt he's done with college.

Now, we've all had innocent crushes. This is not the kind of thing where I plan on having a clandestine love affair with the Y pool boy. But for some reason I feel a little dirty. Maybe it's the age thing. Although I honestly doubt I'm more than 10 years older than him, so it's really not that bad. I guess it's the difference in relative age. Even a minor age difference seems major when one party has two kids and a mortgage. I feel like a cougar simply because I'm there with my toddler.

So I'll try and get over my crush on Mr. Tyler. That way my motivation to jump in the pool won't be to wash away the skanky feeling I get when I see him, but instead to help teach my son to swim.

Except maybe for those nights when SOB is on call...

A:

Janet asks: who was your first pre-teen celebrity crush? Kirk Cameron, hands down.

Mrs. Chicken wants to know: why "Cheese Party" and what's with the obsession with putting your head in a hole and taking pictures? First, the title. It was, honestly, a random association of two things I love. Initially this blog had a horrible name, so after my second or third post I decided to change things up. 'Cheese' and 'Party' seemed to fit my odd-ball personality and my penchant for soirées.

And the head holes? Are a riot. Sam and Lucy will be forced into these types of photographs for their entire minor-hood.

Chrissie queries: My question is ... when is the next hot hands tournament? Tell your husband to BRING IT ON! I'm not playing, though. Can't risk injuring my delicate hands. I'll just document!

Lora inquires: (I'm going to take this one point by point since she's asked several)

-My question is-Do you feel older? Not really. I feel fatter, but I'm working on that.
-How old do you feel? Maybe a little younger than I am. But then I remind myself that I'm a member of the Woman's Club and then I feel older.
-How old do you think you look? I'm not sure. You tell me! I won't be offended. I swear!

I'm the one in the middle, holding the adorable baby

-How old do you think other people think you look? See my answer to the last question. And click on the picture to make it big so you can really see all the details.
-Did you think you'd have kids by now? Yes. My mom was 19, so before I really knew any better, I thought that's when I'd have my first kid, too.
-Did you want to have kids by now? Yes. I knew I was getting hitched to SOB at 17, and we started talking about babies before we were 20. We knew we were too young and too poor to actually have any, but the idea was in the pipeline.
-What did you want to have accomplished by 29 that you did? My main goal as a youth was to move far away from home. I only made it 300 miles, but they're a long 300. Pittsburgh and Philly are about as different as they come, so I feel much farther away. Oh, and being happily married to someone I love more than pizza. Lots of other things, too, but I'm too tired to catalog them.
-That you didn't? I always had very lofty (and somewhat strange) goals as a young woman. I wanted to save the leopard population through a series of genetically specific mate parings. I wanted to win a Tony award. Just to name a few.
-Does 30 freak you out? Not at all. I've never been an ageist. As long as I can keep up with my kids I'll be forced feel young. Although I did get an AARP card in the mail last week.
-What do you consider "old"? 78. Really. Up until then it's dependent upon the individual. My two grandmothers are almost the same age, but one seems 20 years younger than the other. Once you're late in the septuagenarian years, though, you're old.
-Has it changed in the last few years? Nope.

HBM questions: what's your view on birthdays in general? Do they get better or worse? I've always loved my birthday, and hopefully always will. The presents get worse for a little while and then they get better again. Between those odd teen years where no one knows what to get you and then the early adult years where no one can afford to get you anything they kind of suck. Not that I'm materialistic or anything. I just like presents. And you don't?

Susan ponders: What is the one thing that you do that you would lie, lie, lie about if anyone ever caught you doing it? Picking my nose. We all do it, but none of us (including me) want to admit it! Incidentally, what do you think would happen if you never picked your nose? Would you get a giant booger obstructing your nasal passages?

And finally, Anonymous wonders: How do you see you life, your family, all around you, in 5 years? Perhaps we'll be in the same neighborhood, but maybe in a bigger house (maybe because we'll have another baby, but don't tell SOB I said that!) Sam will be in 2nd grade and Lucy in 1st, so we'll be busy, I'm sure. Hopefully I'll be at least a little thinner. Lucy and her new BFF Liliana will make each other friendship bracelets. SOB and I will go on vacation for our 10th anniversary, sans children. Sam will win the class spelling bee. All will be right with the world, just like it is now.

Sam and Cheese

Notice any similarities in these pictures? (Aside from the fact that Sam is in his pjs 80% of the time.) My parents taught him to 'Say Cheese!' when being photographed. And it's Sam's new favorite thing. Now, as soon as you pull a camera out he closes his eyes and gives an obligatory 'Eeeeeeeese!' And he won't stop until you take his picture. Some of these were taken by me, some by my dad and some by my sister-in-law. It doesn't matter who is wielding the camera. The results are always the same.

I choose the first one as my best shot Monday.

Let this also be a warning to Mothergoosemouse. Maybe I'll find out in a year or two that girls are the same way, but boys can be a little obsessive. Once they figure out that something is charming or funny it gets put on a constant loop.

Sometimes it can be achingly sweet. When Sam started giving everyone European kisses, one on each cheek, and wouldn't stop. Or like when he figured out the proper pronunciation of 'Mommy' and he would call my name 54,872 times a day just to see if I would respond.

Or it can be a little gross. He got a big reaction once when he burped really loudly. For the next two weeks, he would fake burp every five minutes and then command us to laugh at him. Daddy laughed at him when he put his finger up is nose, and every now and then Sam will just walk up to him and dig in to the second knuckle. Cute once or twice, but not so much anymore!

Boys are more than a handful, they're an armful. Sometimes they're an armful of dirty-squirming-mischievous mess, and other times they're an armful of snuggly-cuddly-mama-loving man child. They love their mothers fiercely, and all we can do is thank them for the beautiful frog they found us and love them back.