Call me Mother of the Year.
So one of my friends from college is pregnant. I'm ecstatic for her and her husband. And she was asking some Mommy Advice. I figured that the best way to explain a typical day (as if there is one!)would be to show her today.
5:25 a.m.: Peanut tells Boomer, "I have a hole in my heel, but don't worry. It's not serious.
5:35: I inform Peanut that if the hole in his heel isn't serious, he can go back to bed. Shockingly, he agrees and snoozes.
8:00: Peanut comes bouncing in for his thief-Daddy's-side-of-the-bed experience. The hole in his heel is a half-healed blister. It's not serious.
9:00: Tula awakens with a fiercely wet diaper. Mommy changes toddler diaper, toddler jammies, and toddler bed sheet. Decide bath can wait until after breakfast.
9:15: Peanut wants to know why his waffles, fruit, coffee, vitamins and orange juice are not accompanied by scrambled eggs.
9:30: Start laundry. Allow Peanut and Tula their two PBS shows.
10:00: Convince Tula that a bath is not the root of all evil.
10:02: Chase a naked Tula around the house and get her into the bathtub.
10:05: Realize Tula has a new phrase: "Hey! Go 'way!" Not the best thing to hear as I'm trying to wash her hair.
10:15: Argue with Tula as to who gets to comb her hair. I win, but it's close.
11:55: Remind Peanut that we do not run in the house. Again.
12:15: Reading to Tula while Peaunt wreaks havoc with his trains. Bliss.
12:53: Convince Peanut that reading in his room while I put Tula down for her nap is a good idea.
2:15: Tula finally concedes defeat and naps. Computer time for Peanut. I take a breath.
2:17: Remind Peanut that computer time, like Spandex, is a privilege instead of a right. If he continues banging on the computer keys, then I will revoke the privilege.
2:30: Wallow in Peanut's joy of the computer. Bliss again.
4:15: Tula wakes up from her nap. We're off to run an errand.
5:00: Daddy's home! Both kids ditch me in favor of Boomer. I start investigating dinner options.
5:30: Start making dinner.
5:45: Realize I'm missing one of the key ingredients for dinner. Inform Boomer of emergency food run. Mutter curses under my breath.
6:15: Back with reinforcements. Peanut wonders why dinner isn't ready. Allow Boomer to take that one.
6:30: Dinner is served.
6:45: Peanut wants seconds.
7:00: Listen as my brilliant son reads aloud to his adoring sister. For him, she sits still. I'd break out my camera, but I know it would ruin the moment. Oh well.
7:40: Bedtime chaos.
8:00: Snoozing children. Happy parents.
Hope you found this helpful. I'm off to find the chocolate.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
Her Mother's Daughter
Call me Mother of the Year.
At this point, it's all I can do to keep from laughing. Nope, that's not working. I'm laughing so hard I can barely type.
Saturday was an adventure in shoe shopping. Peanut wore out the toes of his sneakers and we realized that Tula's toes were crammed into her shoes. I was, of course, heartbroken to spend some time in a shoe store. Boomer and I decided that the stroller would be worthless, so Tula was able to sprint at will. Or so we thought.
Peanut's experience was fairly simple. He's a guy. Sneakers. Done. And off to hang out with Boomer. On the other hand (foot?), Tula was enthralled with new shoes. I sat her on my lap to get the new shoes on, and it was the first time she sat still all week. We picked out shoes, and headed to the register- minus Tula. I turned around, and she's playing with high heels in Mommy's size.
That's my girl. I'm still proud.
We bribed Tula with her own new sparkly sandals, and she left the store without much fuss. I figured the story was over. I should know better.
Yesterday Tula started fussing at me. She's still nonverbal, so What Tula Wants is a frequent game here. The correct answer was Put On My Sparkly New Shoes So I Can Walk Around The House. Today she wasn't happy until I put her in a T-Shirt dress and her sparkly sandals.
My daughter is turning into a girly girl. I'm laughing. Boomer's in trouble.
I haven't quite had the courage to tell this tale to the grandmas. I wonder how long it will take them to laugh and indulge my daughter in her new passion- clothes and shoes. My guess is two hours. Tops.
Call me Mother of the Year.
At this point, it's all I can do to keep from laughing. Nope, that's not working. I'm laughing so hard I can barely type.
Saturday was an adventure in shoe shopping. Peanut wore out the toes of his sneakers and we realized that Tula's toes were crammed into her shoes. I was, of course, heartbroken to spend some time in a shoe store. Boomer and I decided that the stroller would be worthless, so Tula was able to sprint at will. Or so we thought.
Peanut's experience was fairly simple. He's a guy. Sneakers. Done. And off to hang out with Boomer. On the other hand (foot?), Tula was enthralled with new shoes. I sat her on my lap to get the new shoes on, and it was the first time she sat still all week. We picked out shoes, and headed to the register- minus Tula. I turned around, and she's playing with high heels in Mommy's size.
That's my girl. I'm still proud.
We bribed Tula with her own new sparkly sandals, and she left the store without much fuss. I figured the story was over. I should know better.
Yesterday Tula started fussing at me. She's still nonverbal, so What Tula Wants is a frequent game here. The correct answer was Put On My Sparkly New Shoes So I Can Walk Around The House. Today she wasn't happy until I put her in a T-Shirt dress and her sparkly sandals.
My daughter is turning into a girly girl. I'm laughing. Boomer's in trouble.
I haven't quite had the courage to tell this tale to the grandmas. I wonder how long it will take them to laugh and indulge my daughter in her new passion- clothes and shoes. My guess is two hours. Tops.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
All Over But The Shouting
Call me Mother of the Year.
Once again, dear readers, a mommy moment has lasted a month. Figures. And there's a lot of happy shouting here. Shouldn't surprise anyone.
This has been what I refer to as The Month of Lasts. The last field trip. The last parent meeting of Kindergarten. Track & Field Day. My last moments of peace and quiet before summer vacation. Okay, peace and quiet during nap time, anyway. These are all over now.
Today was the Optional Last Hour of School. Not surprisingly, Peanut opted to go. Surprisingly, he wasn't the only one in his class. He hung out in his classroom, helped Kindergarten Teacher with some clean-up duties, and munched an apple while attacking the playground one last time. All in all, not a bad way to end Kindergarten.
I spent the hour considering this year. Peanut's grown so much that it's almost hard to see the little boy who could barely control himself at the start of this school year. He's more willing to listen and follow directions the first time he's told, rather than the fifth. Instead of shoving himself forward, he listens to his peers. He's taking responsibility for his actions and accepts the consequences- most of the time.
I couldn't have given him that. Believe me, I've tried.
Kindergarten Teacher gave all the credit to Peanut. "He did all the hard work." She's right, but he needed the guidance she provided. He needed to know that she cares about him and his successes. He needed to know that when there were bad days, she was still cheering him on. I'm in awe of this woman because as she gave her best efforts to teach my son, she gave that same best effort to all 22 kids in her class. They all know she loves them. She gave them that gift, along with her gifts of knowledge and creative teaching. Peanut's lucky to have had her as a teacher, a mentor, and a friend.
He's ready for first grade. And while I'm still stunned at how quickly this school year flew by, I'm ready for first grade too. We have a behavior plan in place, and I know he can succeed. I'm more confident in my son's abilities and not quite as ready to hover. Kindergarten Teacher gave me that.
Thanks. For everything.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Once again, dear readers, a mommy moment has lasted a month. Figures. And there's a lot of happy shouting here. Shouldn't surprise anyone.
This has been what I refer to as The Month of Lasts. The last field trip. The last parent meeting of Kindergarten. Track & Field Day. My last moments of peace and quiet before summer vacation. Okay, peace and quiet during nap time, anyway. These are all over now.
Today was the Optional Last Hour of School. Not surprisingly, Peanut opted to go. Surprisingly, he wasn't the only one in his class. He hung out in his classroom, helped Kindergarten Teacher with some clean-up duties, and munched an apple while attacking the playground one last time. All in all, not a bad way to end Kindergarten.
I spent the hour considering this year. Peanut's grown so much that it's almost hard to see the little boy who could barely control himself at the start of this school year. He's more willing to listen and follow directions the first time he's told, rather than the fifth. Instead of shoving himself forward, he listens to his peers. He's taking responsibility for his actions and accepts the consequences- most of the time.
I couldn't have given him that. Believe me, I've tried.
Kindergarten Teacher gave all the credit to Peanut. "He did all the hard work." She's right, but he needed the guidance she provided. He needed to know that she cares about him and his successes. He needed to know that when there were bad days, she was still cheering him on. I'm in awe of this woman because as she gave her best efforts to teach my son, she gave that same best effort to all 22 kids in her class. They all know she loves them. She gave them that gift, along with her gifts of knowledge and creative teaching. Peanut's lucky to have had her as a teacher, a mentor, and a friend.
He's ready for first grade. And while I'm still stunned at how quickly this school year flew by, I'm ready for first grade too. We have a behavior plan in place, and I know he can succeed. I'm more confident in my son's abilities and not quite as ready to hover. Kindergarten Teacher gave me that.
Thanks. For everything.
Call me Mother of the Year.
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