Time Flies

Two years ago today, I gave birth to my youngest child. These days, she is walking (usually running) and talking (often shouting).

Just yesterday, I brought her home from the hospital. Just yesterday, it seems her umbilical stump fell off. Just yesterday, it feels like we were living in Brooklyn. Just yesterday, I rocked her to sleep and nursed her at 2am. Just yesterday, her lips curled into her first smile.

It all passed in a blink of an eye. I am so thankful for cameras and good memories. Otherwise, every step would seem to elude my ever-shrinking brain.

Happy Birthday Baby Girl! We love you!



As my mom cited yesterday, "The days are long, but the years fly by!"

So true.....

Yes, so true!

The Pick

I'm told that all kids do it and it's completely normal. In fact, one pediatrician has gone so far as to claim that kids NOT doing it is a sign of a developmental problem. I don't buy that assertion, but I don't plan on spending much time researching the subject. There are more important things in life to divert my attention. If you haven't guessed already, I'm talking about kids picking their nose.

Over the last couple of months, both of my children have entered the dreaded nose picking phase. It's really making me sick. When I'm not refereeing their ongoing altercations, I'm usually reprimanding one or the other to remove their index finger from their nose.

When I ask Valerie to use a tissue, she quickly moves her index finger from halfway up her nose to the inside of her mouth. Like that makes it any better. I have little doubt that soon after I turn around, that finger slips right back into her nostril.

When I ask Dagny to remove her finger from her nose, she runs to a corner with the expectation that I don't know what she's doing.

I can repeat myself over and over, but the fact that nose-picking is a disgusting habit is clearly not getting through to my children. I am not the only parent with this predicament. There are plenty of adults who never listened to their mothers and fathers and still pick their nose. I seem to pass these people in my car every day. Maybe it's just a habit people don't realize they have.

Unfortunately, the kids have started to perform this habit in public. We went to gymnastics class this afternoon. As we entered the premises, the owner smiled at me and Dagny in my arms. She quickly wrinkled her nose and turned away. I glanced at Dagny to find her finger halfway up her honker. I batted her hand away, reminding her that the habit was filthy. I found her a tissue which she batted away shouting, "I DON WANIT!" Apparently, her business was done.

Then, as Valerie participated in her gymnastics class, I noticed her moving her fingers quite often between her nose and her mouth. Honestly, I thought I was going to yak right then and there. Just thinking about it makes me a bit queasy. Being an extremely self-conscious child, I didn't want to embarrass her by admonishing her disgusting habit in front of others. So, I waited until we were in the car on our way home. She quietly listened and agreed that she shouldn't do it.

As we turned onto our street, Valerie shouted, "Mommy, DON'T pick your nose! That's GROSS!"

Monkey see, monkey do!

I swear, it was just a scratch.

Chad & Cathy

Dagny's been sick. I've been sick and Valerie is now fighting the illness. (The reason behind the lack of blog postings).

We're all sick and tired and hoping to be better by this weekend - just in time to celebrate Valerie & Dagny's birthdays!

We're really sick and tired of being sick. So, I broke down and let the kids watch a movie this afternoon. The request was for a partially animated film entitled Space Jam. As the movie introduced the characters, I thought I'd join in the fun by repeating the names of the Looney Tunes stars.

Me: Ooooo, there's Taz!
Valerie: No, that's CHAD, mommy.
Me: Oh, there's Daffy Duck!
Valerie: (with frustration in her voice) No, that's CATHIE DUCK, mom! You don't know ANY of this Looney Tunes stuff!
Pause
Valerie: Hey, there's Bugs Bunny!
Me: Yep, that is definitely Bugs Bunny.

Glad to know we can agree on one character.

If only she grew up with The Floppy Show like myself and many other Iowa Gen-Xers, she would be sure to know how much of an expert her mother really is on the subject on Looney Tunes.

Two Chickens

Tonight at dinner, we ate a Swanger family favorite - breaded chicken and mushrooms covered with melted muenster cheese. The girls ate quite well. During dinner, I almost choked from laughing as we discussed the chicken....

Me: This chicken is yummy, eh?
Valerie: Yes - it's yummy. Can you see I'm going a good job?
Me: Yep. So, what do chicken say?
Valerie: Bauk, bauk bauk!
Me: Where to chicken live?
Valerie: On the farm...
Me: What comes from chicken?
Valerie: Eggs!
Me: Good job! What do chicken eat?
Valerie: Hey, there are TWO chickens - there are animal chickens and chickens that you EAT!
Me: Well, it turns out-

And I was interrupted by Ken, who suggested we wait a little while longer before telling her these chickens are one and the same. It was all I could do, to keep from choking on my own mouth full of chicken!

Preschool Prank

Imagine dropping your almost 4 year old daughter off at school one morning to discover she has no teachers.

The children are running around chaotically on the playground with little supervision.

The director blocks your entrance into the classroom. You ask the director if everything is okay? She replies, "Everything is under control. There was a disagreement and the teachers have decided to leave. I have taken over the classroom until we figure out a solution."

You see through the classroom window, the teachers are crying and shaking visibly, packing their personal belongings.

You call the other parents to learn more. No one knows anything. You ask the other teachers. A few say they are unhappy and some intend to leave at the end of the school year too. Most say nothing.

You meet privately with the director for an hour to raise your concerns and help find a solution. You offer to assist in the classroom, but are rebuffed.

You go home, calm down and realize that it's April - only two months of school left anyway. Don't over react. These things happen in life and it's best to teach your children how to cope. She's going to a new school next year anyway.

The next day, you drop both kids off at preschool. The teachers from your 2 year old's class have been moved to replace the missing teachers from the 4 year old's class. So who's teaching the 2 year olds? You're told the younger kids will have substitute teachers for the rest of the year.

Realizing it's probably best to consider leaving the school, you call around to other schools. There are so many schools. You cannot visit each one, so you begin to interview them over the phone. When you ask one particular administrator about the teacher turnover rate, she states flatly, "We're not at liberty to discuss that." You hang up and move onto the next school.

Just when I thought life was in balance....

Is someone trying to pull a prank on me?

Taste Test

Remember that sickness causing Dagny to "toss her cookies" last Thursday? Well, that sickness turned out to be an ugly virus. It knocked me into bed Saturday night through today. I thought I was over it this morning....

At the break of day, I was determined to "buck-up" since Ken had to return to work. Despite intentions of a good attitude, there's more to fighting a virus than "bucking up". Of course, the kids are fine now and romping around the house in their usual energetic manner. Furthermore, there was no school today, due to a scheduled teacher development day. Just my luck!

After repeated requests, this afternoon I broke down and made cookies. As they were supposedly cooling, the official taste-testers, pictured below, took the samples right off the cookie sheets.



If the girls' dinner is ruined, you'll know why.

Tossing Cookies

It's amazing how the kids get sick, right on cue, every single time their daddy goes out of town. It's as predictable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

Tonight was open house at the girls' school. I should have known early in the evening a problem was brewing. No one ate dinner, except me. The kids cried during bath-time, howled while getting dressed, whimpered in the car and clung to me during open house.

As we were leaving the school function, Valerie begged for a cookie and I consented that each child could have one cookie. Valerie ate hers while walking to the car. Dagny just held onto hers as I carried her. As I buckled them into their respective car-seats, Valerie tried to weasel Dagny's cookie out of her hands, "Mommy, Dagny doesn't want her cookie. Can I have it?"

"No, let Dagny have a chance to eat it."

Dagny was conspicuously quiet during this exchange. If only I had paid attention to the nonverbal...

Listening to Valerie whine about "needing" another cookie, I managed to drive a mile and a half away from the school to hear Dagny grunt and upchuck the entire contents of her stomach all over herself, her car-seat and her jacket which had been thrown on the floor of the back seat. After that brief act, Dagny didn't make a peep.

Of course, I was concerned about my youngest child, but I could only think of my mother's knack for kids barfing in the back end of our family's station wagon growing up. As cool as a cat, tonight, I rolled down all the car windows to dilute the stench, stepped on the gas and told the girls that everything was going to be okay.

Meanwhile, Valerie shrieked, "Ewe... mommy, Dagny is disgusting! Mommy, it STINKS! Mommy, help me, Dagny is so GROSS. I can't sit back here anymore. Mommy, it stinks back here! Mommy.... EWE! I can't breathe!"

And then the kicker, "MOMMY, I DON'T WANT DAGNY'S COOKIE ANYMORE!"

Yeah honey, she tossed 'em!

A Love of Listening

Last weekend, in a moment of desperation to extinguish a tantrum, I pulled out the Frog and Toad CD audio collection from the growing stash of birthday presents and popped it into the stereo. Fifteen minutes later, the preschooler in question had conked out.

Since becoming a mother, my favorite activity is reading books to the kids before bed each night. I love relaxing with the kids, sharing the closeness and enjoying the quality time of this daily activity. Of late, I admit, our dedicated reading time has been less than relaxing - largely because the kids cannot agree upon any books. So, I offer to read one book of their choosing to each, independently. Yet, whoever's book isn't being read becomes disruptive, ruining the enjoyment of the other's story-time. So, my favorite daily activity has turned into something I dread.

I introduced the Frog and Toad CD audio collection on Saturday. Both children have pleaded for the "story" every night since. If they do not fall asleep after playing the CD the first time, I am beckoned to "play it again" forty-four minutes later. The second time works like a charm and they fall asleep like peaceful little angels.

Despite having started using audio-books, I am completely torn about using them. It's so EASY to use audio-books, yet I really enjoy reading to my children. If I'm feeling this torn about audio-books, how will I feel when they go off to college?

Walking downstairs this evening, I could hear Valerie's guttural giggle as she listened to Frog and Toad bickering over Toad wearing his swim trunks. I guess it's all worth it knowing that she still loves listening to a good book, whoever is reading the story.

Starring in a "Talkie"

It sure does stink when your sister rats on you, eh?

So, today the kids were fighting, like siblings do. Usually, I just let them go at it until screaming or tears develop. Most of the time, they just argue over the SAME toy which they eventually drop when one of them becomes attracted to some different knickknack. Then they both turn their attention to the alternative knickknack and fight over it. It's often the same fight, just with different toys.

Today, the truth came out.

Dagny started screaming. I rambled over to the battleground and casually asked, "What happened?"

Dagny, whipped her head around, showing a huge sad face (lower lip puffed out for the full effect), shouted, "Vaa-ree!" Pause "HIT!"

Busted...

Ashamed, Valerie's eyes grew wide, clearly incredulous that her nasty acts could be uttered aloud. "But... but... but, mommy she TOOK my...." blah blah blah. (I can't even recall the item of contention.)

Regardless of who was at fault for what infraction, I took away the toys and separated them for a few minutes.

The point is that Dagny won't be starring in any silent features anymore. She's a natural "talkie" star now!

No Talking!

This was a real conversation from 10 minutes ago.

Valerie: Are you laying there [meaning outside the cracked bedroom door]?
Me: Yes, I'm here.
Valerie: Okay, but there's NO TALKING!
Me: Then, don't ask me any questions....

And if I hadn't answered, would she have assumed I had sauntered downstairs? Absolutely, and a crying fit would have ensued.

Moving To and Fro

The kids are not huge TV watchers, but I broke down and took them to a Wiggles concert on Saturday evening.



Valerie has heard of the Wiggles. At her age, who hasn't right? But this was a first Wiggles experience ever for Dagny. Valerie warmed up to the excitement within about 15 minutes. Dagny seemed most attracted to the diehard beer-guzzling mom and grandma sitting next to us. Their children seemed comatose and less than interested in the Wiggles, but the mother-grandmother duo belted out each tot-tune at the top of their lungs and flailed their arms like monkeys at the zoo. Even I remember more details about our nearby rowdy neighbors than the Australian performers. I've never been to such a wild concert in my life - who knew the Wiggles could do this to people?

Anyway, from the moment we arrived, Valerie announced her intentions of purchasing some Wiggles paraphernalia. In the hopes of forgetting her desired Wiggles acquisition, I focused on the concert and promised something after the show. BIG MISTAKE! Kids don't forget. Why can't I seem to remember this little fact at important times like this?

We survived the show, only for Valerie to remind us of the Wiggles flashlight she so desperately needed. Of course, Dagny chimed in her need for a flashlight, also. So, what did I do? I broke down and purchased these:



I believe these were used in the car ride home. Since Saturday night, the insisted-upon $15-a-piece hunks-o-junk have been sitting in my kitchen.

I wonder if I could recoup any of the cash outlay if I sold them on ebay.

Please remind me of this incident the next time I take the kids to an event like this!

Reason to Love CA

More reasons to love sunny Southern California:

Kids can eat popsicles outside, ANY TIME OF YEAR!

Kids can play Play-doh outside, ANY TIME OF YEAR!

Kids can eat lunch outside, ANY TIME OF YEAR!

You can send your kids outside to play, ANY TIME OF YEAR!

All of this is possible, yet my house is no cleaner......

Need Some Lovin'

Last night, I went to my bookclub meeting. Ken served as the designated parent for the evening. I was having a very nice time chatting about The Poisonwood Bible with some girlfriends, until my cell phone began to chirp.

Uh oh! It could only be one person. Not because only one person knows my cell phone number, but because few people call me in the evening, and anyone trying to reach me would leave a message at home, my normal post for that time of day. It was my husband. For Ken to call me, I knew the problem had to be pretty bad. Apparently, Dagny would not go to bed. She screamed uncontrollably for "mommy" for over an hour before Ken broke down to interrupt my evening. Normally, my kids are good about going to bed and I'm happy to leave them a couple of evenings a month to enjoy some adult stimulation. While it's nice to be wanted, I admit it would have been nice to have finished my adult-only outing. Oh well, there would be another bookclub meeting next month....

I arrived home to discover Dagny had finally passed out! No big deal, Ken and I had the time to watch one of our favorite shows, Survivor Palau. Afterwards, I checked and kissed the kids, we went to bed and everyone, as usual, slept peacefully through the night.

At 6:45 this morning, my door opened and closed. I heard little footsteps nearing my side of the bed. A little voice whispered, "MOMMY!" and I saw the shadow of little arms reaching up. Remembering the prior evening, I smiled and reached down to pick up Dagny. I lifted her to the bed. She laid on my chest, as though she were a newborn. We snuggled. I don't remember how long we cuddled, but neither of us moved an inch. We just enjoyed resting together, breathing slowly. She may have drifted off, but I laid on the bed with my eyes closed while wide awake, cherishing the moment.

Chinese Food & A Taco

Having scheduled a play date today, I knew I wouldn't be able to prepare dinner in a timely way. So, much to the kids delight, we ordered Chinese take-out.

While eating...

VV: I LOVE Chinese food! My favorite is this (pointing)!
Me: Yep, Mongolian beef is pretty tasty and you're doing a great job eating, honey.
VV: (chewing) Mommy, the taco is almost in my tummy.
Me: The taco? What taco? Where did you get a taco? I thought we were having Chinese food tonight.
VV: (Pointing to her mouth) My taco's in my mouth! (Duh, mom!)
Me: But we're having Chinese food! Tacos are Mexican food, silly goose! We didn't order take-out Mexican tonight.
VV: (Surprised by her error) Oh right... it's Mongoloid beef. I LIKE IT!
Me: Yep, Mongoloid beef sure is tasty.

It was enough to realize we weren't eating tacos or Mexican food, tonight. I'll wait on the proper pronunciations of the food as soon as we're sure that tacos aren't included with our Chinese take-out.

If we have tacos tomorrow night, do you think it will REALLY confuse things?

Shirtless Tomboy

I grew up on Ashby Avenue in Des Moines, Iowa. I lived on a great street for kids. There were kids of all ages in this neighborhood. On summer evenings, we often headed outside for a good game of kick the can. Actually, we played plenty of other games, but kick the can was most memorable.

I recall one time, I decided to be a tomboy and hang out with my older brother and his buddies. It was one of those famous midwestern muggy summer evenings. The buzz of cicadas was deafening. The boys took their shirts off and so did I. Being about seven years old, I didn't think anything of it, until my best friend informed me that girls are supposed to wear shirts. Of course, I marched straight to my mother indigniant that my friend was mistaken.

Me: Mo-om! Janney said that I have to wear my shirt!
My mom: Well, why did you take it off?
Me: Cuz Jason & Mike & Tim did.
My mom: Technically, girls should wear their shirts. But, since you don't have anything to show at this point, do whatever you want. In a few years, you might change your mind.

Satisfied with such an answer, I found my best friend and haughtily inform her that, "My mo-om said the I didn't have to we-ar my shirt! So, there!" I don't remember Janet's reaction, but I'm sure she wasn't pleased with my snotty response. Fortunately, we overcame that incident and have remained friend to this day!

Today, Dagny helped me recall this memory from the depths of my shriveling brain.

On March 6th, I posted a blog entry entitled "The Most Natural of States" explaining how my children can find any excuse to run around in their birthday suits.

Halfway through hosting a playdate today, Dags decided she didn't want to wear her shirt anymore. That was it, she was DONE with the shirt for the DAY. She wore her socks and shoes and allowed her little toddler tummy to pour over her diaper and leggings like a middle-aged grey-haired man with a beer-gut hanging over his suit pants and taking up too much space in the elevator.

The other kids wore their clothes or dress-up apparel. My topless tomboy daughter just ran around the backyard checking out bugs, riding her big wheel and collecting rocks.

Well, it's not like she has anything to show, yet. Maybe in a few years she'll change her mind. Every day, I sound more and more like my own mom.

Judgement Day

I'm to the point in life where I can lump the subject of motherhood with the controversial topics of relgion and politics. Generally, when people talk about such subjects, everyone seems to have a righteous opinion.

At some point in friendships, the question arises, "What religion are you?" Many people are pretty even keeled and open to differing points of view, but I always feel awkward around those that think I should believe abc or should not believe xyz. Encounters with faithful evangelists who hope to convert the average sinner are just as uncomfortable as brushes with atheists who ridicule the inferior. Most of us fall-out somewhere in the middle and don't want to be judged for the way we live our lives.

So far, motherhood is quite similar. Everyone has an opinion, beginning with pregnancy: You gained HOW much weight? In my time, blah blah blah. Bedrest? Oh, you're just a wimp. When your baby is born, the advice and judgements triple: Put him in his OWN crib! Children are better adjusted if you co-sleep! Ewe, you're using FORMULA? Brestfeeding is just so, you know.... dirty! You know, parents really SHOULD stay home with their babies. What a WASTE your education was, eh? Turning to the toddler years, the opinions multiply: She's STILL wearing diapers? I wouldn't put up with behavior like that. You don't take her to music class? I believe children these days need more downtime.

Moms are all different. We don't have to agree on what is best, but I believe each of us thinks we are doing what's best for our own children. You don't live in my house and I don't live in your house, so why do we judge each other and tell each other what to do? Apparently, that's the nature of being a mom - everyone is an expert!

Why do I bring this up? Well, I am part of an organization called Mothers and More. This is a national non-profit organization which offers support to mothers. The main purpose is to support mothers transitioning in and out of the workforce and to help moms find more balance in their lives. In my local chapter I have met some really great women who have extremely interesting backgrounds. Living in a new area without a lot of friends and family and having been a part of four different mothers groups, this group has become my refuge.

I volunteered to be the project manager of the 2005 national Mother's Day Campaign. This year's campaign relates to the time mothers spend performing caregiving work. Part of this campaign includes a blog of fifteen women who have agreed to write about their unique stories of motherhood and the time it takes to care for their families.

Today, the Mothers and More blog received an accusatory comment that the blogger participants should be "ashamed of themselves for whining and not enjoying the little (sometimes unpleasant) things of motherhood.... Stop whining about being 'taken for granted' by your husbands and children and start ENJOYING them!!"

It's comments like these that are judgemental and devisive among mothers and do no one any good. The purpose of Mothers & More and the M&M Campaign blog is to bring awareness to the general public about issues affecting ALL mothers and for mothers to share their feelings - good or bad.

Some moms think motherhood is as romantic as they imagined. Some mothers have more positive feelings than negative feelings about motherhood. For some, motherhood is disappointing or frustrating. For those that need help coping or that feel isolated, Mothers and More is a great support organization. Whether feelings are positive or negative, all of it is a reality and it doesn't make any of our feelings right or wrong.

The point of the blog is for moms to share their TRUE feelings. If we ONLY focus on the positive, would that get us anywhere? Or would we feel that our negative feelings are wrong? I think the shame accuser is still on her path to discovering the ups and downs of motherhood. She's not wrong in that moms should appreciate their children and spouses. But, she is wrong to assume that other moms take their kids and husbands for granted and that we SHOULD be ashamed for how we feel when we do lament about a particularly tough day.

Why write about this on a blog about my children? Because children (hopefully not mine) are affected by the unrequested advice and caustic judgements friends and family make. Kids always hear the comments. Arrogant opinions cause parents to feel inadequate and kids become the victims. Young children idolize their parents. Kids also feel a sense of shame when their parents feel deficient. Unsolicited judgements really do no one any good, when we're all trying to do what we think is best. Perhaps opinionators are hoping to validate their own actions with their harsh judgements, but it's hard to consider such a possibility when mothers are perpetually seen as flawed.

So, please - you worry about your house and I'll worry about mine!

To Swing or Not to Swing

With VV at school, Dagny and I were scheduled to enjoy the morning together. My plan was to quickly complete four errands and then do something fun.

Driving to the first errand, I mistakenly drove past a park with a swing. Dagny exclaimed and pointed, "Swing, swing, swing!" I respectfully responded that we just have four errands to run. If she were a good helper, then we can go to the park. In all fairness to her, I understand her inability to comprehend the meaning of four errands. When she sees a swing, she wants to swing NOW!

The first meltdown occurred in the parking lot at the first errand. It wasn't too bad, I distracted her with cereal and water.

Off to the second errand. Upon arrival, Dagny endured the second meltdown. This one, I could not moderate so well. She ran wildly around the parking lot in search of a swing. Afraid a car would hit her, I chased her for a long, distressing moment. Somehow, I don't know how, I finished the second errand, stuffed her into the carseat and vowed to never visit this locale again. Thank goodness Los Angeles is a BIG, sprawling city!

And, thank goodness we have a navigation system. I quickly searched for the nearest recreational park. It was only 10 minutes away! What would I have done without the navigation system? I don't care to know. I was desperate.

Arriving at the park, we immediately darted over to the swings. And that's where we stayed.

Me: (After a few minutes) Dagny, do you want to ride on the rocking horse?

Dags: No

Me: The lion?

Dags: No

Me: The seal?

Dags: No

Me: Do you want to swing some more?

Dags: Yeah

Me: (Letting a few more moments pass) Do you want to try the slide?

Dags: No

Me: Do you want to stay on the swing?

Dags: Yeah

For ten minutes I pushed her on the swing. At first, I tried to enjoy it. I mean, I SHOULD enjoy taking my daughter to the park and pushing her on the swing. It's not like she'll want to spend any time with me in ten or twelve years, right? So, I should enjoy this now!

But, I couldn't. I thought about the next two errands on my agenda and if I could complete them today. I thought about the next 75 minutes between now and when we had to pick up Valerie from school. I thought about when I might get to take a shower. I thought about the mess in my kitchen, hoping for the time to clean it before Ken arrives home. I thought about what I could make for lunch and dinner. I thought of all the things I SHOULD be doing instead of pushing Dagny on the swing. Then, I felt guilty for NOT enjoying the park time with my youngest child.

After ten minutes, I coaxed Dagny into the car promising that she could hold the cards at the Hallmark store, our next stop. Her stellar behavior allowed me to complete the remaining errands on today's agenda.

For a 2 year old, she's pretty flexible. It's mommy who needs to be more amenable to changing the plan and enjoying the moment.

Honestly, my kids are the best teachers I've ever had! Hopefully tomorrow I'll be a better student...

But, if any car manufacturers can create a switch that could block out parks and swings from being viewed from the backseat, I'd be forever grateful.

Suddenly Immobile

When dropping off Valerie at school today, I looked down to discover I had gained 55 pounds - 25 on my right, 30 on my left. Both girls were holding onto my legs for dear life. I tried to move, but quickly stopped, realizing that if I did move, all three of us would tumble to the ground. I was suddenly immobile.

Fortunately, we were not running late this morning. So, I conversed with VV's teachers hoping each child would release their grip. I joked aloud that, "Yes, there may come a time when I'll miss my children anchoring themselves to my legs!"

So we just stood there and I smiled.

"I win!"

Somehow, we have started a new bedtime routine in our house. I can't blame Valerie, Ken or even myself. The culprit is Dagny. She has started to wander from her bed, just moments after we kiss her good night and declare the day is done, see you tomorrow.

I discovered her hollering, "mommy" at the top of the stairs no fewer than five times last night. Each time, I thought it HAD to be the last wandering moment.

We knew this was bound to happen. Escaping from her crib at 19 months, we quickly moved Dagny to a twin bed nearly five months ago to reduce the liklihood of a broken limb. We knew nightly wanderings were bound to happen, yet we were still unprepared. We've dealt with nightly wanderings with Valerie, but were still unprepared for Dagny's penchant for wandering.

Why? I'm guessing it's because each child is different and broad parenting styles and discipline cannot be applied as a one-size-fits-all to individual kids. What worked for Valerie clearly does not always work for Dagny. They may have similar genes and come from the exact same parents, but could they BE more different? If we had a third child, would he or she come out somewhere in-between?

About the third time I found Dagny wandering in the hallway, I firmly declared, "Do you want to sleep in a different bed in another room or go back to your own bed?"

Getting a running start, Dagny shouted back to me, "I go bed!"

As she reached the end of the hall and entered her bedroom door, she exclaimed, "I win!"

Okay, kid, you won this round, but get back to bed!

On Being a Mom

This afternoon VV and I shared a sweet conversation.

While sitting on my lap, I asked her, "Do you know that mommy and daddy love you?"

VV: "Yes. Do you remember when I was in your tummy and I couldn't see you and then I came out of your tummy and I still couldn't see you?"

Me: (thinking, Of course, I remember. Do YOU really remember that?) "Do you think I'm an okay mommy?" (You see, at home moms lacking a sense of accomplishment and periodic performance reviews, need a stroke here and there. I guess we are used to constant criticism - it's too hot, it's too cold, that's ugly, ewe, I don't like it, that's too much, there's not enough, you forgot to xyz. Consequently, we prod for positive compliments when an opportunity presents itself!)

VV: "Yeah, especially when you make me dinner." (So, why don't you usually eat it?)

Me: "Do you want to be a mommy when you grow up?"

VV: "Yep, I'm going to be a mommy too when I get big!"

Me: "I think you'll be a good mommy because you are a good teacher and you share with your little sister."

VV: "When I'm a mommy, I'm going to make dinner every night!"

Me: "What do you think the best part of being a mommy is?"

VV: "Making dinner! I love it when you make dinner."

Me: "Sometimes you don't eat my dinner."

VV: "That's because I eat my own dinner, not yours!"

Me: "What's your favorite thing for dinner?"

VV: "Salad! I love salad and feta cheese and walnuts!"

Me: "So, are you going to eat salad tonight?"

VV: "Maybe. Can I have some trailmix, now?"

In retrospect she was just buttering me up! I should have caught the ulterior motive. FYI, I let her have the snack anyway - dinner is yet 2 hours away.

Once in a Lifetime - Fatigue!

At the breakfast table this morning:

VV sighed, "I'm tired."

Dagny, chewing her cereal, happily sympathized, "I tired, too!"

VV, looking rather disgusted, "No, you CAN'T be tired! Only ONE kid can be tired at a time!"

With a global population of 6.3 billion, fatigue would be an affliction affecting very few people just once in their lifetime, assuming VV's statement were possible. What a happier world we would live in if each of us could be tired, only one person at a time. There would be fewer tantrums, fewer traffic accidents, fewer arguments, etc.

Really, imagine a world where only once person is tired at a time. What a world it would be!

Mudge

Last night at bathtime:

VV: Mommy, does Dagny have mudge?
Me: I don't know. What is mudge?
VV: You know... MUDGE. Does she have it?
Me: If you can tell me what mudge is, I can tell you if Dagny has it. So, what is mudge?
VV: I don't know, either.