Whales Eat People. All the Time.

Ever feel like you've had the same conversation over and over?  I feel that way sometimes, mostly because I do have the same conversations over and over.  The top hits include:
Audrey's Hitting Me.
I Have to Go Potty.
I Need to Have Chocolate for Lunch.
The Cat Doesn't Like Me.

Then, there are new conversations that go in and out of style:
Why Are The Pigs Laughing at the Angry Birds?
Santa Claus is Not Coming to My House Today.  (sad face)
I Need to Put on My Iron Man Shirt and Fight the Bad Man on This Movie.

For the most part, I can see these coming.  They're situation-dependent and many of them happen like clockwork.  I do get excited when a new conversation starts like...

"Mom, why do whales eat people?"

Whaaaaaaah?

Do you have any idea how hard it is to get to the context of that question?  He's three.  We don't have a whale in our house, we haven't talked about Jonah, and the only time I could think of him seeing a whale is Finding Nemo.  Of course, the whale does eat the fish and keep them in his mouth until he blows them out to Sydney.  It's traumatic: I have to hold Sebastian's hand from the moment Dory and Marlin get off the East Australian Current.

As I tried to assure him that whales do not eat people, Sebastian presented all kinds of evidence.  First, our new movie The Pirates, where a pirate makes his grand entrance in the belly of a whale.  Then, there's Pinocchio, which Sebastian has only recently watched all the way through.  A little boy on the playground was singing a Veggie Tales song about Jonah.  Now, just when I figured I was safe, Sebastian finds a new PBS Kids show on the iPad where a little boy named Noah and his dad or grandfather get eaten by a whale on a fishing trip. 

Seriously?

I got nothing.  I'm ready for all kinds of conversations.  Bizarre conversations.  Like "I can't find my pizza and green beans under the covers of your bed" conversations.  These can be addressed inside the confines of my house or can be easily addressed in a single word or phrase that helps the world make sense.  The whales eating people thing is such a great plot point in children's stories that every time I try to fight it with evidence, I just get shot down.

I'll tell you, as excited as I was to have a new conversation the first time, we discussed whales eating people for the last week and FOUR TIMES BEFORE LUNCH TODAY.  And the kid wants answers.  None of this namby pamby "it doesn't happen" or "they're just being silly" or "whales eat krill like on Finding Nemo" junk.  Because Sebastian has seen it with his own eyes in three different cartoons and even Dory was proven wrong about the krill thing the moment a clownfish and a Regal Tang (if you ever wondered what Dory was) got sucked past a blue whale baleen.

Now, there are many things people do to mess up their kids for the future.  In my experience, you need to make note of these things as you go so you can ease the child into normal life later.  That's part of the reason I keep a parenting blog - to help me remember what I need to go back and fix before the kid asks a dumb question in Biology class.

So yes.  Whales eat people.  All the time.  It's a very common occurrence.  But the people are fine afterwards.  They make a grand entrance, find their sons, and get back to fishing - even get more fishing done after everything they learned from the whale.

Now I'll go tell my kid that probably three more times today, and tomorrow, and the next day until he wants to get back to a point with a more immediately addressable hypothesis (see The Cat Doesn't Like Me).  Then we'll discuss the relative merits of chocolate for breakfast and how to make a cat stop running away from you.  Then we'll find something completely different from some other random source.

And at the end of this, with my smug little smile on my face, I'll probably get eaten by a whale.  If you read about it, remember it's not a biological anomaly: it's a higher power teaching my child about Karma.

Correct Mascara Application

Here's why I need to lock the door while I do my make up and put the mascara on a high shelf:

"Um, I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Are you taking a picture right now?"

"Wait, are you taking a picture of me?"

 "Excellent, get my good side!"

   

Audrey Dresses Herself

Audrey's bed is right next to her dresser. She's growing up. Here's how she takes care of business if I'm not here in time. This is STYLE...

Unanticipated Rule: No Raisins in the Whistle

Sebastian was running around at 8:30 in the morning, wearing his gray Spiderman shirt and some blue plaid shorts - a cute outfit he picked, that could only be improved if the shorts were not on backwards.  He was holding a long green and gold whistle that I bought in Ireland before I had kids, tooting into it rather vigorously, then shaking it.  Well that's weird...

"Mom, who put the raisins in the whistle?"

I know better than to say anything when asked a question like this, so I just stopped and looked to either side, waiting for him to clarify.  He examined it again, then came over to look me in the eyes which were admittedly shifty.

"Mom, we don't put the raisins in the whistle," he said, taking my silence for an admission of guilt.  "Mom, tell me, did you put the raisins in the whistle?"

No, actually.  Quite surprisingly, I did not.  I did not even have raisins yesterday.  The person who had raisins yesterday was wearing an adorable brown polka dot dress and was wiping her hair out of her face for about an hour before she could be corralled with a ponytail holder.  Last I saw after I gave her the box and told her I did not want to find any on the floor, she was on the floor sorting them out to eat them.  Or so I thought.

I did not find raisins on the floor.  Sebastian found them - what looks like an entire box of raisins minus the two I saw her eat - shoved into a whistle that is slightly more than a raisin in diameter.  If you look in the finger holes, you can see Audrey's snack from yesterday, piled on each other in their new container.

Now I feel dumb: I thought she ate the raisins and then played the whistle for about 45 minutes.  I was not aware that she used the raisins to see how her whistle would sound.

Of course, Sebastian eventually figured out who had put the raisins in the whistle and went to tell Audrey about the completely unanticipated new rule we have in our house: No Raisins in the Whistle.

Well THAT's Not Right...

I just looked at myself in the mirror, came back and asked Aaron: "So I have a clementine sticker on my neck. How long has that been going on?"

Aaron started laughing. "You know, I noticed that a few hours ago and now that you point it out I realize that's not quite right..."

Seriously?

Sleeping on the swings

I found myself in the odd position of pushing two children on the swings today when one of those two children fell asleep. Not kidding: Complete knocked-out-in-the-sunshine asleep. Now, swinging is awesome. It's the nearest to flying a person can get, with the wind and the sun on your face and nothing in the world to think about but going up and down, up and down. Ahhhh... Still no excuse to fall asleep.

I happened to be pushing both children at the same time. One was asleep, the other happens to be in a bit of a lecturing phase.

So once I said "Is she asleep? Is she seriously ASLEEP right now?" He started in:

"Audrey! It is NOT TIME to sleep right now. We do NOT sleep on the swings! We sleep in our bed! We SWING on the PLAYground, we do NOT SLEEP! AUDREY! That is a BAD CHOICE!"

It makes a good picture though.

Outsmarted. Again.

The kids wanted to have breakfast in their playroom with a movie.  Okay, sure, but the playroom is three rooms removed from the kitchen, so I need to minimize spills.  Plus, if they're watching a movie with breakfast, the breakfast is going to need to be a step up from Pop-Tarts.  Easy: a bowl of Frosted Mini-wheats and a glass of milk for each.  I'm brilliant.  No spills, and they get some kind of fiber with milk.

I sat them down at their table and went to put the movie in, hearing two little "Mmm, mmm, mmm!" voices while they tried to out-dance each other.  Yay yay yay!  Breakfast and a movie!

Not only did I trick them into having no-spill cereal, but I'm totally the mom of the morning.

"Hey Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I need a spoon and Audrey needs a spoon."

Some little jerk had put two-and-two together and took it upon himself to dump his milk into the bowls of dry cereal.

If I had a mustache, I would have twirled it: Rats!  Foiled again...

Hippos should not eat rocks.

From Kiss Kiss by Margaret Wild and Bridget Strevens-Marzo.  A great present with a
purple hippo Pillow Pet who likes to obnoxiously
kiss little kids while you read them a book.

During Audrey's bedtime story, Kiss Kiss, Sebastian noticed something amiss with the Mama Hippo calling out to Baby Hippo:

"Mom, why is that hippo eating a rock?"

"She's not, Bud, she's turning to call out and that's her back."

"No, she's eating a rock. She should not eat a rock. That is disGUSting. That is a BAD CHOICE. I don't want her to eat the rock. That is a BIG rock. She should not eat that disgusting rock, Mom..."

Audrey was so captivated by his version of the story and it was so far after bedtime, I closed the book, handed it over to him, got up, left the room, and turned off the light before he even took a breath.

Illustrators of the world: I'll need this picture in every bedtime story from here on. Thanks in advance.

Oh yes! Veteran's Day!

It's Veteran's Day, so I know I should write something reflective about today's significance, but I really don't know what I could add that hasn't been said before and much more eloquently.  My brother and husband are both currently active in the Army.  My father is reserves, my father-in-law and brother-in-law were in the Army.  My grandmother quit grad school to serve in the Marines, where she met my grandfather.  My life has been fundamentally changed by people who have served in our armed forces.  For the last year and a half, I've worked with active duty Field Artillerymen (and one Ranger!), a really awesome group of people.  When I step back and think of where they had been before my office, what they had seen and sacrificed before I was showing them how to put data in an excel spreadsheet, I get a little overwhelmed.

There are not enough thank yous and accolades or money or awards to adequately thank the veterans who serve my country and those who have served in conflicts around the world.  Enough though I can't say enough, I really could not let this day pass without at least saying something.

Happy Veteran's Day.

Freezing Diney

Sebastian's best friend is an over-loved Ty Beanie Buddy dragon named "Diney-saur" or "Diney."  He goes everywhere with Sebastian and has therefore been through the washer more times than I can count, which means his wings are flimsy and no longer shiny.  If you're keeping up, that means he is no longer a Shiny Diney.  Yep, I said it.

About a year ago, Diney and Sebastian's blanket, Ray-ray (no idea where that name came from) were too hot after another cycle in the dryer, so I just chucked both of them in the freezer.

Parents, this is a tactical error.  Immediately, every stuffed animal and dish towel in our house came down with the same fever and I spent the better part of an afternoon taking things in and out of the freezer.  Seriously, some nights Sebastian would cry for ten minutes before he told us "Diney's hot!" and we would have to stick him in the freezer.  Oh, and you can't fake sticking something in the freezer.  Diney's thin wings get cold after about 10 seconds in there, so you might as well go for the full enchilada.

Note: it is easy to forget the stuffed animals and blankets you stick in the freezer, and if it's the stuffed animal your child has had since birth (who is a Freezer Frequent Flyer), you're going to panic.  Mostly, I panic when it's just me at the house and we have searched "everywhere."  I'll put a crying child to sleep and go to drown my Lost Diney Sorrows in some ice cream before I slap my head.

The other major issue with this use of the freezer is that inevitably someone else will find out.  I can't remember whether it was Nonnie or Grandma, but someone was trying to put Sebastian to sleep one night and he was quite upset about Diney.  After she mentioned it to me, I went to the kitchen without saying a word, opened the freezer, produced a cold Diney, and handed it to her.

These moments do not contribute positively to my reputation for sanity.

Unemployed, Full-Time Mom

Soooooo I'm unemployed at the moment.

Not really unemployed (I'm a contractor without a contract) and it hasn't been that long (two weeks and two days to be exact) and it's because the Army moved us (from Oklahoma to Texas) but, since Aaron's been on leave at the same time, it's been a lovely perpetual weekend that we've spent getting the house in order and keeping the kids from watching too many movies.  Or trying to.  Today we had them draw on some packing papers and cardboard with markers and crayons.  It was a lovely art class until Sebastian didn't like the spider he drew and had a complete meltdown, causing Audrey to scream and me to put everyone in timeout.  Now they are watching a movie so I could clean the marker off the kitchen table from where the cardboard moved.

It's time to get them back in preschool.

Anyway, I hadn't planned to take any time off.  I intended to leave my job on Friday and start a new job in a new state on Monday but of course that didn't happen.  I spent the last month in Oklahoma training my replacement and spending time with friends, doing some laundry and move packing, so I lost momentum on the job search.  We also realized that I didn't need to go immediately into a new job, so I took some time to get the house set up and work on my resume.

More than anything, I've been really excited about the move.  New house, new job, new routine for everyone.  The time together has been great - playing games, heading to the playground, catching up on Netflix, getting organized.  Unfortunately, our little move bubble ends on Tuesday when Aaron goes back to work and I'll be home with the kids, working on my resume and trying to pick up where their awesome teachers left off until they get new awesome teachers.

I'll tell you: it's hard to stay motivated when you're at home, especially after you've been working full time.  I'm not waking up until about 8:00 AM, when I would normally have the kids at school and be on the way to work.  The dishes don't get done as quickly as they did when I was running out the door in the mornings.  I keep opening the washer and going "Now what day did I put THESE in?" and re-running it.

I'm really not cut out for this.

Many people would remind me that I'm not really unemployed if I'm a mom, since that's a full-time job.  I understand that.  It is a full-time job and one that I often had to do while I was at the full-time job I was paid to do in an office.  I'm a good Mom and I absolutely love being around my kids, and I consider this role my most important, full-time commitment, but for me, a huge part of that commitment is working outside of the house.

My kids are smart and happy and healthy and hysterical.  They're the coolest people ever (obviously), but they're also developing in ways that I understand better when I see them outside of my house and when I get to talk to their teachers.  Sebastian has recently started drawing stick figures.  I think that's pretty cool.  His teacher, on the other hand, informed me that this was a pretty big milestone.  I had no idea.  Audrey, meanwhile, can identify several letters, which is pretty advanced.  Do I need to work with her on those or should I focus on colors?  And, um, how do I do that?

More important than the milestones is providing my kids the basics: sleep, food, and hygiene.  Moving has thrown our family schedule into upheaval, and we've had two nights this week where I realized I wanted to take the kids to the park after it was already dark.  When I'm on a daily work schedule, I wake up on time, dinner is at roughly the same time each night, and I at least have a frame of reference for what day it is.

And none of this touches on me, and what I need.  I need adult interaction and intellectual stimulation.  Not just great conversation with a smart friend who also stays at home, but problems to solve that are unrelated to me, my house, or my routine.  I need to feel productive, to contribute to the world around me, and to grow and improve the way I work and how I relate to other people.  

This set up is not without its downsides - mostly the feeling that I do not have enough time for all the things I would like to do.  A lot of things fell off my plate while I've been working with two kids, like cleaning, exercise, de-cluttering, personal professional development, and, of course, writing.  I think I was going to start a Masters Degree two years ago.  Totally didn't happen.  I was also going to go through this box of papers that has moved through two apartments and now three houses.  It's right next to my bed now.  I need to get some file folders...

I'm trying to embrace this time that I have right now to spend time with the kids, get a few things done, but also keep up the momentum to get back into work and a routine.  I'm also trying to relax a little: I don't want to push myself so hard that I need time off when I get to the new job.  These are all completely different priorities and somehow hard to fit into these long, lazy days.  I feel like it's Spring Break or a snow day, and I'm going to cram everything into the last two days when I realize I squandered all of my time off.

Somehow, between tickling kids and breaking up their arguments, unpacking boxes and getting the laundry folded, updating my resume and finishing a professional certification (finally), I'll spend the time I have before the next job.  I can call myself a stay-at-home Mom or an un-utilized contractor, but I'll be both at the same time in the same place, doing the same things.

Hopefully I can get some things done.

Making Tea

After moving a huge box of tea we never drank in Oklahoma, Aaron and I have decided to drink tea as part of our daily life, mostly in the evenings.  Since I'm the Chief Accumulator of Tea and often the first to ask if we should have some tea, I normally make it.  It also tastes better when I make it.

The other night, I was making tea so Aaron said "Will you make some for me please?"

I was not feeling, shall we say, particularly motivated to make tea for everyone (read: one other person) so I said "Fine, but do you want like sugar and shit in it?"

My perfect husband, without missing a beat, replied: "Just the sugar please."

At McDonald's

Since the kids have been super troopers throughout the last week of moving (Oh yeah!  We're in Texas now!), I decided to take them to burn some energy at the McDonald's Playland up the street, usually a dependable place to run around on car trips.  It was late and cold outside, so I figured we could eat and have a little bit of controlled chaos.

First of all, this McDonald's is not kidding with their Playland.  They have a whole dedicated wing of the store - more so than usual - with about 10 tables where families can eat while their 3-10 year olds play.  Okay, so Audrey is not even two, but she's always trying to keep up with Sebastian and she's normally even more courageous when it comes to slides and other kids, so we set up shop.

This particular Playland apparently caters heavily to the 7-10 year-old demographic, so we were outmanned.  There were about 8 other kids playing when we got there and the parents hanging around were speaking Spanish, Korean, and Japanese.  It was lovely and loud.  It became much louder when I had to stand by the stair tunnel while Audrey was in there and remind the big kids to be careful around her.  It didn't help that she kept trying to climb down head-first and I was almost completely powerless to get through the tunnel to correct her.

So this group of parents walk in with five more boisterous kids who immediately descend upon the Playland, hitting each other and shouting.  I extracted Audrey using some apple slices and went back to the table to assess the new situation.

My kids were eating happily at our table when a child (probably 6 years old or so) came out of the stairs crying - full mouth-open, tear-streating crying - with a big red mark on the side of his face.  His mom asked what happened.

"That little boy kicked me in the face," he sobbed.  The offender, one of the new arrivals, was already headed back into the tunnel with a snide look on his face.  The mother, rightfully, looked for the offenders mother.

"Excuse me," she said, somewhat apologetically, "Your son kicked my son in the face."

The offender's mother was shaking a ketchup packet.  She looked at the mom, then the hurt boy and loudly shouted across the room at him, "My son kicked you in the face?"

Up to this point, everything is completely normal.  Child is hurt, goes to parent, parent goes to other parent.  Ultimately, the plan is, quite obviously, that the other parent will clarify the situation and issue corrective action.  Completely civil, part of raising kids.  They hurt each other, accidents happen, and they learn and grow from it.

Anyway, she was at Step 4: Clarify the Situation: Have the hurt child explain what happened from his perspective.  She can see the large, red, shoe-shaped welt on this little boys tear-stained face.  He's speaking coherently in spite of the situation.  She asks so he can hear: "My son kicked you in the face?"

"Yes," he gulped.

"Well don't play with him then!" she shouted, then turned back to open her ketchup packet.

The room stopped for a minute as every parent in the room slammed their mouths shut and tried to keep their bulging eyes in their heads.  I mean, seriously, did that just happen?  Are we all here?  Did we just see that?  Aren't we all just trying to eat and let our kids play in a 10x10 space that happens to have a plastic slide?  SERIOUSLY?

I expected the whole room to clear in a flurry.  Or all the parents to rise up and say "No ma'am, this is not how we raise well-adjusted, kind children into well-adjusted, contributing citizens.  McDonald's Playland may be a no man's land, but while we are here, we are its lifeguards and we decide who needs to take an adult-swim-style time out from the pool."  I expected responsible revolution.

Nope.  Four of the tables didn't do anything.  They sat there, looking exhausted, and their kids kept playing.  The five new kids were loudly testing the limits of the bolts that kept the plastic apparatus together and probably pulling hair or hammering their shoes to get ready for the next smiling face.  The victim looked at his mom and she looked helplessly back at him.  Then he shrugged and went back into the Playland.

It took about two seconds for me to locate Sebastian, grab his arm, shove two apple slices in his hand and have our stuff together.  I did two other parents doing the same, slyly sneaking out the door with nary a backward glance.  One woman with a four-year-old and a newborn calmly placed the baby on her other hip and grabbed her tray to take to the trash.  I saw her a moment later speaking to the management while I ordered Aaron's dinner to take home.

Audrey was nonplussed.  Sebastian, on the other hand, was talking about when we could come back.  I told him I didn't know but that we had to go because some little boy kicked another little boy in the face.  "Oh," he said sadly, then looked at his hands and back at me, "Did I do it?"

"No, Darlin," I said, "I just didn't want you to get hurt too."  I felt relieved that he hadn't been hurt and super proud at his nicely developed conscience.  I hope that sticks around.

So as we get used to our new neighborhood in Texas, we're starting to recognize some landmarks.  We've driven by five times and, every time, Sebastian yells "Mom!  That's the slide where a little boy got KICKED in the FACE, Mom.  We have to play there another day."

Yeah, Bud.  We'll go back.  Once we have some backup.

Rock the Look

Some kid's parents cut his hair at home, but he hates to get a haircut. His parents just noticed how bad it's gotten. He doesn't care: he ROCKS this look!

Halloween Karma

Quick Note: In order for Halloween to work, both parents cannot go trick-or-treating with the kids.  Someone needs to stay home and give out the candy.  I found myself in a very spiritedly-decorated caul-de-sac last night that had 5 duplex homes (that would be 10 families) with only 3 lit front doors giving out candy.  There was also a bowl.  That makes 6 families who invested in lawn decor but no bag of candy.

I happened to be standing with a bunch of other disappointed parents out with their kids.  Turns out, one of the families that was looking for places to trick-or-treat lived in one of the six units.  Their doorway was dark with no candy out.

Yeah, that's what we call "Karma."  Trick-or-treating doesn't work if no one stays home to give out the candy.