Fine Dining

I have never been the fancy restaurant kinda girl. After becoming a mother, the concept of "fine dining" is practically nonexistent. My idea of dinner out ... actually going into McDonald's instead of hitting the drive-thru. Meals fixed at home also tend to be quick and easy. This is not to say that I don't cook ... it just tends to be in a crock pot or casserole dish.

A few nights ago was no exception. After running errands with the kids all afternoon, five o'clock came much sooner than I had anticipated. Reaching for something quick and easy, tuna salad sandwiches became dinner for the night. Kids plates were prepared, although there was no real hope of them actually consuming said food. However, the promise of a Little Debbie "heart cake" after dinner was on my side. Little Man refused to touch his sandwich, but surprisingly Diva actually ate a few bites from around the edges. That heart cake was sitting on the counter taunting her ... she really had no choice but to eat the tuna.

As we were finishing dinner, I hear:
"Momma, I like my sandwich ... next time can you put less skunk in it."
Huh? Surely I misunderstood that one?
"What baby?"
"Can you put less skunk in it? I don't like skunk."

I will admit to some "creative" cooking, especially early in my marriage. We have eaten dry chicken, crunchy rice and mushy pasta as I learned how to cook. There was an unfortunate incident when a can of jalapenos was mistaken for green chiles. However, I have never served skunk ... ill-prepared or otherwise!

Boogie Monster - Circa 2010

My children watch too much television. I admit this, am not particularly happy about it, and have thus far done nothing to change it. In light of a recent conversation, I just might have to change my stance. It was not about the brain cells lost by watching television, the lack of creativity because of it or the link to an increased risk of obesity and ADHD. It was about ... booger people.

Wanting to fit in with their peers, my kids have been sporting snotty noses for the past several weeks. I am fighting a loosing battle against snot in inappropriate places - sleeves, couches, my clothes, etc. After observing the offending material being placed on the furniture, I pulled Miss E aside for a discussion.

Our conversation went something like this:
Me: "Don't wipe boogers on the couch. Go get a tissue."
E: "Why?" (with finger firmly planted in nare)
Me: "Get your finger out of your nose! That's just gross!"
E: "But Momma, I have booger people in my nose. They are having a party."
Me: "What?"
E: "I have booger people. I trying to get them out."

Anyone else familiar with the Mucinex commericals? Clearly my four-year-old has a decent grasp of the concept.

Time Out ... Mommy Style

Help, I have a Diva ... and she's out of control!

Time out is a regular occurance in our home. Some days we stop there before making it to breakfast in the morning. If we can get through the morning without a visit, there is cause for celebration ... or the feeling that something must be horribly wrong with my Diva.

The rules are really quite simple:

• You must actually sit up in time out and remain in one spot.
• Your time begins when you are sitting quietly.
• If you begin screaming, your time will start over.
• After the timer goes off, you must go to the person that put you there and talk about why you ended up in time out.

Recently, Diva was on her way to that all to familiar place. As is usually the case, she felt the need to throw a fit and take off her clothes (not sure why those always seem to go together) before settling into time out. I reminded her of the rules and laid down on the couch to wait out the screaming.

Fastforward about an hour ...
I realize, looking at the clock, apparently I had fallen asleep. The house is remarkably intact, there is no screaming and I can hear both kids playing ... all good signs after an unintentional nap!

At this point, Diva (still sans clothes) comes up to me and says:
"Mommy I got out of time out when you were asleep."

Yeah, I got nothing!!! If Mommy falls asleep before you can make it to rule #2, it is kind of hard to continue on to #3 and #4.

Learning Your Place

In an effort to avoid two kids in diapers, I have begun an all-out campaign to potty train Little Man before our new arrival comes this spring. This has been done with much hesitation, as Diva took the better part of a year to master this task (no doubt, due in part to a particularly strong stubborn streak).

Hoping to shorten the time required this trip, there have been some changes to the process. We picked a day to start and began the countdown several days before. When the big day finally arrived, all diapers were removed from view and Little Man was told "Big boys don't wear diapers, they put pee-pee in the potty." Taking a cue from what worked with Diva, I then stripped him down and said pull-ups were only to be used outside of the house and at bedtime. That first day was a dream: no accidents, taking himself to the potty and a dry pull-up after a four hour outing.

That was the first day ... not to be confused with the second day.
Early the second morning, we were snuggled up on the couch watching cartoons. Pajamas for me and Little Man in his birthday suit. As a side note, this is the newest couch in the house that sits on a room-sized pottery barn rug ... you know that can't possibly end well!
Cozy on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket ... then the realization of something warm and wet on me. It takes a moment for it all to sink in. The still peeing child is tossed off of me and onto the rug (because it would be way too easy to just let him finish and then change my clothes!)

While cleaning up the mess (him, me, couch and rug), he discovers that the beloved geen bainket had been hit. Hysteria ensues. Big tears. "I pee-pee geen bainket." "Geen bainket nasty." Anger gives way to feeling sorry for my little guy. After being assured that geen bainket can be fixed, he begins to calm down.

I take this moment to do a bit of potty training reinforcement:
Me: "Where to big boys pee-pee?"
Little Man: "In da potty"
Me: "Where did you pee-pee?"
Little Man: "On Mommy"
Me: "Why did you pee-pee on Mommy?"
Little Man: "Because" with no hint of remorse
Me: "Do you think Mommy likes for you the pee-pee on her?"
Little Man: "Yeah" with a great big smile

It now occurs to me, he was absolutely crushed at the thought of peeing on his blanket, yet doing the same thing to Mommy made him smile.

No longer feeling sorry for him!!!!

Self Esteem Boost

Recently, there were several errands to be done. As is usually the case, I headed out with kids in tow. Tops on my list was heading to a local maternity store ... seems that the "normal" undergarments are a bit snug these days. You know it's time to upsize when the victoria's secret cotton undies serve the same function as a pair of spanx! I explained to an inquisitive Diva that we had to go the the "Mommy Store," which seemed to suffice.

As we entered the store, Diva asked if this was the "Mommy Store." I distractedly said yes and headed towards the back of the store. Several items were chosen and we made our way back to the register. While waiting in line, Diva noticed the dressing rooms across from the register and questioned their purpose and then why I was not trying anything on. Attempting to explain such things to a four-year-old is a waste of time, but the effort was put forth.

My beautiful baby girl's response:
She held up the undies, looked at them for a moment and proclaimed "These will fit you because they are big mommy panties?"

Nice baby, very nice.

Dressing for Dinner

Anyone that has ever let a toddler feed themself will completely understand. The best approach involves stripping them down to a diaper and concluding dinner with an immediate trip to the bathtub. We have used this approach with both of the kids, with the "mess" potential determining the level of clothing removal. As they got older, we could typically manage with just taking off a shirt.

As Diva has gotten older, I have been trying to break her of the habit. I have visions of my teenager sitting down in the cafeteria and removing her shirt to eat a cheese sandwich "because that's what we do at home." For the most part, excepting spaghetti and other such offenders, Diva stays fully clothed for dinner. Mission accomplished!!!

Fast-forward a bit:
Not too long ago, Diva's beloved Kiki came for dinner. If you are unaware, Kiki is my 21 year-old sister. She played with the kids until I announced dinner was ready. Without missing a beat, Diva turned to Kiki and said:
"Come on Kiki, lets take our shirts off so we can eat."

Um ... mission not quite accomplished. Guess we will keep working on that one!!!

Pop Goes the Diva

A little background information:

In our house, passing gas is referred to as "pops." When Diva was little, she was quite scared by the prospect of passing gas, especially if this act was to occur in the bathtub. In an effort to make it okay, we explained that this was just her booty's way of talking ... thus "pops." This worked great for a two-year-old, but she has not remained a two-year-old.

The fear has passed. In fact, the comfort level has gotten a little too high lately. In an effort to instill some semblance of manners in Diva, we have set up some rules. "Pops" are not allowed at the table, in front of company, etc. If possible, she is to go to her room to "pop." She is surprisingly compliant with this ... and as an added bonus, it is also funny to watch. In mid conversation, she will take off running saying "I have to go to my room to pop." We get the concept that some things shouldn't be done in public, but not quite that we should be discreet about such things. It is a work in progress.

Fast-forward to the first day of school:
All of the family piles in the car to see Diva off on the first day of school. Pictures are taken as she walks into the building and makes her way towards her classroom. Her classroom is at the bottom of the stairs. As she started down the stairs, she paused. There were lots of people in the hallway and she was clearly blocking the flow of traffic. In an effort to speed her up, I called her by name and then attempted to nudge her down the stairs. I should know better by now ...

Feet firmly planted, she glared back at me and said:
"Hold on Momma, I was popping!"

Wow, really ... did we just announce that in front of the entire school and assorted family members? And it was an announcement, as we only have one volume level for sharing "personal" information ... and it's just a hair shy of screaming.