Call me Mother of the Year.
I'm pondering warning labels these days. I realize they're a common sense measure for parents who, let's face it, don't always use their common sense and must therefore rely on others. Like me.
Peanut has had his fill of warning labels. I've been pointing out that we do not need to investigate the cleaning supplies, the knives, or (more recently) the very pretty, very breakable china. After this week, however, I'm wondering where Peanut's warning label is.
It all started last weekend, at a friend's party. She decided that I could leave my child with her. After a phone call an hour later requesting my presence "to sit on my child", I decided I should really know better. Apparently Peanut was unclear about why the moonbounce was not an appropriate venue for human bowling. Into older kids.
Fast forward to last night. Peanut and Boomer were playing in the backyard, and the tricycle was introduced. There was, as usual, much rejoicing. Peanut's into pedaling hell-for-leather into the brick wall and announcing that he's okay as soon as the wall stops him. I'm not crazy about this game, but Boomer has assured me that it's a guy thing and Peanut will survive. Naturally, as soon as our backs were turned, Peanut decides to attempt to avoid the wall and ends up hitting his hand on it, scraping three fingers. No permanent damage, but it did require medicinal kisses and sippy cup to make it all better. Dinner helped as well.
It's not only objects that need warning labels. I'm seriously considering posting one on Peanut's forehead for all to see:
WARNING: Do not leave child unattended.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
Best Friends Forever
Call me Mother of the Year.
As regular readers have discovered, the Peanut has hit the Terrible Threes with a vengeance. My confidence has taken quite the beating, as has my patience. Peanut is still convinced that he's in charge, and I'm merely a spectator in his play. Or is he?
Make no mistake, the tantrums are still frequent and loud. Peanut is still pushing all my buttons, and Boomer's arrival home is the highlight of both of our days. Still, there is a change afoot.
Peanut is usually far more eager to distribute hugs and kisses to pretty much everyone but me. This includes family members, Boomer, Doggy, Mommy Cohorts, salespeople, etc. I'm at the very bottom of his list. Over the last few days, however, he's been the one to initiate the "I love you" sequence. I'm happy to reciprocate, because really, I lap up any affection from the Wonder Toddler I can get.
This morning was the best. As SuperWHY was on television, Peanut comes tearing over and gives me a hug. As I hug back, he mumbles something unintelligible. Toddler will be my second language.
"What is it, Peanut?"
He raises his head and, comletely seriously says, "Best friends forever, Mommy?"
My heart melts. Finally, for one brief moment, everything's okay. My child doesn't hate me, and the tantrums just don't matter. My baby loves me, and it's all I need.
Yeah, Peanut, best friends forever. I love you, too.
Call me Mother of the Year.
As regular readers have discovered, the Peanut has hit the Terrible Threes with a vengeance. My confidence has taken quite the beating, as has my patience. Peanut is still convinced that he's in charge, and I'm merely a spectator in his play. Or is he?
Make no mistake, the tantrums are still frequent and loud. Peanut is still pushing all my buttons, and Boomer's arrival home is the highlight of both of our days. Still, there is a change afoot.
Peanut is usually far more eager to distribute hugs and kisses to pretty much everyone but me. This includes family members, Boomer, Doggy, Mommy Cohorts, salespeople, etc. I'm at the very bottom of his list. Over the last few days, however, he's been the one to initiate the "I love you" sequence. I'm happy to reciprocate, because really, I lap up any affection from the Wonder Toddler I can get.
This morning was the best. As SuperWHY was on television, Peanut comes tearing over and gives me a hug. As I hug back, he mumbles something unintelligible. Toddler will be my second language.
"What is it, Peanut?"
He raises his head and, comletely seriously says, "Best friends forever, Mommy?"
My heart melts. Finally, for one brief moment, everything's okay. My child doesn't hate me, and the tantrums just don't matter. My baby loves me, and it's all I need.
Yeah, Peanut, best friends forever. I love you, too.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Mother's Day Revised
Call me Mother of the Year.
Once again, I must comment on the sneakiness of my guys. The roses-and Boomer requests that I point out the true number of roses, which was eighteen- are lovely, but what really made the day memorable was the stomach flu. Boomer succumbed first and did a mighty job of attempting to keep me from it. That lasted about a day.
Mother's Day, in my mind, is all about the wishes of the mommy. If we wish to be waited on hand and foot, so be it. Boomer did his level best to wait on me, but let's face it, I'm one of the weird ones who just want to be left alone when not feeling well. Peanut, however, had no such reservations. The Toddler slid into my bed, shoved me away, and proceeded to take a two-hour nap. In my bed. Where I really wanted to be. Because he decided to share his bug.
Evil Twin pointed out (amid much laughter) that we do not wake up the sleeping toddler and I should be grateful he slept at all. Normally I would agree, but I hold that he has a perfectly good bed that ought to be used. Peanut disagreed, and I caved.
However, now that all are feeling much better, I'm looking for revenge. Not sure yet what I'll come up with, but wearing him out on the new playset will probably be involved. Bring it on.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Once again, I must comment on the sneakiness of my guys. The roses-and Boomer requests that I point out the true number of roses, which was eighteen- are lovely, but what really made the day memorable was the stomach flu. Boomer succumbed first and did a mighty job of attempting to keep me from it. That lasted about a day.
Mother's Day, in my mind, is all about the wishes of the mommy. If we wish to be waited on hand and foot, so be it. Boomer did his level best to wait on me, but let's face it, I'm one of the weird ones who just want to be left alone when not feeling well. Peanut, however, had no such reservations. The Toddler slid into my bed, shoved me away, and proceeded to take a two-hour nap. In my bed. Where I really wanted to be. Because he decided to share his bug.
Evil Twin pointed out (amid much laughter) that we do not wake up the sleeping toddler and I should be grateful he slept at all. Normally I would agree, but I hold that he has a perfectly good bed that ought to be used. Peanut disagreed, and I caved.
However, now that all are feeling much better, I'm looking for revenge. Not sure yet what I'll come up with, but wearing him out on the new playset will probably be involved. Bring it on.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Sneakiness on Mother's Day
Call me Mother of the Year.
Peanut and Boomer are up to no good. Again. Against me. Again.
Boomer asked the age-old question of what I want for (insert appropriate holiday here). In this case, I responded that gifts were unnecessary because we have just bought a house. Boomer chuckled at my departure from my usual request of world peace (one of these days, my wish will be granted) and went to sleep. I smiled, thinking for once he listened to me. I should really know better.
Imagine my surprise the next afternoon when the UPS guy shows up with a dozen roses- they're gorgeous, by the way- and a card bearing the signatures of Boomer and Peanut. I'm grateful, make no mistake, but I'm also a bit perturbed by my own double standard.
I object to sneakiness. To be more specific (and because Boomer is reading this over my shoulder and will swipe the keyboard and correct me) I object to sneakiness against me. If I'm the one being sneaky, then it's perfectly all right. So now I'm stewing because my guys know me too well for my own good, and have pulled a fast one on me. Again.
However, not to worry: Boomer has a birthday and Peanut has daily surprises in store. Sneakiness will run rampant again, and I'll once again be the cause. Next time, I'll accept their sneakiness for the joy it gives them. And plot my revenge.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Peanut and Boomer are up to no good. Again. Against me. Again.
Boomer asked the age-old question of what I want for (insert appropriate holiday here). In this case, I responded that gifts were unnecessary because we have just bought a house. Boomer chuckled at my departure from my usual request of world peace (one of these days, my wish will be granted) and went to sleep. I smiled, thinking for once he listened to me. I should really know better.
Imagine my surprise the next afternoon when the UPS guy shows up with a dozen roses- they're gorgeous, by the way- and a card bearing the signatures of Boomer and Peanut. I'm grateful, make no mistake, but I'm also a bit perturbed by my own double standard.
I object to sneakiness. To be more specific (and because Boomer is reading this over my shoulder and will swipe the keyboard and correct me) I object to sneakiness against me. If I'm the one being sneaky, then it's perfectly all right. So now I'm stewing because my guys know me too well for my own good, and have pulled a fast one on me. Again.
However, not to worry: Boomer has a birthday and Peanut has daily surprises in store. Sneakiness will run rampant again, and I'll once again be the cause. Next time, I'll accept their sneakiness for the joy it gives them. And plot my revenge.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Playsets and Preschool
Call me Mother of the Year.
The mass exodus is over. We've moved into what Peanut still refers to as "BIG NEW HOUSE!!!!" I'm putting this in all caps to allude to the lack of volume control. The move went smoothly, with the minor exception of Peanut's stomach flu. And Boomer's laughter. At me. With good reason.
Peanut was ragingly sick all over Boomer, and I, desperate to help, got him as close to Boomer as possible. Bad move, because in the next instant I was told to go find a garbage can. Oops. Call me Wife of the Year. Never gonna live that one down.
However, we have discovered the best feature of big new house. The playset. It is awesome! Peanut is developing the habit of racing outside at all hours and in all stages of dress. I'm trying to convince him that jammies and bare feet are not acceptable outdoor wear. I'm being ignored. Again.
More good news on the Peanut front is that he's been accepted to a fantastic preschool program. I'm excited, mainly because someone needs to learn that he's not the only toddler in the world, and it gives me new incentive to potty train. However, I'm a little sad because my baby is growing up. When I pointed this out to Boomer, he countered by reminding me that kindergarten isn't far away. No help whatsoever. Time for me to lick my wounds and realize that Peanut is taking his first step away from me.
Call me Mother of the Year.
The mass exodus is over. We've moved into what Peanut still refers to as "BIG NEW HOUSE!!!!" I'm putting this in all caps to allude to the lack of volume control. The move went smoothly, with the minor exception of Peanut's stomach flu. And Boomer's laughter. At me. With good reason.
Peanut was ragingly sick all over Boomer, and I, desperate to help, got him as close to Boomer as possible. Bad move, because in the next instant I was told to go find a garbage can. Oops. Call me Wife of the Year. Never gonna live that one down.
However, we have discovered the best feature of big new house. The playset. It is awesome! Peanut is developing the habit of racing outside at all hours and in all stages of dress. I'm trying to convince him that jammies and bare feet are not acceptable outdoor wear. I'm being ignored. Again.
More good news on the Peanut front is that he's been accepted to a fantastic preschool program. I'm excited, mainly because someone needs to learn that he's not the only toddler in the world, and it gives me new incentive to potty train. However, I'm a little sad because my baby is growing up. When I pointed this out to Boomer, he countered by reminding me that kindergarten isn't far away. No help whatsoever. Time for me to lick my wounds and realize that Peanut is taking his first step away from me.
Call me Mother of the Year.
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