Call me Mother of the Year.
Earlier this summer, I realized that a good friend's daughter would be in Peanut's Kindergarten class. I promptly joked that we'd see each other in the principal's office. She promptly pointed out that it wouldn't be because of her daughter. She's right, but that's another story.
As we progressed through the first few weeks of Kindergarten, my friend e-mailed me to let me know her daughter had made up a song about Peanut. I chuckled, not at this little girl, but rather at the idea that she likes my son. For the record, the song is really cute. I then joked that she has a crush on Peanut.
Turns out I wasn't wrong.
Last Friday, my friend and I found ourselves hanging out on the playground, watching our children play. As we were getting ready to leave, my friend's daughter picked up her Ken doll and said, "Hey Peanut, you're as handsome as my Ken doll!"
I lost it. Bent double with laughter. And looked up at my friend at said, "They're so getting married. Get ready."
My friend, who's infinitely more sensible than myself, pointed out that we have Prom and the teenage years to get through first, then college. Deal with that first.
As we walked to our respective vehicles, Peanut's Girlfriend yelled a goodbye involving a made-up nickname. My friend and I both chuckled, as we mommies are known do when our children are being sweet. As we walked to our car, Peanut was giving his commentary on his day.
He did not mention the little girl. At all.
Heaven help him, my son is oblivious.
If he figures this out in time, maybe they'll go trick-or-treating together. Isn't that what five-year-old couples do?
Call me Mother of the Year.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Judgement Day
Call me Mother of the Year.
The big news of the day is that Tula is WALKING. Yes. Two steps and then deciding she's done with this whole moving slowly nonsense and sprint-crawling. Her favorite targets are the source of some amusement and time in toddler jail. She's convinced that she needs to be on her toddler way. I'm convinced she needs to listen to her all-knowing mommy. I'll let you be the judge. Oh, and I'm not above bribery. Just saying.
CASE 1: Tula has a fascination for all things electronic. Specifically, things electronic on my desk. I spend a good deal of my working time pulling her away from various electrical cords, my phone, and the mouse of my laptop. She spends most of her time whining at me or merely hauling toddler butt back to my desk for repeat attempts. MY DEFENSE: Girlfriend should not play with electronics as she's chewing on cords and could hurt herself or my expensive toys. HER DEFENSE: I'm cute, and I want it.
CASE 2: Once again, Doggy Luke is finding himself a source of fascination from the baby in the family. Dog's up for sainthood, but that's another story. Last night, as Tula was taking her first steps, it wasn't Boomer or me who was her target. No, it was the poor, put-upon mutt as he lay innocently in his dog bed. As you may have guessed, Tula walked to the dog bed, climbed in, sat right next to the dog and started smacking him on the head. Attempts to distract and move on were unsuccessful. MY DEFENSE: Hasn't this poor animal been through enough? Leave him alone. Particularly when he's in his sanctuary. HER DEFENSE: I'm cute, and I want it.
I'd go through an exhaustive closing argument, but she's yanking clean laundry off my bed. I'm thinking she needs to leave it alone so I can fold it already. She's thinking she's cute and she wants it. Who's right?
Call me Mother of the Year.
The big news of the day is that Tula is WALKING. Yes. Two steps and then deciding she's done with this whole moving slowly nonsense and sprint-crawling. Her favorite targets are the source of some amusement and time in toddler jail. She's convinced that she needs to be on her toddler way. I'm convinced she needs to listen to her all-knowing mommy. I'll let you be the judge. Oh, and I'm not above bribery. Just saying.
CASE 1: Tula has a fascination for all things electronic. Specifically, things electronic on my desk. I spend a good deal of my working time pulling her away from various electrical cords, my phone, and the mouse of my laptop. She spends most of her time whining at me or merely hauling toddler butt back to my desk for repeat attempts. MY DEFENSE: Girlfriend should not play with electronics as she's chewing on cords and could hurt herself or my expensive toys. HER DEFENSE: I'm cute, and I want it.
CASE 2: Once again, Doggy Luke is finding himself a source of fascination from the baby in the family. Dog's up for sainthood, but that's another story. Last night, as Tula was taking her first steps, it wasn't Boomer or me who was her target. No, it was the poor, put-upon mutt as he lay innocently in his dog bed. As you may have guessed, Tula walked to the dog bed, climbed in, sat right next to the dog and started smacking him on the head. Attempts to distract and move on were unsuccessful. MY DEFENSE: Hasn't this poor animal been through enough? Leave him alone. Particularly when he's in his sanctuary. HER DEFENSE: I'm cute, and I want it.
I'd go through an exhaustive closing argument, but she's yanking clean laundry off my bed. I'm thinking she needs to leave it alone so I can fold it already. She's thinking she's cute and she wants it. Who's right?
Call me Mother of the Year.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Happy Birthday, Tula!
Call me Mother of the Year.
My Darling Tula,
At this time last year, Daddy and I were waiting for Grammy to come and hang out with Peanut while we were at the hospital. Daddy had just taken Peanut out for pancakes, so he thought this was quite a good day already. Plus, there was the addition of cookies at preschool snack time. Best day ever.
We got to the hospital and, after a long wait, you came screaming into the world at 1:11 in the afternoon. Daddy held you first, and had to cradle you in one arm while he wiped away tears of joy. Then he handed you to me. I already loved you, and then I got to see the most beautiful little baby girl ever.
Peanut came to visit you after preschool and immediately wanted to hold his Tula. He's been the best big brother, and I know how much you love him and he loves you.
You've grown so much this year. You've gone from a tiny baby to nearly walking. Yesterday you stood up all by yourself! You're feeding yourself, trying to talk, and doing everything you can to explore this big world.
Tula, my wish for you this year is that your sense of amazement only grows with every new thing you do and discover. May you and Peanut still be the best of friends, and may you always know how much Daddy and I love you.
Happy First Birthday, beloved Tula.
Love,
Mommy
Call me Mother of the Year.
My Darling Tula,
At this time last year, Daddy and I were waiting for Grammy to come and hang out with Peanut while we were at the hospital. Daddy had just taken Peanut out for pancakes, so he thought this was quite a good day already. Plus, there was the addition of cookies at preschool snack time. Best day ever.
We got to the hospital and, after a long wait, you came screaming into the world at 1:11 in the afternoon. Daddy held you first, and had to cradle you in one arm while he wiped away tears of joy. Then he handed you to me. I already loved you, and then I got to see the most beautiful little baby girl ever.
Peanut came to visit you after preschool and immediately wanted to hold his Tula. He's been the best big brother, and I know how much you love him and he loves you.
You've grown so much this year. You've gone from a tiny baby to nearly walking. Yesterday you stood up all by yourself! You're feeding yourself, trying to talk, and doing everything you can to explore this big world.
Tula, my wish for you this year is that your sense of amazement only grows with every new thing you do and discover. May you and Peanut still be the best of friends, and may you always know how much Daddy and I love you.
Happy First Birthday, beloved Tula.
Love,
Mommy
Call me Mother of the Year.
Monday, August 23, 2010
He's Not in Preschool Anymore
Call me Mother of the Year.
I let him go today.
Peanut's Adventures in Kindergarten actually began on Thursday. As he came pounding into my room for his thief-Daddy's-side-of-the-bed experience, I told him that the next day would be Kindergarten Day. Peanut's response: "Oh, Mommy. I don't want to go to Kindergarten." After listening to my son's fears, I realized that he's afraid of the unknown. I'm in the middle of reassuring him when Kindergarten Teacher called. As I was explaining Peanut's worries, she invited him (and me) to her classroom. It was a wonderful idea and a great time was had.
Friday morning was the First Day (or in our case, first hour) of School. The classroom was investigated and a story was read. Peanut showed off his brilliance by correctly defining "nocturnal" and I successfully (mentally) slapped my own hand for nearly telling him to be quiet. It's his show now, Mom. Let him go.
I let him go today.
Today was the first full day of Kindergarten. His lunch was packed, breakfast eaten, and we were out the door in plenty of time. Boomer took today off and had Tula while I held my son's small hand and walked toward the playground. Peanut promptly shook off my hand and ran in search of really cool climbing equipment and friends yet to be made. Boomer suggested we leave before we turned into "creepy clingy parents". I turned to go with him and Tula, and then it hit me: he never said goodbye.
I let him go today. And that hurt.
Of course, I was there as soon as school let out today. And of course, I was greeted with a shriek of "MOMMY!!! I'm so glad to see you!" He had a good day, and I've been regaled with stories of tag, lunch bells, and P.E.
I let him go today. We both survived.
Call me Mother of the Year.
I let him go today.
Peanut's Adventures in Kindergarten actually began on Thursday. As he came pounding into my room for his thief-Daddy's-side-of-the-bed experience, I told him that the next day would be Kindergarten Day. Peanut's response: "Oh, Mommy. I don't want to go to Kindergarten." After listening to my son's fears, I realized that he's afraid of the unknown. I'm in the middle of reassuring him when Kindergarten Teacher called. As I was explaining Peanut's worries, she invited him (and me) to her classroom. It was a wonderful idea and a great time was had.
Friday morning was the First Day (or in our case, first hour) of School. The classroom was investigated and a story was read. Peanut showed off his brilliance by correctly defining "nocturnal" and I successfully (mentally) slapped my own hand for nearly telling him to be quiet. It's his show now, Mom. Let him go.
I let him go today.
Today was the first full day of Kindergarten. His lunch was packed, breakfast eaten, and we were out the door in plenty of time. Boomer took today off and had Tula while I held my son's small hand and walked toward the playground. Peanut promptly shook off my hand and ran in search of really cool climbing equipment and friends yet to be made. Boomer suggested we leave before we turned into "creepy clingy parents". I turned to go with him and Tula, and then it hit me: he never said goodbye.
I let him go today. And that hurt.
Of course, I was there as soon as school let out today. And of course, I was greeted with a shriek of "MOMMY!!! I'm so glad to see you!" He had a good day, and I've been regaled with stories of tag, lunch bells, and P.E.
I let him go today. We both survived.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Mommies Say The Weirdest Things
Call me Mother of the Year.
I've realized the most bizarre things have left my mouth over the last five years of motherhood. These are, in no particular order, some of the things I've said to my kids over the last month. Yes, there are stories attached to all, and I may even relate those later. Special bonus to those who guess which kid got which saying!
"We do not fling the cat!"
"I don't care how cute you are, the dog is not to be used as target practice."
"Sure, bacon's a good secret ingredient to trail mix." (Don't ask. Seriously.)
"Fingers are not food. Neither are feet."
"We do not take toys that aren't ours."
"Get the shoelace out of your mouth. Get the dog's tail out of your mouth."
"When taking a shower, it helps to get under the water."
"Dog food is not your food."
"I'll tell you when it's Kindergarten Day!"
"The changing table is not a jungle gym."
Call me Mother of the Year.
I've realized the most bizarre things have left my mouth over the last five years of motherhood. These are, in no particular order, some of the things I've said to my kids over the last month. Yes, there are stories attached to all, and I may even relate those later. Special bonus to those who guess which kid got which saying!
"We do not fling the cat!"
"I don't care how cute you are, the dog is not to be used as target practice."
"Sure, bacon's a good secret ingredient to trail mix." (Don't ask. Seriously.)
"Fingers are not food. Neither are feet."
"We do not take toys that aren't ours."
"Get the shoelace out of your mouth. Get the dog's tail out of your mouth."
"When taking a shower, it helps to get under the water."
"Dog food is not your food."
"I'll tell you when it's Kindergarten Day!"
"The changing table is not a jungle gym."
Call me Mother of the Year.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Countdown Is On
Call me Mother of the Year.
So the doctor's appointments have been completed, the school supplies procured and hidden from certain eyes and hands, and the calendar with days to be marked off is at the ready. Bring it on, Kindergarten.
Peanut is deeply impressed with himself. It's not every Kindergartner, after all, who gets to choose his own backpack AND lunchbox (I'll let you guess which he's more interested in). The questions are coming fast and furious. I'm finding myself repeating the answers several times a day. Thus the calendar (thanks, Beloved Teacher!).
"Will I ride the bus again?" No. Last year Peanut was quite happy hanging out on the bus full of his classmates. This year I'm breathing a sigh of relief that Peanut vs. Third Graders isn't happening.
"Will I have to get a vaccination?" Yes, Peanut used that word correctly. My kid is brilliant. And PBS Kids did a wonderful job of trying not to freak Peanut out. It almost worked, but the game winner was that his shots are up to date and therefore more shots were unnecessary. Much rejoicing.
"Why isn't today Kindergarten day?" Because it isn't. Thus the calendar. And the marker. And the Kleenex for me as I realize I'm totally gonna lose it his first full day. And the jab in Boomer's ribs for laughing at me.
And now, not-so-small-one, it's time to cross off another day. Eighteen days to go. Bring it on.
Call me Mother of the Year.
So the doctor's appointments have been completed, the school supplies procured and hidden from certain eyes and hands, and the calendar with days to be marked off is at the ready. Bring it on, Kindergarten.
Peanut is deeply impressed with himself. It's not every Kindergartner, after all, who gets to choose his own backpack AND lunchbox (I'll let you guess which he's more interested in). The questions are coming fast and furious. I'm finding myself repeating the answers several times a day. Thus the calendar (thanks, Beloved Teacher!).
"Will I ride the bus again?" No. Last year Peanut was quite happy hanging out on the bus full of his classmates. This year I'm breathing a sigh of relief that Peanut vs. Third Graders isn't happening.
"Will I have to get a vaccination?" Yes, Peanut used that word correctly. My kid is brilliant. And PBS Kids did a wonderful job of trying not to freak Peanut out. It almost worked, but the game winner was that his shots are up to date and therefore more shots were unnecessary. Much rejoicing.
"Why isn't today Kindergarten day?" Because it isn't. Thus the calendar. And the marker. And the Kleenex for me as I realize I'm totally gonna lose it his first full day. And the jab in Boomer's ribs for laughing at me.
And now, not-so-small-one, it's time to cross off another day. Eighteen days to go. Bring it on.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Monday, July 12, 2010
There's An App For That
Call me Mother of the Year.
My beloved BFF and I were discussing Papa's recent iPhone and our mutual desire (and mutual inability to afford) for one. I then commented that Opa's iPhone has the ability to keep Peanut entertained for hours courtesy of one of the apps. BFF chuckled and made mention that there needs to Apps for moms. Thus the brainstorming began.
iTeething Ring: The iPhone is slobberproof and perfect for the teething child!
iPunt: Want to keep your toddler busy? Instead of Kick the Can, Kick the Phone!
iAnswer: Program your iPhone to automatically answer every "Why" marathon!
iLullaby: You've heard of iTunes? Our soothing songs will get the kids to nap quickly!
iFeed: Too many kids? Not enough time? It'll put dinner on the table!
iNap: What busy moms do when their wee ones are occupied by the iPhone!
I've got to figure out how to market this. And if you've any ideas, I'm open to them.
Call me Mother of the Year.
My beloved BFF and I were discussing Papa's recent iPhone and our mutual desire (and mutual inability to afford) for one. I then commented that Opa's iPhone has the ability to keep Peanut entertained for hours courtesy of one of the apps. BFF chuckled and made mention that there needs to Apps for moms. Thus the brainstorming began.
iTeething Ring: The iPhone is slobberproof and perfect for the teething child!
iPunt: Want to keep your toddler busy? Instead of Kick the Can, Kick the Phone!
iAnswer: Program your iPhone to automatically answer every "Why" marathon!
iLullaby: You've heard of iTunes? Our soothing songs will get the kids to nap quickly!
iFeed: Too many kids? Not enough time? It'll put dinner on the table!
iNap: What busy moms do when their wee ones are occupied by the iPhone!
I've got to figure out how to market this. And if you've any ideas, I'm open to them.
Call me Mother of the Year.
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