Things I'm Bad At: Opening SnackPacks

I bought SnackPacks for the first time in... forever?  The kids like Jello and I don't have the space in my fridge for it, so I decided this was a great choice.  Today, I had to open two of them.  Here is the packaging, Audrey's SnackPack, and the top of Sebastian's:

It tastes delicious if you can earn your way into the packaging.

First, you have to use your teeth - there's not enough top for peeling and I think I stubbed my finger trying.  If I didn't bite my nails, I probably would have broken one.

Second, it's not going to come off the edges because the packages are SO well sealed, so you'll have to try several times and it will tear and your kids will jump with their spoon impatiently.

Third, I cut the inside of my bottom lip.  Also, I think I still have a little glue on my teeth.

Fourth, if you cut the inside of your bottom lip, it's hard to keep hold of the SnackPack aluminum in your teeth, so that falls on the floor and the little droplets get on the rug.

It's delicious, but I think anyone who sends these in their kids' lunches should know that your kids are A, Trading them to kids with knives or really sharp teeth; B, going to lose their grown-up teeth trying to eat them; C, Seasoning the 10% Strawberry Fruit Juice with blood from their inner lip instead of High Fructose Corn Syrup.

Or maybe I'm just really bad at opening them.  That might be a possibility.

My lip hurts.

"She Didn't Even MEOW!"

Every day is pretty much the same, where the cats are concerned: The kids like the cats.  The cats spend all day playing Hide and Sleep.  In the evenings, I give them "I'm sorry the kids kept finding you" treats and keep them out of my bedroom so they don't attack me in their sleep for ruining their happy life with Aaron with two kids and a dog.  I don't really think they will, but there was this one time that Aaron put masking tape on the cat's paws because they messed up the rental carpet and the cat peed on my chair and ruined a rather nice feather throw pillow my mom had gotten from TJ Maxx.  That cat knew Aaron did it, but she took her revenge on my favorite chair.  That was how she trained me to sleep behind a closed door.

The cats love me.  They jump on my lap, sit by my shoulders when I'm reading, move the iPad out of the way with their heads so we can have "us" time.  That's also a revenge-taking move - I share a bed with Aaron, wake up to the dog's paws and head nudging my belly, and spend the day peeling children off of me while I try to remember to vacuum, so once I have a moment in my favorite chair, the cats are all about crawling all over me.

That's part of the reason I assert my authority by promising one of the cats for nap or bed time.  If Sebastian stays quiet for FOUR minutes, I'll bring Piano into his room to cuddle.  They sleep by him in the middle of the night, so they ought to adjust to him during the day.  Of course, I understand if they don't do that yet.

Sebastian yelled out in triumph from the kitchen today.  Did he find juice from yesterday?  Successfully open a Kraft Single without tearing it?  Rebuild a broken Lego tower?  I would know soon enough, when he ran in the living room to high-five me multiple times.

Much to my surprise, he walked slowly into the living room, "Mom!  Look what I can do!"

His face was surprised as he carried the cat in front of him, her body stretched and her hind legs slightly brushing the floor.  One hand was under her leg, around her torso, but the other was around her neck.  Forte was not struggling, but was also very much not amused.

"Look Mom!  I picked up the cat!  And she didn't even MEOW!  She LIKES me!"

Or she just CAN'T meow because you're holding her windpipe.  I plastered a smile on my face and resolved to keep calm.  "YEAH she does!  Wow Sebastian, I'm SO PROUD of you!"

He stopped and bent to let the cat down.  Forte froze for a moment, took a few slow steps, then darted over to the hidden end table before he could catch her again.  Sebastian wiped his hands and I told him that now that he's Big and Strong, we can practice holding the cats.  We moved onto something else.

A little while later, I was making lunch and noticed Forte, staring at me from across the room.  She hoped I hadn't forgotten, because she sure hadn't...

I'm going to have to deadbolt my bedroom door tonight.

I SAARRRRY!

Audrey took Sebastian's lollipop.  Just to look at it, but she took it and that was more than enough for Sebastian's 4-year-old patience, so he punched her in the shoulder.  She flopped down on me and started crying.  Sebastian turned around and sat down to sulk.  That is where our dialogue begins.

ME: Sebastian, you need to say 'I'm sorry' to Audrey.
AUDREY: I saarry Bashion!
SEBASTIAN: <Giggles from the floor>
ME: No Audrey, you don't need to say I'm sorry.  Sebastian needs to say he's sorry for punching you.
AUDREY: Okay, I saaaaaaaarry Bashion!
SEBASTIAN: That's okay Audrey.
ME: No ma'am, Sebastian needs to say it.  You don't.
AUDREY: Okay, I SAAAAAAAAARRRRY Bashion!
SEBASTIAN: <Laughing> That's okay Audrey!
ME: NO!  NO!  AUDREY!  Do NOT say 'I'm sorry!'  SEBASTIAN!  Say I'M SORRY TO AUDREY BECAUSE YOU PUNCHED HER.
AUDREY: I saaaarry -
SEBASTIAN: <Giggling> It's o-
ME: NO! NO MA'AM!
AUDREY: I saaarry Mommy!
ME: No, you have nothing to be... SEBASTIAN!
AUDREY: MOMMMMMYYYYYY!

And she sobbed into my chest and Sebastian collapsed into a fit of giggles.  And she still has no idea how to take an apology.

Big And Strong!

In our house, we have this ever-expanding list of things that will make us "Big And Strong."  I have no idea where it started, but Sebastian really caught the Big And Strong bug and we just ran with it.  He needs to finish his breakfast, because that will make him Big And Strong.  He has to eat all of his vegetables because it will make him Big And Strong.  He should have an apple instead of a piece of chocolate because that will make him Big And Strong.  Audrey's in on it too, but that figures: she has secret dreams of towering over everyone and b-slapping them at her whim.  We're all going to be the little faceless city residents and Audrey will be Godzilla in a princess dress with a Hulk mask.  If vegetables can make that happen, she's all for it.

Sebastian found our list incomplete and has made it his mission to educate us on things that can help us to grow bigger and stronger.  Here are some, in no particular order:
Hot Dogs
Butter
Cake (all kinds)
Cool Whip
Nerds
Ketchup
Cadbury Cream Eggs
Soda (aka "Spice")
Fruit Snacks (Ice Age, Avengers, and Brave varieties so far)
Mayonnaise
Popsicles (pronounced "pocksible")
Ice Cream

He's also recognizing the value of activities that will make you Big And Strong, like:
Playing Trumpet
Coloring with Sidewalk Chalk
Brushing Your Teeth (good one!)
Throwing the Dog's Ball Over the Fence So a Grown-up Has to Go Get It
Watering Plants (I like it...)
Using the Hose in General, Especially with the Spray Nozzle
Watching Mom Do the Laundry

By the way, Picking Up Your Toys is an activity that has been specifically noted to NOT make you Big And Strong.  And even if two parents say this and get Audrey to nod along, it's really not going to change Sebastian's Facts.

It's an ongoing adventure, and I get a little exhausted keeping track.  I took a little break from Being Watched Doing The Laundry (which makes Moms Big And Strong) and sat in our recliner, which still had a back massager set up and plugged in from the other night when Aaron had a little back pain.  I sat and closed my eyes.

Suddenly, the chair started vibrating at full-force - the seat, the lower back, and the upper back.  I opened my eyes in surprise to find Sebastian holding the remote control with a big grin on his face.  He switched the controls at random, increasing and decreasing the vibration, and then dropped the remote on the floor.  My butt and upper back were going strong, but the lower back was completely off, and the heat function was just starting to make itself known.  I struggled to maneuver out of the shaking seat to find the remote control.

"There Mom!  The seat is shaking your heiny!  Does that feel GREAT?  When the SEAT shakes your HEINY, THAT's when you grow BIG AND STRONG!"

Thanks Kid.  When I stop shaking, I'll add it to the list.

Barefoot Booby-Traps

My kids left their toys out.  I know you're thinking "Whaaaaaaaaat?" because my kids are so perfect and you assumed they always cleaned up after themselves, so, yeah, thank you for that.  But they leave their toys out in weird places and we step on them and we vow to NEVER BUY ANOTHER TOY AGAIN like every day so you can stop being all jealous about my perfect-cleaning-up-after-themselves kids.

Today, they left them in the hallway, inside our front door..  I put the kids down for their nap and was like "Sigh..." and bent to pick them up.  Then I realized, the kids hadn't absentmindedly left these toys in the hallway, they had laid a booby trap for Aaron when he gets home!

Man, my kids are funny, and diabolical, and Aaron will NEVER see this coming!  They had left them splayed out close enough to the door to hit their target, but far enough that at least some of the trains would stay in place after the door opened.  It hurts so bad when you don't notice and you step on one of these things with your bare foot.  Aaron would get home, step on one and...

Wait, Aaron would have his work boots on.  He would step on one, maybe crush it, maybe trip a little, and make the kids pick them up.  And he could probably step right by them and just make the kids pick them up.  My diabolical children would only be hurting themselves... Unless Aaron wasn't the target.  

Aaron is wearing boots.  I, on the other hand, am barefoot.  The toys are close to the door, but also far enough into the hallway that an unsuspecting person might step on them if she was, say, on the way into the kitchen to drop off a sippy cup.  As a matter of fact, I noticed these when I was just about to step on them...

Well, good thing I noticed and decided to pick them up!  The kids' plot was foiled again and I could put these away and be the silent victor.  Or...

The kids are napping, and barefoot, and in need of a lesson on leaving their toys out.  Plus, if I actually put the trains away, I would have to open Sebastian's door and ruin his nap.  There's only one thing a smart Mom can do.

Here is a picture of Sebastian's door:

Muahahahahahahahaha...

LIGHTS OFF

I think every Dad, at some point in their Fatherly career, becomes obsessed with lights being left on in the house.  Aaron picked it up two years ago when our neighborhood started giving rebates for lower electricity use, and since then, I have been flashing back to my own childhood as my father's voice comes out of his mouth - "WHO left this light on?"

It's not that I'm against conserving energy - truly, I'm on board.  I love to recycle, we've been reducing and reusing, and I'm slowly but steadily replacing our household cleaners with more environmentally safe versions.  Contrary to popular belief, I go through the house several times a day to turn off the lights.  When the kids were younger, I used to "let" them turn off the light as a reward and if I forgot, they reminded me.  So, as Aaron asks, why are the lights on?

Because other people live in this house.

I grew up as one of six kids.  If you turned off every light when you left a room, someone else was bound to come back in and turn it on again.  My dad, who always figured he would grow up surrounded by books instead of kids, would come home and walk through the whole house:
"WHO left this light on?"  
"WHY is the bathroom light still on?"
"WHEN was the last time ANYONE was DOWNSTAIRS?"

Aaron doesn't believe that happened, because A, my dad seems so well-adjusted and B, whenever we're home, my siblings and significant others and kids are there too so my parents house has lights on all the time.  Much of Aaron's visit is spent silently going through my dad's night-time ritual and he does it several times a day.  Sometimes, I wait for him to do his rounds so that as he comes out from turning off a light, I'm walking in the same room, turning the light back on to change a diaper.  It drives him crazy, but antipsychotic medication has come so far from when my dad had this condition in the 80s and 90s.

In spite of all evidence to the contrary, Aaron doesn't want to drive himself crazy.  Recognizing that I'm not his ally in turning off lights (not true - I tune him out so I don't feel like I actually married my father), he has enlisted the help of Sebastian.  Instead of the WHO and the WHY and the WHEN questions, Aaron's just been gently notifying our little Superhero of lights that have been left on.
"Hey Bud!  Do you mind turning off Audrey's light for me?"
"Hey Bud!  Did you remember to turn off your bedroom light?"
"Hey Bud!  How about we check the WHOLE house for lights that we can turn off?"

It's great because Sebastian runs around and turns off the lights and comes out and dances/high fives us because he did such an awesome service.  I found out today that this strategy might have an unforeseen downside for Aaron.

Aaron had just gone back to work after lunch at the house, so the kids and I were settling into our afternoon routine of haggling over when naptime would come ("Not right now Mom!").  I walked into the hallway and noticed - wow! - the kids' bedrooms, my bedroom, the hallway, the kitchen, and the living room lights were on.

"Wow Bud!  We have a lot of lights on in the house!"
"YES WE DO MOM," he called from the living room.  "You turned on Audrey's light when you changed her diaper and Daddy left your bedroom light on when he changed his shirt and you left the kitchen light on after you already made lunch and YESTERDAY!" (he caught his breath) "Yesterday you left your bedroom light on when you went potty and Daddy left the light on in his workshop TWO TIMES and we should not be leaving the lights on when I turn them off..."

I stared at this kid, manically releasing his chronicle of adults leaving lights on in the house.  He continued to prattle about each time we washed our hands, each moment someone put a dish in the dishwasher, that time we fed the dog outside.  My reaction went from shock to "Haha, Aaron left his workshop light on" to "This is what Aaron gets for enlisting the four-year-old to help with lights" to "OH MY GOSH MY SON IS MY FATHER'S CLONE."

So I guess every man gets obsessed with lights being left on in the house and, if you introduce them to it, it'll happen before they even start Pre-K.

Rules for a Two-Year-Old Girl

Rules for a Two-Year-Old Girl
1. The two-year-old girl does not get to do her own nail polish.
2. When that two-year-old girl finds mascara, she should not open it, paint her hands, and then hand it, open, to her unsuspecting mom.
3. The remote control is not the property or responsibility of the two-year-old girl.
4. A two-year-old girl should stay dressed for more than an hour.
5. A two-year-old girl should keep her diaper on.
6. A two-year-old girl does not need to apply her own diaper cream before lunch.
7. A two year old girl should not brush Cool Whip through her hair.
8. A two-year-old girl does not need to put half of a banana on the floor of the dog crate when she's done with it.
9. When that two-year-old girl gets a popsicle in spite of her behavior, she should not set said popsicle on the clean kitchen floor.
10. If that two-year-old girl puts another entire roll of toilet paper into that toilet, so help me...

Rules for the Mother of a Two-Year-Old Girl
1. The warranty on children does not last two years, so you cannot return your two-year-old girl even if she has broken each one of these rules before noon.
2. A crying two-year-old girl will not tell you where the mascara-Cool-Whip-banana-covered remote control is while she's yelling "I dorry!" into your shoulder.
3. Put the nail polish on a high shelf, every time.
4. Buy a new toilet plunger since the last one broke during the last incident with that other entire roll of toilet paper in the toilet.

And most importantly...

5. When it gets to be too much, pick up your half-naked, fed, squirmy two-year-old girl and take her to your big bed, where you can steal her nose, tickle her belly, and play hide-and-seek under the covers  and you know she'll be safely away from make-up, food, and toilets.  (Just make sure she keeps the diaper on.)

Best. Idea. EVER.

Sebastian's Techniques

The kids had strawberries and blueberries in the living room today as a special treat.  Well, not really - they were destined to have strawberries and blueberries because Sebastian has had visions of this moment for weeks.   "Mom, I would like strawberries and blueberries for a snack because when I close my eyes I see strawberries and blueberries and so you need to give me strawberries and blueberries for a snack.  That's what I see when I close my eyes.  LET'S GO!"

I don't know where he got the idea - we haven't had non-frozen berries for months - but he did figure out that if you keep repeating something to the person who grocery shops, you will eventually get the snack you see when you close your eyes.  This is his Psychic Technique.

When Sebastian was done with his snack, he jumped up and made me an offer: "Mom, I would like you to be my helper.  Would you like to be my helper?  You can please take the bowl into the kitchen and be my helper.  Please take my bowl into the kitchen to help.  That would be REALLY GREAT!"

Of course, when he said it, it came out as "WEAWY GWEAT!" so I couldn't refuse.  First, he asked for help (a huge four-year-old lesson).  Second, he was cleaning up after himself (another HUGE four-year-old lesson).  Third, he said please which is an old lesson but good practice.  And lastly, he was totally using one of my tactics on me.  I love my helpers - they shove wet laundry in the dryer, put dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and feed the dog.  If I want to keep my helpers, I probably needed to take a minute to give back when asked.

I thanked him for asking so nicely and promptly picked up the bowl.  I knew as I smiled and walked into the kitchen that I was going to have to be judicious in agreeing to be a helper so Sebastian doesn't just delegate everything.  I made a note in my mind to find an opportunity to say no later.  That opportunity came two hours later when Sebastian finished playing with his trains.

"Mom! How about you be my helper and pick up my train?  Then you can be my helper!"

I looked up from my book.  "No thank you.  You can pick it up because you were the one playing with it!  You can do it, it won't be hard."

Sebastian's smug little smile melted off his face and morphed into surprise.  It wasn't shock - this was the only time he had used the Helper Technique, so he knew there was a chance it might not work - but it was definitely not quite happy.

"FINE!"  he shouted, turning and running to the couch.  He spun into the corner, sat cross-legged, and threw his arms across his body.  "Then I'm NOT gonna be the BEST BOY ANYMORE!"

Ahhhh, The Threat - a classic and not Sebastian-specific technique, but one he got from me.  He has made it his own with this Best Boy business.  I have no idea where he got it - I don't recall ever threatening to not be the Best Mom ANYMORE though I kind of want to try it to see if it will be effective with him.  He does it pretty often and mixes it up so sometimes it's a threat, as above, and sometimes it's a mumbled lamentation ("I broke that thing and now I can't be the Best Boy anymore...").  It's a last resort, but it's definitely a go-to.

I looked at him.  He looked at me.  I cocked an eyebrow.  He pushed his lower lip out and gave me puppy dog eyes.  I started laughing.  He looked confused.  I laughed louder.  He did too.

So we sat in the living room and laughed and laughed.  Audrey joined in because she also loves to laugh.  Sebastian laughed so hard he fell over and hit the couch cushions with his hand.  Within two minutes, we had teared up and were sighing.  Then we picked up the trains together.

Next time he needs something, he'll probably try to use the Loud Laughing Technique.  I can't wait.