1 Mother 2 Another

Maddie seems to be a bit better on the
obedience front, which I always hate to say because it’s like
that part of the movie where the girl goes out in the dark forest
and you scream at the screen, “Don’t go out in the
forest! There’s a killer there!” because you can smell
the danger; only this time you’re screaming at the computer
screen, “Don’t write that it’s getting better!
There’s a big crash ahead!”


But I’m saying it, because I have faith in my girl that
she’s pulling herself together. A rough few days of
almost-constant discipline are behind us, and I’m hoping
we’re going to soon be able to narrow down our number of
breaks each day from around 30 to, oh, one or two.

Remember my daughter Cora – the
legalist? And remember how I have witnesses that I do not make this
stuff up?


So a few evenings ago, I cleaned up from dinner and snagged my
usual, clandestine two (ok, five) peanut M&Ms (c’mon,
they’re practically protein bars!) from behind a cabinet
door. I had just chewed the last one as I walked into the living
room and sat down on the floor to let Cora sit in my lap. She
backed herself up and plopped her hiney down, her head facing away
from me.


Suddenly her nose went up in the air, sniffing like a bloodhound.
She turned around on my lap, grabbed my face in her hands and say,
“Mommy, what you eat?”

The past couple of days, my darling Maddie
has disappeared and an evil twin has mysteriously taken her place.
I’m running on empty in the patience department, and
don’t know how much more of this I can take.


Maddie has been pushing boundaries like I’ve never seen
before, running away when I tell her to come to me, refusing
point-blank to take a break, hitting, and more. Coincidentally,
she’s skipped her naps for the past three days, which tells
me that even though she’s almost four, she’s definitely
not ready to give up the naps.

For those of you who don’t know (and
that would certainly be none of my friends, because I talk about
this a LOT!), Tuesday is Free Cone Day at Ben and Jerry’s!


Yes, you read that right – go to Ben and Jerry’s, get a
free scoop of ice cream. From noon to 8 p.m., walk in, leave with
ice cream, pay no money. Everyone gets a free scoop, so bring the
munchkins without having to worry about sharing. Of course,
everyone wants free ice cream, so you may find a bit of a line;
when we lived in Chicago the line was around the block, but since
everyone was waiting for FREE ICE CREAM we were all in a pretty
good mood. And most places will even be relatively good-natured
about you grabbing your free cone, running to the back of the line,
and enjoying your scoop while you wait for another. Just
don’t be totally greedy.


Seriously, what could be better? Go after lunch. Go after dinner.
Or, if you’re like me, go during the kids’ nap times so
you don’t have those pesky “why does mommy get ice
cream when I don’t?” questions to dodge.


Don’t believe me? Click href="http://www.benandjerrys.com/scoop-shops/feature/free-cone-day/"
target="_blank">here for more info. And grab a scoop.

I’m going off on a bit of a rant
here today – sorry in advance. What can I say –
it’s Earth month in my household, and this stuff is on my
mind.


It’s about all the free giveaways our society feels the need
to dole out. I’m not talking about bank bailouts or stimulus
packages – I’m talking about happy meals and birthday
party goodie bags and all the little “no biggie” toys
that flood a house filled with youngsters.


Giveaways are everywhere: I can’t buy a kid’s meal
without encountering one, complete with extraneous packaging, go to
the kid’s dentist, or even the library without being handed
some kind of “gift” or “treat”. At the
library it’s just cutout barn animals painstakingly stapled
to popsicle sticks, but try going into a bank without spotting a
bowl of free candy, or even the drycleaners these days!

Keeping in mind that I’ve had
several outside sources verify that I do not make these stories up
–


Cora is proving herself to be every bit the literalist that Maddie
is. Maddie will meticulously correct people if they aren’t
precise with their language, and that correction extends lovingly
(I hope) to Cora as well; she’ll correct Cora if Cora calls a
pink crayon “red”, saying, “Actually, Cora,
it’s red, not pink, ok?”


I expect this at Maddie’s age – she’s nearly four
(!!) and needs order and definition in her life.


I do not, however, expect this at Cora’s age – but
she’s showing signs she’ll be even worse than
Maddie.

I know, this is April, when I usually go
crazy and declare it earth MONTH rather than just focusing on the
environment for one day, but right now I’m burning the (non
carbon-emission soy) candle at both ends and haven’t had time
to pull together a lot of great sites for you. So here’s my
first tip to pass on –


This Sunday, Home Depot will give away one million compact
fluorescent light bulbs, trying to do their part to save the
environment. It’s first come, first served – just show
up and get your free bulb! No purchase necessary.


Remember your vow to try to live that life of impact this year?
This can be your deed for April – agree to only use cfls from
here on out. And you can get started for free! Click href="http://www.buxr.com/deal/free-cfl-light-bulb-home-depot-april-19th_20505"
target="_blank">here to read more about the Home Depot
giveaway. Want to learn more about CFLs, like what the best new
ones are out there, or which types are best for each environment?
Click href="http://www.energystar.gov/index.cfm?c=cfls.pr_cfls"
target="_blank">here to read on, or href="http://www.lowimpactliving.com/blog/2009/01/08/best-cfls-for-indoor-lighting/"
target="_blank">here to see even more ratings.


It’s the ultimate in Mommy Multi-Tasking – good for the
wallet, good for the environment. What’s not to love?

I’ve noticed recently that when I am
without the kids, I instinctively do two things: shop and eat junk
food. And I can’t help but worry about that a little bit.


I understand completely why I do it – they’re the two
things hardest to do with little ones underfoot, but for different
reasons.

Easter is a tricky time with a
preschooler, I think. I mean, it’s the pivotal point of
Christianity – if Christ hadn’t died and risen,
it’d be a moot point here – and I want Maddie to get
that, to understand the enormity of this celebration. At the same
time, she’s only three years old and has a very vague
understanding of death and what that means. So even as I explain to
her what we’re celebrating, I’m aware she doesn’t
quite get it.


I also worry about explaining it too well; the knowledge that
Christ died for me and my sins is humbling, and to a preschooler,
the idea of being the cause of someone else’s suffering could
be a big burden.

When we moved to Texas, I was struck by
how many SUVs and mini-vans there were on the road. Coming from New
York, a city that prizes cars able to fit into small parking
spaces, I felt more than a little intimidated as I drove down the
highway surrounded by behemoths.


Then the gas crisis hit last year, and I filled up my modest
four-door rather smugly as the owners of the gas-guzzlers
commiserated with each other, and vowed that the next car we bought
would be, at the very least, a hybrid. Maddie had been begging for
a mini-van ever since we’d borrowed a family member’s
for a couple weeks, and I scoffed at the idea of needing one for a
two-kid family, even as my mother suffered silently while being
wedged in between two car seats in our sedan’s back seat.


And then things changed.

We’ve got a friend coming over tonight who just had a birthday, so the past couple of days we’ve been making cupcakes to give her. Monday evening I did the cupcakes, and last night we made the frosting.

The girls have always loved baking, but I didn’t quite realize how much they enjoy it until last night: Maddie and Cora were both upstairs playing with Daddy when Gamma turned on the stand mixer to start creaming the butter. Sixty seconds later, Cora came hurtling into the kitchen. Without saying a word, she ran over to the stool, slid it across the floor next to my mother and jumped up. “Cora help?” she said hopefully.

When Maddie was a baby, I had several
rules in place that only a first-time parent will ever even attempt
– things like no television until age 2, no desserts until
age 2, that sort of thing. I had well-researched, well-documented
reasons for these rules, and was proud we managed to follow those
rules despite societal pressures and temptations.


Fast-forward two years, to Cora’s early days, and while the
rules may still be in place, they’re taking quite a
beating.

A few weeks ago, we hit the local zoo for
the first time this season. Not far from the entrance of the park
is the flamingo exhibit, and you can hang over a bridge or railing
and watch the birds. Cora, especially, loved seeing the flamingos
and spent quite a lot of time studying them, even asking as we left
to stop and stare again.


I watched the girls play in the gift shop at the end of the day and
noticed Cora once again gravitated towards flamingos, so I sneaked
back in and picked up a small stuffed flamingo for Cora’s May
birthday. What can I say – I plan ahead.

It’s no secret that breakfast is
Cora’s favorite meal of the day; she can easily spend an hour
in that chair, eating a good three or four bowls of cereal and a
half a grapefruit. Or she’ll eat a bowl or two when she gets
up, then sit down for another round when Maddie awakens later. My
girl can eat.


So when we’re in a rush to get out the door in the mornings,
prying Cora away from her breakfast can be my number one time-suck.
Which is why, on mornings when we’ve got a deadline –
church, or Maddie’s early gymnastics class- Cora’s
breakfast becomes a moveable feast. She’ll have a bowl or two
in the chair – this works best if I rush her through getting
dressed and sit her down to eat while Maddie’s still blearily
finding the bathroom – which will tide her over for a few
minutes. Then I’ll bring her “second breakfast”
to go: if we’re headed to gymnastics, Cora knows I’ll
have one of my homemade breakfast bars for her to eat there. And if
we’re rushing to church, I used to bring a Tupperware tub of
dry cereal for munching, or even, as a special treat, storebought
– gasp! – breakfast bars (Odwalla rocks!)


Store-bought can be expensive, though, especially when Maddie
begins demanding a second breakfast (“But Cora’s
getting one!”). So I cast my mind around for something
special for Sunday mornings – something to set the day apart,
make the girls look forward to rushing to church. And since Cora
doesn’t get desserts yet, I knew she’d love something
called “cookie”. I dug through my recipe books, and
came up with this winner.


It’s almost a bran muffin in cookie form; packed with fiber
and nutrients and with a cinnamon taste the girls love – and
nut-free, for those of you with younger toddlers. If I bring along
sippy cups of milk they chortle with glee over their “cookies
and milk” breakfast. I got this from The Sneaky Chef, a
decent cookbook for kids with a couple of great recipes in them. If
you make these, feel free to make the cookies larger – twelve
to a cookie sheet – and freeze them on the sheet, then
transfer to a Ziploc for individual grabbing.


Next time your kids can’t get moving, just tell them
you’re serving cookies for breakfast and watch them fly.

For whatever reason, we’re sick
again – though this time at least it’s just a common
cold.


Maddie started sniffling Monday, with full-blown sneezes and drips
by night time. Cora seemed to be escaping it, though I began to
feel rundown Tuesday evening. Then came Tuesday night, with Cora up
all night long. And I mean that almost literally.


She’d fall asleep, sleep for ten minutes, then wake up
screaming and crying “No, no, no!” or “Stop
it!”. I’d rock her and sing to her, she’d fall
asleep, and then we’d start the cycle all over again. In
desperation, I brought her in with me at 3 a.m., but it took her
another three hours to sink into a deep sleep.


I thought she’d be running a high fever and feeling awful on
Wednesday, but she appeared to have just the typical cold –
sneezes, drips, sniffles, and a bit of droopiness. I felt it as
well, though I’m sure the sleepless night didn’t help.


I’m hoping this will be a short one, though Maddie’s
the forerunner and she’s showing no signs of easing up yet.
And I’m reminding myself that my house isn’t actually
plague-ridden.


It just feels that way sometimes.


Oh well – we had a great week last week, and I’ll be
grateful for that and take what I can get.

Monday we went to our local Arboretum, and
they were offering free face painting and storytelling and more.
Maddie and Cora both got their faces painted like a daisy, and
Maddie was so entranced by the idea that she announced we needed to
have a Daisy party on Tuesday. She wanted to dress up like a daisy
and decorate the house with daisies.


I should say here that we have impromptu parties probably more
regularly than most people – every couple of months or so.
Planning the decorations and getting ready is half the fun, and
Maddie and Cora love celebrating the simple things in life. So if I
can give my daughter a party, I’ll do it.


Plus, it kills a few hours with one blow.

A couple days ago I was driving down the
highway when Cora asked for her pacifier. Now, we’ve been
working on weaning her – graaaaaaaadually – from her
pacifier, so I try to stall and put her off and avoid the thing in
the car unless it’s absolutely urgent. So she’d ask for
“Pacifier, peeese!” and I’d reply, “Ok,
honey, hang on, I’ll have to look for it.”


Each request became a bit more urgent, until about the fourth time
Cora said, “Mommy! Pacifier! PEEEEEEEEEEESE!”
“Well, honey, Mommy can’t find it,” I replied,
which was technically true – I’d buried it in the
diaper bag so I wouldn’t be a liar.


There was silence for a few moments, and then from the back of my
seat a question floated up:


“Why not?”


Yes, Cora’s learned how to ask “Why”.

A couple years ago my friend Graham
recommended a children’s Bible called href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/redirect.html?ie=UTF8&location=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.com%2FBig-Picture-Story-Bible%2Fdp%2F1581342772%3Fie%3DUTF8%26s%3Dbooks%26qid%3D1238383564%26sr%3D8-1&tag=1mother2anoth-20&linkCode=ur2&camp=1789&creative=9325"
target="_blank">The Big Picture Story Bible. I’d
been looking for something to start reading to Maddie, and
didn’t want simply a regular Bible with kid-friendly pictures
in it. As soon as this book arrived, I knew I’d found my
answer.


Maddie enjoyed flipping through the Bible off and on, but about six
months ago she really started getting interested in reading it.
Since then, she’s been reading several stories a week, if not
one or two a day, and I’m trying to make a Sunday night
snuggle with a glass of milk and a Bible chapter part of our weekly
routine with the girls.

Cora recently woke up waaaaaaaaay too
early and was clearly not going back to sleep. On such mornings, I
bring her into bed with me, hoping she’ll go back to sleep if
she’s snuggled up against Mommy. This hardly ever happens,
but she enjoys Mommy time so much that she will easily lie quietly
for twenty or thirty minutes, allowing me to doze in and out, until
she can’t take it any longer.


When Cora’s been as patient as she can be, she’ll thump
her feet a few times to make sure I’m awake. Then
she’ll roll over and crawl into my face and whisper,
“Mommy, my tummy’s hungry. Let’s go downstairs,
get Cora some breakfast.” I’ll good-naturedly get up,
thankful for those extra minutes of dozing time, and get ready for
the day.


But the other morning I was truly tired, and really needed to
sleep. Cora must have sensed that because she lay there quietly for
an hour before even saying a word. And even then, she didn’t
thump to awaken me – she just talked quietly. “Mommy,
are you still asleep?”


“Mmmhmm,” I answered sleepily.


“Oh,” was all she said, and I felt the disappointment
in her body. But then she resigned herself, and pressed closer to
me for a snuggle, still silent, still willing to let me sleep.


These are the sweet moments that make the rest of the times worth
it.

The first time Maddie went to gymnastics
class, we discovered that the training school’s team
practiced at the same time. And when I say “team”, I
mean the girls who are hoping to compete in the next Olympics
– remember, this is the home of Nastia Liukin and Carly
Patterson. The team coach is a former Olympic gold medalist
herself. So Maddie watched the girls in wonder as they went through
their flips and leaps and spins around the bars, and couldn’t
tear her eyes off of them. Uh-oh, I thought.


And I was right. As we left, Maddie turned to me with stars in her
eyes and said, “Mama, where can I get one of those sparkly
leotards?”

With Cora’s insatiable curiosity and
burning desire to do whatever Maddie does coloring every step she
takes, her big sister Maddie has learned that honey is sweeter than
vinegar.


Maddie constructs elaborate games nearly every day – stories
about Thomas, plays involving every single animal we’ve got
in the Little People Kingdom, an elaborate picnic for her teddy
bears – the variations are endless but with one theme in
common: Maddie, and only Maddie, understands the plot and rules of
the game, and no one else can play. She’ll set up a story in
the morning right after breakfast, and come back to it all day
long. As a rule, we clean up every night before bed, but I allow
Maddie to leave her games overnight if I can tell she’s still
in the midst of an epic.

Wondering where I’ve been the past
couple of days?


Do you really need to ask????


Yes, we had an idyllic few days last week, with Maddie off in
gymnastics camp one day, and me and the girls getting plenty of
outdoor playtime and picnicking. We were all healthy, seeing
friends, having a wonderful time.


Then my husband started puking.

So as I said yesterday, Maddie had her
first “school” day on Tuesday, and absolutely loved it.
She even asked to go back, and is heading in this morning for at
least one more session. And as sad as I was to see her growing up
and striking out on her own, I have to confess I was really looking
forward to some one-on-one time with Cora.


All spring as we’ve sifted through preschools and planned
Maddie’s fall, in the back of my mind I’ve been
envisioning these long, lazy mornings with just Cora to hang out
with. I so loved Maddie’s first two years, and the fun things
we did together just the two of us, and I’ve really been
craving some similar time with my youngest. I knew I’d miss
Maddie at first, but I’d quickly get into having only one
child to chase after and get snacks for and clean up after –
it’d practically be a vacation!

Maddie had another first yesterday –
her first day of school.


Sort of.


We’ve registered Maddie for preschool starting this
September, and we’ve got a couple one-week day camps planned
to get her into the groove – figuring out what the school
thing is all about in bite-sized doses. But this week is spring
break, and her gym is offering day camp all week; for twenty bucks
a day, you can drop your kid off until nap time. I saw this and
thought, hey, this is a good way for Maddie to try out the
separation thing with no commitment. So we signed her up for one
day, and dropped her off.

So we were driving to church Sunday
morning, just chatting about things in the car as we went. And I
can’t remember how the conversation came up, but we began
talking about heaven and going there, and Maddie said something
about wearing her favorite sparkly leotard there, or something to
that effect. And I made some comment about how we wouldn’t
look exactly the same when we get to heaven, and Maddie immediately
became both worried and suspicious.

I took Maddie in to the doctor on Friday
for a mild rash, and in the course of ruling out causes they did a
strep test. And guess what? Yep, it was positive.


Cora was along for the ride, and even though neither girl was
showing any symptoms, I asked the doctor to test Cora as well. You
can imagine the outcome.

Maddie’s always been on the front of
the developmental curve; she walked, talked, and hit most
milestones on the early side. And since she was our first child,
every step of the way – rolling over, sitting up, walking
– was new and fascinating and worthy of sonnets.

Which is probably at least partially why
Cora’s been even further ahead on the developmental curve:
she knows she’s got to really step up her game to impress us.
First steps? We’ve seen ‘em. First steps at ten months
old? Now THAT’S impressive! “Mama, dada” –
old news. Complete sentences at 18 months – that’s
new!

It’s no secret that I’m into
protecting the environment and making healthy choices for raising
my kids. So when I heard about this new website “href="http://www.webmd.com/health-ehome-9/default.htm"
target="_blank">Health eHome”, put out in partnership
by WebMD and target="_blank">Healthy Child, Healthy World, I had to
check it out.


The verdict? It’s a great site, and one I recommend you
browse when you get the chance. Most of you probably know I heart
Healthy Child, Healthy World, and keep their book as a reference in
my house. I’m always looking to if for suggestions for
cutting down on environmental pollutants or allergans in the home,
or for suggestions for making non-toxic mildew remover.

We spent a glorious four days last week
with the entire family healthy, and I look back on them fondly and
reminisce.


Why look back, you ask?


Because the lucky streak is over.

I ain’t what I used to be.


I acknowledge that four years of my life have gone by with me in
some sort of denial. Four years ago, I was a cool New Yorker. I
worked in Union Square, bought my food fresh at the organic
farmer’s market, picked up handmade pasta for dinner on a
whim, and shopped the shoe sales on my way home on a Friday night.
Why not? I had nowhere I “had” to be; Brian was
perfectly capable of feeding himself. I walked everywhere, and
since I was a Pilates teacher, I worked out four or five times a
week, and though I bemoaned my butt in jeans, I looked pretty good.


Fast forward four years.

A good friend of mine came over last night to hang out, and at one point she chased Cora up the stairs. When she came back down she was laughing.

“I walked into Cora’s room, which was totally dark, and before I said one word, Cora whipped around and said, ‘Nuffin!’ I can’t believe it – I’d just read about that in your blog today!”

People think I make this stuff up, but I am here to tell you, I do not.

Ok, sometimes I exaggerate when I tell you they are the most beautiful girls in the history of the world, but not by much.

Cora’s hit the stage where she knows
she’s done -or is contemplating doing -something wrong.


I’m so thrilled, I say dryly.


I don’t think she’s hit the intentional sin point
– where she knows it is wrong and should resist, but it seems
so delicious that she deliberately chooses to do wrong – but
she’s definitely arrived at the age of sensing
something’s not going to get the parental seal of approval,
and thus should be done in secrecy.


This translates to Cora’s new favorite word –
“Nothing”. As in, “Cora, what are you
doing?” “Nothing!” Though in all fairness, she
actually says, “Nuffin!”

I feel as if I’ve been living in a
bubble forever now; the girls and I have been sick for so much of
the winter that our regular routine of somewhat frequent playdates
has been completely shot. I’ve been avoiding people
assiduously, trying to stop the germ spread, and now can’t
remember what it was like when we lived in New York and would head
out to the park EVERY DAY for a playdate with Maddie’s pal
Naomi.


We seem to be coming out of the latest round of germs, for which
I’m supremely grateful – and I am SO ready to set up
playdates. My life for the noticeable past has been waking up,
getting the girls going, and hear Maddie say plaintively,
“Where are we going today? What are we going to do? I want to
do something fun. I want to play with friends.”


And since no one’s been one hundred percent healthy, we often
haven’t felt like walking to the park. Which leaves indoor
fun – the mall, library, or Chick-Fil-A – or the other
alternative, which requires no money and no schlepping tired kids:


Mommy comes up with a brilliant, stay-at-home, fun idea.

A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine was
suffering from an obviously painful headache that had been going on
for weeks. We met up at one of Maddie’s classes, and
afterwards I asked how I could help her for the rest of the day.
“Other than taking my kid?” she jokingly replied. I
answered that taking her kid was exactly the sort of thing I had in
mind! She demurred, saying she didn’t want to impose.
“Why not let me take your child for a few hours to play with
Maddie while you rest?” “Oh, I couldn’t do that
to you – you’ve got two kids yourself!”


“Ok, how about if I take your child for lunch?”
“No, no, it’s ok. I just need to hit the drugstore on
the way home and we’ll be in for the day.”


Knowing my friend’s car had been having trouble starting that
day, I said, “Alright, how about this. What if I follow you
to the parking lot, and you leave the car running while you dash
in? I’ll park next to you and stand outside your car so you
don’t have to do the in-and-out-of-the-carseat thing, and
you’ll make sure your car stays running.” Again, she
politely demurred.

Thousands of screaming fans. Girls,
collapsing, sobbing, at the sight of their hero. A stage with
hundreds of lights focused on the star, and beefy security guys
down front to make sure nobody mobs the talent.


The Jonas Brothers in concert?


Nope. Bigger.


Elmo is in town.

I went in for my nightly snuggle with
Maddie last night, and hand to Jesus these are the first three
questions out of her mouth, verbatim:

I took it upon myself to clean out the
family car yesterday. Friends who have ridden in that car recently
are even now standing up and applauding at the news; to say that it
was trashed inside would be a gross (literally) understatement. In
all honesty, I can’t recall really digging in and cleaning
out the interior since before I was pregnant. With my first child.


And as I dug through the detritus on the floor of our car, it
occurred to me that this litter was a sort of time capsule of our
lives, a fascinating cross-section that reveals way more than it
probably should about who we are and how we’ve been living
these past four years. In no particular order, here are some of the
many random items I discovered living on the floor of our car:

Maddie has a huge love of books;
she’s got quite a collection, with two shelves of picture
books in the family library, as well as two large shelves in her
own room. In addition, she’s got a couple volumes each
stashed in the living room, game room, and even Mommy and
Daddy’s room – just in case the urge strikes. When you
add her love of books to her deep passion for performing,
you’ve got an imagination that’s almost over the top.


This imagination expresses itself in many ways, of course, but one
of my all-time favorites is the way she sees her entire life as a
story to be told. And not only does she picture herself as the
leading role in the story – the heroine – but
she’s also cast herself as the narrator.

Ok, so that’s a new category that I
totally made up. And this will reveal me as uber-granola mom, but
so be it.


I probably make more items around our house than most people; I
make our own yogurt (we’ll talk about that another Monday
– it’s embarrassingly easy, and so much cheaper, that I
have to with the rate we go through yogurt!), my mom makes our
bread, we eat homemade breakfast bars, granola, and so on.
It’s partly the Martha Stewart in me, partly the cheapskate
in me, and partly the environmentally-friendly tree hugger in me.
But this is something anyone can make, regardless of your level of
cooking skills (even you, A. – you know who you are!) because
this requires no cooking, no measuring.


Moms and dads, it’s time to put down the store-bought glass
and surface cleaner.

I organized a neighborhood shop and swap
recently as part of my living a life of impact thing, and I have to
tell you, it was amazingly fun and astoundingly successful.


I emailed all the mommies in the various mom’s groups in my
neighborhood – and my community has several; our close-knit
groups are one of the things I love about my area. I told all the
moms I was organizing a morning to trade baby clothing and toys,
picked a date, and we were off!


The rules were simple: bring even one thing to give away, and you
could take home as much as you needed. Clothes had to be in good
condition, and toys needed all their parts. And everything was to
be free- no cash could change hands. Otherwise, there were no
rules. I heard lots of moms say it sounded like a good idea, but I
really had no idea if we’d have two people show up or
twenty.

I’ve successfully kept the Disney
princesses out of my house for over three years, but alas,
they’ve found their way in.


Yes, I know, they aren’t the end of the world. Setting aside
the whole issue of what sort of role model Snow White or Sleeping
Beauty is for our children, it’s not like they’re
peddling crack cocaine in the Disney Store.


Except that in a way, they are.

Day two of the strep throat in our
household yesterday, and the girls had a lovely cold on top of it
to make things really interesting. Cora vacillated between moments
of euphoria and dancing around, and crumpling into a sobbing mess
on the floor. That’s how I knew when the Motrin or Tylenol
was starting to wear off.


Now here’s the bad thing – Tuesday is ballet day in our
household. Right after lunch, we race to the ballet studio and
Maddie takes her class. This is just as big of a deal for Cora, if
you’ll remember; she brings her own ballet shoes and sets
herself up in “her” studio, alternating between dancing
by herself and watching Maddie’s class for inspiration.
Ballet class and open gym are the highlights of Cora’s week,
and when I told her yesterday morning that she wouldn’t be
going she absolutely freaked out. I’m talking a
Chernobyl-sized meltdown, lasting for many many minutes.

Maddie spiked a high fever late Thursday
night. A trip to the doctor the next morning ruled out strep throat
or the flu, and left us with one of those ambiguous viruses. A
couple rough nights and lots of Elmo videos followed.


Forty-eight hours later, Maddie felt much better, and we kept a
close eye on Cora, who seemed to have skipped the newest bug for
once. Then Sunday night Cora started running a fever, and we spent
the entire night sleepless: she’d wake every twenty minutes
crying, finally falling in an exhausted slumber around 4 a.m. I
steeled myself for the forty-eight hour thing and promised
I’d sleep when they get to high school.


But wait – there’s more.

For some reason, Maddie’s really
looking forward to Valentine’s day this year. I’m not
quite sure why; I’ve always looked on it as one of those
phony, Hallmark-induced holidays and Brian and I sort of avoid the
whole thing (I know, men everywhere love me right now). So
we’ve never really played it up, but regardless of the
reason, Maddie’s had a great time getting ready for the big
heart day.


A couple weeks ago we spent the morning doing a craft project-
making valentine cards for family and friends. Maddie did several
family ones, and only completed two friend-destined cards before
burning out. Nonetheless, she couldn’t wait until
Valentine’s day and had to walk to her friends’ houses
and hand-deliver the cards THAT VERY DAY. So after lunch we all
went for a stroll, Maddie and Cora both laden with bags carrying
their two cards, each replete with pom-poms and glitter glue and,
in Cora’s case, a three-dimensional sculpture of
stickers.

What’s that you say? Don’t
recognize the song? Imagine it to the tune of the opening bars of
the Sesame Street theme song, and you probably will.


For those of you who don’t get the Buckwheat reference in the
title (cultural cretins that you are!), Eddie Murphy did a famous
skit on Saturday Night Live in the early days where he pretended to
be Buckwheat from Li’l Rascals, all grown up and recording an
album of cover tunes. Eddie Murphy sang indecipherable song after
indecipherable song, and it was quite funny trying to figure out
what the actual song was.

A late night huddled in our storm closet
during yet another tornado warning (why do funnel clouds only
appear after we've put the girls down for bed?) has given me
cranky girls and no time to blog. Sorry. You'll have to wait until
tomorrow for a scintillating story about Cora's singing . . .

Remember the beginning of the year, when I
challenged you all to do one new thing a month that impacts people
outside your household? If not, click href="http://www.1mother2another.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=938&Itemid=46"
target="_blank">here to read the original post and get
caught up.


But if you do remember, and accepted my challenge, how’s it
going now that the righteous fervor of New Year’s resolutions
has worn off and we’re in the bleary month of February with
nary a vacation in sight for several months yet?


I’ll tell you, I’ve got huge, grand plans in the works
– always – but don’t seem to find time to get
everything orchestrated. I plot big, fun parties and elaborate play
dates in my head, yet can’t get that load of laundry folded.
So in the interest of keeping myself on track, I’m checking
in on this Life of Impact thing and hoping it’ll help you
stay motivated.

As a child and teenager, I never got used
to mornings. I truly believed that one of my parents’ best
attributes was their ability to not take my morning crabbiness
personally, and I’d even brag about how my mom and dad
understood I simply wasn’t a morning person and let me get
away with borderline rudeness on an almost daily basis. As I got
older, I often joked that the reason I went into a career in the
theatre was because it guaranteed me the right to sleep in, and
family and friends knew not to even attempt to call me before 10
a.m. Preferably 11.


As for my husband, while we were dating I’d often call his
house during school break around 11 a.m., only to be told he was
still asleep. So it’s safe to say he’s never been a
morning person, either. And when Maddie came along, she agreeably
exhibited the family tendency to love sleep, and would snooze a
good 12-13 hours a night, sleeping until 9 or 10 a.m. until she was
nearly three years old.


Which makes Cora’s attitude towards the early hours all the
more incomprehensible.

Ok, I’m going to make it official
here.


Maddie is potty trained.


Wait – did I just see a pig fly by?

Maddie’s been begging me to set up
playdates with a couple girls in her ballet class, so I’ve
spent the past few lessons coordinating calendars with parents of
her friends of choice. One friend has a stay-at-home dad, and as we
finally got the date and time hammered out, I gave him directions
to our house. “What time do you want here there?” he
asked, and I told him. “And what time do you want me to pick
her up?” he continued.


Um, what?


I was completely taken aback, but stuttered out an end time, to
which he nodded and made a note. Then I went back to my ballet
class observation seat and tried to figure this out.

We had friends over for a play date
yesterday morning, and gravitated towards the game room and all our
ballet costumes – much like we do without a friend over.
We’ve got stacks of ballet skirts and leotards and tutus, and
Maddie and Cora will dress up at least once a day to do ballet,
putting on their ballet shoes, grabbing a wand, and often bedecking
themselves in jewels before turning on the Mozart and
choreographing their masterpieces.


This activity is all the more exciting for Maddie because of her
recent milestone- dressing herself. She’s been
“assisting” for quite some time now, but the past
couple weeks have seen a complete takeover of dressing time. Maddie
has a “get dressed” magnet on her responsibility chart,
and she refuses to place it on her daily square until she’s
gotten herself into her pjs for the night, completely solo. Of
course, the dressing and undressing thing has been practiced much
recently as she’s made the transition to using the potty
full-time, and I think the chance to be a big girl and handle her
clothes by herself was at least part of the reason for her
new-found potty interest.


Unfortunately, with Maddie’s newly discovered skill –
getting dressed – comes another, less-wanted (by the adults)
skill:


Getting undressed.

Maddie has been pooping in the potty for
five (five!) days now. Dare I hope?


After last week’s promise to Maxum – “Maxum,
I’m working on pooping and peeing in the potty all the time
so I can go to school with you, I promise!”- Maddie really
got down to business. That very afternoon she asked to use the
potty instead of her pull-ups to poop, and grinned triumphantly at
her easy success.

The past few weeks have seen a drastic
increase in Cora’s separation anxiety, and I keep wondering
– when’s it going to get better?


I mean, the girl’s twenty months now- that’s a year and
two-thirds. And separation anxiety is supposed to peak around
eighteen months, so wouldn’t we be maintaining or getting
better rather than going deeper into it?


I suspect that part of the cause is Cora’s nearly unending
stream of colds and teething and stomach viruses; there’s
nothing like not feeling good day in and day out to make you want
your mommy. So I get that, and give her extra snuggles and love and
patience. But even when she seems to feel good, she simply wants
me, and nothing else will do.

We had a modest ice storm pass through our
area over the past couple of days, and yesterday everything came to
a halt – schools closed, businesses allowing employees to
work from home, gymnastics and ballet lessons canceled. So of
course, we had to get outside and see for ourselves.


Late morning finally found us bundled up and walking cautiously
across the crunchy grass. Getting dressed for cold weather caused a
bit of a problem: we’d not bought any truly cold weather gear
for Maddie this year, and we’d lent out Cora’s size to
friends traveling northward over Christmas. But we patched together
too-big shoes and too-small boots and made do, and were delighting
in the cool air and beautiful sunny day.

We’ve been preschool shopping in
earnest the past couple of weeks, since registration’s begun
for September and we’ve admitted that Maddie absolutely needs
to go for a year before kindergarten. We narrowed it down to two
and took tours recently of both facilities, and have finally made a
decision.


The hard thing is that both schools are really good, and
Maddie’s got friends at each one. Ask her which school she
prefers and she’ll say, ‘Maxum’s school!”
simply because it’s where Maxum goes. Somehow I’m going
to have to break it to her that we’ve chosen the other
school.

We just passed our one-year anniversary of
moving to Texas, and I can’t figure out if the year’s
flown by or stretched out interminably.


In some ways I feel as if I’ve been here forever; at the same
time, I still feel startling pangs of homesickness for New York.
We’re certainly settled in here, roots firmly planted in the
ground, but in quiet moments my heart still wings eastward towards
the Big Apple. And knowing we’re in the right place for this
season of our family life doesn’t make the aches any easier
to bear.

We’ve had a week now with our new
potty training in place, and I can say this is the longest
we’ve gone with such forward progress.


After a disastrous weekend last week, in which Maddie pooped in
several pairs of panties and steadfastly refused to use the potty,
Brian and I hit on a new plan. Maddie now wears big-girl underpants
all the time, using the potty whenever she needs to. But any time
she feels the urge to poop, she tells one of us and gets to put on
a pair of pull-ups for the deed.

You know I love you all, but I've been
sick all week and have several hours of prime-time television to
catch up on.


Namely, I'm the only person left alive who hasn't seen the season
premiere of "Lost". It's sad, but true.


So while I've got some time to myself, I'm gonna plant my snotty
self on the couch and find out how Jack persuades everyone to go
back to the island.


But I leave you with this bon mot -


Maddie put on a new leotard for gymnastics today and apparently the
sparkles on the neck are too itchy. She hopped up from the
breakfast table pulling at the neck and saying, "Mommy, I have GOT
to change. This leotard is KIDDING me."


I think she meant KILLING me. But I snorted my way up the stairs to
change her, hearing an exchange in my head which began, "A leotard
walks into a barre . . . "

Can you believe it? We're all sick again.


Yep, we'd been limping along with another mild cold from last
week, when Cora up and threw up all over the back seat on our way
home from church Sunday. There was a bit of diarrhea that day, but
no more vomiting, and we all thought it was just one of those
things.


Then I got this stomach bug Monday night and was out of commission
all Tuesday, with my mother not far behind me. Brian held out until
Tuesday evening, but spent all Wednesday in bed. The girls have run
wild the past couple of days, with barely enough supervision
between us all to keep them from playing with matches. The house is
a wreck and Maddie and Cora have been living off of macaroni and
cheese.


Both girls' colds seem to have intensified, much to my chagrin,
and I came down with their cold on Wednesday. And I swear Cora's
eyes started weeping Wednesday afternoon, but so far nothing red or
pinkish about the eye. Maddie's been incredibly sweet, offering to
fix me all manner of her favorite treats, running down a list of
foods she thought might help me even as the descriptions sent me
running for the bathroom. And both girls brought Daddy crackers and
jell-o in bed and have tried to give him wide berth.


The good news is that both girls seem to be ok other than the
snotty colds; we're hoping Cora had it briefly on Sunday and that
it skips Maddie. We've got fresh sheets and clean-up towels piled
in the hallway just in case, though.


The bad news is that we may have to move, just to escape the war
zone of toys that is our house.


That, and after these few days of blue-box heaven, I may not ever
get a vegetable past their lips again.

As I write this, the nation’s in
final preparation for the inauguration, and I have to confess,
I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. This is history in a
way we’ve never seen before, and I wish I could get the girls
to understand the momentousness of the occasion.


There are certain points in our history that I remember with
complete clarity: where I was when the space shuttle Challenger
exploded (in school, watching all the teachers starting to weep);
when the tanks rolled through Tienamen Square (in Kentucky doing a
show – and staring with tears rolling down my face at the
lone protestor standing in front of the tank); when the Twin Towers
were hit (New York, and that’s a whole separate
conversation).

Ok, so that didn’t work.


This weekend I put Maddie in big-girl underpants and told her we
would no longer do diapers. I explained that if she pooped in her
panties, we’d have to throw her new Ariel underpants away. I
also told her there’d be no leaving the house – no gym,
no ballet, no playdates – until she was well on her way to a
perfect no-hitter – er, pooper.


Twenty-four hours and four trashed pairs of panties later, we had
to revisit our plan. Maddie was a nervous wreck, crying at the drop
of a hat and jumpy. She’d run off to hide to poop, then come
to us, shame-faced and crying.


Brian and I retreated, prayed, and came up with a new game
plan.

Maddie is once again peeing in her diaper,
and I’m at my wit’s end.


We’re a week out from her urinary tract infection, and all
symptoms are gone though she still takes her medicine. During the
first few days of her infection we allowed her to use her diaper
– the pain was too much for her to try to hold it in while
she got to a potty – but quickly saw that becoming a habit.
She’s declared a preference for peeing in her diaper –
something she hasn’t done for months – and would like
to go back to it full-time.

Maddie and Cora both love the game Cariboo
they received for Christmas, and as I’ve blogged about
previously, Maddie’s been learning the hard way the lesson of
how to lose graciously – or at least without dissolving into
a complete puddle of tears. Nearly a month since they first played,
both show no signs of a waning love for the game – if
anything, it’s intensified and we go through at least a
half-dozen games a day.

Coming down the stairs for breakfast in
the morning, Cora will spy the box and cry, “Play
Cariboo!” (though it sounds more like “Pay
Cah-Boo!”) I can persuade her away from it with a promise of
breakfast, her favorite meal and one that lasts almost an hour most
days – but that’s another blog. At any rate,
we’ll usually get in a couple rounds before lunch, another
one or two before naps, and then several hands after dinner.

I’ve got a girl obsessed with ballet, and it’s not even the one taking the classes.

For whatever reason, Cora simply adores all things ballet. Her favorite day of the week is Tuesday, when Maddie takes her ballet class. Cora now has her own “dance bag” with her own ballet shoes in them, because she sobbed uncontrollably when Maddie put her shoes on and Cora had none of her own. So every Tuesday Cora brings her bag to the studio, and the teacher generously allows Cora to play in an empty studio.

The husband of a good friend of mine
recently had a run-in with another friend – the kind that
leaves women in tears and analyzing it over cups of coffee for
months to come – and has been distraught over it ever since.
The effect of this on my friend has been no less painful, and she
finds herself unable to stop crying for no reason other than that
her husband is in pain.


And this got me to thinking about how often I go on emotional
rollercoasters on behalf of loved ones – how often I agonize
with a friend as she waits to become pregnant, or hold my breath as
a family member awaits medical test results. This, though, is
nothing compared to how vociferously my heart feels each elation,
each pang that runs through my girls’ hearts. Every time a
child snubs Maddie on the playground and she looks at me,
bewildered; every time Cora is ignored by her older sister
“just because” and she toddles to me in tears; every
time my child overcomes a new fear and breaks through into insane
happiness; I think, I can’t take much more of this. My heart
is not built for such abuse.

I did this concert Saturday night, and it
was the first time I’d been gone from the house at bedtime
since the night I delivered Cora, way back in May 2007. No one has
put Cora down for bedtime except me – first because of the
nursing thing, then because of her raging case of separation
anxiety. We’d been working on naps for a while and
she’s pretty good about that – she’ll happily
allow someone else to do naptime as long as I’m not in the
house. But we hadn’t done nighttime before, because
she’s such a difficult sleeper that we didn’t want to
create a possible “up all night” scenario until we
needed to.

The past two nights, Maddie’s
awakened complaining she needed to go pee. This from a child who
has not peed in the night, either in a diaper or a potty, for over
a year now. At first I thought this was a ploy to be up with Mommy
or Daddy, but last night Brian went in and she was crying, saying
she could already feel it coming out. Then this morning she had
such trouble going to the bathroom that she cried and sobbed on the
toilet.


Which is when I knew we needed to go to the doctor.

One of the “hit” gifts that
Maddie and Cora got for Christmas is the board game Cariboo. This
game is billed for ages 3-6, but Cora adores playing it since she
gets to use the key and drop the balls in the tunnels, and Maddie
helps her “read” the game cards.


This is not the first board game Maddie’s played – she
loves freakin’ Candyland, and really enjoys that
hugely-annoying-to-parents game Chutes and Ladders. But those have
always been played one-on-one with an adult, and Cariboo is the
first game Maddie’s had to play with Cora. And we’ve
noticed a disturbing trend.


Maddie hates to lose.

Today is open gym day, and we’re
about to head out there for our first gym play time in three weeks.
Both girls are screaming with excitement, not unlike that of
waiting for Christmas morning to come.


Try explaining school holidays to a toddler.


We had a wonderful two weeks hanging out with Daddy and gorging
ourselves on gifts and goodies – I’m not saying we
didn’t have a fantastic holiday. But it is a relief to be
back into our normal schedule.

This is usually the time of year when I do
a funny blog on new year’s resolutions: I see traditional
resolutions as a bunch of needless pressure, impossible standards
we’ll never fulfill, and often will blog about
“realistic” resolutions, such as giving ourselves a
break and accepting our parenting flaws. But this year I seem to
see many such articles around already; seems we’re a bunch of
highly stressed, pressured people who need lots of people to tell
us to take it easy and not put too much pressure on ourselves.


I predict that 2009, with its economic uncertainty and crazy stock
market, will be a year of paring down: living more simply,
de-cluttering, stripping away extraeneous activities and expenses
and getting back to the basics. And while new year’s
resolutions have always seemed a bit arbitrary to me, the flip of
the calendar is a convenient place to pause and take stock of your
life, seeing what worked and what didn’t and vowing to try
harder. So I tried to come up with some resolutions.

Ok, I was sitting here working on the blog
I’ve been mulling over for several days now –
it’s a doozy and hopefully you’ll get to read it
tomorrow.


You won’t read it today because I’ve been detoured by
babies.


My girlfriend Ingrid just delivered her second girl this morning.
Remember Maddie’s best friend Naomi from New York? Well,
Naomi just became a big sister. Give a shout out to baby Emily.


I’ve also found out that another friend from New York
delivered this morning, and yet another New York friend (must have
been in the water nine months ago) delivered just last week, and
let me tell ya, I love the name Ivy.

I don’t know about anyone else, but
my house still looks as if Christmas exploded in it. I’m
trying to get a grip on the thing, but it’s not easy;
Brian’s on vacation this week and we’re trying to do
fun things as a family, so I hate to have him watch the kids while
I organize. And of course, housework waits for no one, so
I’ve piles of laundry to get to, grocery shopping to do,
meals to prepare – the usual list. So finding a place for all
the new toys keeps sliding down to the bottom of my
“to-do” list, much to the delight of my kids.


Yes, they’re thrilled that our living room floor looks like
the stock room of FAO Shwarz. Every morning they come downstairs
for breakfast, only to be reminded on sight of all their new toys,
which of course distracts them from eating and calls them to play.
I stand in the kitchen, ignored, until stomachs growl too loudly
and they look at me as if they can’t understand why their
breakfast isn’t waiting for them at the table.

I hope everyone’s holidays were
fabulous and low-key (I hear exhausted parents sniggering
everywhere at that – I myself was up to the wee hours
assembling Santa’s Thomas the Train set and table – but
that’s a different blog). We had a wonderful time, overall,
and I can’t wait to fill you in.


But before I do, I’ve got to share our Christmas Eve with
you, because it’s the story making the rounds of our family
table right now and I can’t keep this video to myself.

I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got
angel wings to attach to pageant costumes, sweet potato casseroles
to make, presents to wrap, train tables to sneak into the house,
and a birthday cake for Jesus to frost. So I'll see you on the
flip side of Christmas. I'll have lots to tell you; Maddie debuts
as an angel in her first pageant today, and Cora saw her first
"Nutcracker" last night - and that's all before the hullabaloo of
Christmas!


Have a joyous one, and we'll talk in a few days.

We’re still wrestling with the
potty-training issue and Maddie, but hopefully the end is in sight.


Maddie has peed in the potty for months now, never once using a
diaper. But she still insists on pooping in a diaper, and does so
deliberately. She’ll go through phases of pooping on the
potty – a day or two – then changing her mind
again.

We had our first party as a family this
weekend and survived to tell the tale.


The annual Christmas party Brian and I used to have was put on hold
when Maddie was born, and this was the first year we had the energy
to revive the thing. In years past it’s been an open house
starting around 9 p.m. and going to the wee hours, but this time we
kicked off at 10 a.m. and went right up to that immovable deadline
of naptime. Aside from the obvious problems, like re-thinking the
menu for brunch rather than Friday night nibbles, I was most
concerned with the logistics of having a party with little kids:
would our playgroup friends be comfortable around childless
co-workers, and vice-versa? Would the kids have a good time? Would
they wreck the house and leave it uninhabitable for adult
partygoers? Would Cora indulge herself in her current favorite
pastime – Taking Off the Pants?

We celebrated my sister-in-law’s
birthday recently by having her and her husband over for dinner.
Maddie and Cora both adore their aunt and uncle, and look forward
for any chance to hang out with them and show off all their tricks.
The minute they walk in the door the girls hang on them like
puppies, scampering around their feet and begging for attention.


Maddie’s been on a good streak with potty-training, using the
potty to pee all the time now and saving the diapers for “the
other stuff”. So when she said she needed to pee we hurried
off to the bathroom, leaving Aunt Nikkie and Uncle Daniel playing
with Cora. Maddie had been to gymnastics class that morning and had
refuse to take off her leotard and leggings, making the potty thing
a much more complicated affair than it had to be. Add to that the
fact that Maddie’s just learned how to put on her own leotard
and insists on doing it herself with laborious concentration, and
bathroom breaks were running a bit long that day.

We had our Angel Tree party volunteer
time, and I can say it was a success on many levels.


Our church offered to pull together gifts and a party for a local
Head Start class, and Maddie and I selected a little girl and got a
gift for her last week. When the party organizer told me we could
come volunteer at the event, I jumped at the chance for Maddie to
see charity and compassion at work – to see the face of the
little girl she’d “helped”.


I was only a little hesitant at going to the event; bringing an
18-month-old and a 3-year-old to a party is not always the wisest
course, especially when the party’s not for them. But Maddie
and I talked about the party, and I explained it was our chance to
give a fun party for other people and make other kids feel good for
a while. She seemed ok with that, so we went ahead. And I’m
really glad we did.

I haven’t talked much the past few
weeks about the Christmas-y things we’ve done as a family,
but we’ve done quite a few: Maddie and I went to see her
first “Nutcracker” ballet performance, the whole family
made our annual trip for a photo with Santa, our playgroup had
cookies with Santa one afternoon, and the girls and I have been
baking up a storm in preparation for our big annual holiday party
this weekend, just to name a few.


I worry that the whirlwind of the holiday season will leave the
girls jaded and bored once “real” life returns, and
there’s not something new and exciting involving sugar
cookies every day. At the same time, I see how excited Maddie is as
we go from event to event, and how magical the whole thing feels to
her. Every morning the girls discuss whose turn it is to open the
Advent calendar door at dinner that night, and they speculate on
what will be behind the door all day long. We listen to Christmas
music and dance around in our tutus for hours at a time, and
Maddie’s tried to teach Cora the Nutcracker story so Cora
will play the Rat King and Maddie can hit her with her shoe. The
girls are having a wonderful time this season, and I have to admit
it’s pretty darn fun for me to be along for the ride.

We went to a friend’s birthday party
over the weekend, which served as a stark reminder that I have
crossed that line and am now and will always be a Mommy. It also
pointed out to me that I spend waaaaaaaaaaaaay too much time with
other mommies with kids, and need to get out into the
“other” world a little more often.


My friend is childless, as are pretty much all of her friends, but
she loves my kids and the girls wanted desperately to go to her
party, so we brought them along for a quick drop-in since the party
was in the evening and we have the whole toddler bedtime thing.
Since it was a surprise party, we were there ahead of my friend and
thus spent a good twenty minutes surrounded by strangers politely
staring and trying to figure out who would bring a one-year-old to
a twenty-something’s birthday party.

We went to Chick-Fil-A yesterday for
lunch, a reward for the girls’ patiently entertaining
themselves at home all morning while I did housework and failed to
lead them in fun games and craft projects. I like the relatively
healthy food choices, and Maddie loves the play area, so everyone
wins. Throw a guest appearance by Maddie’s best friend Maxum
into the mix and you’ve got a winning lunch time.


At any rate, the grown-ups were happily sitting on the shoe bench
chatting while the kids crawled and played over our heads in the
plastic observation cars and exploratory tubes, when I heard Maddie
start screaming and wailing. This was the close-to-panic,
I’m-freaking-out scream, and I launched into action, climbing
up those big twisty steps and squeezing myself into the tunnel.

Ok, so that’s probably not the most
flattering title, but it’s the best I could come up with.
Hopefully you know what I mean. I’m not talking about giving
gifts to people you don’t really care about – those are
gifts, to me, best left un-given, money and energy better directed
elsewhere. But that’s a blog for another day.


No, when I talk about peripheral gift-giving, I mean all the people
in your life that you want to recognize and honor in some small
way, but that you may not know well enough to come up with a truly
personal gift. I’m thinking of preschool teachers, Sunday
school volunteers, soccer coaches or ballet teachers, even mothers
you don’t know well in your large mom’s group.
I’ve polled (very unscientifically) several friends of mine
who are teachers, and found out what they like and what
doesn’t work so well.

So there Brian and I sat last night,
trying to catch up on our tiVo, when we suddenly hear the tornado
sirens going off. We check our bedroom and sure enough, our weather
radio’s come on with a tornado warning.


Hello??? Isn’t this December???

Last weekend Brian had tickets to the
hockey game – the Stars were playing in town, and he’d
gotten free tickets in a contest. For several weeks he’d been
carrying the tickets around in his work briefcase, checking
periodically to make sure they were there. Then the morning of the
game he went to get them out – and they were gone.


We tore the house apart, looking everywhere. All those little
stacks of paper miscellaney that I seem to collect, assiduously
sorted through. Every trash can, every nook and cranny, every toy
box. The tickets were simply gone.

So Maddie woke up yesterday morning
moaning and saying her stomach hurt. A few minutes later she cried
that she had to throw up, and I picked her up and ran her into the
bathroom. It turned out to be a false alarm, but as I tucked her
back into bed (after laying out several layers of waterproof pads
and towels underneath her) I also grabbed the kidney-shaped
hospital bowl you’re given when you need to puke in the
hospital. We snuggle under the covers and read books together until
Cora woke up and I went in to get her.

First off, if you haven’t read
yesterday’s blog, read that before going on.


So yesterday morning Maddie was admiring our Advent calendar,
looking at the scene and talking about Jesus’ birth and
speculating on what would be behind that night’s door (is it
a shepherd? A donkey? The suspense is killing me!). Maddie would go
take off the magnetic pieces we’d already put on the board,
which I allowed as long as she stayed at the board with them. I
also made sure she knew not to play with the doors, or try to move
the board itself since it was not firmly planted anywhere.

Every night I put Cora to bed; we read
books, say prayers, and rock together until she’s sleepy.
Sometimes this happens quickly, but sometimes it takes forever and
I’m in a crabby mood by the time I leave her room, thinking
of all I have still to do before I can go night-night myself.


First on that list is going in to see Maddie – once
Cora’s down I have to go snuggle and say goodnight to my
oldest. It’s a fairly recent development in the evening
routine and I’m not always very tolerant of it; on nights
when I’ve spent a long time getting Cora to sleep, the last
thing I want to do is get pinned down in another room, answering
endless questions and fulfilling neverending requests for back
scratches. I sometimes find myself hoping Maddie’s fallen
asleep waiting for me, though that only happens once a month or so
– she’s a determined kid, and will wait doggedly for me
to come in.

Yesterday was the start of December, and
to mark the occasion people all across the country cracked open
their Advent calendars. I grew up using one of the thin paper ones,
with little doors you pried open. A scripture verse was written on
the back of each door, and a picture from the nativity scene. I
used to love opening the Advent calendar, watching the days until
Christmas count down even as the scene of Christ’s birth was
revealed more fully each day.


The past few years have seen a huge resurgence of Advent calendars,
and those devices once the domain of Christians only have been
taken over by secular holiday celebrations as well. Now Pottery
Barn and Crate and Barrel sell wooden calendars, felt calendars,
metal ones, all with Christmas tree or Santa decorations. Each day
is another chocolate to eat, or a small treat to unwrap, as well as
another ornament to hang on the calendar “tree”. And
with my apologies to everyone out there who has one of those, these
calendars make me sad.

I’ve been proud of the fact that
Cora’s been saying her name for a few months now –
it’s so cute to see a toddler’s satisfaction at
pointing to herself and saying, “I Cora!” But just over
the last week or so, Cora’s adjusted her name slightly, much
to our first puzzlement, then embarrassment. Cora now calls
herself, “Oh Cora!”


The first time I heard her doing this I wasn’t sure I heard
her right. I tried to figure out what she was asking for –
“Go Cora”? “Show Cora”? But nothing fit. I
finally had to give in and acknowledge that she was saying
“Oh Cora!” I just couldn’t figure out why.

As we hover on the brink of the official
Christmas season (though I still can’t believe it’s now
considered “late” to start Christmas stuff the day
after Thanksgiving!) I’ve been working on my Christmas
shopping. Finances are tight everywhere this year, and for the past
several months I’ve been working the sales and buying a few
things at a time, spreading out the cost.


The problem with this approach is two-fold: first, you can end up
picking up several “little” gifts, and have spent your
budget without buying anything meaningful, since you don’t
see the overall picture as the gifts are smuggled into your house.
This can be at least partially solved by using a variation of my
famous gift spiral – see earlier blog on that. But second,
what you buy in September may not be what your kid is into come
December. And you may have amassed yourself a huge collection of
Barbie gear, only to find out your child is now in love with
Thomas. For example.

Cora’s been symptom-free for
twenty-four hours now, Glory Glory Hallelujah. And all my
rocking/cleaning-up time with Cora gave me an opportunity to think
about my day off on Saturday, and what I learned from it.


Basically, my beloved husband gave me Time Off for my birthday last
month – a stretch of time to be dictated by me, for purposes
to be chosen by me. His blank check (well, as blank as our finances
would allow) was one of the nicest gifts I’ve ever gotten.
The last time I’ve had more than a few hours to myself was
May of 2006, as a Mother’s Day gift. That time, I left Brian
with several bottles of pumped milk and an anxious 11-month-old
Maddie. I spent the day roaming around the city, reveling in my
freedom and falling back in love with New York.

Saturday I had my first full day off - no
strings attached, no running home for naptimes, no work, no errands
- since May of 2006. It was awesome and wonderful and I'd love to
tell you all about it, and the deep Mommy insights I gained with
twelve hours to myself.


Unfortunately, I don't have time to chat because Cora is sick.


Yes, Cora spent Sunday doing one of two things: puking, or sleeping
in someone's arms. So my back is aching from lying semi-prone on
the couch for two hours at a stretch, and there's a faint vomit
smell I suspect is coming from my hair, but I can't quite pin it
down. I got a makeover on Saturday and its remnants are smudged
under my eyes, a la heroin chic. We've been through a couple dozen
towels and two Silkies, and Cora now cries every time someone sits
with her and starts to wrap a "just in case" towel around his- or
herself.


Maddie's been amazingly patient and understanding, lashing out for
attention much less frequently than I'd have imagined. I'm afraid
I'm the one not handling it well; it seems we've been sick either
the whole month or the whole fall, depending on how you look at
things.


I'm hoping this is short-lived; Maddie spent Friday lounging on
the couch, saying her tummy felt "throw-up sick". She never hurled,
and seemed much better on Saturday so hopefully this will all be
behind us tomorrow.


But just in case, if you see me on the streets the next few days
and go in for a hug, hold your breath while your face is near my
hair. It's not a pretty smell.

I know, I usually do recipe talk on
Wednesday (“What’s For Dinner Wednesday” just
sounds better) but I made a new recipe yesterday and wanted to
share.


Before I share the recipe, you should know that I’m one of
those people who make lasagna from scratch. Yes, I’ve bought
frozen lasagna before – definitely not ashamed of that.
I’m just cheap, and like to add veggies to it. My stand-by
recipe is somewhat labor-intensive; I usually make a double batch,
which gives me two giant pans or two pans plus a small one, and
will spend a few hours doing the noodle-boiling and sauce-making
and so on. I love my lasagna recipe, but it is exhausting and takes
much planning.

Yeah, of course Maddie didn’t pee in
the potty yesterday. What else could I expect, since we went out
that morning and got a cool little toy? And since I was so sure she
had turned that corner, and was ready to move forward?


Honestly, I don’t get it. She used the potty once yesterday,
but deliberately chose to use her diaper every other time. At the
toy store, she said she didn’t think they had a bathroom, and
during the day at home she said it was just easier. I know
she’s not trying to be difficult or naughty; I just
can’t figure out the best way to help her over this hurdle. I
started asking her to sit on the potty every couple of hours, in
case she wasn’t planning ahead enough, and by the end of the
day she was crying every time I had her sit down on the toilet.
I’m making her miserable on this, and I know that’s not
helping the situation.

Yesterday, Maddie used the big-girl potty
the entire day.


Yes, we’re back to potty training. Maddie gave up using the
potty months ago after an accident, vowing to never again use the
big-girl potty. But about a week ago Maddie announced she’d
like to use the potty occasionally – “Just to go pee,
no poopy!” Then two days ago, Maddie pooped in the big potty.
Incredulous, she grinned triumphantly. “That was easy!
I’m going to poop in the potty all the time now!”

Apparently my two-week cold is actually a
sinus infection. Huh. That explains the migraines.


On the good news front, as a no-longer-breastfeeding mom, I have
two words:


Ny. Quil.

I’ve managed to keep Maddie away
from a few things that I know will eventually be a part of her food
repertoire, most noteably gum and soda. We introduced cookies and
cakes and candy at age 2, and have been slowly allowing her to have
a few things a month; I want to raise a healthy child who can make
healthy choices, but not one who is so sucrose-deprived that she
spends her girl scout dues on a Ding Dong, snarfing it guiltily in
the guest bathroom before announcing to her troop leader that Mommy
forgot to giver her cash this week, sorry. But the gum and soda
I’m holding out on for a while more. Daddy drinks diet Coke,
and Maddie accepts that she can’t have any. And no one in the
family really chews gum so that’s not a huge issue either.


But the one thing Maddie’s discovered that she considers
almost more of a treat than chocolate? Tic Tacs.

While Cora’s separation anxiety has
definitely gotten better, it’s certainly not a complete thing
of the past, and as the clinginess gets less and less frequent, I
find myself becoming more and more intolerant of it. I know that
sounds crazy, but she’s gotten so good at finding comfort in
other people that when she reverts back my patience just
isn’t as dominant as it used to be.


Cora’s Mommy need usually surfaces somewhere around a stretch
of sleep – right after she wakes up in the morning, or first
thing after her nap. There’s always a bit of re-entry time
required for her: sometimes snuggling and rocking in her chair for
a few minutes, sometimes just a quick quiet song hummed in her ear
as I carry her downstairs. Then more likely than not she’s
off and running, looking for trouble.

If you’re like me, you began your
Christmas shopping a few months ago. Incredibly organized and on
top of my life? Nope – just trying to spread out the
financial pain a bit, make Christmas not such a shock to the
checkbook come December and January. (Oh, January – that
painful month when the big credit card bill comes in and all the
toys it bought are already broken.) So I’ve been buying
things when I see good sales, and squeezing a bit of shopping in
each week. Thankfully, my girls are too young to realize they could
tear my bedroom apart and find all their gifts; in our comfy, large
house, there’s surprisingly little private space and Mommy
and Daddy’s bedroom closet is simply known as the place to go
play with the cat. I’m so glad they don’t look up and
see those poorly-concealed Little People boxes above their heads.


Anyway, as I try to spread the spending out, I’ve got a
couple tricks up my sleeve to make all this a little easier.

My being sick last week seriously depleted
my stores of frozen casseroles and back-up dinners (think Hamburger
Helper and the Blue Box – my children were in culinary
heaven) and I’ve got some lost ground to make up here. So
this week I’m bringing out one of my favorite staples, which
I discovered last spring – href="http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/nwsltr/recipeoftheday/stories/041508recipeofday_casserole_0416liv.State.Edition1.6a0a74fe.html"
target="_blank">Chicken Chili Casserole.