Catch up

I had a whole great entry written and ready to go and now I can't find it. Those of you who know me are shocked, I know. So here it is 11 p.m. and I have this urge to write, because I also drank way too much coffee this afternoon and am going to be up for quite awhile. The Keurig is now neck and neck with the slow cooker for Appliances I Love Just A Little Too Much. I'm pretty sure eventually I'm going to find a way to mainline caffeine and then I will be unstoppable.

Anyway, right. My missing entry. I have no idea what happened to it and the computer isn't that big, folks. So bang, bang, here come the bullets.

*Today was an absolutely gorgeous day out. We spent it inside because the girls were not quite well enough to go out. They were, however, well enough to bounce off the walls and make each other crazy, which in turn made me crazy, which lead to a downward spiral of Wonderpets, copious amounts of coffee and the desire to forgo the "24 hours fever/puke free!" rule and just send her to preschool already.

*Lest you think Mary was totally the problem in the above scenario, she wasn't. It wasn't about getting her out of the house, it was about separating the Danger Twins so the madness would end. How you can be too sick to want to eat anything more than dry cornflakes and yet well enough to run around the house screaming like a banshee is beyond me.

*I can run a 5k in just about 30 minutes. I cannot, however, do 32 traditional situps at all, never mind in less than a minute, and this bothers me. I am contemplating sitting the civil service exam in August for my city and in order to pass the physical test, it's 32 hardcore, hands behind your head-elbows to the knees-your spine is going to have its own out of body experience situps. In 60 seconds or less. I am trying to accomplish this and I am going to die.


*I am resolving to find one local, fun, cheap thing each week to do with the girls. In theory we will be exploring lots of exciting places, but knowing me I'm going to forget I wrote this and call it good if we make it to Open Gym without someone losing a limb.

*My neighbors asked if I wouldn't mind signing for a package they were expecting. So around noon a bassinet arrived. Mary and Anna eyed it. I explained it was for Auntie Jess, that it was a present for (the soon to be arriving) Baby Ginny. Mary squealed asked if the baby would be cute. I assured her she would be. Anna eyed the box. "That's Baby Ginny?" Birds and the Bees fail.

*I thought Lily was going to love baby food but I've tried a couple of kinds with her and she acts like I'm trying to poison her. Lest you think she's not ready, she grins when she sees the spoon, she opens her mouth for said spoon...and then she looks at me with what I can only describe as disappointment. "Really, mother?" What baby doesn't like sweet potatoes?

*I did our taxes last night. We're getting a decent return. It's immediately going to bills. I got a Target gift card as a tip after a party I ran and spent some of it on toothpaste and  kids' body wash.

Being a grown up is so exciting.

Moms don't get sick days

The older girls are sick. I had hoped the stomach bug that every other kid in our area has would pass us by, but this morning started with me throwing sheets into the washing machine on "Sanitary" and Lysol-ing the bathroom, so I am guessing we're the lucky new ones. I keep telling myself that relatively close by, there's a town dealing with a whooping cough resurgence (and really? That's an entirely different post) and I should count my blessings, but when you're doing laundry before dawn, that's a hard perspective to keep.

That's all the particulars I'll give. No one wants a standing record of sickness in detail. I will say, however, that sickness has an interesting way of completely inverting personality. For instance, Mary, who doesn't know the meaning of "slow down" or "quiet time" stayed in bed until almost 10 a.m. I offered to set her up on the couch with a blanket and a movie (Anna was already deep into Toy Story 3 at that point) but she quietly (!) said "No thank you, I'll stay here" and did, for several hours past normal wake time.

Anna was also physically subdued, a combination of feeling gross and not eating much as a result, but was oddly chatty with me. Mostly, we re-capped the early morning grossness until she was done talking about it, but she also wanted to have elaborate dialogues with Little People as the medium and play with all of Lily's toys (which I was loathe to let her do. I am clinging to a faint hope that somehow, Lily will not be next on the list).

I was queasy but holding on well. Which was good, because the littlest member of the household was not willing to tow the party line and sit quietly. Lily is teething, so today was round after round of hand chewing, sniffling and power-napping. Not much downtime in there for me, so I did our taxes (I know, I know, you can't stand the excitement).

That was this afternoon. By the end of the day, I was feeling much woozier but Mary and Anna were perking up. Tim gave them chicken noodle soup. Mary asked for seconds cheerfully, but we opted to hold off and see how things went. I was optimistic. There was no stomach bug, just something they ate. Maybe it was that garlic bread. Maybe they just ate too much the night before. Maybe it was some 24 hour thing. Maybe -

"Daddy, my tummy hurts."

The last time she said that to me, I made the mistake of asking "What do you mean? How does it hurt?" and the results were disgusting. Parenting 101: Don't ask why, reach for a bowl and pray.

The long journey past bedtime has just begun.

Pancakes and lions and cars, oh my!

I wasn't sure I was going to have a blog this weekend as the older girls are with my parents until tomorrow, but I should have known better. I spent today catching up on sleep as the baby would allow, running and working a party that wound up involving some situations far above my pay grade. And I get to go back tomorrow!

When I left the girls last night they were so excited they could barely say goodbye to me. The prospect of new pajamas, pizza for dinner and Ring Pops (candy and jewelry and food dye!) was far more interesting than anything I had to offer. (Leftovers! No TV! The same old bedtime!)

Today they apparently woke up bright and early and ate their blueberry pancakes with gusto. Then Mom tells me they went to the playground, where Anna made short work of a rock climbing wall and then wandered off to drive the big pretend car on the other end of the playground. Mom looked over and saw Anna with one hand on the wheel, looking over her shoulder to the empty backseat and shaking her little right index finger.

"Quiet! Quiet back there!"

Mother of the year? Why thank you! All the while Skipper the deaf West Highland Terrier was following Mary around the playscape, climbing stuff after her and apparently getting stuck on platforms. I have no comment.

From there it was a hike in the woods and home for a snack and a nap. By this time it was well past normal nap time and Mary was handling that perfectly, which of course means not at all. She wanted to take a collective six million toys and books to bed with her, which was a big negative from Mimi. Which Mary handled about as well as you'd expect.

"My MUDDER lets me take toys and books to bed!" (Yeah, no.)

"So if I called your mommy right now she would tell me that?" Mary decided to split the odds.

"Well, maybe," she sniffled.

"Let's just go to bed, Mary."

"MAYBE YOU SHOULD CALL MY MUDDER!" And with that she flipped herself under the sheet, refused to come out and fell asleep for the next two hours. Anna, who generally seems to run on no sleep, sugar and daydreams, was also out cold.

When I called after work they were just settling down for The Lion King (optimistically called "theatre night" at Casa Mimi) and popcorn. They'll probably be up until 9 p.m. at this rate.

Well, what are grandparents for?

Trot trot to Boston

Yesterday Tim had about six different appointments in Boston and decided to take Mary with him. She was totally jazzed to have "a date with daddy," and meet up for lunch with Uncle Brian.

I dressed Mary that morning in a cute but comfortable outfit, knowing she was going to be seeing some of Tim's former employers and other important people, and braided her hair in a "daddy proof" style (Tim has many fine talents but he'll never be a hairdresser). I reminded Tim of the basics: "You are seeing your doctor, don't give her anything sticky or messy that you can't clean up before!" and sent a gleeful preschooler out into the freezing January morning.

By about 1 p.m., Homegirl had wized up to the fact that a "date" consisting of driving around in the car and visiting various universities, schools and doctors was, in fact, a pretty dull time. She was behaving well but Tim could see the end of her rope was coming soon. So she went back home with Uncle Brian (who lives about a half an hour outside Boston, much easier than driving all the way home) until Tim was done with his remaining appointments.

The phone rang around 3:30. My brother in law.

"So, um, I have a question," he said.

"Yes?" I'm concerned, my mind jumping from possibility to possibility. Mary fell down and got seriously injured. Mary had an accident (and though I know I should, I hardly ever remember spare clothes anymore because she's been good with the bathroom for more than two years at this point). Mary managed to "love" Nana's sweet but neurotic greyhound into a nervous breakdown. Mary bit the mailman. Who the heck knows?

"Mary got Play Doh in her sleeve and I'm not sure how to get it out."

Oh.


"I told Mary you were probably going to kill me," he said. My neuroses with my kids' clothes are well known at this point, but really, if you were trying to make one Gymboree outfit last through three sisters, you'd be a nut, too. But really? I was just happy she was having fun and that I wasn't getting an overtired preschooler back after another couple of hours in the car. So, $10 shirt vs. crying child.

"You know, it should just wash out when I do the laundry," I said. "Don't worry about it."


Meanwhile, Anna and Lily were home with me and Anna especially was reveling in the one on one attention. She even took a decent nap for me, which is getting harder and harder to accomplish lately. Mary came home right around dinner time, happy but exhausted, and slept until 7 a.m. today instead of her usual cheery 5:45.

She needs to go with Daddy more often.

Sno' more

Last Friday, we got some snow. On Saturday, we got a lot more. Mary woke up, saw the snow on the ground and immediately wanted to go outside. Which meant it was time to bite the bullet and get serious about finding her some snow boots.

I called the kids' consignment store nearby and asked if they had any snow boots in size 11 or 12 toddler (my kid has big feet), for either gender.

"We have size 1," the woman on the other end of the line said. For those of you not familiar, toddler shoe sizes go up to a 13, kid starts at 1, so we're talking boots three sizes too big. I decline politely and decide to head to the Target 20 minutes away in hopes that that store has something left in her size.

The second I got on the road I realized nothing was plowed and that the Target five minutes away was going to take about 20 minutes to reach, so I went there, praying I had missed something the day before. The boot aisle was almost empty. There were, however, tons and tons of toddler boots in size 7 and 8. I grabbed a pair for Anna because for $4, who wanted to chance the ones at home didn't fit. I was almost plowed over by a woman with a kid easily in third grade who was insisting he check out the boots.

"Go, Joey, go!" she urged him, giving me a suspicious look as if I might have the only boots not elfin sized stashed under my coat.

"Mommy, these are all way too small for me," I heard him say as I left.

"Just keep looking!" Well, points for determination, you crazy woman. The snow was falling faster and I gave up, went to the consignment store and bought the huge boots. They're actually really nice, which is good, since Mary will be wearing them until she's my age.

Return home, present children with boots, Mary screams in delight and drags Tim outside. Anna stares at me.

"Do you want to try on your boots, honey?"

"No fanks."

"You need them to play in the snow. Don't you want to go play with Daddy and Mary in the snow?"

"No fanks," she said, climbing up on the couch. I should have known. Last year we tried to get her to play in the snow at my parents' and she cried until my mother picked her up. I joined her on the couch and we watched Mary flail around in the falling snow like a Weeble. Anna got into my lap. "I just wanna watch."

That's my girl. Sunday, Mary once again pulled Tim out the front door, determined to make "a snow girl." (Snow girls, I am told, have eyelashes.) Anna once again refused to go outside, preferring to launch a running commentary from the front window. ("I see them! Dey throwin' snowballs!" "Do you want to go out, too?" "No fanks.") Today it was almost 60 degrees out and I thought she would be thrilled. Instead, she got really upset the snow was gone. Now that she couldn't have it, she wanted it.

Yeah, that's my girl.

Miss Anna Beans

Anna, aka Anna Beans, has been a classic "middle child" since before she knew she was going to be a big sister, that is, completely unpredictable and lovably wild. If I had one parenting-related ability, I think I would choose the opportunity to spend some time inside her head, because she's only two and change and she cracks me up on a regular basis.

For one, she'd have a heck of a future as a litigator. She tries her hardest to convince me to do her bidding, sometimes with success (who can resist that face?), but more often than not in vain. A few days ago, we dropped Mary off at school and I asked Anna if she wanted to go to Target.

"First we get a donut," she said confidently.

"No, no donut today," I said.

"But why? Just one," she wheedled.

"No donut, hon," I said.

"..." she paused. "...Don't you want coffee?"

Or today, naptime. Mary is fast asleep after insisting that there was no way she could ever nap, ever, and Anna is playing quietly on her bed, determined to outlast everyone.

"Mama, is it time to get up now?"

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Goodnight, Anna."

Two minutes goes by.

"Mama, is it timeta get upnow?"

"No, Anna."

"Say yes. If you say yes, we'll have fun! Yes?"

"Goodnight, Anna."

Eventually I gave up - Tim came home early today and there's no keeping her calm when Daddy's around so it became a moot point.

Usually, no nap for Mary or Anna means I have a crying, freaking out mess of a kid on my hands by dinnthe overtime, but so far, Anna's outlasted her fatigue and has resorted to out and out randomness. She walked up to the coffee table and plunked down no less than five Little People animals (we have Little People issues in this house. We have the zoo, and Noah's Ark, and just about every vehicle they make, so we wind up with situations like there being crocodiles in the nativity and flamingos in the doll house). Two were jaguars. She quietly made them walk up and down the table next to each other, talking to herself quietly, making one animal speak to the other. I listened harder.

"I going to eat you up. I going to eat you up. Ahaha, I going to eat. you. up!"

When she caught me looking at her she grinned and moved her animals, now including a zebra (dessert?) to the piano, where they began what I assumed was another death march. This time she began singing.

"Dear Jesus, I love you, I love you so much." Touching, though given her pretend play last week it was hard to tell if she was referring to our actual Lord and Savior or herself. Neither would surprise me. (As an aside, today "Baby Jesus" did all this and more while wearing a bright striped shirt and a pair of bright purple overalls with donuts embroidered on them which she insists on calling her "donut pants."

And now all of her animals are on the couch, in the Christmas train, fast tracking it away from "da ghost!" and probably ruining my slipcover somehow.

If she ever writes a play, I want to read it.

Nocturne

Last night Anna had a night terror. She's had them before, but this was by far the worst and longest lasting and I felt awful for her.

For the link-phobic, a night terror essentially happens when a child doesn't stay asleep between sleep stages, but also doesn't wake fully. They can scream, thrash, and appear awake, but aren't really conscious and will have no memory of what happened when they come out of it. The worst part from a parental perspective is there is literally nothing you can do to stop a sleep terror once it starts. If you hold them, they push away from you and try to throw themselves out of your arms. If you try to talk to them, they might scream more, or ignore you, or perceive the sound as a threat and holler "no! no!" You can also prolong the incident by doing this.

Normally, Anna's "terrors" are mild - she wakes up fussing and crying but it passes in a couple of minutes, you can give her a sip of water or milk and put her back to bed. Last night she started crying and when it became apparent she wasn't just fussing we said "okay, she's having a night terror, let her alone and she'll come out of it" like we usually do. This time, she thrashed and flipped herself over the bedrail, landing on the floor before anyone could catch her.

I tried to hold her but it became obvious that wasn't going to help anything. My mother in law was still in the house and she couldn't believe it. Really, you can't believe what's going on unless you see it. I wound up moving the coffee table out of the way and laying her on the living room floor (where she couldn't hurt herself) until she woke up, at which point she sat up, held up her arms, called "mama" and asked for a drink. A few sips of milk and she said she wanted to go to bed, where she slept peacefully until 7.  She was genuinely perplexed to fully wake and find herself in the living room with three adults standing around her.

The worst feeling in the world is seeing your child scared or in pain and knowing there's nothing you can do to make it better. At one point I was literally sitting on my hands because I wanted so badly to hold her and comfort her, but every time I tried it just made things worse. I prayed. I sang to her. I put on music. Because even though at that point I knew nothing was going to stop until her body physically stopped itself, I couldn't just do nothing. I unloaded the dishwasher. I helped put Mary and Lily back to bed, both of whom woke up over the course of events. I pulled out my sleep books to confirm I was, in fact, not being a horrible parent by doing what I knew I had to do. And I still felt bad about it. Some days, it's never enough.

The book says kids will eventually outgrow sleep terrors and won't be traumatized by it. Until then, we're to give her a consistent, relaxing bedtime routine and avoid disruptions to her sleep cycle. But it's still a crapshoot. Too tired? Not tired enough? Stressed? (What stresses a two and a half year old, anyway?) Genetic link? There are a million ways to wonder what you're doing wrong, why your toddler isn't sleeping properly.

True to the book, Anna woke up this morning sunny and cheerful, the only reminder of her night a slightly hoarse voice. She jumped on my bed and snuggled with me, her ice cold feet (child will. not. wear. socks.) a somewhat unwelcome "good morning!" but I was so glad to see her back to her happy self.

So far it's been a good day. I'm hoping for an equally peaceful night.