Not fun enough

My Molly is... 

Okay, so it's SUPER HARD for me to describe her on her own terms, without reference to Jack. (Same goes for Emma, without reference to Jack AND Molly.) Such is the trial of a not-first child? I don't know. 

Jack used to be timid and intimidated, but honestly it's been so long that I can barely remember him that way anymore. Those were the heydays of the Mom Group, full of super verbal little girls who bossed him around. But he's definitely his own little person now, with a large personality and a bigger smile. He's not the most outgoing or brave, but he's friendly and he wants to participate and he loves preschool. 

I never thought of Molly as timid. I still don't, really. What might look like timid is actually a strong sense of knowing what she does not want. She's always preferred to be near me (or ON me), ever since she was Emma's age! She's not into big groups or loud kids (her frequent preschool commentary: "There's too much kids") and if she's around a particularly boisterous or energetic kid, she sort of crawls into herself and, if I'm available, attaches herself to me. This goes doubly if Jack isn't around. She's braver about roller coasters and food and climbing, but not with people. 

I don't NEED her to go to preschool. And now that I've had a taste of Life With Three, I don't even really feel like I WANT her to go to preschool. Not for Third Baby Survival, anyway, like I thought. Jack - yes. Having Jack home 24/7, at this point, would probably kill us both. That kid needs stuff to DO. But Molly is a lot different - easier to occupy, happier to just be around. I mean, I want her to go if SHE wants to. I SO want her to go if it's a fun exciting thing. But I don't really think it is. 

And it's more than just the crying at drop off the other day. She OFTEN tells me she doesn't want to go. She often has nothing to say about it other than "there's too much kids". She's a barely-three in a class of four and five-year-olds. It's not necessary and if she tells me she doesn't want to go tomorrow morning, I won't make her go, and I'll probably call the school and take her out. (I am trying not to think about the Things They Will Think About Me, ie: what a dumb mother, kid freaks out once and she pulls her out, eye roll eye roll eye roll. SIGH.) 

It's just that preschool is SO unnecessary that there really isn't any point if she's not absolutely loving it. I thought it would be fun, but I don't think it is. Or it's not fun enough. Or staying home with me would be just as fun. So why bother? We can try again next year. Or we can look into ballet lessons in January. Or try preschool again at the community center where you have to sign up again every month. Or go to the gymnastics playroom on Saturdays with her dad. OR WHATEVER. There are so many things. Not just this thing. 

I try to permanent-fy my life the way I am attempting to permanent-fy my house. That's partly why this preschool schedule snafu was so distressing to me: Change! is Hard!

So we're not TOTALLY decided, but we are PRETTY MUCH decided. And I feel relieved and also stupid. I am always thinking I should have KNOWN. I should have KNOWN that such a big class would be hard for my little introvert! That just because she hangs out with her loud four-year-old brother doesn't mean she'll love hanging out with a whole bunch of loud four-year-olds who aren't her brother. This "should have known" thinking is such a THING with me. But I hate how KNOWING your things doesn't necessarily help you OUTGROW your things. 

Jack, meanwhile, is going to preschool tomorrow AND he has a field trip on Thursday AND he has school again on Friday. I am pretty sure Molly will decline school tomorrow, in which case she will be treated to a fun morning of Starbucks and Pier 1 and Christmas craftiness at home when I decide I cannot spend ninety-four dollars on a Pier 1 Christmas decoration. 

We will figure out what happens next after the holidays. After the Christmas party. After the Blathering launch! We certainly have enough to do right now. 

And I SO wonder who Emma will be...

Two Entirely Unrelated Topics, Yay Blog Storylines!

EJ is asleep! I know! I can type with TWO HANDS!!!

Tonight's first topic: My Name. (Because this website is about meeeeeeeeeeeee!!!) 

No, really. Did I tell you I am going to Palm Springs in January? With two friends? And my baby? I am going to Palm Springs! ANYWAY. One of these friends is buying our plane tickets tonight and she called me to verify my Official Details. And while I was spelling M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T she was saying, "That is SO not your name. I could never call you that! That is not your name!" 

AND YET! IT IS! No one has ever CALLED me Margaret, not when they weren't trying to be cute at least. But it's there on all my documents. There were times when I thought I could reinvent myself as Margaret - going to college, for example. A new job. And I sometimes think that if I ever write a book I will splash MARGARET all over the cover. But for right now the Margaret is pretty useless. 

My mom has a name which is often a shorter version of a long name, BUT. The shorter name is HER NAME. Apparently this drove her crazy all her life, all these people saying, "Now, MILLIE, is that short for MILLICENT?" (note: my mother's name is not Millie) so when she decided to name me Maggie, she also decided I would have the Full Version. 

(My mother is now reading this and saying, "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WENT" but that is the version of events with which I am familiar!)

I've never been a huge FAN of Margaret either. I am hearing my name on the playground occasionally (both Maggie and Margaret) and several of YOU have little Margarets... I can say I've never been a huge fan because it's MY NAME, right? Anyway. Where do you fall on giving someone a name no one will ever call them? I mean, it's not like how Lizzie is pretty obviously from Elizabeth (or Millie from Millicent!) and people use both (ish). Then again, it's not as much of a stretch as PEGGY... I sort of like having an Official Version, you know. For when I meet the President, maybe. But I can't ever imagine telling friends and family to call me Margaret. Even when I'm an old lady! (BECAUSE MARGARET IS AN OLD LADY NAME!) (SORRY, READERS WHO HAVE MARGARETS!) (HEY, I NAMED MY KID EMMA! ALSO AN OLD LADY NAME!)

All right, Topic Number Two. Preschool. 95% of you just fled. BUT STICK AROUND! THIS IS INTERESTING!

At drop off today, Molly started to cry. She has never cried at drop off. She has not always been super enthusiastic about GOING, but she's never CRIED and I've ALWAYS been able to talk her into it. But today she kept giving me excuses ("Mommy, I have too many coughs!") (except she's no sicker than she was last week or the week before that - stupid all-through-winter runny nose!) Anyway, she was having none of my Preschool Cheer and the tears started falling. Then her teacher came over and picked her up and talked about the fun things they were going to do that day and I quickly slid away. 

But I stuck around. In the stairwell. Listening to my daughter BAWL. 

So I kind of tip toed back and looked in and she didn't see me. She was still sobbing, the teacher still trying to engage her and I just felt HORRIBLE. I walked back in and told the teacher I was taking Molly home. The teacher told me she's never seen Molly act that way before (which is good! right?!) and maybe she was sicker than she seemed, or the Thanksgiving break threw her off. 

It could be one or all of those things, I suppose. I decided not to run the handful of errands I wanted to do and instead came home and did a Christmas crafty thing with Molly. Then she played in the playroom while I used the treadmill. We had snacks. We played with Emma. We walked to pick up Jack and then had lunch. A pretty nice morning. 

And now I am thinking... what if she didn't go to preschool? I mean, she's not in preschool because I am bound and determined to make sure she can skip ahead to second grade or anything. She's there because JACK went when he was three and ALL LAST YEAR she would say, "When I three, I go to preschool!" I also thought it would be a good break for me, to just have the baby. Also I thought she would LIKE IT. You know, make messes without getting yelled at by her crotchety mother. 

But... I am wondering if she does? She's never cried until today, but she's never seemed to enjoy it as much as Jack. There are a LOT of kids in her class and most of them are older. She's never super excited to go. Then again, she seems to have fun! She likes her teachers, she likes the projects, she talks about it. Just... not as much as Jack, who really LOVES going to school. 

Would she be going to preschool at age 3 if she was my first kid? I don't know. Molly mostly likes to hang out with ME. 

So right now I am strongly considering taking her out. She's only THREE. If she's not loving it, then I don't want to pay for it! And having her home with me wouldn't be a hassle. She's SO much easier to occupy than Jack - plus she always wants to help me fold laundry and she always wants to go shopping, the two things I tend to do during preschool time. Today I even used the treadmill with her in the next room. So it would be fine to have her home. 

??????????????????

 

Blogger Unnapped

Molly's been doing this thing where I put her down for her nap aaaaand she decides not to sleep. This would be the worst thing in the world if it weren't for the fact that I already have a no-napper and I've grown accustomed to the annoyance. She's not really ready to give it up though - most no-nap days dissolve into puddles of irrational tears and hysterics that would drive me through the roof if she wasn't so pitiful-looking. (Well, sometimes I DO let it drive me through the roof, only to get the biggest guilt trip of a lifetime when the teeny weeny pathetic little three-year-old looks up at me with her huge tears and quivering bottom lip and says, "Mommy I not FEELING good!")

So when Emma didn't sleep well on Thanksgiving Eve at my parents' house or Thanksgiving night at my brother's house or Friday night in her own house, and when I was still staying up late to work on my own stuff and getting up early to take care of the big kids, I thought perhaps I might be tired. And when I spent all of Saturday morning trying to get Emma to take a nap and she wouldn't and I had to put her down and pound my fist into a pillow a few times, and then an hour or so later when Phillip said, "Okay, so the kids are getting hungry..." in that "so what are you going to do about it?" voice and I had to run into another room so I wouldn't burst out crying in front of my in-laws who were visiting... YEAH. I sat sobbing on Molly's bed while she picked out her outfit for that day and thinking to myself, "I need to stop skipping my nap."

Phillip, who at that point would have taken me on an all expenses paid trip to Ikea, The Resort if it would stop the snippy, kept telling me to TAKE a nap. To lie down with the baby. To fall asleep in the chair. But I really really really didn't want to take a nap. What I wanted to do was get all the stuff done that I wanted to DO. 

Which we did. I gave up trying to get Emma to sleep and decided it would be okay if my mother-in-law held her all day long. (She did.) But this is how we moved the kids' beds into the empty bedroom downstairs, moved the extra bed and the crib into their old room upstairs, built an Ikea dresser, moved the old one downstairs PLUS all sorts of smaller projects in between, like more-permanently hanging the felt board and putting up some pictures in the blue room next to the kitchen and sorting some clothes and organizing the playroom. We did SO MUCH WORK on Saturday. So much work. And honestly, that was better than any nap. I was on a freaking organization HIGH Saturday night. 

And even now, on Sunday night, when I am still SO TIRED and yet got SO MUCH DONE - people, I sorted ALL THE CLOTHES and put them in their PROPER PLACES - I am still thinking this is better than a nap. 

I don't quite get myself... I am the laziest person on earth, I really am, but then nothing makes me feel quite like having all the Things in their Places. We're finally using the whole house and the kids are in the place they'll be for the next several years and I hung up some pictures in the kitchen and did I tell you we bought our couch? WE BOUGHT OUR COUCH. All of this stuff makes me feel SO much better. Like I'm on this quest for The Way It Will Be. I want this thing to be in the place where it will be until the kids move me into The Home. 

I used to feel like I needed to move every two years. I hear "third culture children" and military brats, even quasi-military brats like myself, tend to feel this way. They get an Itch. But not anymore, dude. Now I'm all, "This is where the picture is going to hang for the NEXT FIFTY YEARS."

Our Thanksgiving was really nice, if you want to know. It helps to have siblings who like to get together and fun cousins who bring Bananagrams (AM NOW OBSESSED WITH BANANAGRAMS) and adorable children running around and an older generation to make fun of and chocolate OMG THE CHOCOLATE. My brother, who hosted, had a whole tin of fancy chocolate-covered cookies, then a giant dish of Hawaiian chocolate-covered macadamia nuts, then a pho-sized bowl of Reese's Pieces AND sugar cookies smothered in said Reese's Pieces and this was all before we even had dinner. NO I DID NOT WEIGH IN YET. But I've been doing Weight Watchers all week (except Thanksgiving, obvs, when Chocolate Ruled) and I'm hopeful for the morning weigh in. STAND BY, FAT WATCHERS!

I am now going to wake up my baby (!!!) (she didn't sleep all day) (until I took her on a Therapeutic Trip to Target and fell asleep in the car seat and is STILL IN THE CAR SEAT) so I can feed her and watch The Good Wife and revel in the house that continues to morph into the home I've always wanted.

Silver linings

I took the baby out tonight (out! oh no!) to see friends and eat giant chocolate parfaits from Whole Foods. Recommend. It didn't QUITE make up for missing dinner with my fellow Blathering organizers, but I hadn't seen THESE friends in forever either and it was nice to catch up. It also helps that they are only interested in my blawg and internet friends to the extent that they have to listen politely when I talk about it. 

AND! Molly went to bed without her pacifier for the first time tonight, and Phillip and I had nothing to do with it. So the whole pacifier thing... YES we are WELL AWARE that Three Plus is too old, it could mess up her teeth, blah blah blah. She only gets it when she sleeps and it generally falls out of her mouth, so I've never been worried about it. Also, I'm incredibly lazy and the thought of taking it away just made me weep with exhaustion. 

Before Emma was born we talked up The Passo Fairy a LOT. This is what we did with Jack - when he turned three we boxed up the pacifiers and told them the Passo Fairy would take them away and leave him a present. That went over pretty well and he never had a problem. But Molly seems to be as attached to her pacifier as Jack is to his teddy bear (which is funny, because I would have hacked off an arm to get Molly to take a pacifier when she was an infant). Then Emma arrived and taking the pacifier away just seemed like a rotten idea. Transitioning to big sisterhood AND no passo? 

But for some reason Molly brought it up on her own today. She wants to give all the pacifiers to Emma. She wanted to give HER pacifier to Emma. And I said fine! Except that meant she wouldn't get one for her nap or at bedtime. And Molly said fine! And I thought Yeah Right. 

It didn't work at naptime. Well, it might have, if I'd been stricter or had more energy, but honestly, these big kids are making me a little nuts and I am all about whatever makes the whining stop fastest. But then I went out to see friends and when I got home Phillip looked at me incredulously and said, "Molly! Gave up! Her passo!" 

We'll see how it goes. She's not asleep YET. And sometimes she'll wake up in the night asking for it. And tomorrow we're driving to the pumpkin patch near my parents and she almost always wants her pacifier when we're driving home at night. WE SHALL SEE. 

Emma continues to be a doll baby. I mean, she's kinda stinky and yesterday I gave up somewhere around the two dozenth wipe and finally stuck the kid under the bathtub faucet to clean her off. But she's generally quiet and goodnatured and eats and doesn't bug me much. And she was amenable to her older brother and sister treating her like one of the dolls earlier today. They got to play house with a REAL baby and when I finally snatched her away Jack said, "Mommy, that was SO MUCH FUN!" Hee!

She's grunting and tooting up a storm over here, so I better go see what that's about. I hope you have a great weekend - especially if you're at the Blathering. I'm so excited for you first timers. Super bummed I won't get to meet you, but so excited to read your blogs on Monday!

Just a typical Saturday morning

"Molly, what's wrong?"

"Don't like this, Mommy."

"Don't like what?"

"Don't want to wear this."

"How come? What's wrong?"

"I want to wear a dress."

"But that's a skirt! A cute skirt!" 

"It's not cute, Mommy."

"OKAY FINE."

...

"What dress do you want to wear?"

"This one."

"That's a fancy dress for church. What about this one?"

"No. Want this one."

"That is ALSO a fancy dress for church. We're not wearing that today."

"Want to wear my Easter dress."

"NO, MOLLY. What about this one?"

"Okay."

...

"So how come you don't like your butterfly shirt? And your little skirt? It's cute! You look cute!"

"It's not a cute DRESS, Mommy. Want to wear a cute DRESS."

She is not even three, people. NOT EVEN THREE. 

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!)

 

What Would You Do If:

...your daughter picks a daily fight with you over her shoes? Her old pair of tennis shoes are PINK. Her new pair of tennis shoes are WHITE. (With a pink stripe.) I think they are cute, but they are not PINK, which is the Princess' favorite color, the fact of which we are reminded multiple times a day. "This one is PINK so it's my FAVORITE." Fine then. But the old pair are TOO SMALL. So I force her into the white ones, but it takes her a looong time to get over it. I mean, she can still be pouting in the car when we've arrived at wherever we were going. So would you 1) continue to force her to wear the white shoes until they grow out or 2) go buy her some pink shoes and skip the fights? Relevant information: these shoes are from Payless, not Nordstrom. I like buying shoes. I like the pink shoes better too. I am also constantly berating myself for being Too Indulgent. 

 

...you have gained something like five or six pounds since your last OB appointment, and that's WITH two separate bouts of Upset Stomach? This morning I resolved to Eat Better. This morning I resolved to kick my newfound PopTart habit. This morning I recalled my sucessful encounters with low carb eating. Then I took Molly out during preschool and split a container of doughnut holes. Would you 1) keep trying? Even though "trying" at this point looks like "thinking about it"? Or would you say, "Screw it, Society! Am pregnant! Where is my damn ice cream!" Relevant Information: I only gained ONE pound at my previous appointment, so perhaps I am just Catching Up.

 

...you had a carpet hole in the middle of your living room? We are probably going to cover it up with an area rug, once we make the effort to FIND an area rug (right now there's scrap carpet filling it in - very attractive!) But Phillip would like to recarpet the entire floor, except for the dining room where he would put hardwoods. I am wondering if we should put hardwoods in everywhere. SOME DAY. We can't afford either option right now. I am inclined towards carpet, because it's soft on my feet and vacuuming hasn't felt as dreadful as dustmopping/sweeping/washing the [much smaller area of] floor I used to have in my townhouse. It IS prettier. So if money were no object... Relevant Information: the living room is Large, with super high ceilings and a wall of windows. It might be sort of... echoey? Maybe?

 

...your living room had pale yellow walls and brown carpet (though you can tell we are not attached to the carpet) and white trim and had plans for installing a dark gray sofa, a shiny black piano, and some sort of colorful area rug AAAAND, your kitchen was all white/aqua/cherry red? Is it me, or do these color schemes not really go together? In between the kitchen and the living room is a dining room, currently a shade of beigey pink (THAT HAS TO GO) with cherry furniture. I have no idea how to make sure not EVERY room in my house is its own World of Color. Thoughts on colors? I should probably post pictures, I know. Relevant Information: we will probably move one of the red couches into the room directly off the kitchen, so I'd like to keep the red. Also because I bought this clock today and I love it. 

 

...you kept your daughter up all day, as an EXPERIMENT, and now she is crabby and whiny and won't eat her dinner or any other dinner you can think of and it's only FIVE THIRTY? Relevant Information: Experiment Fail.

Now accepting nanny applications. Don't all jump at once!

So, TODAY. Ugh. Not one of my better days, you guys. Jack is... dude, I don't know. Doing the kind of stuff where you tell him to stop and he TRIES to look contrite but is just BARELY hiding his triumphant grin. You know? Or ignores you. Or continues doing whatever you just told him not to do, but with one minor adjustment. OR putting his hands on his hips and HUFFING when you tell him to knock it off. Stuff like THAT. And my standard response today was to just sort of look at him with vague confusion, because seriously, WHAT IS UP WITH THIS KID and WHY WON'T HE JUST LET ME TAKE A NAP ALREADY. I happened to do this in front of both sets of grandparents, therefore earning myself a big fat parenting FAIL, and I just keep running over the [many, various] FAILURE scenarios in my head, wondering what the heck my problem is. Because bad behavior from almost four-year-olds is to be expected, but what is also expected is that the mother DOES SOMETHING ABOUT IT FTLOG.

Molly isn't much of a peach either, if I may say so. There was the giant screaming incident over a zipped up coat, for example. The steadfast refusal to use the potty before we left the house, resulting in 1) getting manhandled into the bathroom and 2) using the potty before she actually GOT to the potty. Molly ignores me too - she will even TURN HER BACK ON ME - but Molly eventually caves to the Mean Mommy Voice, which doesn't even register with Jack. 

Also, my husband is Way Far Away and parental lectures via Skype have even less effect than parental lectures in person. If you were wondering. 

ANYHOW. Both beasties are now in bed, all of us promising to have a better day tomorrow. Eh. I keep vascillating between thinking that Jack is secretly attending How To Mortify, Exhaust, and Drive Your Parents To Drink Camp (in this fantasy I envision my younger brother as his camp counselor, giving him special "how to push YOUR crazy mother's buttons" tricks) OR I think that he is emotionally if not intellectually clued in to the giant mess that is life right now and is Acting Out. 

Gah. I'm sorry. I will stop talking about my beasties children. NOW I'm going to talk about carpet. 

(YOU: YIPPY SKIPPY!)

So! We are probably going to bludgeon away the weird fireplace in our house, leaving a big hole in the wall to wall carpet. Wall to wall carpet that is not necessarily the most beautiful to look at, but which is NICE and not at ALL in need of replacing. And! They do not make this carpet anymore. Which means we can't buy a fireplace-sized chunk and stick it in the hole. The Carpet Dilemma has been the cause of much marital strife lately, mostly because my husband thinks we can 1) demo the fireplace 2) paint over the green and 3) replace the carpet (which is almost the entire upstairs due to the circular floor plan) in, oh, FOUR DAYS. Me, I am skeptical. (Do you see how our usual roles are reversed! HOW NOVEL!) 

He wants to do this because we pretty much have one weekend to move. THIS IS HOW NUTTY EVERYTHING IS RIGHT NOW. And he wants to get all this big stuff done before we move. But... that is just crazy talk. (Says me.) Even if four days were technically enough (also to CHOOSE carpet and PICK paint and all that, because I'm not doing either of those things without first BEING IN THE HOUSE) everyone knows that remodeling projects ALWAYS last longer than the people in charge say they will. This is pretty much the ONLY thing I know about remodeling! 

At this point I think I have Phillip agreeing to 1) paint and 2) fireplace demo, and putting off carpet selection, if we need it, until later. Because aren't carpet installation dudes USED to moving furniture? But I am also thinking about area rugs (or LOTS of area rugs, or REALLY BIG area rugs, because the hole is in a weird unfriendly-to-1-single-area-rug spot) to cover up this hole. Because as much as a hole would be annoying, paying to replace carpet that does not need to be replaced is also annoying. Right? Right. 

LA LA LA!

You know what I think about when beasts and carpet get me down? The long narrow pantry cupboard in my new kitchen, with SLIDING DRAWERS hidden inside. This lifts my spirits. I'm sure you understand. 

P.S. If I owe you an email, I KNOW. I am SORRY. Even though right now I'm going to shut the laptop and SLEEP. 

 

If you can figure out what this is about you get a pony

In one and a half weeks of 75% Throttle Potty Training, Molly has informed me that she needs to go potty BEFORE she actually GOES potty exactly, oh, NONE TIMES. If I am taking her to sit on the potty, by which I mean bribing her to sit on the potty, every fifteen to twenty minutes, all is well. She goes. No one has to do any laundry or Resolve a carpet. Everyone is happy. And she'll go anywhere, even if you don't have a sticker or a cookie in your purse. But if I have to make dinner? Or I forget? Or it just doesn't cross my mind in time? Yeah. Laundry. Moaning and groaning. A cheery little girl with wet pants chirping, "I go POTTY Mommy!" 

So my question to you is: do I keep going? Or do I go back to diapers and try again later? If you suggest I go 100% Full Speed Potty Training Ahead, then I will suggest that you haven't been reading that long and have yet to understand the true depths of my laziness. In other words: 100% for longer than, say, an afternoon, is unlikely to happen. I'M JUST BEING HONEST. We have to leave the house on occasion! And I often get sucked into the internet and forget where I AM!

Okay. Whatever. That's out of my system. Now I will tell you about how we drove to The Suburbs tonight to check out a Ginormous House that costs the same as a two bedroom hovel in my current neighborhood AND IT WASN'T THERE. Either the address is wrong or it hasn't been built yet or SOMETHING. But it was annoying. If I'm going to Hem and Haw over Ginormous Brand New House vs. Living In The City And Being My Most Authentic Self, I need tangible evidence for both realities. BAH. 

And you are saying to yourselves: wait, her lease isn't up till APRIL! And they were going to wait until Phillip was done with school! And decide on a neighborhood THEN! But I say to you: YOU try not refreshing Redfin every hour when you are in the position of Picking Anywhere You Want For Your New Place To Live. 

Oh, let's not go there either, that is one enormous post, no, a SERIES of enormous posts that I am disinclined to write at the moment. Most of my energies are currently being tasked with Not Microwaving The Microwave Popcorn because (EYE ROLL) I reverted back to the South Beach Diet at the beginning of the week and mini bag 100 calorie popcorn, which is only one Weight Watcher point, is not allowed if you are low carbing it. LAME. But you know what? I've already lost two pounds this week and Weight Watchers points can suck it. 

No, let's divert my energies to explaining what I think is My Weight Loss Rule of Thumb, which is: Stop Cramming So Much In Your Mouth For The Love of Grilled Cheese. Because DUDE. Just because the brownies were made with whole wheat flour and applesauce does not mean you are allowed to eat the entire pan. (WHICH I DID. THAT ONE TIME. FOR SERIOUS.)

SO ANYWAY. TECHNICALLY I've been doing Weight Watchers in my attempts to Maintain, but whatever, I am just breezing over those point values and paying for features I never use and blah blah blah. So I cancelled my account and dug out my South Beach book and TWO POUNDS, people. But it's not because Weight Watchers = doesn't work and South Beach = works, it's because 1) you gain weight when you eat too much and 2) the only things I really eat too much of are BREAD and COOKIES. I did my best with the cookies, but you may have heard my endeavors with baking bread this summer. YEEEEEEEAH. (Oh, also pasta. Pasta is low fat! Eat a lot! Wait! Not THAT much! Hey! Slow down! Aaaaauuuggghhh!)

I have a feeling this post would be a lot more interesting and coherent if I'd actually seen the house I was interested in tonight. LAME.

No really. Would you still love me if I moved to the suburbs? Mom? Anyone? SIGH.

I AM planning to sing "Preschool Musical" as I escort him to the front door

I have to take Jack to preschool at nine in the morning and LEAVE HIM THERE, BY HIMSELF. But oddly enough the thing that worries me about this whole endeavor is exactly HOW I'm supposed to drop him off. You don't just park and walk in, there's some sort of loading area procedure, but if I WANT I can park and wait for someone to let us in and of course this is the part that makes me nervous. What to do, what to do.

Jack, if last week's behavior is anything to go by, will waltz into his classroom with nary a look back at his poor, emotionally unstable mother. 

I just said good night to Molly and she got all huffy because I am wearing her clippies. HER clippies. To keep my fifth grade-era bangs out of my face. I negotiated the right to keep them in until tomorrow. Sheesh.

Oh, and I also haven't picked out a first day of school outfit. Right now Elizabeth is staring in horror and composing a scolding email full of links to First Day Of School outfits. But everything in Jack's closet is a variation on the Sweat Pants/Elastic Waist Khaki Pants With A T-Shirt That May Or May Not Match theme. I figure I'll pick something out in the morning. Of course, I do this same thing when *I* have something important in the morning - get overwhelmed at night, leave it for the morning, stand in front of closet so long that I leave the house with wet hair and no deodorant. 

He DOES have a rain jacket, despite the fact that only store in Western Washington that CARRIED a size 3T rain jacket (NOT a giant snow-appropriate jacket, NOT a fleece coat, NOT a zippered hoodie) was Costco, and then only in two choices: horrifying yellow or navy blue with the words FIRE CHIEF printed in the butt region. Also it's too big. I don't care. We live in Washington. IT IS GOING TO RAIN. 

Aaaaanyway, it's a slow start meaning only an hour and a half. It just doesn't feel like the hugest deal in the world. Except for if you think about how tomorrow marks the beginning of The Rest Of His Slowly-Drifting-Away-From-Mommy Life. WAAAAHHHH.

Whatever. Where's the wine. Oh! I forgot to tell one of you (which one of you! I forget!) that Yellow Tail is my cheap-ish wine of choice. The shiraz. But I don't buy it at Costco, on account of never going to Costco, except for that one time I was desperate to find a rain coat in size 3T and my mother suggested I look at Costco because they have everything for everyone and THEY DID. 

I'm also potty training Molly this week. Ha! Isn't that hysterical? Like I think *I* am training HER? As if I do not KNOW Mollymoo? I will just say that she is a big fan of 1) Ni Hao Kai Lan underpants and 2) stickers and 3) did not have an accident all day although 4) we didn't really start until lunchtime because we had to go to the grocery store in the morning, we HAD to and 5) we went out to dinner and no way was I taking her out to dinner with my in-laws just wearing Ni Hao Kai Lan. So. We are homebound till Friday evening and we'll see what happens. I've tallied up all the things I did wrong with Jack and I'm so very hopeful that Molly is just ready, the better to combat all the things I will surely do wrong with her. 

La la la preschool potty training sunshine rainbows... I need to send a grovel-ish email to my sad neglected writing group and then I need to wash that pan I have soaking in the sink and then I need to sit down with last week's Project Runway. Is it just me or is this season really entertaining?