1 Mother 2 Another

Hey everyone - have a wonderful holiday
weekend, and see you next year!

I feel like such a cliché, but
I’m absolutely astonished at the fact that another year has
gone past. I find myself leaping from event to event –
birthday, Easter, swim lessons, school time, Halloween, school
fundraiser, Thanksgiving, and so on – much more than I ever
did as an adult responsible solely for myself.

Yes, it's time for the required Cute Kid Christmas Morning video.

Cora received a Thomas train that plays "Jingle Bells", and she now carries it around like her own personal karaoke machine, pressing "play" and singing along every time, most times into a microphone. Here I captured the debut performance - Cora, still sleepy and in her Christmas pjs, as she sings along with gusto and enthusiasm.

Press "play" and enjoy.

Sorry to have left you in suspense over
the long weekend, but what kind of writer would I be without
employing a little good old fashioned cliff-hanger? Plus, of
course, there was the whole Christmas thing.


But since I know you were all worried, rest easy: baby Jesus made
it through the pageant unmolested – er, attended to. Was it
incident-free?


Ish.

Last night a friend of mine had a brief
conversation with Cora that went like this:


“Cora, are you going to be in the Christmas pageant?”


“Yep.”


“What are you going to be?”


“An angel.”


“What do the angels do?”

Cora’s big into playing with baby
dolls right now, and in fact Santa’s bringing her a cradle to
set next to her bed so her dolly can sleep near her. She takes care
of her and dresses her and rocks her, and in fact has legally
changed dolly’s name to Baby Jesus. When I say legally, I
mean she stood in the middle of the room and said, “Listen
up, guys, dolly’s name is Baby Jesus now, ok? I mean it, ok,
guys?” (And yes, she really does talk like a wise guy.) So
Baby Jesus now goes with her to the park, gets put night-night, and
so on. Cora’s quite protective of the doll.


As I mentioned yesterday, Cora’s going to be in the Christmas
pageant this year, as an angel. (Stick with me – I promise
I’m tying all this together soon). She’s quite excited
and can’t wait to do it for an audience on Thursday, and in
fact was talking to her grandfather about the big night yesterday
at lunch.


“Yep, so Papa, I’m going to dance and sing, and maybe
I’ll get to hold the baby Jesus afterwards.”

It’s Christmas pageant time, and
Maddie is once again preparing for her role as an angel in our
church’s Christmas eve service. You may recall that last year
Maddie approached the event with great trepidation, only to find
the spotlight so enchanting she broke into an impromptu dance solo
in the middle of the nativity scene, complete with curtsey at the
end. Got it on video, dontcha know.


This year, Maddie is calm and confident and ready to reprise her
role. And this year, it’ll be a family act.

The girls have had their Santa requests
down for some time now, and as I mentioned in an earlier blog
they’re not the easiest – Cora wants a real live tree,
at least partly red, and Maddie wants a specific ballet barre that
is apparently one of the hot tickets this year. I finally tracked
it down on Craig’s List and have it hidden in a bedroom,
while Cora’s real live Christmas tree is tucked around the
corner of our side yard, waiting to be decorated with the red bows
and battery-powered (!) red lights I found. I thought we had all
this wrapped up.


I thought wrong.

Both girls are walking around belting out
Christmas carols at the top of their lungs, and certainly
don’t let anything so petty as not understanding all the
words get in the way of their singing. Here recorded for posterity
are a few of my favorite malaproprisms – let’s just
call them fresh takes on classic songs.

I’m pretty strict on television for
the girls; they get one television show a day, sometime after their
naps, and only if they don’t lose the privilege due to bad
behavior. I’m similarly picky about which shows they watch,
and have a pretty narrow definition of what I consider appropriate.


I should also say here that I didn’t grow up watching
claymation shows the way my husband did, so I was a stranger to the
whole Rudolph/Santa Claus Is Coming To Town line of shows when we
had kids. The Christmas after Maddie turned two, though, I saw them
each over and over as Maddie joyfully picked one out of the lineup
each night for her “bideo”. Last year saw a fond
reunion between Girl and her Claymation Collection, and I knew this
year would be no different. In fact, this year would be even bigger
because Maddie would get to introduce Cora to the wonderful world
of singing reindeer.

I always swore I would never be the parent
who spends a ridiculous amount of money on a toy worth a fraction
of the price, just to satisfy a child’s Christmas wish.
There’s no such thing as “irreplaceable” or
“one-of-a-kind”, and I could easily find a substitute
rather than pay exorbitant prices because of high demand and low
supply. I drew a line in the sand and declared myself firmly on the
side of common sense, of right versus consumerism.


Then Maddie made up her wish list.

We had our big Christmas party this
weekend, a tradition going back years before we had kids.
We’ve always thrown open our doors and invited a big crowd,
spending weeks leading up to the event furiously cooking and
cleaning and decorating. Since having kids, though,
something’s had to give, so I finally threw in the towel and
admitted I need professional help.


No, I didn’t hire someone to bake for me. Bite your tongue.


I hired a cleaning lady.

Maddie woke up yesterday morning with a
sore throat. No big deal, except that there’d been rumors of
strep running through her preschool, and we’re having our big
Christmas party here on Saturday. So it’d probably be better
if we weren’t all contagious. I usually leave these things to
develop or go away on their own, but with those extenuating
circumstances weighing on my mind, I mentioned we might need to go
get a strep test for her.


“If I get a strep swab, will I get a lollipop?” Maddie
asked.


“Yes, of course, hon,” I answered absentmindedly,
knowing how icky those strep swabs are.

Most of you know I’m big into the
whole environmental stewardship thing, and I know I’ve
brought this up before, but I’m telling you, you gotta check
out target="_blank">Freecycle.


It’s a national network of local groups who simply give stuff
away that they no longer need. Rather than see a perfectly good
bike end up in a landfill, someone will list it on freecycle and
the first person to respond will get it. For free. The people who
participate seem to be honest and try to only take what they need,
so the greed thing stays out of it.

Maddie’s preschool presented their
annual Christmas concert last night, and I swore walking in there I
wouldn’t be one of THOSE parents – I’d sit there
and savor the moment rather than racing frantically to record it,
thus missing the actual moment itself.


Yeah, not so much.

Our church offers free donut holes and
coffee at the end of every service, and believe you me, it’s
the highlight of the girls’ weekly worship experience.
They’ll tear out of the service and stand salivating on the
table until I come up and give them the A-OK. Somehow I descended
down that slippery slope, and now they expect the donut hole every
Sunday.


Unless, of course, their behavior is less than exemplary during the
service. We operate on the choices-and-consequences discipline
plan, and they know that the consequence of bad choices Sunday
morning will most likely result in the loss of one of their most
precious privileges – the donut hole, the sugary light at the
end of the preaching tunnel. So usually, they try to be patient and
attentive and obedient during and around the service, and in return
they get a little bite of heaven.

I'm burning the candle at both ends -
heck, at about three or four ends right now. I'm throwing together
a show that opens Thursday night, stepping in at the last minute as
a personal favor for a friend. So I'm at rehearsal until 11 p.m.
most nights, teaching afternoons and evenings, and of course trying
to mother my kids as best I can.


Oh, and getting ready for the whole Christmas thing.


So I'm a bit tired and fighting hard to keep my time with the
girls really focused on them and not completely devoted to laundry
and errands and paperwork. Which is a long-ish way of explaining
why I may be a bit absent the next night or two.


The girls are hanging in there, but before I started this a couple
weeks ago Cora had been put down at night by someone other than me
exactly five times. Now it's almost fifteen times. Not
surprisingly, both girls are clingy and needy during the day and
I'm trying my best to be there for them.


I can't believe this sort of schedule used to be consider "fun" in
college.

As many of you know, over the past several
months we’ve been moving Cora from a crib to a big-girl bed.
We went from a toddler mattress on the floor beside the crib to a
full-sized mattress on the floor, and as the final step put
together her bed frame and raised the mattress up off the floor
this weekend.


I’m a big fan of Craig’s List and never know when what
I want will come up, so I started looking for a bed frame for her
about eight months ago. I discovered a lovely old full frame in our
price range last spring, and it’s been sitting in the garage
ever since, waiting for Cora to be old enough to climb into it.


Judging by what we’ve seen since we put the bed together,
it’s going be a really long time before Cora’s old
enough to climb into it.

Yes, you read it right. My girls came,
they saw, they kicked some dinosaur butt.


I honestly thought it would be a big deal, and both girls certainly
expressed concern at different times up until the moment we joined
the party. The host even rearranged the order in which the party
would run so the girls could skip walking the dinosaur trail with
as little humiliation as possible. But I kept them moving and tried
to make it not a big deal, just to see how far they’d go.


Apparently all the way.

You may recall that a couple months ago we
visited our local science museum’s exciting outdoor dinosaur
display, to disastrous effect. The life-sized, robotically animated
dinosaurs scared the poop out of both girls, and they swore
they’d never return to the museum again until the dinosaurs
were gone.


They’ve changed their minds – sort of.

Brian’s off work this week, and
we’re doing some holiday preparations of our own. Yesterday
we took the girls to a toy store for a meander through the aisles,
stirring the creative juices as the girls begin to ponder their
Christmas lists.


We’ve never done such things before, but truthfully
we’re having a hard time with Cora this year. What do you get
a two-year-old who already has all her sister’s old toys?
When Madeleine was two her big Christmas presents were the
trampoline, a dollhouse, and a baby care center replete with a
place to put the baby to sleep, bathe her, feed her, and more.
These things were all hits, but alas Cora already plays with
them!

As I’ve mentioned before,
we’re gradually stepping down off our recent ride on the
Refined Sugar Pony, and it’s been a little rough going. Cora
especially has developed quite a sweet tooth, and complains
vociferously – and vocally – when she doesn’t get
enough of the sweet stuff.


Fortunately, there’s Tic-Tacs.

Maddie’s been soaking up her school
lessons like a thirsty sponge, racing from new idea to new idea.
And nothing’s been embraced more heartily than her daily
encounters with the alphabet. She’s begun to make the mental
connection between what she sees on a page and words she hears out
loud, and you can tell she’s almost at that turning point to
become a reader.

So there everyone was, happily pirouetting
and leaping about, when strobe lights started flashing and an
INCREDIBLY loud siren began blaring. A dozen budding ballerinas
were herded out onto the street, more startled than scared at
first, as we waited for the fire engine to come turn the alarm off.
Cora was busy with her own “class” in other studio, and
after a brief freakout from the loud noise was happy to join the
other girls in their impromptu sidewalk ballet.

Last month was Safety Month at
Madeleine’s school, and she learned a lot. A fire truck
visited and Maddie got to climb all over, they did tornado drills,
they talked about policemen and more. The class even learned about
road safety, and gave “tickets” to all the staff at the
school.


I suppose this is the point at which Maddie became intensely
interested in all aspects of highway safety, because now
she’s a bigger worrier and more annoying back-seat driver
than my 91-year-old grandmother.

Everyone who knows me, knows that I
complain every year about Christmas’ ever-increasingly early
onslaught. I remember the good old days, when I’d crab about
the early Christmas as storekeepers decorated their aisles the day
after Thanksgiving. Ah, the good old days. Now it seems we
can’t even wait for Halloween to be over before the Yule
season takes hold; our craft store had Christmas trees and
ornaments up the beginning of OCTOBER.

Hard to believe, but many of us
penny-pinching parents are starting (or finishing if you're my
girlfriend Alison) our Christmas shopping, hoping to spread out the
cost and take advantage of early sales. So here's a heads up on a
fairly decent one.


If you happen to live near one of the half-dozen U.S. Toy stores in
the country, then this is your lucky month. For the entire month of
November, every Friday and Saturday you can take 40% off all Thomas
Wooden Railway items - cars, tracks, extra pieces, you name it. You
can also take 40% off Playmobil and 20% off Lego products.


If you don't live near a store, dig through the href="http://www.constplay.com/constplay.com/family/home/stores.htm"
target="_blank">website and see if they offer the dicount
online as well. Or find a friend that lives near a store. At the
cost of Thomas these days, it's well worth it.

When Maddie was just around five months
old and Brian and I were beginning to agonize over the whole
sleep-training thing, my best friend Abby uttered one of her wisest
sayings ever: “Welcome, my friend, to parenting. Every choice
you make will be ‘Do I pay now, or pay later?’ You have
to ask yourself: Do I do the work now and struggle through and reap
the rewards later, or do I take the easy way out now – say,
bringing the baby in bed with me – and pay for it later when
I have to sleep-train a three-year-old? Your whole life will be
making this choice, over and over again.”


Sleep-deprived as I was, I burst into tears, but Abby was
absolutely right and I’ve thought about it a lot in the past
few years as I make big and small decisions. I usually choose to
pay at that moment, grit my teeth and do something the long, hard
way so I only have to do it once; but sometimes I’ve made the
conscious decision to pay later, even though I knew the price would
be higher down the line. Holding fast when I tell a child
“no”, strictly limiting sugar and television, being
consistent in discipline, they’re all hard but make life
easier in the long run.

We took a trip last weekend to visit
relatives, and while most parts of the vacation went really well,
we did have a few small snafus. The airlines lost a bag of ours for
over twenty-four hours, the girls had a bit of difficulty adjusting
to sleeping in a room together, that sort of thing.


Oh, yes, and we discovered that Cora’s terrified of
flying.

Hold on to your hats - this is a big
recall.


Maclaren is recalling EVERY SINGLE STROLLER MADE between 1999 and
now. That's the Volo, the Techno XT, the Quest, the Twin Triumph,
and more. If it's made by Maclaren in the past ten years, it's
being recalled.


Apparently, there's a hinge that can actually amputate a kid's
fingers, and there have been twelve reported cases so far.
Naturally, they are urging everyone with a Maclaren to stop using
it immediately. The good news is that you don't have to send yours
in for a refund; simply contact Maclaren and they will send you a
free repair kit.


Call 877-688-2326 to speak with Maclaren, or visit their href="http://www.maclaren.us/recall"
target="_blank">website for more information.


Don't panic; simply get in touch with them and receive the free
fix.

Well, we’re back, and all in one
piece – though I’d say we had our share of close calls.
There was the lost luggage, which took over twenty-four hours to
find us and which, of course, contained the irreplaceable Pink
Purple Lovin’ Teddy, all the girls’ clothes, all of
Brian’s clothes, and our toiletries. On the up side, American
Airlines bought the girls new pajamas and fleece outfits.


We had our share of meltdowns and freakouts – more on
Cora’s fun with flying later – and of course the
obligatory Nap Skipping In Unfamiliar Surroundings. But Maddie and
Cora found the biggest. Leaf. Pile. Ever. And obviously took it for
a test drive. They reveled in the complimentary hotel breakfast,
where Maddie spied Fruit Loops for the first time and turned to me
wide-eyed and said, “Mommy, look at those beautiful
Cheerios!” We swam in the hotel pool and screamed with
laughter as Daddy pretended to boil himself in the hot tub like a
piece of pasta.

Well, we're just about on our way to
Wisconsin to visit family, and I'm worn out before the trip even
starts. For a four-day trip we're checking two bags - and though
I've weighed them in my bathroom, I don't think they'll care
much if I'm over the limit and I wail, "But it was under the limit
on my scale!"


We could probably have crammed everything into one checked bag with
a judicious use of carry-on allotments, since both girls get their
own tickets and hence are eligible for carry-ons and personal bags,
but I don't think we could have physically managed it. As it is,
we'll still have to navigate the airport with a stroller, a diaper
bag, a computer bag, a Britax car seat, a booster seat, and two
"real" carry-ons, not to mention the girls' own "personal bags" -
backpacks full of stuff to do. Guess who's going to wind up
carrying those. Add our big coats and purses and temper-tantrums
and, oh yes, a child who is still afraid to take her shoes off in
public, and you've got the family that makes everyone roll their
eyes in the security line.


So pray for us, for our journey there and our return trip on
Sunday. Pray our portable DVD player doesn't run out of battery
juice in the middle of the flight. Pray the girls nap on the plane.
Pray the supposedly heated pool at the hotel lives up to its hype.


And pray Mommy doesn't eat the whole hidden bag of Halloween candy
before the plane gets off the ground.

We’re going to be taking a long
weekend in a couple days to visit some family, and it’ll be
the first time we’ve really traveled with Cora – the
last time she got on a plane she was eight months old and moving to
Texas. We traveled fairly often with Maddie as a baby and toddler,
flying regularly to Texas to visit family, but now there’s
neither the need nor the cash and we’ve become quite the
homebodies. So it’ll be a new experience for the family, and
I’m just a tad worried.

We had a fantastic Halloween on Saturday
night, thanks to a couple things: first off, we threw our usual
sugar restrictions out the window and let the girls have probably a
half-dozen pieces of candy each. For us, that’s huge. Second,
we had the whole daylight savings thing, which meant we could allow
the girls to eat sugar and then stay up late until it wore off. The
girls were in amazingly good and obedient moods, and our Saturday
night, blessedly, had absolutely no meltdowns and no temper
tantrums.


Those were saved for Sunday morning.

Brian and the girls had a date last
Saturday carving their Halloween pumpkins. The girls were looking
forward to picking out the perfect faces for each of their pumpkins
before getting a bit messy with the whole emptying-and-carving
thing.


My husband is a big supporter of technology, and so he decided to
look for pumpkin stencils on the Internet. He sat a girl on either
knee and did a Google search – “pumpkin
stencils”. Brian clicked on each link, looking at all the
different stencil choices and debating with the girls the merits of
each face they saw.


He’d looked at maybe half a dozen sites when he clicked on
yet another under the search phrase “pumpkin stencils”
– and came upon a porn site. There on the computer sat row
after row of x-rated pictures, of apparently some pretty hard-core
stuff. I didn’t ask for details.


Horrified, Brian slammed his hands over the girls’ eyes and
shouted, “Don’t look! Don’t look at Daddy’s
computer, girls!” He was pretty sure that neither girl really
saw anything and quickly navigated away from the page. And then
Maddie said,


“Daddy, were those people hurting each other?”


Um, can’t we wait a few more years before this
conversation?

We're headed back to the dentist this
morning - Maddie was found to have two cavities a couple weeks ago
at her regular teeth cleaning, so Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to fill
we go. We've been reading about visits to the dentist and talking
through it, but my nervous kid is, well, nervous about it. And
let's face it, when it comes to going to the dentist, those nerves
are sort of justified.


In a huge ironic twist of fate, Maddie's school Halloween party is
this afternoon, so we're filling those holes up so she can tear
them back out again with sugar. Or something like that. Anyway,
wish us luck and lots of laughing gas.

The New York Times reported last week that
Disney, who owns the Baby Einstein franchise, is offering a refund
to all their consumers. Apparently, they received a threatening
letter from a collection of public-health lawyers who are
considering a possible “deceptive advertising” lawsuit
against the franchise. They’ve got studies on their side
which show links between early childhood television-watching and
poor attention spans later down the line, and of course the
American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that there be no
television at all for children under the age of two years, for the
same reason.

So Cora, Maddie and I were driving home
from preschool pick-up on Friday and all was quiet in the car until
Cora said, “Hey, Mommy, I’ve got that green thing stuck
up my nose.”


Excuse me, what??

A couple weekends ago, we had a beautiful
Saturday morning and went on a family walk through the
neighborhood. A few streets over we walked into a garage sale and
began browsing lazily through the items. One table was devoted to
the owner’s rather large, um, collectibles collection –
several dozen Hallmark Christmas ornaments, as well as three or
four Barbies in their boxes. Brian had a firm grip on Cora, so I
began sorting through a pile of children’s clothing.


Sixty seconds later, a fellow shopper came over to me.
“Ma’am?” she said apologetically. “Your
daughter just broke that ornament over there.” I looked up,
and Maddie was running to me, tears already streaming down her
face, as the garage sale owner stood holding a Barbie ornament.

Cora wants to be exactly like her big
sister Maddie in every way, and dreams of the day she can go to
school, just like Maddie. Madeleine has explained to Cora that one
can’t go to school until one is potty-trained, which is not
exactly true, but is sort of what I led Maddie to believe in the
midst of our potty-training throes. Regardless, though, I’ve
no intention of placing Cora in school right now – especially
since my money would probably be wasted and I’d be picking
Cora up the minute she realized Mommy’s not allowed to stay
in school with her.


But Cora still wants to be like Maddie and do some sort of school,
so on the days Maddie goes to her preschool class, Cora does
schoolwork at home.

Can't talk here - too busy putting the
last touches on B Bear's journal. It goes back to Maddie's class
today as she ends her week-long possession of B Bear, as well as
her week-long extra homework assignments. The final one: keeping a
daily journal of all of B Bear (and Maddie's) activities, with
pictures glue-sticked in to go with it. I won't even pretend that
Maddie helped me with it, except to pose for the pictures.


Maddie ends her week with B Bear having spent several days in the
spotlight amongst her fellow classmates, and extremely sad that B
Bear is leaving. She's already begging me to ask the teachers
where they got him so she can buy her own exactly like him. Giving
the whole "No two bears are exactly alike, just as no two people
are exactly alike! Isn't God amazing?" speech has had no effect.
Guess what's going on her Christmas list.


I have enjoyed having the bear around, and having Maddie see her
life through his "eyes" and seeing how much fun she has. B Bear,
I'll miss you, kid.


The homework thing, not so much.

There’s a really excellent natural
science museum and wildlife refuge not far from us, and our family
membership allows us to enjoy their many miles of hiking trails
through protected wetlands, as well as their great indoors natural
science exhibits. They recently opened a limited-engagement outdoor
exhibit: nine life-size, realistic dinosaurs, complete with
animation and sound, stationed all along a hiking loop. Maddie and
Cora both enjoy dinosaur books as well as the Little Mermaid t.v.
episode where Ariel reawakens the dinosaurs from their frozen sleep
(sigh), so we decided to take in the exhibit.

At the end of last week, Maddie brought
home B Bear, the class bear. He came in his own backpack, with a
full set of clothes and a journal. Maddie is the Beary Special
Student this week, and gets the honor of taking care of B Bear all
week and carrying him everywhere. The week also serves as a
spotlight on Maddie, and every day she gets to reveal a little bit
about herself to the rest of the class. One day she turns in her
journal of her week with B Bear – complete with diary entries
and photos – and one day it’s show and tell time just
for her. On Monday, she had to bring in a poster covered with
pictures of herself, her family and friends.


Let me say in advance that I totally appreciate teachers and what
they do. I heart them in a big way, and consider them professionals
of the highest order – which is why I don’t homeschool
my kids, but leave it up to said professionals. But this poster
thing stressed me out on many levels.

I know I didn’t write anything on
Friday, and you were all waiting to hear how the bike-a-thon went.
Unfortunately, it didn’t go just absolutely superbly, and I
wasn’t really in the mood to blog about it, so sorry to leave
you hanging.


But here’s the story.

Maddie’s got a fundraiser for her
preschool today – a bike-a-thon. The school is setting the
parking lot up with cones to make a circular track, and each class
comes outside at recess time to ride laps around the track –
scooter, trike, bicycle, whatever. The children are supposed to
receive pledges for their ride – so many dollars for each
lap, that kind of thing – and try to go around as many times
as possible. The school suggests aiming for one lap for each year
of a child’s age, so Maddie should be shooting for four laps.


She stated yesterday that she feels confident she’ll reach
somewhere between ten and twenty.

This is part of my series, Staying On Top
of Family Meals. We’ve covered Planning Ahead, Cooking Ahead,
and Breakfast, and now we’re moving up the timeline to Lunch
and Snacks. You will quickly realize that everything comes back to
Planning Ahead and Cooking Ahead, but let’s get going.


Lunch. This is probably my least favorite meal, for a couple of
reasons. First, it’s the time of day when I’m fast
approaching my frazzle limit, and as I start to make lunch and the
little monkeys are dancing around my legs I feel as if I
can’t make that stupid peanut butter and jelly fast enough.
Second, I often make lunch early in the morning: packing school
lunches, packing picnics for the arboretum, packing poolside
lunches for swim time. I am heartily sick of slapping together a
huge assembly line of sandwiches, and I am even more heartily sick
of said sandwiches.

Yesterday we went to our local arboretum,
where they make every Monday a Mommy and Me Day. Because yesterday
was a holiday, they added a bonus – a local musician to come
do a kids’ concert that morning at no cost to us. We’d
been to hear this singer before and the girls liked him, so we were
excited about going back.


So we went to the park, and the time came for the concert.
It’d been raining so the park had moved the concert inside,
and we ended up spread out on the carpeted floor eating our picnic
lunches and pretending there weren’t two hundred kids all
around us doing the same thing. It’s one thing outside with
the sun shining and the grass tickling our feet, listening to music
in a big stone amphitheatre; it’s another thing when
it’s in a conference room – some of the charm is
lost.

Yes, we’re one step closer to Cora
being permanently ensconced in a big-girl bed!


So she’s been sleeping on a toddler air mattress next to her
crib for a couple weeks, and she’s handling it like a pro.
We’ve had some emotional wrestling matches over naptime
– she’s starting to give it up, and would just get up
and walk out of the room. But we’ve finally worked it out,
and now she knows she has to stay in the room and take “quiet
time” until I come get her. She usually cries and demands,
“Mommy! Come. In. Here. Right. Now!” for the entire
forty-five minutes, but at least she doesn’t leave her bed.


Other than naptime, though, it’s been smooth sailing, so
Thursday we took one more step – we went mattress
shopping.

Cora is, like any two-year-old, insanely
delicious to kiss on. We’ve come up with several different
ways of loving on her, and started saying things like,
“I’m just going to take a little nibble!” or
“I’m going to yum on you!” While this was fun and
cute for a while, Cora has declared that enough is enough.


Apparently, her legalistic two-year-old brain has decided that
“nibbling on you” means we are actually taking some
part of herself away, and she’s begun freaking out at the
thought of all her “nums” and “nibbles”
being eaten by other people. So when my mom says, “I’m
just coming in for a little nibble!” and kisses Cora’s
neck as she walks by, Cora now shrieks, “No! No! No! Put it
back! Put my nibble back on!”

Today’s blog is part of a series I
started a few weeks ago – Staying On Top of Family Meals.
We’ve already looked at Planning Ahead and Cooking Ahead, and
now we’re getting down to the nuts and bolts of each meal,
starting with breakfast.


Breakfast was never a big deal to me until Maddie started school.
Suddenly we were on a time crunch and everyone was tired; I’d
rarely awakened the girls before school started, preferring to let
them sleep until they were ready to wake up. But school waits for
no child, so we had to adapt to a schedule. And since I’m a
big believer in breakfast (and you are too, RIGHT?) I knew I had to
get organized.

Last weekend the girls and I went to see a
ballet of Peter and the Wolf. It’s one of our favorite pieces
of music, we’ve got a story of it in one of our fairy tale
books, and we’ve even found a video version of the story at
the library, so the girls know the tale inside and out. The ballet
was only twenty minutes long, and I knew it was the perfect sort of
thing for a cultural evening out.


The night went pretty predictably: the girls were entranced, only
slightly critical of the performance itself, and Cora was scared of
the wolf. She’d seen the wolf portrayed as a cartoon, and
drawn out in the book, and knew he wasn’t real, but
c’mon – that music’s pretty ominous and scary all
by itself. As we sat in the audience before the show started, Cora
told herself over and over again, “The wolf’s not
coming out here. He’s only going on stage. The wolf’s
not coming out here. He’s only going on stage.” I could
see real nerves in the white knuckles clutching my knee, but I
could also see the excitement and anticipation coming across her
face – the excitement that draws us into those
“Don’t go into that dark creepy room!” films time
after time.

When Maddie was a toddler in New York,
we’d hit our local playground every day. Every morning
– and some evenings as well – we’d be swinging
and sliding for a good hour or two. I’d chase Maddie all over
the playground, going down slides with her and hanging from bars
together. We’d kick the soccer ball and make water balloons,
and even when I was heavily pregnant with Cora I still got my daily
workout on the jungle gym.


I’d see the moms and nannies sitting on benches on the side
while their kids played and swear I’d never be THAT person
– how could I teach my child how to interact with other kids
if I wasn’t there to correct her, teach her manners and how
to behave in society? And wasn’t it, um, my job to play with
her? I mean, Maddie had her friend Naomi that she played with, but
Naomi’s mom and I still followed around and participated in
tea parties and climbed through tunnels with them. Play time
wasn’t time for Mommy to check out.

In church yesterday our pastor talked
about healing and prayer. During his kids’ sermon he started
off discussing all the ways we can prevent getting sick, or the
things we can do ourselves when we get sick to make ourselves feel
better, like taking medicine. Maddie was sitting right at his feet,
and she got excited and yelled out, “My mommy makes really
good cough syrup!” “I’m sure she does,” he
smiled indulgently, before turning to move on. Maddie pressed
forward. “No, I mean she makes REALLY good syrup,” she
insisted, causing him to look at my slightly askance.

This is the second in my series, “Staying On Top of Family Meals”. Last week I talked about the importance of planning ahead, and today we’re going to look at cooking ahead.

Now, the phrase “cooking ahead” implies there will be actual cooking involved, but even if you’re not that kind of girl, you can do the sous chef work that we all do – dicing up fruit, packaging the goldfish into small containers or Ziplocs – ahead of time, so that life doesn’t overwhelm you when you’re running late and trying to get out the door. So even if you’re a Stouffer’s or Pizza Hut kind of girl, you should keep reading this article.

Two Sundays ago, Cora was hit with bad
diarrhea for about twenty-four hours, thankfully BEFORE we got in
the car to go to church. A few days later, we all got flu shots and
the girls were achy and cranky for a couple days. Saturday morning,
Cora woke up with a high fever and spent the weekend miserable and
hot, with a dry cough and a little vomiting thrown in for good
measure.


And yes, I rushed her to the doctor, and no, it wasn’t the
flu, but believe me I checked.


Now she’s got a little cough again, and is sneezing and
sniffly. I’ve had a miserable time with allergies this week,
and my throat’s raw and I’m coughing like Camille dying
of tuberculosis. Brian had the nerve to say he was coughing a
little bit this morning. So maybe it’s not allergies, or
maybe our whole freakin’ family has the same allergies.


Kids in Maddie’s classroom have been diagnosed with the swine
flu, and while the school is diligent in its hygiene, that’s
the sort of thing you just can’t stop. And I know that the
swine flu seems to be milder than everyone had thought, but I still
can’t imagine it’s much fun. So far, Maddie is healthy,
and I’m about to send her to live in a bubble for a couple
weeks.


I’d really hoped this winter would be different than last
winter, when Cora and I seemed to catch every single bug that went
around, but so far I’m not thrilled, and I’m not
looking forward to the enforced isolation that’s to come. I
already feel as if I haven’t slept through the night in a
couple of weeks, and my beautiful sleep-filled vacation is but a
distant memory.


It’s gonna be a long few months.

Halloween’s coming up soon (and yes,
I have very mixed feelings about the holiday, but that’s
another blog) and we’ve been having the big Costume
Conversation with both girls. Cora was relatively easy – she
decided somewhat early on that she wanted to be Thomas. Maddie made
a fast decision as well: she wanted to be Cinderella.


To be precise, she wanted to be the Cinderella pictured on page 7
of the One Step Ahead catalog.


For sixty bucks.

We spent Friday morning at a park with a
friend, and I loaded up for the morning, as is my wont. I brought a
picnic lunch, a blanket, snacks galore, bubbles, chalk, a soccer
ball – and a football.


About half an hour into the playdate, Maddie expressed interest in
doing “something else”. I listed my supplies, and after
a brief round with the soccer ball she was ready for the football.
Her friend, Sam, was also game, so I took a few minutes to explain
the basics of the sport to them.

Maddie had her first ever Picture Day at
school this week.


So did Cora.


What’s that, you ask? You didn’t think Cora goes to
school? Yeah, she doesn’t.

Ok, so I know I said I’d start with
breakfast, but I started to sketch this series of articles out and
quickly realized that you can’t tackle the actual meals until
you’ve done some of the planning stuff.


Oh, you don’t plan ahead with meals?

When Maddie first started solid foods, I
was so excited, flying into a flurry of steaming and pureeing and
freezing and spooning. I experimented as much as I could with
baby’s first foods, and enjoyed coming up with new and
unusual things for her to try. I was Mommy, the Super Nourisher,
willing to do whatever it took to feed my baby.


Fast-forward three years, and I’m not so excited any more.
The past three years have felt like one long, continuous dicing
session: dicing mango, chopping turkey, cutting up grapes into
eight (!) uniform pieces, slivering cheese – the list is
endless. I feel as if I spend half of my mommy life dealing with
the subject of food: planning meals, shopping, making meals,
organizing snacks, packing lunches, cleaning up from meals. And no
matter what I do, no matter how elaborate and delicious and
nutritious a meal turns out, I know that the clock moves inexorably
forward and the next meal is looming mere hours away.

So Maddie’s been in school for a few
weeks now, and I’m starting to see how this school thing
works. Truthfully, it seems pretty exhausting.


I’m not talking about all the work Maddie does – though
she is prone to meltdowns on school days, simply from overload. No,
I’m talking about all the work that the parents are supposed
to do.

So yesterday morning we were all sitting
around having our typical school morning – fixing lunches,
eating breakfasts, packing bags. Cora had gotten up early and was
finished with her meal, and so was roaming around the house playing
with toys and entertaining herself. Maddie, in an astonishingly
good imitation of a teenager, was half-awake and crabby, curled
around her cereal bowl.

Cora’s spent one night and one nap
in the toddler bed air-mattress now, and it’s been relatively
easy, thank God.


We’ve got the toddler mattress set up on the floor right next
to her crib, with all her stuffed animals and blankets spread out
around her. When she first climbed in, she grinned as if
she’d just won the lottery and rolled luxuriously all over
it. I can tell just looking at her that she’s insanely proud
of herself for “finally” becoming a big enough girl to
rate a little more space.

As many of you know, I’ve got Green
tendencies – I lean towards the whole recycle, earth-friendly
momma movement. A couple years ago I tried to empty the house of
plastic water bottles, partly from a “rid the world of those
mounds of single-use water bottles” point of view, and partly
from a “rid my house of BPA” point of view. So I went
out and bought several Sigg water bottles – the metal,
reusable bottles that come in a variety of sizes and are dishwasher
safe and BPA-free.


Except that they’re not.

When Cora was born, Maddie was three weeks
shy of two years old. I’d been thinking for months of how to
transition her to a big-girl bed because we’d need the crib
for the new baby. I didn’t want it to look as if we were
kicking Maddie out to give the crib to the new edition, and so I
spent a lot of time making the transition smooth.


First, Cora went into a bassinet for a few months, which gave us a
bit more of a breather. Then I bought a toddler-sized aero-bed and
put it on Maddie’s floor, talking up the “big-girl
bed” and getting her excited. While Cora still slept in the
bassinet, Maddie moved quickly to the aero bed on the floor of her
own room, right next to her crib. A few times she asked to move
back to the crib – bad dreams and the illusion of safety
behind bars – but we always dissuaded her, and finally I
broke down the crib and set the pieces casually in my room, where
Cora slept. About a month later, we put the crib together in our
room and Cora moved in, with absolutely no comment from Maddie
except, “Yeah, the crib is for babies.”

I’m back, and I’m having a bit
of re-entry shock.


I spent three days learning how to sleep through the night; the
first night I woke up several times, shouting, “I can’t
hear the monitors! What’s wrong? Where am I?” By the
last night, I slept like a baby in my blacked-out room, and told
Brian glumly that it was the last good night’s sleep
I’d get in years; I’d get home and be shocked at the
monitor noises and ambient light and all that stuff, all over
again.

Bye bye, all you poor suckers who have to
live with a regular work week; I’m off for a three-day
weekend with my hubby.


AND NO KIDS!!!!


Yes, in our first vacation IN FIVE YEARS, Brian and I are
travelling to an exotic location – about five miles from our
airport, and a rather swanky tourist trap of a hotel. But you know
what? As long as it’s got blackout shades and a “Do Not
Disturb” sign for the door, I’m good.


Because I’m going to sleep like I’ve never slept
before. And then sleep some more. And when I wake up, unable to
sleep for another second, I’m going to eat some mighty fine
chocolate. Without sharing. In my bed. While I watch t.v. Shows
that don’t have any furry red monsters or dancing mice or
swimming mermaids.


In an act of heroic sacrifice, my mother’s offered to keep
the kids all by herself for three days (note to local relatives:
you may receive a last-minute distress signal for help) and we are
on our own.


I have no more to say. I must go pack my trashy novels and
eyeshades.

So if Maddie’s night-night routine
is challenging – what with all her incessant questions and
all- then Cora’s routine is downright torture. My toddler is
going through her “I hate bedtime and will do ANYTHING to
prolong it” phase, and it ain’t pretty.


Cora will argue over every aspect of her bedtime routine: brushing
teeth, getting pj’s on, pouring a glass of water – you
name it, she’ll debate it. Almost every step is a knock-down
drag-out fight, and it wears you down, trust me. There are only so
many times I can –gently but firmly – pinch those
cheeks to make her open her mouth so I can brush her teeth before I
think to myself, Heck, how bad can skipping one night of brushing
be?


I know, I didn’t say I did it. I just think it.

The following is a list of the actual
questions Maddie asked me last night, in the actual order they were
asked, when I went in to snuggle her for night-night time:

We’ve completed our first week of
school – Maddie only goes Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday
– and I can say it’s been successful beyond my wildest
dreams. Cora and I are finding our new rhythms, our new grooves,
and are beginning to enjoy our time together a little better
without feeling as if we’re an amputee missing our phantom
limb. But it’s Maddie who gets the gold star for this week.


That kid is now absolutely addicted to school. I’d suspected
that once she got past her fear of the unknown she’d quickly
grow to love it: Maddie absolutely adores routine and rules and
structure and knowing what comes next, and school plays right into
that. She sees order created out of chaos, and watches a mess turn
into a thing of structure and beauty with only squares of
construction paper and a glue stick. My girl is hooked.

I figured we weren’t out of the
woods on the whole “starting school emotional trauma”
thing, but I was assuming the stress would show on Maddie the most.
Instead, it’s been Cora who seems to be having the hardest
time.


Cora spent all day yesterday on an exhausting emotional journey,
going from manic to depressive in seconds flat. She woke up an hour
early, crying and clingy and unable to get back to sleep. Then she
spent the morning begging me not to take Maddie to school –
to not leave the house at all. She didn’t want me to go by
myself, and didn’t want to come with me to drop Maddie off.
Cora simply didn’t want it to happen at all.

Several of you have written in
congratulating me on Maddie’s successful first day of
preschool. And pretty much all of you wanted to know one thing: how
did Mommy and Cora fare on that first day?


The answer – probably not quite as well as Maddie did.


I have to admit that I wasn’t too teared up about the first
day. I was nervous and worried, largely in anticipation of
Maddie’s reaction. I’d spent so much time trying to
orchestrate the morning for maximum smoothness that I hadn’t
really thought about myself in the situation. I mean, I knew it was
a big day, my baby growing up, blah blah blah, but I hadn’t
had a chance to wallow in the feelings.

Maddie came. Maddie saw. Maddie kicked
school’s butt.


Oh yeah, oh yeah, un-hunh, un-hunh.


That’s my Happy Victory Dance.


In case you hadn’t guessed, the first day of school went
really well. And let me tell you, for the amount of prep and
cross-checking and background-laying that went into it, it should
have been as smooth as a shuttle launch.


I spent most of Sunday working frantically to finish Every Little
Thing that needed to be done before Monday. I put labels on her
things; made sure she did her “homework”; packed and
re-packed her bag; helped her lay out her first-day-of-school
clothes; and I cooked.


Boy did I cook.

School is starting on Monday for Maddie,
and we’ve been spending the past month getting her ready:
buying school bags and new clothes and lunch containers, labeling
everything, talking endlessly through her fears and concerns about
the Great Unknown Also Known as Pre-K. We’ve waged an intense
campaign to instill familiarity and excitement, which culminated
yesterday in a sneak peek at her new school.

I know I’ve written about href="http://www.woot.com/" target="_blank">Woot, the
website that sells a different item every day, all day. Sometimes
it’s awesome stuff, like a computer or awesome printer, and
sometimes it’s yet another Roomba. But every day I have to
check, just in case they’re carrying something like an
iPod-like MP3 player for fifteen bucks that I can snatch up for the
girls.


Last week, Woot launched target="_blank">Kid Woot, which is all things
child-related. The first day they offered a very comprehensive pack
of Thomas track pieces and stops like the Watertower and Windmill,
for an incredible price. They’ve also offered Little Mermaid
toothbrushes that sing while you brush, video games, and more.


Remember, you have to check back every day, and that in itself
becomes a little addictive – what crap do I not need that is
on sale that I can’t live without? But the deals really are
extraordinary, and as Christmas looms closer you’ll be glad
you keep looking in.


And yes, I’m ashamed to say that my husband did buy the
singing Mermaid toothbrushes. Can’t wait.

Maddie and Cora had friend over yesterday,
and they were playing relatively quietly upstairs for a bit so I
took advantage of the calm to finish the breakfast dishes. By the
time I’d hustled myself upstairs to check on the “too
quiet” quiet, I was met at the top of the stairs by Cora who
gleefully exclaimed, “Elise put the dolly inside her!”


Now, when I’d left them, they’d been assembling and
disassembling Maddie’s Russian nesting dolls, and Cora has
shown a great fascination towards the smallest nesting doll, less
than an inch long. In fact, Cora’s come close on more than
one occasion to sticking the poor doll up her nose or giving the
small thing a tentative lick. So when I heard Cora’s news, I
feared the worst, and envisioned having to explain to Elise’s
mother that the girl would be pooping out a Russian nesting doll in
the next day or so and no, thanks, I don’t want it back.

A trip to the hair salon. A leisurely
lunch, with a decadent dessert. Shoe shopping. Sounds like a
heavenly day for any mom, right?


Ish.


Maddie starts school next week, and we’ve still got a few
things to finish up on her to-do list. First and foremost was a
haircut, because – there’s no easy way to admit this
– she’s never had one.

I’m back from my weekend away
– which was not, by the way, a trip north to help a relative,
but east to surprise a girlfriend with a new baby. I had to throw
her off the scent with my blog, since she reads the dang thing.


I have to confess (and it feels so wrong I almost think I should be
telling this to a priest) that I had a REALLY great time being by
myself for 48 hours. I mean a REALLY great time. I was stuck in the
airport when my flight on Friday was delayed four hours, and I
spent the whole time reading. Books without pictures. And eating.
Without sharing any of my food. When it began to look as if the
flight would be delayed so late it would need to be canceled and
rescheduled for the next morning, I never once considered going
back home and was trying to calculate if I could afford the cost of
a hotel room at the airport. In my home town.

I’ve got a family member who needs a
little extra help this weekend, so I’m soon to be winging my
way north to help out for a couple days.


Yep, you read it right. Time to Par-Tay without the kids.


I leave today and get back Sunday afternoon, and this’ll be
my first time away from the girls since, well, Cora was born. And
as much as I know my trip is going to be about helping out, I
can’t help but look on it as a major VACATION!!!!!!

I spent yesterday evening setting up for
today’s shop and swap, and as I was laying out all the cool
gear and stuff that people had brought, I pointed out a cute little
children’s desk and chair to a friend of mine. Made of a nice
old wood and in a cute rolltop style, the desk had obviously been
in a family for years, and I pointed out that it would be fun to
re-finish and spruce up to match a child’s room.


“Yeah, all that crafty/handy stuff went out the window when
child number two flew in,” she said, and I knew exactly what
she meant.

I’m organizing another shop and swap
for my neighborhood, and I have to say, I’m really looking
forward to it.


This past spring I had all the moms in my community bring in their
unneeded kids’ clothes and baby gear, and we spent a morning
“shopping” through all the stuff for what we needed. I
was astounded at what some moms gave away – car seats,
jogging strollers, huge toys, and rooms full of clothes – and
felt great watching Maddie and Cora’s old stuff get new
homes.

I don't have anything nice to say, so I
won't say anything at all.

Thursday night, Cora started whimpering in
her sleep – waking up and crying fretfully a minute or so,
then going back to sleep. She’d spent the week getting me up
a few times a night, looking for a cuddle and a respite from her
nightmares. So as I lay in bed at midnight, having not yet fallen
asleep, I listened to her whimpering and became a bit crabby,
anticipating another such night ahead.


A few minutes into it, Brian nudged me and said,
“Shouldn’t you go in there?” I shot daggers at
him in the dark and hissed, “I only go in if she specifically
asks for me! I’m not running in at every little whimper!
She’s got to sleep without me – she’s TWO YEARS
OLD!”

I’ve had a few people write in and
ask what solutions I found for providing a preschooler with a meal
she can unpack herself. Because I’m a bit of an eco-conscious
mom, I was looking for an alternative to baggies, while still
finding something my four-year-old can handle on her own.


Here’s what I found.

Maddie’s ballet class started back
up for the fall yesterday, and someone in this household was
particularly excited that the big day had finally arrived.


Cora.


I’m telling you, this girl is absolutely in love with ballet.
At Maddie’s school, the three-year-olds wear all pink, and
the four-year-olds wear lavender. So all last year, Maddie wore
pink and watched the next class come running in after hers, wearing
the so-much-more-sophisticated lavender. When summer ballet camp
rolled around, Maddie put her foot down and refused to wear her
pink togs; after all, she reasoned, she was four now! So we went
out and got her the four-year-old purple getup.


Which is the moment that Cora declared, “I get to wear pink
now!”

In our continuing efforts to Get Maddie
Ready For School, we recently went shopping for a couple more items
– the school bag, and the nap mat. And if you’ll
recall, I’d already stated my determination to stand fast and
refuse to buy a Disney bag. Was I successful?


Ish.

As part of a massive campaign to get
Maddie excited about – heck, just willing to go to –
school, I sent her over to her friend Elise’s house for a bit
of a practice day last week. The result?


I’d have to give it an A plus.


Elise is going to be in the same class as Maddie, and a week ago
her mom called me and suggested a practice lunch time. She
remembered how hard it was for Elise when she first started school
a year ago, and thought that giving Maddie a glimpse into the day
might take some of the mystery – and hence, the fear –
out of the day.

Maddie’s getting better at keeping
secrets than she used to be. In the old days, you’d be
guaranteed that anything you told her would be shouted from the
town square within minutes, but she’s learned the thrill of
surprise, and so now actually at least makes the effort to keep
something to herself.


Cora, though, still doesn’t understand secrets. She
understands “ambush” – she’ll tiptoe up to
someone to jump on their unknowing belly – but she
doesn’t get the long-term secret thing. Which is why,
yesterday, when I stood trying to make my mom a birthday cake in
the wee hours before I thought she’d be up and before the
kitchen got too hot, my mom stumbled blearily into the room and
Cora shouted happily, “Gamma! We’re making you a
birthday cake!”


Fortunately, I have not told her what we got Gamma for her
birthday. I’m hopeful, but not entirely unrealistically
so.

I’ve been running around during
naptimes buying supplies for Maddie for school, and much to the
dismay of my wallet, I’ve reached that feverish stage where
I’m throwing money at anything I see that looks as if it has
a remote chance in interesting my daughter in attending school.


We’ve determined we’re going to buy a messenger bag
instead of a back pack, and I’ve been scouring the city
trying to find one she’ll like. Maddie’s already
decreed that the only bag she’ll even consider taking to
school – IF she decides to go to school – will be a bag
with either Ariel or Tinkerbell on it. I am digging in my heels
here and trying to avoid letting any more of my money go to Disney
for a while, especially since I’m guessing (ok, hoping) that
she’ll be over the Ariel phase soon. So I said no to the
Ariel lunch bag, sticking with her very nice butterfly one for
right now. And I’m trying to find an uber-hip, totally cool
messenger bag that will make a four-year-old forget all about that
stupid mermaid and her purple shell bra. So far I’ve brought
home a couple bags, none of which have been accepted, and I have to
admit I’ve started sneaking looks at Ariel bags online. You
know, just in case I cave.

I’ve been a bit scattered in my
blogging the past couple of weeks – largely because during my
kid-free “down time”, I’ve been ingesting copious
amounts of alcohol.


Kidding.


A little bit.

I, know, you must think I’m making
this up, but I swear, my fantasies do not in any way involve
repeated vomiting and daily doses of Omnicef.


Yes, Cora woke up Friday morning after a second restless night in a
row, thirstily downed a bottle of water, and then threw it up all
over my bed. I sighed, cleaned it up, and settled in for the long
haul.

A friend of mine wrote me a brief email
while on vacation recently, and joked about how she was enjoying
being around her kids so much, and how surprised she was by that.
This is a mom who’s the primary caregiver, but also works
part-time outside the home, so she’s always on the run. I
smiled when I read her note, picturing her having a wonderful,
no-stress time with her kids. We often imagine that a family
vacation will be more like time with the Griswolds than with some
angelic form of your own kids, and picture seven days of no breaks
from your kids as a kind of slow-water-drip torture, when the
reality is that when you get time away from the grocery shopping
and job and bill paying and errand running, you actually have a
rather fun time with your kids – quality time at its finest.


Then there’s me, on the other end of the spectrum. I’ve
had waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much quality time.

I can’t believe I’m writing
this, but I think it’s time to start buying stuff for Maddie
for school in September. Is my baby really old enough to need
things for school? Ok, preschool, but still –


I’m having to control my dewy-eyed, “Sunrise,
Sunset” tendencies because Maddie’s already preparing
to bolt from the whole school idea. She and her friend Elise, who
will be in Maddie’s class with her, both have some sort of
innate ambivalence – perhaps even dislike – of school,
and are quietly scheming to get out of it somehow. God help us if
they ever hear about the whole homeschooling concept.


But I digress.

A year ago, a friend of mine moved and I
offered to come in and help organize her kitchen – it’s
one of my “things”. She accepted, and I told her
I’d just have to find a time to come when I could get
babysitting for the two girls. My (childless) friend then
generously (but naively) said, “Why don’t you just
bring the girls with you? They can play around my new place.”


After I stopped laughing hysterically and wiped away the tears, I
explained that having a one-year-old and three-year-old underfoot
would be, um, unhelpful, and I’d get no work done on her
kitchen at all. Even more, I shuddered to think of the damage my
one-year-old Cora could inflict on her way-un-babyproofed
house.

Cora’s hit a recent patch of
stubbornness – ok, not so recent, since I can’t recall
a time when she WASN’T stubborn – and it’s become
a battle of wills over –of all things – manners.


When Cora and Maddie want to be finished with a meal, we ask them
to say, “May I be excused please?” and wait for an
assenting reply before getting down. Or, in Cora’s case,
being unsnapped from the high chair. This is not a big deal, and
something Maddie does with very little reminder now. Cora,
similarly, was well programmed and saying it quite neatly for a
while now.

Cora was up almost once an hour last
night. Good times.


What’s the deal? No teeth coming in – I probed
extensively. And she didn’t cry at night the whole first week
she gave up her pacifier, so I’m guessing that’s not
it. It comes across as a nightmare, and I’m giving in to my
instinct and going in and rocking her each exhausting time, even
though part of me knows I’m going to have to sleep train her
AGAIN because of it.


Oh, and that’s in addition to the fact that she’s had
to cry herself to sleep every nap time since she gave up her
pacifier last week. So it’s not like I’ve not been
sleep-training her recently anyway.


Me too tired to type. See you Monday.

Cora’s hit that adorable stage where
she talks extremely well and grasps complex ideas like pronouns or
the passage of time, but she still doesn’t always get
everything exactly right.


Last night the girls were dressed up in costume (there’s
something new) and dancing around (ditto) to their iPod music.
Costumes had taken some serious consideration, and Cora had, after
careful deliberation, chosen the Ariel costume. Well, the Ariel
costume is size 4-6x, so you can imagine it was a little big for
her.

Remember how I griped yesterday about not
being appreciated, and resentful that what I do never seems good
enough for the kids? Listen to this:


Maddie and I were running errands, and she saw some fallen crape
myrtle flowers on the ground. “I want to pick up some of
these flowers for Daddy!” she said, and scooped up the fallen
little buds. I acquiesced, and she gathered several more and put
them in her cupholder.

Yesterday morning I had a meeting at the
school where I teach, and the girls needed to come along and hang
out. I packed vigorously for the two-hour meeting, determined they
wouldn’t get bored and start interrupting the grownups. I had
two (2!) types of snacks, dress-up clothes so they could put on
their costumes and dance in the big studio, their iPod so they
could dance to their favorite music, ballet shoes, activity boxes,
and markers.


I was prepared.

It’s no secret to my friends that I
absolutely adore a good book. I spent my childhood seeking out
extra opportunities to sneak in a chapter or two of my current
read, dragging my books backstage or even in the wings during
rehearsals. On one memorable occasion, I even sneaked a copy of
Charlotte’s Web into the bathroom late at night and
sat on the toilet seat, reading until dawn, so desperate was I to
find out what happened. I remember a bewildered and exhausted
father knocking on the bathroom door in the wee hours, saying,
“Are you ok in there?”


And of course I wasn’t, because I had an inkling how the book
was about to end.

Ok, so here’s the types of naked we
do in this household:

So far, so good with the pacifier-free
zone, but not without trials and tribulations.


As I mentioned, we’d spent all of Monday preparing Cora for
the imminent pacifier removal, and she’d nod solemnly.
Tuesday morning, I took the pacifier from her when she woke and
said, “Time to put the pacifier away for good! No more
pacifier for my big girl!” and she agreed and went downstairs
for breakfast.


My brave girl went the entire day without asking for her
pacifier.

Yesterday was Cora’s last official
day on the pacifier.


Cue doomsday music.

So we were sitting around eating some ice
cream Saturday night, each family member spooning in contented
silence. From out of nowhere, Brian piped up with a joke.

Today is Maddie’s last day of ballet
camp, and what a difference five days makes.


She wakes up every morning excited and ready for camp – well,
as excited as she can be when she’s tired and crabby. But
she’s not complained about it at all, or begged not to go,
since Sunday night. I’m so proud of her, and her relative
ease in conquering this latest hill.


Maddie's camp is studying the Sleeping Beauty ballet, and we've
spent several nights this week going over what Maddie has learned.
We put on Tchaikovsky's music and dance around the room, Maddie
explaining the plotline to Cora and shouting out stage directions
to everyone. The class gets to watch a bit of the ballet each day
on DVD, and Maddie can't wait for the grand finale today. They've
also been doing crafts each day, coloring pictures of costumes and
making fairy wands, and she's quite impressed with herself and her
creations.


In the interest of full disclosure, Maddie does ask me every day if
I would stay the whole time rather than going home with Cora for a
couple of hours. Every morning she tells me that she doesn’t
like it when I leave, and I know this is dim foreshadowing of the
trouble we’re going to have at preschool drop-off this fall.
But right now, I’m just proud of how well she’s done
this week. This has been a big step for her.


As for Cora, she’s getting a glimpse of the fall as well
– a glimpse of long, luxurious stretches of time when she
gets Mommy all to herself. So I think I can safely say that both
girls have enjoyed the week, and wish it would last longer.

We spend many mornings poolside –
and when I say mornings, I mean 10 a.m. to 1:30 or so. We take
snack breaks and consume lots of fruit and water, but by the time
we head home for naptime the girls are parched and drooping. And
that’s when I whip out my secret weapon.


I’ve got a special dessert – “Mango Sorbet”
– that I use when I need to keep the girls cooled off and
hydrated. Made purely from fruit and full of liquid and vitamins,
it is a great answer to a hot day. Maddie and Cora are in love with
my “Mango Sorbet”, thinking it’s this awesome
dessert they get to eat in the middle of the day. In reality, it
couldn’t be healthier. Here’s how you make it:

Cora has discovered that she can say
whatever she wants, whether she has any true authority over the
matter or not. And Madeleine, bless her heart, doesn’t yet
fully realize that she doesn’t have to listen to Cora. You
can imagine the results.


Cora’s current favorite game is to order Maddie not to smile.
They’ll be sitting, peaceably eating their breakfasts, when
Cora will look up out of the blue and say calmly, “You
can’t smile, Maddie.” Notice she doesn’t give
Maddie an order – “Don’t smile” – she
simply issues a decree – “You can’t smile”.
And Maddie, bless her obedient little heart, nearly crumples to
tears every time, whimpering, “Why not? Why can’t I
smile?” followed by the omnipresent –


“Mooooooooooooooom! Cora says I can’t smile!”

Maddie woke up Monday morning without a
single argument on her lips about going to ballet camp.


Praise God for His miracles and mercies!

First, the good news -


Maddie is no longer afraid to go under water! In what is now
becoming typical fashion for her, something simply switched on
inside Maddie’s head last week and she decided she
wasn’t afraid to put her face in the water. Thursday morning
at swim class, no face in the water. Thursday night at the pool,
face in the water over and over and over. And ever since then,
Maddie begs for pool time, plunging in with goggles strapped
securely on and wriggling to me or Daddy.


But just as I wipe my brow and say, Whew, another fear conquered,
something else comes up and we start all over again.

Maddie and Cora had their well-baby visits
yesterday, and received clean bills of health all around, for which
I am profoundly grateful.


As is my habit, I had a chat with the doctor about a couple of
things going on in their lives that are on my radar right now, and
we’ve got some good news and some bad news for the girls in
terms of their near futures.


First, the good news. Both girls were tested for strep to see if
they’re carriers, and neither one of them are. Which means
that all the times they’ve been sick this year, it’s
been because they’ve actually caught strep from someone else.
Which I guess if I think about it is actually bad news, because I
can’t think of a way to protect us more.


Now for the bad news, mostly for Cora. It’s time for the
pacifier to go.

You know I’m one of the biggest
anti-gadgets people out there, right? You know I roll my eyes when
Brian looks at our television that was old twenty years ago and
talks about getting a new one, and I say, “But this one works
just fine!” You know that, right?


Ok, good. Because I’m about to tell you about an electronics
website and I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of
girl.

Every afternoon, Maddie and Mommy and Cora
pile into Maddie’s bed and read books together as part of our
naptime routine. After a few books and some prayers, Cora and I
leave Maddie to go to sleep and proceed to Cora’s room to
finish her own nap routine. Usually, Cora’s sleepy enough by
that time that she wants me to carry her to her own room.


Yesterday, though, Cora wanted to walk so she could shut
Maddie’s door, and as she and I crept out of Maddie’s
room Cora turned around to a drowsy Maddie and said, “Wuv
you, Maddie!”


Now, this is part of Maddie’s sleep routine –
whoever’s leaving the room calls out, “I love
you!” and Maddie says “I love you!” back. But
Cora’s never said it before, and you could tell it delighted
Maddie, who sang out, “I love you too, my little
sister!”

Maddie’s got a responsibility chart
that she fills in at the end of the day: for everything she
accomplishes she gets to put a magnet in the space. Her
responsibilities include a few concrete things like clearing the
table, but are mostly intangibles like no hitting, no whining,
being obedient, and no teasing. Most days she loses one or two
magnets, but a few days out of the week she’ll have a perfect
day.


Saturday was one such day, and she came running into Cora’s
room where I was reading to Cora for bedtime. “Mommy!”
she shrieked, coming to the chair, “I had a perfect
day!”


“That’s fantastic!” I cried, “Give me a big
hug!” And I leaned down to hug Maddie.


Right as Maddie jumped up to hug me, thereby driving her skull into
my nose.

Summer’s here again, and we’re
back to hot-weather pursuits, namely, swimming. And with the return
of chlorine and pool toys comes Maddie’s good friend, Fear of
Putting the Face in the Water.


If you’ve been with me for a year or more, you know that last
year we ended up putting Maddie in private swim lessons most of the
summer; the group thing didn’t work out when Maddie’s
grave concerns with the water took up most of the
instructor’s time. By the end of the season Maddie was
happily jumping into the pool – as long as Daddy was there to
catch her and make sure her face didn’t go under water.

I’m afraid Cora’s turning into
a little biter – though pretty much limiting her culinary
excursions to her sister. Whenever cornered or frustrated, she
turns to biting to try to get Maddie out of her face, and sometimes
she actually succeeds.


Over the past year we’ve started to get a handle on it,
partly because she’s learning to deal with her frustration in
more productive ways, and partly because the girls are learning to
compromise, to give and take more graciously, thus avoiding the
“need” for biting. But just the other night Maddie took
a train away from Cora and refused to give it back, and after a few
tense seconds of both sets of hands trying to hold onto it, Cora
leaned in with a red rage and bit Maddie – hard – on
the stomach.

We did it! We survived Take Your Daughters
To Work Day!


Mostly.


So I took a couple (very) large bags of toys to the studio, along
with lunches, snacks, and the girls’ activity boxes replete
with crayons and stickers and paper. And how much of that did we
use?


Well, at least they ate the lunches.

I’ve been teaching for a local
theatre camp this summer, and the girls have had a fine time
playing with Gamma a couple mornings a week. Unfortunately for them
(and me), Gamma’s starting her own summer teaching schedule
today. And I’ve exhausted my short list of
babysitters/neighbors that Cora approves of and is (reluctantly)
willing to be left with at my house. Which leaves me with one
option:


It’s Take Your Daughters To Work Week at my household.

So a friend of mine read the vomit blog
yesterday, and was taken aback. She was thrown by the idea of being
topless the whole night so you could be an easy-clean target for
your child’s projectile vomiting, and could not imagine doing
such a thing willingly, much less instinctively.


Needless to say, she does not have kids.


I have to admit, after I wrote yesterday’s entry I read back
through it and thought about how far I’ve come. Before we had
kids, I would have gone out of my way – across a street,
against a light – to avoid a pile of dog poo, never mind
someone’s vomit puddle. Even after I got pregnant, most of my
late-night worries centered around body fluids and how I’d
get over that to be a good mom.

Since I’ve had more than my fair
share of run-ins with the vomit comet these past few months, I
thought I’d pass on some tips I’ve learned – the
hard way.


I’m assuming here that you’ve got at least one child
who is projectile vomiting, and that this is not a life-threatening
illness, but something nasty and slimy and stinky to be endured
until the ride is over.

We’ve worked deliberately to get the
girls both attached to renewable “loveys”;
nothing’s worse than having a toddler addicted to a
one-of-a-kind binky or snuggly, only to have said binky fall out of
the car and never come back. Both girls have their
“silkys” – little snuggle blankets we had made
for them right around birth – and unbeknownst to them,
we’ve got two of each one. They are regularly rotated, for
cleanliness and so they both wear down at the same rate.


So both girls have their silkys. But Cora’s got another
lovey, and while it’s a renewable resource and is certainly
portable, it’s not, um, without limitations.


Cora is in love with my hair.

One of the things on Maddie’s birthday list was an iPod karaoke machine. Unfortunately for the future of peace and quiet in our household, she got it.

I have to admit that it’s my fault; I thought she’d like it, since she’s always asking Daddy to plug a microphone into his amp and let her sing “Twinkle Twinkle” or something. So when I found this machine I couldn’t resist: it’s a microphone and stand with a port for your MP3 player, and at the touch of a button the lead vocals are taken out and it becomes your very own karaoke machine. It’s got speakers built in, and even an outlet for a second microphone, so we knew she’d get years of use out of it.

There were two themes to last week:
Maddie’s birthday, and all that related to it; and Cora being
sick. Again.


Cora seemed to have a one-day bug, but she relapsed on Thursday
evening with a vengeance, and Friday afternoon we took her to the
doctor. Diagnosis? Strep throat.


Did you even need to ask?

What would I give if I could live out of
these Disney waters?


What would I pay to spend the day Ariel free?


Yes, Ariel Mania has descended upon our household, and no piece of
plastic crap is safe from us if it’s got the red-headed
teenager on it.

Dear Maddie:

You’ve recently had your fourth
birthday, and I don’t know where to start. First, apologies:
I wanted to get this letter to you before your actual birthday, but
with your sister spending a day projectile vomiting and never
letting me out of her sight, and then birthday preparations and
parties and all, I just ran out of time.


My love, I think I spent half your birthday morning staring at you
in disbelief. Who is this creature before me? You jumped into my
sight, dressed in your new birthday clothes, standing shyly and
proudly in your finery, and I couldn’t believe this was my
Baby Girl. You’ve transformed from a toddler to a preschooler
to, it seems, a pre-teen, in the blink of an eye. Your baby
roundness (such as is was) has stretched into a delicate girlish
coltishness, and I have to admit I feel almost shy around this new
creature.

(Ten points to anyone who recognized the
Beatles song in the title, and twenty points if you know it’s
from the Revolver album – but I digress!)


So we had open gym for the last time last week, as I mentioned, and
we closed the place down, as I also mentioned. What I failed to add
was that we stayed about thirty seconds too long, for we were there
to witness them cleaning up and shutting off the bounce house
– a big dragon in whose innards the kids would jump and
jostle. And as the coaches pulled the plug on the dragon, it did
what any suddenly stilled bounce house will do –


It collapsed.


And Cora screamed.

I try not to post every cute video I have
of the girls - that would mean I'd have hours and hours of home
movies on the internet, wouldn't it? But I couldn't resist this
one. They've been in a Sesame Street mode, and sing this at least
once a day. It's not the pitch-perfect rendition of Oscar's
signature song that gets me - though of course, it is. No, it's
how they are singing to each other, laughing and not able to take
their eyes off each other. I love seeing the sister bond in action.
And seeing Cora try to be just like her big sister.


Anyway, click below and enjoy.

We went to a friend’s house for a
group playdate the other day, where Maddie got to hang out with
several of her favorite friends from the neighborhood. There were
costumes and muffins, making it really the perfect play date ever.


Except for the attitudes.

Yesterday was our last open gym until next
fall, and unbeknownst to Maddie, her last one for longer than that.
Since she’ll be going to school on Wednesdays beginning in
September, she’ll no longer be around for that weekly
Trampolinepalooza; it’ll be just me and Cora while Maddie
slaves away at her ABC’s.


And while I did tell Maddie it was the last open gym for the
summer, I didn’t explain to her about the fall –
I’m way too much of a coward for that. So as far as
she’s concerned, we simply waved goodbye to the indoor
playground for the duration of swimming season.

A friend of mine told me last week about
target="_blank">Kids Bowl Free. I may be the last mom in
America to know about it, but in case I’m not, here’s
the deal:


You go to this website and find out if there’s a
participating bowling alley in your area – they’re all
over the country. If there is, you register each of your children
with the bowling alley, and once a week for the whole summer they
send you coupons for two free games for each child – for
EVERY DAY.


That’s right, your kids can bowl two free games every day,
all summer long.

Yes, Cora’s hit that two-year-old
stage of realizing all the “stuff” she sees
doesn’t just belong to the cosmic universe – that
there’s “mine” and “not mine”.


Though she’d rather forget that last part.


At first, Cora was happy to pass things around and share them
– too young to grasp the concept of ownership. And I was
lulled, like a sucker or rookie mom, into thinking she’d be
different than any other child in the world: she’d be the
first one EVER to be ok with sharing. My child would be different,
I smugly thought.


Stupid, stupid, stupid.

On Memorial Day we took a quick half-day
trip to a nearby lake, hanging out with my brother and his family.
We had to time the 90-minute drive around the girls and naptime, of
course, so we planned to head back home during naptime, getting
back early evening. The morning at the lake was great, but had one
unintended side-effect: awakening the girls’ Pool Craving.
Apparently, spending the morning slugging through water
nature-style reminded them of how much they enjoy their concrete,
(relatively) sterile water fun, so we said that perhaps we’d
hit our pool that night after dinner.

Our neighborhood pool opens right around
May 1, but only the brave venture in before June; the water’s
still darn cold (says the spoiled native Hawaiian) and needs some
time to warm up. I’ve told Maddie that the pool’s
usually open right around her early June birthday –
technically not a lie – but I’ve noticed she
doesn’t quite believe me as much any more: she asks me
repeatedly, “Is the pool open yet?” To my murmured
evasion – something along the lines of, “Well,
I’m not sure – I should check!” – she
always wails, “WHEN??”

Cora’s creative side has been
blossoming over the past several months: she started with stickers
(still a huge passion for her), covering page after page with
stickers of any kind – didn’t matter to her, as long as
they stuck. Then she began noticing Maddie would make colored marks
on paper, and Cora turned to coloring pencils. Every Sunday, the
girls carry their own bag of colored pencils for drawing while we
rehearse music before the service. At first having a hard time
holding the pencils, Cora has adapted well and now scribbles with
glee.


But neither stickers nor pencils capture her attention for long now
– her fickle heart has fallen in love with a new medium.
Crayons.


But not for the reason you might think.

Yes, I survived my first ballet recital
– at least, my first recital as a Mommy. And let me tell you,
it’s a whole other animal when you’re on the other side
of the footlights.


We had dress rehearsal early that morning, and I was grateful
Maddie’s three-year-old class was first on the program
–first on the stage, no waiting for the inevitable back-log
in the rehearsal process. All our little ballerinas were there in
their pink tights and pink leotards, each assigned a row in the
audience to sit and wait. The parents were assigned seats further
back in the auditorium, and as Maddie’s class was summoned up
on stage to practice, the ballet mistress turned to the audience
and politely said, “We ask two things during rehearsal
– that you don’t sit in this front section so the
children don’t try to seek you out from stage, and that you
refrain from using flash photography so the flash doesn’t
startle the children. Thank you.” And she turned and began
instructing the girls.


At which point the parents rushed the stage, fighting for the mosh
pit, and promptly whipped out their flash cameras.

When I was a little girl, I loved getting
into my mom’s big armoire and riffling through her jewelry
boxes. She had several charm bracelets, as did most women
who’d been a teenager when she was, and she’d tell me
stories about each charm – one from a visit to China, another
from her first day of school. As she talked, I could picture her
life unfolding around the bracelet, and saw how each charm
represented milestones or memories.


As I started moving through adulthood, I began collecting a few
charms for myself to cover monumental points in my life, and when I
became pregnant I immediately thought of a charm bracelet as a way
to give my daughter something lasting – a sort of jewelry
diary, if you will. So when Maddie was born I bought her a bracelet
– her very first piece of jewelry – with a pair of baby
shoes hanging off it, her initials and birthday engraved on the
back.

Yes, it’s time to brag.

Cora requested we go to the Arboretum for her birthday party; she wanted a few friends and a picnic and the chance to wander through the flowers and pioneer town and such. I planned an easy picnic lunch for everyone and an event-less time, counting on the sights and outdoor fun to do the work for me.

Unfortunately, it rained.

We’ve had the last of Cora’s
birthday-related celebrations, and it feels as if we’ve been
celebrating for weeks. And truthfully, it’s been nearly that
long – five days of parties and family celebrations and more.
Cora’s party was an absolute blast, and I’m still
absorbing it and not quite ready to write about it, though
I’m sure that will come later in the week when I’ve
gotten the sure-to-be-adorable photos dumped onto my computer.

We’re still in the midst of the Love
Fest Known As Cora’s Birthday Celebration; we’ve had
several days of parties and dinners with family, and more yet to
come. So I won’t fill you in on the whole birthday experience
yet. But there is one aspect that deserves its own piece –


Cora’s first bite of chocolate cake.

Maddie is currently fascinated with toe
nail polish. She sees it on her friends, and began pestering me to
paint her own toes several months ago. About eight weeks ago I gave
in, and let her paint her toes as a reward for an astonishingly
great several days. She preened and walked around barefoot whenever
possible, admiring her pedicure and proclaiming it to friends and
strangers.


Last week I allowed Maddie to paint her toes again, as another
reward for a week well done. She begged me to do my own toes in the
same color as her own, and I promised I would before seeing that
she’d picked out a particularly zombie-like shade of purple.
But a promise was a promise, and I spent several minutes at the
beginning of each acting class last week fielding questions from my
kids about why my toenails were painted like the undead.


Cora, of course, couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t
getting her toes painted, and begged for it on nearly an hourly
basis. “No, Cora, you’re too young,” Maddie would
tell her with only a trace of smugness. Cora accepted the answer,
but didn’t seem thrilled about it.


So Maddie decided to do something to make her feel better.

Dear Cora:


Your second birthday will be upon us next week, and I can’t
help but fall back on that old cliché and wonder where the
year went. You seem exactly the same to me every day –
ineffable, unchangeable, and then I blink and you’re somehow
this whole other creature, exotic and unknown. Before I look around
and discover I’m planning your graduation party, I want to
tell you a few things.

Hey – guess what! Cora’s got
strep throat!


Yep, we’ve had another trip to the doc, another positive
strep test – that makes the seventh or eighth positive since
January in this family (one loses count, you know). Did you know
that sometimes strep presents as a stomach virus?


Nor did I.


But I am heartily sick of writing these “poor me and my
family, we’re sick” blogs, so feel free to scroll
through the past few months and find one if you’re desiring
that. I won’t be writing any more about it today. Instead, I
want to share a story a friend of mine told me yesterday that made
me laugh, hard, and reminded me of something Maddie might do.

Yes, it's germ warfare time once again at
our house.


Cora got up Sunday night and began a quite prodigious run of
vomiting; the night was a blur of changing the bed, washing her
down, rocking her, doing laundry, and getting up a half hour later
to rock her. I finally got her to sleep at 7 a.m., when she fell
asleep on the floor of her room with me lying next to her. I, of
course, had to get up a half-hour later to teach, and the day was a
blur.


Cora seemed better, with no fever and a healthy appetite, so we
thought it a one-time thing until she awakend at midnight Monday
night with the same thing. Once again, Tuesday offered a happy,
well-adjusted girl with a decent appetite.


So forgive my lack of blog - the house is a wreck and I'm
bleary-eyed. Hopefully see you tomorrow.

We had that great American Hallmark
holiday yesterday – Mother’s Day. I’ve always
been a bit uncomfortable with the day: growing up I felt
resentfully as if every day were Mother’s Day (when
don’t I have to obey her?) and once I hit motherhood, it
seemed disingenuous to ask my young children to appreciate me fully
– I mean, let’s face it, kids don’t appreciate
their parents until they become one.


Don’t get me wrong – if Brian’s offering to take
over my chores for a day and pamper me, I’m not going to
complain. But as I commented to my girlfriends on Saturday, the
best Mother’s Day present I can get is time away from my
kids.

Over the past year, our family has
discovered one of the best things for kids’ entertainment out
there – those musical greeting cards. They’re good for
killing time at the grocery store, distracting toddlers while Mommy
makes dinner, or dispersing tension on a long car ride. I always
keep one in the diaper bag for emergencies, as well as one on the
car door for the same reason.


The very first card we ever got was “Conga” by Miami
Sound Machine; Maddie picked it out for Cora’s first birthday
last summer and they were both immediately entranced. As we get new
cards (and these are the only kinds of cards Maddie and Cora want
to give any more!) we add them to the stack on Mommy’s
kitchen desk. Every once in a while the girls re-discover the cards
and spend an hour or so sifting through them, dancing wildly and
singing along. I imagine it’s as close as they can come to
playing DJ right now, and they love having control over the
music.