SOTC (state of the children)

I was going to do this big post where I took a photo of every outfit I am bringing to Palm Springs, but then I decided that 1) no one cares and 2) that was excessive navel-gazing even for me. 

SO ANYWAY. Phillip's been gone since Sunday morning and HOO BOY am I loving both sets of grandparents right now. We stayed with my parents until Tuesday lunchtime, and Phillip's parents just spent the entire afternoon and evening entertaining my kids while I packed and ran on the treadmill and generally stayed away from the noise. 

Sometimes Phillip is slightly interested in jobs that would take us out of state. Sometimes I REALLY HATE January (and November and December and February and March and sometimes April too) and I entertain notions of southern California or shoot, even northern California, but this will never happen. We could never move away from the only people who want to take our kids for overnight! 

In honor of the speech I did not watch last night, the State of the Children goes something like this:

JACK. This kid, you guys. THIS KID. He is KILLING ME. Senator Smartass is perhaps not a name we use in his company, but it sure fits. He's something four and three quarters, average height, needs his pants cinched tight, big dark eyes and thick dark lashes and the stuff that comes out of his mouth drives me BATTY. I mean, half of it is awesome. I do not deny the awesome. He's a thoughtful little kid who remembers a lot of random details and soaks up Facts like nobody's business. He often interrupts me (often when I'm yelling at him) to ask me what a word means. Like today I was getting onto him for being a brat to his grandfather and he's all, "what does Polite mean, Mommy" and I'm like, "JUST GET OUT OF MY HAIR." 

He is constantly singing. Like, CONSTANTLY. He is loud. He is energetic. He is SO MUCH MORE energetic than he ever was, more than I ever thought he'd be. He does not stop! Ever! And when you tell him to be quiet he won't even look at you or acknowledge you because it's like he ALREADY KNOWS, he doesn't have to WASTE ENERGY turning his head in your direction, he ALREADY HEARD ME he KNOWS. Argh! It burns me up! His smartassery drives me around the bend on a daily basis. His know-it-all-ness, his bossiness, his refusal to accept your corrections, his "okay, okay, stop lecturing me so I can go right back to doing exactly what I want" business is INFURIATING! 

Of course, I also find it utterly charming as this kid is EXACTLY LIKE ME. Even my mother says so. (Obvs she says this gleefully, in a SO SHALL YOU RECEIVE YOUR COMEUPPANCE! tone of voice.)

MOLLY. Miss Mollymoo is the girliest girl of all the girls. I've spent a considerable amount of time wondering how she got this way. She does not have a particularly girly mother (several sequinned dresses notwithstanding.) I never played with dolls the way Molly plays with her babies. I don't remember demanding to wear my dress up dresses all the livelong day. Did I even HAVE dress up dresses? She wants to be a princess, but she hasn't been super exposed to the princess phenomenon. She's pink and purple and sparkly and glittery and where is her wand and not that clippy, Mommy, and I want to wear THAT dwess and Mommy you should wear THAT dwess and not those shoes, Mommy. 

I also spend a lot of time wondering if I'm doing right by Molly. Her brother is so Over The Top in his personality sometimes that Molly is just an element of that. She does everything he does, a split second after he does it. She is always content to let him go first. When he's not around she often seems a bit lost. And I hate that when I try to figure out where she is developmentally or whatever, it's always in comparison to Jack. 

But this morning we dropped Jack at preschool and ran an errand at Target and stopped in the Target Starbucks for a treat and it was like my heart was just FULL of Molly. She sort of ignores you now when you talk to her, like she's either pretending not to hear you or she really can't be bothered to answer, she insists on having a helper every time she uses the potty, her hair makes me crazy, and ENOUGH ALREADY with the "but I don't like those pants, Mommy" every single morning, but I have loved every single stupid minute of taking that girl out shopping and for coffee and for treats and just Her and Me time. It's the best. It is so much fun. It is so sweet. I just love her. I was telling her this morning when I was buckling her back into her car seat, that I just love my girl, and she goes, "Just girls! No Daddy! No Jackson!" Yes, kid. You are my mall buddy for life.

OH EMMA. I think she has skipped 6 month outfits entirely. I put one on her this morning and her FOOT was busting out of the FOOT POCKET, so I dragged the storage box out from under the bed and started rummaging around for the 9 month clothes and HOLY CATS MY 4-MONTH-OLD IS WEARING 9 MONTH JAMMIES. This is probably no big deal to a lot of you, but I am used to SCRAWNY children. Although Emma's not particularly WIDE, just LONG.

The last two-ish months were so stinking hard with sleep. I mean, I was having existential crises left and right. The lack of sleep and the constant re-napping was permeating every minute of my day and every thought in my brain. But for some reason she kicked it into gear on Sunday night and now she, like, GOES TO SLEEP. I mean, it hasn't even been a week, but she's now taking Actual Naps and going to bed and Actually Sleeping. I will never assume good sleep is a trend, but I will take it when I can get it. I hope she keeps it up this weekend for Phillip!

And dudes, she is the HAPPIEST BABY. I mean, even when she's fussy and not sleeping and all that, this baby is a smile machine. It's so awesome. She just started laughing and she has this deep gurgly belly laugh. It's not this cute little baby laugh, it's growly and phlegmy and AGAIN: utterly charming. She does this other thing where she thrashes around in JOY - usually in the morning when I'm changing her out of her heavy nighttime diaper. You'd think she was going to kick a hole through the changing pad and thwack herself off the changing table. I LOVE IT. It is SO CUTE!

And all three of them together is SO trippy. I mean, these are my KIDS. With MY genetic material! HOW CRAZY IS THAT!!! Oh wow I'm going to miss them this weekend. Well, after I've slept through the night and had a poolside cocktail or four. Then I'll miss them. 

 

 

Friday Night Extra

If you are not his mother (or grandmother) I'm not sure you will DIE LAUGHING like I just did, but maybe you will find it Slightly Amusing? Also Molly stealing the show with one line at the very end? OKAY MAYBE JUST ME.

 

The "I'm A Loser Who Updates Her Blawg On Saturday Nights" Picturefest

Baptism!

This is me, EJ, and 30 extra pounds, which are apparently all located in my chin[s]. LE SIGH. Also, SOMEONE is all, "I can't believe I have to be in this photo with that thing on my head."

"Okay, FINE."

Also, I can't BELIEVE someone was letting her kid climb ALL OVER the altar - oh wait.

Cousins! This particular cousin refers to J as "Jacks" and M as "Jackenmolly". Which of course I find utterly adorable. 

On the wall at preschool. 

It worked! (E is wearing, by the way a GIANT BIB because of the Incessant Barfing. It is embroidered with a Giant E in an attempt to make it cute. It does nothing, however, for the barfing.)

And you should have seen the way she was Gazing Adoringly at her big siblings today. She's just starting to smile and respond to Phillip and me, but I SWEAR this kid has been responding to Jack (especially Jack) for weeks. Weeks! He was jostling her around, yanking her this way and that, readjusting her every two seconds and she just Gazed Adoringly the entire time. HAPPY PARENT SIGH. 

Three kiddos

Things are moderately better in the Transitioning To Big Brother- and Sisterhood. I think. At least I am not noticing it so much anymore. Jack is still climbing the walls and Molly is still weepy when she goes to bed and I am still beyond irritated when they hover around me while I'm feeding the baby BUT. It seems better. 

Dear Mom. We've discussed it and we've decided to throw you a bone. 

Jack is saying this thing now that cracks me up every single time, even though I should probably put him in the corner. I believe I've told you before how choices were sort of pointless with this kid because he would always - ALWAYS - come up with a third unlisted choice. So now it's just funny the way he frames it. I'll say, "What sounds good for a snack? A cheese stick? Some apple?" And he will say, "Ummm, I will have fruit snacks."

Like, no thank you First Footman! I shall turn down your offer of crumpets and I will have the cucumber sandwiches instead!

And he sort of cocks his head and raises his eyebrows and THINKS before he responds, and then he says it JUST LIKE I am his housemaid. "Not the gold frock this evening, Cheung! I will have the red silk!" 

"What should we eat for breakfast, kiddos?"

MOLLY: "CHEWIOS."

JACK: "I will have waffle."

"We're going to have meatloaf for dinner!"

MOLLY: "WIF MUSHWOOMS?"

JACK: "I don't like meatloaf. I will have macaroni and cheese."

See? Should totally sit in the corner. Instead I am writing about it on my website. 

Molly is adorable. She just IS. And again, I should probably be DOING something about the fact that she distinguishes her preschool classmates by what they are wearing (notably shoes, dresses, or backpacks) and that she still has way too many opinions on not only her wardrobe but mine. But I am not. Because I think it's ADORABLE. She had preschool pictures yesterday and the preschool director was telling me how cute she was. Because, OBVS, she is. But then the preschool director was telling me that she POSED. When no one ASKED HER TO POSE. And when Molly finally came out of the classroom I asked her how pictures went and if she smiled and she said, "Yes Mommy. I did like this:" AND SHE POSED. 

I die. I just... She still has the chompiest little cheeks and I love her uneven bangs and her little doll face and even how she follows me around wanting to do everything I do. I keep telling myself that one day she will be thirteen and hate my guts, so it's totally okay to totally love how much she totally loves me. 

As for Emma, she's another little doll baby. One that spits up nonstop and coughs like a ninety-five-year-old smoker, but pretty cute nonetheless. She's even getting a double chin. Go milk! 

I'm half Chinese? Really? Are you SURE?

This kid so easy and I feel SO BAD because it seems like half the internet is dealing with NOT SO EASY BABIES right now. I'm just dealing with the average number of night wakings and I can almost always put her down. And if the big kids are around when I do? I'm GOLDEN. I know she's only four weeks old (wait, FIVE WEEKS, GAK) but she seems to already be enthralled by her big brother and sister. I approve.

 

One link, two costumes

I've got One Million things I need to write about, probably none of which you are explicitly interested in, but 1) I have to feed the baby and 2) I am reading a good book and 3) I haven't yet watched this week's episode of The Good Wife (deep breath) THEREFORE all you get is this link to my piece at Parenting for tomorrow. The iPad Generation. Yes, I used the passing of Steve Jobs to help me out with a post topic. I was also Overly Sensitive about how much we let the kids USE the iPad. OH WELL. 

Oh wait! Question! So Jack decided he wanted to be THE HULK for Halloween and would not be talked out of it. Then he wanted to be Captain America and would not be talked out of it. What is wrong with a hobo! Or a clown! Or even a NON-SUPERHERO character! But then when we went to Target to buy the costumes he seemed enthralled with Batman, which I am chalking up to the fact that his older cousin is going to be Batman and that piece of information somehow lodged itself in Jack's brain. Like this: BIG COUSIN = BATMAN = OBVS SHOULD BE BATMAN TOO. 

But the Batman costumes were either the all black NEW Batman, of which I disapprove for a four-year-old, or the old school Batman in sizes Way Too Small. So I told him I would order him a Batman costume online. But Internet, where do I buy a cool Batman costume? Should I just order the Target one? Can I MAKE one? I believe his cousin's mother is buying his costume from Etsy, but let's just say I'm a lot cheaper than she is. 

MOLLY was going to be Minnie Mouse (my sister bought her the outfit and ears on a trip to Disneyland) but then I dug out the costume box yesterday and she found last year's costume (the pink butterfly suit from Old Navy) and now she is going to be a butterfly. Again. As much as this seems WRONG (wear the same costume AGAIN?!) it also seems EASY and I am planning not to argue/influence. So smart of me! 

Pre-panicking over my inevitable (?) future as a Room Mom

Dropping Jack at preschool on Friday was one million trillion times easier than our first preschool drop off, but I still felt panicky when I strapped myself back in the car and drove away. I wasn't sure what I found upsetting, but SOMETHING was upsetting and it was a good hour until my heart stopped beating super fast and my shoulders sank back down to their normal position. 

After a while I decided that I was, once again, Projecting. As in, apparently I have unpleasant buried memories about starting a new school. I drove home from Target repeating, "A new preschool is not the same as a new high school. A new preschool is not the same as a new high school." over and over and over. I know. I SO would have failed a Parental Qualifications Test. 

ANYWAY. I really really liked Jack's old preschool and while I am SURE that the new preschool is JUST FINE especially for Jack, especially because dear Lord it is PRESCHOOL not AP Calculus, I am still feeling a little suspicious. I was not impressed with the communication about the first day of school (NONE) although possibly I should take some responsibility for that as well, seeing as how I am super averse to picking up the phone and calling Powers That Be. His teacher is a lovely grandmotherly lady, the room is cute, the class is small, and Jack came home in good spirits, even if he did say, after I asked him how things went, "I don't feel like talking about that right now, Mommy." 

OKAY, WHATEVER.

When we picked him up I was handed a Giant Packet O' Fundraising Info. Welcome to Catholic school! Now, I know that public schools do fund raisers too, and I remember having to do a few when I was in school, but I've been warned about how being a Catholic school parent means you are pretty much on the development committee whether you like it or not. Since we are paying out-of-parish rates and he's only in the Pre-K program, I'm not sure how sucked into this world we will be, but it IS a trial run for kindergarten and beyond, so I'm [suspiciously] interested to see how it works. 

I am not OPPOSED to fund raising. Obviously. But I happen to be rather bad at it. I can volunteer to help with auctions and fairs and all that organizational stuff, but having my kid walk door to door selling gift wrap? (This is the September Fund Raiser, apparently.) NOT SO MUCH. I just don't... Well, I don't know. Some people seem totally fine with this. And I've certainly bought my share of magazines and popcorn and candy and all that. But you know they expect you to harangue all your family and friends to buy the gift wrap, as well as the unsuspecting neighbors who have no idea who you are, and that just feels icky. I mean, I'm the person who doesn't even like wedding registries! 

There was also a sheet of paper in my packet asking for the names and contact information for friends and family who would be interested in giving and/or attending fund raising events. And I can just imagine Random Relative opening up her fund raising letter from Maggie's four-year-old. GAH. 

Have I told you that cold calling business contacts for auction items was once part of my job description? Until my boss realized that we were getting, like, NEGATIVE items and decided it was no longer part of my job description? 

It seems like most of the Catholic school parents I know get Super On Board and become evangelists for their school and I'm not opposed to becoming one of those people EITHER, but it seems very DAUNTING. Tomorrow night I am skipping a church meeting to go to the curriculum night at the OTHER church. (I totally forgot about last month's meeting, and NEXT month's meeting is 3 days away from my due date soooo, yeah. They are totally going to fire me.) Anyway, I hope to Become Educated on more of this Catholic school stuff. Actually I hope to meet some other Catholic school parents, even though I feel about as skilled at this as I am at fund raising. WE SHALL SEE.

In lieu of the First Day Of Preschool picture, which would be the APPROPRIATE ending to this post, but which is apparently on one of the OTHER phones/cameras we use to take pictures, which of course we have misplaced at the moment, I will leave you with a picture of the cake the FPC made for Molly's birthday party on Sunday. 

I KNOW. The FPC is MY personal cake-maker. You can't have her. 

 

When I DO listen to the talking, this is what I hear

Sometimes I wish I could sit down and transcribe the conversations I have with Jack. Not because they're OH SO CUTE or charming or anything like that (though they often are, OF COURSE). He's just becoming a very... INTERESTING little boy and the stuff that comes out of his mouth is just so bizarre sometimes. It's clear that his brain is always working, always sucking in information, and he will bust out with it at the strangest out-of-context times. 

Tonight over dinner we covered: heaven, Disneyland, "the big inside wading pool, do you renember that Mommy?" (he's talking about the indoor swimming pool we visited once LAST SUMMER), how white rice is not healthy for you, how vegetables ARE healthy for you but he won't like them until he is six, and who is Daddy's Daddy and Mommy's Mommy. And when he starts to talk about An Important Subject, he sort of raises his eyebrows a little bit, which gives him not a quizzical look but a "Dear Mother, Let Me Enlighten You On This Scintillating Topic" expression. His tone of voice is quite matter of fact, he is very clear on his facts (even though half the time they are WRONG) (not that he will believe you if you correct him) and his very favorite phrase right now is, "Mommy, do you know what?" The appropriate response is, "No, I know NOTHING! SHARE YOUR BRILLIANCE!" 

I feel like the things discussed tonight are things I can halfway talk about. But often he starts telling me about planets and why Pluto is NOT a planet and the human body and do I know what the gallbladder does and I find myself thinking, "Can't we read Olivia like all the OTHER children?" Are there other kids watching Brain Pop and then vomiting the information learned in the car, at dinner, during quiet time when Mommy just really really wants to fall asleep?

Which is not fair, because we do read Olivia and we love Olivia, but given the choice, Jack will hand me one of his numerous human body/ocean creatures/planets books. Which is my fault, because I'm the one who buys them. 

Molly... we're still waiting to see what Molly ACTUALLY likes (besides dresses and shoes) that isn't just a copycatting of whatever JACKSON likes. 

Anyway. Where in the world was I going with this? 

I saved my obligatory preschool freak out for Parenting. I know it's silly, but I am RATHER overwhelmed by my calendar at the moment, and the two different preschools with two different start dates and orientation days are kind of freaking me out. That plus the doctor appointments, a baptism class, a wedding, three birthdays and before-preschool-starts and before-babies-are-born hang outs with friends... all good stuff, super good stuff, but the calendar still gives me the shakes. Oh, all those things PLUS the fact that I've become sorely unmotivated to do a single thing around my house. It's like as soon as I gave myself permission to stop painting everything in my bedroom, I decided nothing was worthwhile. The amount of time, money and effort I will have to spend to get each room looking the way I see it in my head is just enormous and I can't deal with that right now. The best I can do is hope to have clean bathrooms by the time our company comes to stay over Labor Day weekend. I KNOW. IS PATHETIC.

What little motivation I do have these days seems to be about reading every single Inspector Rutledge mystery in existence (I've only got two left!), napping, making sure there is ice cream in the freezer, and guilting friends and family into entertaining my children. 

 

All my babies

I was an attentive, cheerful, doting mother today, as evidenced by the four - FOUR - puzzles still in their put-together glory crowding up my living room floor. I thank God for puzzles, people, as my kids love them and they are pretty much the one kind of kid activity that I can do without wanting to stab myself in the eyes. 

Speaking of, what do your kids like to do? Out of curiosity? Jack right now is super into glue sticks and scissors and markers and entire forests' worth of paper. He writes random letters and asks me what they say (and gets mad when, nine times out of ten, they don't say anything. Sorry kid.) He draws rainbows and planets and family and he LOVES cutting all of his little creations into small pieces. Occasionally he glues them onto another sheet of paper, but usually he leaves them on the floor for me to grumble over later. He's still into his Trio blocks and whines at me to help him build the marble run. Other than that he is making up games with his willing assistant, Mollymoo, and running around the house in costume or building houses or setting up picnics or putting the stuffed animals and babies to bed. He will also sit and read his human body books (SNORE) or play Plants vs. Zombies on the iPad. And THANK THE LORD ALMIGHTY we have moved on from Busytown Mysteries. The preferred shows are now Fishtronaut (?) and Blue's Clues, both of which were found through unfettered iPad Netflix access. Sue me. 

Molly does whatever Jack does. Mostly. She also plays with the iPad but she's more likely to play one of the gazillion kid apps we downloaded. She's more into puzzles than her brother, but she prefers an adoring audience while she does them. She colors and cuts too, but mostly she's either doing whatever Jack is doing (therefore making it hard to tell what SHE especially likes to do) or hanging out with me. She likes to help unload the dishwasher and fold wash cloths and help me make the beds. She picks out clothes and watches me do my hair and loves getting the mail. I'm looking forward to seeing what a few hours of preschool separation does for Molly. Not that I think it's bad all this copycatting of her brother, but it will be fun to see what kinds of things she latches onto. It's super fun watching them play "airplane" or "haircut" or "mommy and daddy" but these are almost always Jack's ideas and Molly is second in command. Her one talent at these games seems to be starting a fight, alas. 

ANYWAY. I think my nice mommyness was largely due to the fact that Nai Nai and Ye Ye came over around lunchtime and watched the kids while I went to yet another doctor appointment. (Where I LOST two pounds! Ha! But I think that has more to do with sketchy weights than anything else. I mean, my rule during Hot By Thirty was Naked Morning Weight Is The Only One That Counts. Right?) And I "extended" my appointment hanging out at the library for a good hour. Refreshing! As for the appointment, it was, yet again, a thoroughly boring and pointless and I flat out said, "Do I REALLY have to come back so soon?" And my doctor, because she is awesome, cancelled my next appointment. Because REALLY. NOTHING IS HAPPENING. I don't have to go back until the 12th. I plan to gain lots of weight in the meantime, OBVS. 

I know that must sound so snobby and/or obnoxious to many of you, but there is honestly nothing much to talk about with my doctor. There's no reason to go over any of my complaints because I know they are all NORMAL and there's really nothing you can DO about having baby feet jammed in your ribcage except HAVE THE BABY. Right? I don't have anything serious to mention and all she does is measure me and tell me everything sounds great, so, yeah. That's that. I acknowledge my luckiness! But I am also going to complain about the baby feet. And the fact that I can no longer breathe. 

Actually, I had to sort of sit down and tell myself today, "Self? No more projects. Do not even think about painting your entry way. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH." I mean, perhaps I will get around to organizing the pantry and I really do have to find a place for new baby's stuff, but no more of these grand home improvement projects. (Well, grand for ME, anyway.) When walking up my one rinky dink flight of stairs is enough to wind me (see: baby feet in ribs) it's clear that I need to, you know, stop some stuff. I've been feeling bad about being tired or napping or even things like dreading helping the kids maneuver on the playground and making lunch, because all I want to do is SIT. But I'm trying to remind myself that even though I am a lazy lazy girl, I am not by nature a SITTER, this is not the real ME, I am 7.5 months pregnant and if there is any time when I should do more sitting it's the next several weeks. I think this is okay. 

I got to skype with my college bff today and her brand new baby boy and OH he was SO SWEET. It was making me very moony-eyed. He's beautiful. WANT. 

ANYWAY. We're just sort of stuck in these next couple weeks of Summer and Nothing Much To Do, which I've been disliking more and more lately. But then there will be Labor Day and after that, PRESCHOOL (OMG, must discuss preschool tomorrow, I have the shakes), and then the baby comes and maybe I should just APPRECIATE my days of nothingness right now? You think? I will try. 

Time for this week's edition of Stellar Moments of Weekend Parenting!

Can I just say, first of all, that this is the first night of the entire summer that I have been HOT? Yes, I have a house surrounded by very tall trees and we don't get a lot of afternoon sun and I'm not sure it will EVER be hot on the first floor of my house, but most of the living is done on the second floor and IT IS HOT. Sweat sweat sweat. (Sorry, Texas. I know. We are up to what? 80 degrees?)

So anyway, this weekend I was an excellent mother to BOTH of my precious children. 

First there was Jack, at my parents' house, being kind of a twerp. He's often twerp-like but I think I'm especially sensitive to the twerpiness at Grandma and Grandpa's house because, well, I worry that my twerp tolerance level is a little higher than theirs. ANYWAY. I don't even remember what he was being awful about, but I was getting embarrassed and I followed him upstairs to their play area so I could chew him out in private, and in so doing I grabbed his arm and perhaps yanked? twisted? a little too hard. He looked up at me with his giant puppy eyes and just started to BAWL. And I felt like CRAP. 

All of a sudden it was clear to me that 1) even though he HAD been twerpy downstairs he WAS following directions UPSTAIRS 2) the thing he'd been whining about was actually for real, when both my mom and I thought he was making it up and 3) my embarrassment caused me to act out more than was necessary. I just felt horrrrrrrible. It wasn't that I should have been NICE to him, but I just went too FAR, and not even FAR in the right direction. It was just a pointless gesture that ended up hurting my kid and I sat there holding him and apologizing and feeling like I would never get over it. I don't think I have much longer (or any time at all?) to reassure myself that he won't remember this when he's older. I'm sorry, Future Jack. I really am trying to do right by you, kid. 

And poor Molly. The potty training issues continue to drive us around the bend. Phillip and I will both swear up and down that she knows exactly what to do and when to do it, but there are moments when she Just Doesn't Wanna. Or it doesn't appear to be IMPORTANT to her. Or something. So a week will go by without an accident and then BOOM. We're washing all the sheets. Or mopping up the kitchen floor. Or, in the case of yesterday, finding some pimply faced kid at Target to mop up for us. 

I was already upset. I'd taken the kids out so Phillip could have some time to do this wiring project in our house, and the entire time we were out, Jack was demanding a toy. And I would say, "Not if you talk to me like that, you're not getting anything, ever." So he'd be quiet for a while, then he'd ask to go to the toy aisle. Or we'd go to a different store and he'd ask for a toy all over again. It was never QUITE snotty enough for me to, uh, go berserk on his arm again. But I'd HAD it and by that time I'd told him he could forget Christmas and MAN. Do these kids not know that I'm DYING to buy them stuff and I'd love to buy them something EVERY SINGLE TIME and I LOVE to spoil them in the Target dollar section but NOT IF YOU'RE GONNA ACT LIKE THAT I'M NOT. 

So I'm angry. But it'd subsided a bit, because he'd apparently got the point and was being sweet and cooperative again, and we're happening to stand in the way back of Target where there are baby pools on clearance for, like, ten bucks or something. This was going to be a super hot weekend and our baby pool is a little too small and boring and I thought something new (and cheap!) would be fun. The kids were playing with these little outdoor toys across the way while I'm standing there deciding. Then Molly looks up at me, with a toy in her hand, and says, "Mommy, I need to go potty."

I'm ready to drop everything and race to the bathroom, but no, she meant NOW. So WHILE SHE CONTINUES TO PLAY WITH THE TOY, a little puddle forms under her legs and I'm just standing there like WTF DO I DO? 

I'd just switched out my purse that morning, so I had no wipes, no pull up, no extra pants, no Kleenex, NO NOTHING. All I had in the absorbent category was a clearance summer outfit in the cart. WHICH I CONSIDERED USING. I just stood there IN HORROR watching the pee puddle up. I could not think of what to do. Seriously. I just stood there. So did Molly. Like, "No big thing, Mom!"

A Target aisle is not an appropriate place to have a break down or scream at your kid or rail at God or anything like that. Thank goodness she was wearing a dress, so you couldn't TELL that she wet her pants. But I had to go FIND SOMEONE and CONFESS. (I considered just leaving. Oh yes I did.) 

We left, and the whole time I am asking Molly, "What were you thinking? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" This kid wears underwear all the time except at night. She has accidents, but usually they're at home or at a friend's house and lately they've been few and far between. We were starting to be hopeful! And she's never wet her pants at a store or a restaurant or anywhere PUBLIC. It was my mistake in forgetting to have her go before we went out, but still. We have used the Target bathrooms before. SHE KNOWS THEY ARE THERE. 

We got to the car and I'm buckling them in and I'm just on the verge of tears. I was so tired, so frustrated. I was furious with Molly for not appearing to be sorry or embarrassed or ASHAMED. I wanted SOME reaction out of her. Anything except, "Whatever." To my credit, I didn't yell or anything like that, but I did start crying while buckling her into her car seat. And I made sure she knew exactly what I was crying about. And then SHE started to cry - and not because I was being mean, I don't think. It was more like she was sorry that she made me cry. Awesome. It's one thing to want your kid to feel ashamed in your head, it's another to SHAME THEM ON PURPOSE. And for what? An accident? WHAT IS MY PROBLEM?

So I bawled all the way home. I was still bawing when I unbuckled them and I was bawling in the entry way as they took their shoes off and Phillip came downstairs all, "Um, is there a problem?"

I had to go sit in my room. I had to, I don't know. GATHER myself. I wasn't just crying about a puddle I couldn't clean up in Target, you know? There are just moments when I feel so out out my league and so out of whatever resources I need to do this parenting thing properly. I feel ashamed for not being able to control MYSELF. Up to this point I've just felt like: people have three kids and they survive. They have MORE than three kids and things are FINE! I will too. People are not perfect. There will be hard spots and we will fail, but we love our kids and we love each other and Things Will Work Out. But now I'm like... HOW AM I GOING TO DO THIS? HOWWWWW?

Then today... today they were happy shrieky and amenable to cleaning things up and not picky about their clothes and didn't mind when we kept changing plans on them and ate their dinners and right before it was time to go to bed, Jack yelled at me to come look at him and "Do I look like an airplane, Mommy?"

 

Rage tempered by fumes

I yelled a lot today. Would you like to hear about it? 

The morning was fine, which was good because for some reason I was OUT OF IT all morning. I remember having some intense dream (all my dreams are intense lately, ugh) and then suddenly I had this thought: there are brownies! in the kitchen! Yes. I thought this. SUE ME. Then it occurred to me if I got up RIGHT THEN, I could eat brownies for breakfast without the children catching me. Possibly I need to go to Carbs Anonymous?

So anyway, I stumbled out of bed, half awake, for BROWNIES. Although honestly, is there really a better reason? But either I woke up too soon or too fast because I was only halfway present in the real world for a good solid hour or two. I managed to get the kids breakfast and all that, and thank goodness they decided to have one of their great big imaginary games instead of bickering at each other all morning because SERIOUSLY, I was SPACED OUT.

So I don't think the yelling started until lunch time. I gave Molly some yogurt, and as she is wont to do with yogurt or anything drippy and wet, some of it plopped on the table. No big deal. But by the time I got to the table to clean it up, Molly had smudged it EVERYWHERE, with her PALM and was looking at me like, "No biggie, Mom, I'm just furthering my creativity" and I was mad. MAD. The child is nearly three. She's been eating yogurt on her own for a LONG TIME. She shouldn't have it smeared all over hands and face and my TABLE.

Then, as I am wont to do, I barked at her and harrumphed and carried on and roughly wiped her up and ordered her to her room. Whereupon, of course, she started to cry. And that just made me angrier. 

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

And she shuffled off (Molly always makes certain you know that she really doesn't want to do whatever you are ordering her to do) and I fumed and raved to myself and then I hear her crying take on a different tone. A tone I am quite familiar with, yet one I still don't manage to tend to in time. The cry that says, "I'm really upset! So upset I'm going to PEE MY PANTS!"

Which she did. All over her bed. And you thought I was mean and yelly BEFORE. 

Oh man. I am just DONE with this potty training thing. DOOOOOONE. I swear we've been doing this for a year. I am totally willing to say it's my fault, that I started too early, that she wasn't ready blah blah blah. But you know what? I would have sworn she WAS ready. 

I have to say that 90% of the time she uses the potty. And ever since we started using Miralax on a regular basis (SORRY FUTURE MOLLY) we haven't had to deal with days on end of, well, TRAUMA. But she is MOST unwilling to use the potty for THOSE occasions and then there are her random... spells. The times when she gets upset. The times she forgets. The times it just appears that she doesn't CARE. 

I know you aren't supposed to go off on a kid who just wet her pants but BY GOLLY I WANTED TO. I just feel like: YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO! YOU KNOW! YOU KNOOOOOOW! And I am SO SICK of cleaning up! GAH! 

I also know that potty training is one of those things even super bloggers choose not to write about, but I'm just gonna say that this is all YOUR fault, Molly. You are KILLING ME WITH THIS. 

The other night I turned to Phillip and said, "Remember when she just wouldn't walk? Like she knew what to do, and she knew that we knew that she knew what to do, but she just WOULDN'T? And when she wouldn't go to bed before midnight? No matter what we tried? She just WOULDN'T? Do you think this is the same kind of thing? IN WHICH CASE WE ARE SCREWED?"

I was so furious and yelly and because I KNEW I was furious and yelly I gave myself a time out. I flopped on my bed and my kids started playing nicely again and I just laid there. Dead to the world. DEPRESSED. 

Eventually I got up and sent Molly to bed and decided to be a half decent mother and play puzzles with my boy, who is quite good at puzzles and everything was okay as long as I mentally turned his voice down and concentrated on matching the dress pieces to the Disney princess face pieces. Eventually Phillip's parents came over to visit and I left the chatty kid with them while I went to, wait for it, HOME DEPOT to buy, yes you're right, MORE SPRAY PAINT OMG I HAVE A PROBLEM. 

(I decided to paint my espresso-colored West Elm desk white. Just go with this. And don't freak out like my FIL about the pregnant and spray painting thing because I bought myself a MASK and I do it on the deck and I take frequent breathers on the far side of the deck and really I think I am QUITE SAFE.) (But I do love how FIL didn't say anything DIRECTLY to me, but kept nudging MIL to lecture me instead. Which she did not. Ahem.)

I don't know. It just made me feel LESS depressed to have a PROJECT. 

And everything was going fine and the kids were happy and FIL and MIL were occupied. But then it was time to meet Phillip at the restaurant and the kids went downstairs to put on their shoes while I headed to the bathroom to put on my third or fourth application of undereye concealer that day I hear my darling little boy say, "Ye Ye, you're STUPID!" Giggle giggle giggle. 

I waited for Ye Ye to haul off and dropkick the child to the moon, but Ye Ye just mumbled something or other. Then I heard my sweet little boy say, "Nai Nai, YOU'RE stupid!" Giggle giggle giggle.

And Nai Nai, being Nai Nai, just said something like, "Oh Jack, that's not very nice, here, let me tie your shoe," and suddenly I realize I am standing there with my undereye concealer while I obviously need to go do the dropkicking myself. 

So I threw my makeup in the drawer and stomped down the stairs and YANKED the precious boy away from his grandmother and half-dragged him into the guest bedroom and in my best imitation of my dad's you-are-dead-meat voice I told him that under NO circumstances was that an appropriate thing to say EVER and if I EVER heard him say that again I would find a nice Dickensian orphanage for him to live in and OMG I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT TO YOUR GRANDPARENTS!!!!

Jack, at least, was properly horrified, mortified, terrified, all the appropriate -fieds. And you know, I'm not even sure he knows what stupid MEANS. I've been trying to think of any time anyone has used that word around him and I'm realizing that I often use it in reference to, ah, other drivers. Like, I will make some Frustrated Noise and Jack will say, "What's wrong?" and I will say, "That other driver is being STUPID!" (Which is always true, obvs.) 

So at the very least he knows it's not a NICE thing to say, which, honestly, is enough grounds for selling to gypsies. His GRANDPARENTS! I wanted to die. Die! Although I'm sure they thought I blew it out of proportion and when I brought him back they were all about wanting him to stop crying and I was still all "NO! STOP BEING NICE TO HIM!"

SIGH. After dinner I came home and put another coat of white paint on my desk while Phillip dealt with the Pee-er and the Stupid-er. 

I have good news and bad news. The good news is that Phillip and I are leaving on Thursday (Thursday!) for a little two-night jaunt down to Portland. BY OURSELVES. We originally planned to go to San Francisco, but dear God have you seen plane ticket prices? Then we were going to drive to Vancouver BC but oops, someone's passport expired. Portland, quite frankly, did not sound all that exciting to me, but then we decided to take the train and suddenly I am all I WILL HAVE HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS TO READ AND NAP AND IT WILL BE GLORIOUS. Plus I have this foodie friend who sent me the biggest list of restaurants in the WORLD and the top one is a Thai restaurant and maybe you do not know this but I am Vegetarian Pad Thai With Deep Fried Tofu's biggest fan. We're pretty excited about it. 

The BAD news is that the day after we get back, Phillip is going on a week-long business trip. SOB. Obvs I will need a REALLY big project for next week. I'm thinking about painting my bedroom, but don't tell FIL because when I told him I'd have to use the big ladder he nearly fainted. 

(P.S. I KNOW FIL is right, I do I do, but I am 1) getting all NESTY and 2) in possession of a new house and I swear it's impossible not to visit Home Depot every single day. It's like my new Target. HELP ME!)