Protecting the Gift

Having grown up in a fairly safe environment in Iowa, as a young adult I was unaware the degree to which nefarious people inhabit this earth. It took living in New York City along with my midwestern cognitive education to become acquainted with what atrocious crimes people are capable and willing to commit against humanity. Maybe it's to a fault, but I have learned to trust my instincts when I encounter questionable circumstances. Furthermore, now that I am a mother, my first and foremost purpose in life is to protect my children from harm's way. My own mother describes me as a mama bear protecting her cubs.

I try to be extra aware of my surroundings when we are out and about town (which is usually daily unless there is an illness), especially when with the kids. At the grocery store today, a homeless-looking woman snuck up behind me as I pulled Dagny out of her car-seat. She asked me for five dollars. My immediate reaction was, "No! I don't carry cash with me." And I quickly walked to the entrance of the grocery store. Maybe my internal alarm bells rang because I am out of practice encountering those with mental and physical problems openly on the street in my current neighborhood. Perhaps, I just don't like to have strangers approach me quickly and quietly from behind. Either way, my instinct was to get my child to a safe place immediately.

As I paid for our groceries, the cashier asked if I needed assistance loading the car. I hesitated but declined; however, I mentioned the panhandler situation to her. I exited the store, searched the parking lot for the begging woman and noticed that she was two rows away. In my head, I had plenty of time to dump the groceries in the back end of the car, plop Dagny in her car-seat and get myself buckled into the car and the car doors locked before the woman could approach us again. That plan turned out to be overly optimistic. Before I could throw two grocery bags into the back of the car, the panhandler quickly darted our way. This time, without hesitation, I closed the car, grabbed the grocery cart with Dagny still sitting there and headed for the entrance of the store.

As I rushed back into the store to ask for assistance loading my car, I wondering why I was so alarmed. I imagined that this unknown panhandler would pull out a concealed weapon and threaten my daughter. Perhaps I have seen too many Hollywood action flicks. My fear could have been entirely irrational, but I was not willing to take a chance. Most likely, if I were on a solo trip to the grocery store, I would have felt no anxiety and only considered it odd that someone was begging for money at the grocery store for the first time in two years.

At the time, I felt bad about my reaction to this woman. Clearly, she needed help due to her mental and physical state. I feel bad about the way I treated her, but I surely don't feel bad about my decision to protect my child. In fact, if the same situation arises tomorrow, I will react similarly.

Recently, a friend told me that she had been molested by her grandfather during her childhood. When she told her parents, they chose not to believe her. I want to be a parent who protects my children from ALL harmful situations. I want to be a parent who is an advocate for my children and possible future grandchildren. I think in order to successfully protect my offspring, I will need to trust my instincts and believe what my children tell me. If I do not listen to my kids, who will?

One of the major atrocities of this country is that the government and American adult voters continue to cut funding for youth programs in favor of the elderly. I wish more parents and grandparents would stand up and vote for the future instead of short-term solutions for selfish gain. My childhood was a wonderful time. I would like my children to have an opportunity to have a better life than I have had. If parents and grandparents worried less about what their "due" is and focused more on the potential for the future, our world would be a much better place. Why not try to leave this world a better one than when you entered it?

Dinner Commentator

I try for an average dinner plate in our home to resemble the new and improved food pyramid. I agree, it's not perfect, but I try to include protein, vegetables, dairy and a grain.

Of late, a food moderator has joined the family dinner table.

If Dagny notices that someone finishes his/her serving of a food group, she will be the first to point and joyfully announce, "Done, done, done, done, done, done, done, done."

If one is in the middle of a conversation and does not properly acknowledge the moderator, said moderator, increases the volume of her voice, "DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE!!" until someone responds, "Yes, I have finished my vegetables."

So, we continue with the meal, until the next food group on a fellow dinner companion's plate disappears, "Done, done done done done done done done."

"Yes Dagny, Valerie finished her macaroni and cheese. Are you finished?"

"No."

"Okay, eat some more of your vegetables!"

Eventually, either Ken or I will finish our dinner plates, "Done done done done done done done. DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE!"

"Yes Dagny, Daddy finished his dinner. Are you finished?"

"No."

"Okay, let's see if you will be part of the clean plate club tonight."

And the meal continues until Dagny finds another opportunity to point and shout, "Done done done done done done done. DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE."

Please do not be surprised if Ken and I begin to respond with one word answers in your future presence.

Stand By Me

This morning I overheard Valerie asking, "Dagny are you going poopy?"

Dagny replied, "Yeah."

Valerie nicely inquired, "Then do you want me to stand next to you until you're done?"

Dagny, "Yeah."

And I thought of the lyrics to Ben E. King's song:

When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we see
No, I won't be afraid
Oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand
Stand by me, so

*Darling darling stand by me
Oh, stand by me
Oh stand, stand by me, stand by me
If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
Ot the mountain
Should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry
No, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand
Stand by me, and
(Repeat * 2 times)

Whenever you're in trouble
Won't you stand by me, oh stand by me

Elmo's Coloring Book

Proof that we attended Sesame Street Live in the morning.....



Valerie termed the event as "The Elmo Concert"

Dagny termed the event as "Elmo's World"

They each opted to purchase a $12 Zoe doll to commemorate the concert. Fortunately, the Zoe doll appears to have made it into the ranks of a "useful" toy, instead of being cast aside like the Wiggles flashlights purchased a month or so ago!

Human Car Wash

An enjoyable activity to start out the long weekend....

I do it!

This is Dagny's favorite phrase, of late.

Do you want help eating that yogurt?

No, I do it!

Can I buckle you into your carseat?

No, I do it!

Want some cereal?

No, I do it!

How about I help clean up the dripping ice cream from your mouth, hands, shirt and floor.

No, I do it!

Do you need help putting on your shoes?

No, I do it!

But, you are putting the wrong shoe on the wrong foot, honey.

I do it!

Okay, you do it. But, if you need help holler.

I do it!

You did a great job putting the wrong shoe on the wrong foot. You need to switch the shoes to the opposite foot.

I do it!

(Pause) AUAUAUAUAUAUEEEEEEEEEEE! HEP HEP HEP!

Do you want to switch the shoes to the correct foot?

Yeah! I DO IT!

Okay, whatever.... you do it.

and finally, the shoes made it onto the correct foot!

And I imagine a Nike commercial for tot shoes.....

A Bug

Anything that remotely resembles an insect receives the following treatment from Dagny:

She starts by running to find mommy or daddy. Then she points and shouts, "A bug, a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug."

She pauses for a breath allowing a parent to interject, "Where is the bug Dagny?"

Running toward the object, she continues, "Over dar. A bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a but a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug."

Gulp of air.

"A bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug."

Arriving at the offensive substance, one might conclude, "Oh, that's not a bug Dagny, that is a smashed raisin" or "Oh that's not a bug, it's a dried up leaf."

Nevertheless, she will glance sideways, point and shout, "EWEWEWEWEWEWEWE, a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug."

So, it's best to just agree and say, "Yep that's a bug."

To which, Dagny will mostly likely respond, "EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWE, a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug....."

Rock 'n Roll

In the car on the way to school today, we tuned into Jack FM.

I can't tell you what song was playing, but Valerie excitedly declared, "Miss Anne played this song for us at school!"

Explaining further, "Mommy, it's called Rock 'n Roll!"

Oh, so THAT'S what this song is!

"And I'm going to play the guitar when I grow up!"

Okay.... we'll take one step at a time here..... cross our fingers and hope for the best, eh?

Magic Mountain

Today, we went to Magic Mountain. The kids had a blast! Here are some photos....

That's my speed: the carousel!



High in the sky



Showing off the loot....

Where goats go?

Yesterday, Dagny and I visited our millionth preschool within a five mile radius. At this particular school, the children are lucky enough to play in a yard next to two goats.

As we finished the visit and attempted to say good-bye to the preschool director, Dagny asked, "Where goats go?"

Honey, they are sleeping. Again, thank you Mrs. X for your time, today.

Where goats go?

They are sleeping. Could I trouble you to get the paperwork necessary to enroll my daughter in your school?

Where goats to?

They are still sleeping, Dagny. Well, we better be on our way. Thanks again, Mrs. X for your time.

Where goats go?

They are STILL sleeping. We need to go pick up your sister. Let's go to the car.

Where goats go?

Sleeping. Can you get into the car?

Where goats go?

Do you want a snack?

Where goat go?

SLEEPING. Do you want some water?

Where goats go?

What do you want for lunch?

Where goats go?

They are sleeping, my dear. Do you want to listen to the radio or to your CD?

Where goats go?

She asked no less than 20 more times, "Where goats go?" Finally, we arrived at Valerie's school to pick her up.

(Again) Where goats go?

THE GOATS ARE SLEEPING. Now, let's go get Valerie.

(Asking Valerie's teacher) Where goats go?

The teacher replied, "The goats are on the farm!"

Oh.... okay. I hungry!

(Duh... like I should have known that was the response she needed!)

Practice Makes Perfect

Getting ready for the bath tonight, Valerie said "Mommy, I need to take ALL of my barbies in the bathtub with me so that I can practice being a mommy. Is that okay?"

How could I say no? So, I spent ten minutes squirting out the water from each of the six barbies and independently dried them off. If I were not so meticulous, the barbies would have soaked the bedding since the barbies also must accompany Valerie to bed.

And if the bedding at been soaked, all HELL would have broken loose up there tonight!

Missing Daddy

In anticipation of daddy going on a business trip today, we went through a production of good-bye hugs and good-bye kisses. We assured daddy that we would talk to him on the telephone and blow him plenty of kisses during his absence.

This morning, I awoke anticipating a normal day of chaos prior to getting the kids fed and dressed before school started. Instead of being greeted with happy smiles and good morning cheer as I enter the girls' bedroom, both girls look a little sad, smiles turned down, lower lip puffed out, and shoulders slumped.

Dagny questioned, "Where daddy go? I want daddy."

Valerie announces, "I want daddy too. Is he already on an airplane?"

So, for the most part the girls mope around here in the hopes that daddy's trip will be canceled and he will appear for dinner.

Of course, the moment daddy returns from his trip and walks through the door with open arms, the girls will bashfully smile and quickly hug him, Then, they will say, "I want mommy."

And daddy will never know how much he was truly missed.

Little People

Dagny was enmeshed in Fisher Price Little People.



The way these toys look has changed, for better or worse, over the last twenty-five or thirty years. But, the joy of these toys clearly transcends generations. For the love of Fisher Price Little People, I had to take this picture. It reminds me of the hours and hours that my sister and I dedicated to building Little People towns and acting out real life situations. A part of me wishes I could sit down and play also, but I fear my ability for pretend play has been significantly diminished over the years.

Long Live Fisher Price Little People!

Bumper Cars

This evening, the family opted to attend a nearby carnival. It was one of those church fundraisers with booths for food and games in addition to rides and music. The rides were absolutely a hit for both kids. Of the two rides that Dagny was able to board, she screamed through the first one. It was all I could do to prevent her from leaping to the ground while holding onto our little car to limit our spinning in circles. Meanwhile, Valerie giggled and shrieked in pure enjoyment. However, at the end of the ride, I asked Dagny if she liked the ride and she assuredly announced, "Yeah! Again! Again!"

At the end of our short-lived carnival visit (my fault, I lost $10 worth of tickets), Valerie proclaimed her desire to ride the bumper cars. Ken and I agreed to let her try. Secretly, each of us expected our shy eldest child to talk a big game but would fall to pieces when the wish became a reality.

To our surprise, our little pistol marched up the stairs, confidently handed her four tickets to the operator, thoughtfully, yet quickly picked her favorite car, buckled herself up and listened to the instructions. The ride began and she just did it. Right before our eyes, our daughter transformed into this courageous kid! Of course, she spun that machine into a tangled mess several times, but she conducted herself like a perfect champ!



It was a truly proud moment for Ken and me, but more importantly, for Valerie herself!

Turning Five

Tonight we took the kids to gymnastics. The employees at this particular gymnastics enterprise offer an evening of Parents Night Out once a month for a nominal fee. The gymnastics teachers keep the children busy with various activities while the parents enjoy a few hours of child-free conversation.

Ken and I chose to spend our child-free few hours going to dinner with some friends. At the end of the night, we picked up Valerie and Dagny and thanked the babysitters. As we bid them good-bye, I mentioned that we would return tomorrow for a birthday party.

We closed the establishment's door and headed to our car. With excitement in her voice and eyes shining like stars, Valerie exclaimed, "Tomorrow is my birthday? Then, I'm turning FIVE!" She really believed she was turning five tomorrow.

It was tough to squelch her excitement, but I reminded her that no, her friend Alexa's birthday party was tomorrow.

Only 357 more days until Valerie turns five! It will be here before you know it!

Juice From the Sink

A real conversation witnessed just moments ago:

Valerie: Hey Dagny, do you want some juice?
Dagny: Yeah!
Valerie: Okay, the next time you get some water, it's called juice from the sink!

Go figure.....

The Beast

This evening we watched part of Disney's Beauty and the Beast. The following recaps my conversation with Valerie:

Valerie: Why is the beast so mean?
Me: He's lonely.
Valerie: Why is he lonely?
Me: No one loves him.

Pause

Me: Did you know that daddy used to be a beast? (kidding)
Valerie: Was he mean?
Me: Yes, he was a mean beast.
Valerie: Was he lonely?
Me: Yes, he was lonely. Then, he met me and fell in love and he became nice.
Valerie: Mommy, were you a princess?
Me: Sure, a princess from Iowa. And you are a princess from California.
Valerie: When daddy was a beast, where did he put you?
Me: Well, he didn't really put me anywhere. These days princesses can go wherever they want.
Valerie: Will a mean beast love me?
Me: Anything it possible. But it's doubtful if your daddy has anything to do with it....

Positive Peer Pressure

Today, Valerie had a play-date with a friend, Stephanie, from school at our house.

Stephanie ate dinner with us this evening prior to her mother coming to pick her up. I dished out the chicken flautas, vegetables and salad. As I put the salad on Stephanie's plate, she announced, "I don't like carrots! I am not going to eat them!"

There was no need for me to respond, because Valerie quickly interjected, "I LOVE carrots! I'm going to eat mine!"

Pensively, Stephanie agreed, "I guess I'll eat my carrots, too."

If that kind of positive peer pressure could transcend the next fifteen years, I think my job as a parent will dramatically improve!

Resisting Rest

I put the girls down for a nap at their usual time after lunch. They both resisted, as usual. By 2pm, Valerie made an appearance, announcing that she was no longer tired.

Knowing that she had originally awoken at 5:17am, returned to a restless sleep, and started her day by 6:52am, she needed a nap before her scheduled play-date arrived. I coaxed her into my bedroom. We flipped on some awful cartoons that caught her fancy and laid together on the bed, hand-in-hand. Within five minutes, she entered the sleep zone.

At 2:23pm, I heard a startled Dagny crying through the bedroom monitor and quickly jumped to quiet her without waking Valerie. Dagny happily climbed into my arms and laid her head on my shoulder, in her usual way. We moved to the rocking couch in the family room and cuddled. Shortly thereafter, I recognized the slow deep breathing. Dagny fell asleep again, right on my lap. For the first few minutes, we rocked together and I enjoyed the quiet mind-numbing time of doing nothing. Ten minutes into Dagny's nap on my lap routine, I was fidgeting and ready to be productive. It took me awhile to ignore my antsy attitude and enjoy the moment.

Dagny napped on my chest and lap, curled into a little ball for about 50 minutes. She smelled like sugar-water. She looked so peaceful. Her sweaty head pressed against my cheek. The only sounds I heard were Dagny's long, steady breathes and the chirping birds outside the window. And I wondered, "Will my baby ever cuddle like this with me again? I just hope this isn't the last time."

I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

A Typical Tantrum

I realize it's hard to be two years old. There are so many activities, so many demands on your time, so little control, so few words to express all the frustrations in the world.

Maybe it was the rain that ticked off little two-year-old Dagny this morning.

Maybe she had little interest in accompanying me to the post office.

Or maybe she was just plain tired.

Dagny, I informed you of the necessary post office stop in advance. But the choice was clear: either put on your shoes and come with me into the post office or stay in the car. The option was entirely yours. I avoided dragging you to five or six necessary errands that required completion today. I only took you to the post office and it was the beginning of a VERY difficult day.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

But remember, no shirt, no shoes, no service. Going forward, if you don't wear your shoes, you will have to stay in the car. And hopefully, the nice policeman will understand my parental predicament and refrain from turning me into family services.

So, if good old' mom suddenly disappears from your good life, please remember that I was only doing what I thought was right.

THAT Was NOT Chocolate!

A while back, I posted a story about Dagny walking around the house with a piece of chocolate that may or may not have been ingested. ("Don't Mess With A Girl & Her Chocolate" posted March 21, 2005). I can report thus far that I have not come across the chocolate in question and can quite confidently conclude that it was, in fact, eaten.

This morning, I wish I had discovered that piece of chocolate. Instead, I found something entirely different.

My view is that Dagny is not quite ready to independently interpret her bowel and bladder functions. Conversely, she seems to believe she is ready to survive without diapers. Perhaps, she even dreams about the day when she will graduate to the exciting world of character-featured panties.

This morning, as Ken and I read the paper and drank our coffee, Dagny desired to run around the kitchen disrobed and diaper-free. For kicks, I brought her little potty into the kitchen and explained how it works. I even demonstrated the potty process with her new potty training baby doll. She spent most of the time, ascending and descending her personal potty, while glancing at her new baby sitting on it's potty.

As I engrossed myself into the one article I was given the opportunity to read, Dagny disappeared from the kitchen. I quickly finished the article and discovered her in the messy toy room. When I explained that if she leaves the kitchen, she MUST wear a diaper. Dagny exclaimed, "I poopy!" And I thought, okay, let's quickly get you into a diaper! Little did I know what she really meant.

A while later (I guess a passage of about 30 minutes), I decided to start some laundry. Entering the laundry room (which neighbors the toy room), the stench tickling my nose nearly knocked me off my feet. No wonder, neither of my children could be found in the toy room. Among the toy-covered floor, I found a few turds.

I regret sending Ken to the YMCA for some pick-up basketball. Despite having cleaned it up, please hurry back!

This will certainly be a memorable Mother's Day!

Hitting

Dagny's worst habit is hitting. We know where she learned it; her sister is the responsible party. It's to the point of being entirely out of control. We punish her with time outs. We act overly dramatic at feeling hurt when she strikes. We even insist that she apologize and kiss the victim's boo-boo. Nothing seems to reduce her need to strike.

Tonight, as we romped around the family room playing a friendly game of tickling and wrestling (a game otherwise known as grab-ass in my family), Dagny whopped me good, right above the brow. I stopped and asked her, "What do you say?"

She smiled and responded, "Der ya go."

Alarmed, I thought, "What, you hit me and your response is, there you go? What kind of a child am I raising?" So I changed my tactic, "No Dagny, you HIT me. It HURTS. Ouweeee! What do you say?"

"Sorry!" And she leaned over to hug and kiss me, quite sincerely.

Kenny, watching the game on the couch, giggled quite conspicuously. It really was incredulous that our child could respond with a "There you go" after hitting. Like it was all in good fun!

Fondly Four

If the last few months is any sort of indicator of what age four is like, I'm very much in favor of this age. Age four is undeniably divine.

Conversations can be light, yet meaningful. Or discussions can delve deeper than thought possible with the interminable inquiry of "why"?

"No" is often received as an acceptable answer.

The potty is nearly an entirely independent endeavor.

Amusements become an extended individual activity.

Organizing play-dates with friends becomes an enjoyable experience for the parents, as well as the children. Children can finally understand the concept of "taking turns". (Note this idea does not work as well with siblings.)

Getting dressed no longer requires trying on fifteen outfits prior to finding the "perfect" ensemble.

There is often a meeting of the minds when it comes to behaving badly.

The thought of being mommy or daddy's "little helper" is about as exciting as going to Disneyland.

Don't get me wrong, we still have plenty of trials and tribulations. But, really, age four is fantastic!

Happy Birthday my little VV! We love you!



You're growing up so fast! Hugs and kisses even though you dragged us to Chuck E Cheese for your special birthday dinner. Maybe next year we can partake in the Cinco de Mayo festivities at Chili's or On The Border (Hint Hint).

"Mean to Me"

As with any siblings, my girls squabble over just about anything.

I believe that the more I get involved and the more the girls try to involve me, the worse the squabbling becomes. So, I try hard, to let them work it out.

I will let each of them complain about the other one to me, with only encouragement of how they should fend for themselves. I usually refuse to take sides unless it's obvious that one child clearly behaves poorly or acts too physical. When the complainer approaches me, I often let her sit on my lap so she can tell me her woes.

Most recently, when Dagny becomes upset with Valerie, she will walk toward me, her shoulders slumped forward, lower lip puffed out and say in a soft, sweet voice, "Mommy, Varee mean to me."

She will sit in my lap. I will rub her back. But after a minute or two, she's ready to rejoin the fun.

I turn my attention to some other household task. Within minutes, I often glimpse Valerie darting by in search of refuge. A second later, Dagny usually crosses my path with her arm cocked and ready to strike.

It's Not Your Fault

Valerie's school this week decided to make it "Teacher Appreciation Week." A school flyer outlined that each day the students are expected to bring a specific item for each teacher. Monday, we took flowers. Tuesday, we brought candy. Today, we gave Jamba Juice gift certificates. And tomorrow, we have Bath & Body Works hand soap to offer. You get the sick idea.... Mind you, these are new teachers who have been in the classroom for less than a month.

As we purchased the hand soap today, Valerie asked what we were doing and why. As I explained to her the purpose for our expenditure, she asked if we could also purchase something for her old teachers, Miss Elba and Miss Olivia.

I told Valerie that we could not buy the soaps for her old teachers since they no longer work at the school. Moreover, we do not know how to reach them.

Valerie asked for the old teachers' current whereabouts, to which I expressed my lack of knowledge. Valerie continued to probe whether or not they would return to her school. In my view, that outlook appears quite unlikely.

She asked, "Mommy, do you think the teachers left because we didn't do a good job listening?"

And my heart broke. The poor child thinks she's to blame for their departure!

So, I responded, "Honey, the teachers had a disagreement with Miss Roni [the head of administration]. It's not your fault that your teachers left. Usually, you're a VERY good listener sweetheart!"

And people wonder why adults scar children. These little people often think it's their fault for the turmoil in the world. It really breaks my heart.

Ugly Is As Ugly Does

This afternoon as I was changing the sheets on the bed, the girls decided to make a game of running through the curtains around the sliding glass door. I'm all in favor of the kids having a good time, but not at the expense of spending a grand or more on replacing broken curtains. Unsuccessfully, I requested an end to the curtain game, nicely and succinctly explaining why.

In my short four years of experience as a parent, I have determined at least one fact - any parent or grandparent, who claims that they can calmly ask children to behave and the children actually listen the first time, is a liar. Or, they have selective memories. Or, their kids are developmentally challenged. I regress.

After asking my girls to conclude their curtain game three times to no avail, I caught Valerie's arm, pulled her out of the curtains and firmly asked her if she heard what I said. She angrily stared up at me. So, I repeated my initial request, "Please stop playing in the curtains so that you do not rip them off the wall."

I continued with my task of making the bed. All the while, Valerie stared at me, her face growing red and angrier by the second. With hands on her hips, she shouted, "YOU'RE UGLY!"

I was stunned - not from feeling insulted, but from wondering where she could have come up with such a comment. I responded that such language is not very nice. Further, if such language is repeated in our household, there will be consequences.

Most people, with the exception of a very select few, seem to think Valerie resembles me, while Dagny is a spitting image of her daddy. Unbeknownst to her, Valerie insulted herself just as much as she tried to insult her mean mother. As I shared this story with a good friend yesterday, my friend reminded me of the saying, "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I wish I had been witty enough to remember this phrase at the time of the exchange. In the meantime, I will stash this one in the arsenal so that I can be prepared for next time.

Housework Helpers

The day of easing the housework load is near!

On Mondays, the garbage is collected in our neighborhood. This afternoon, after the garbage trucks emptied our trash cans and departed with our disposed assets, the girls played in the front yard. Concurrently, I intended to roll the cans back to their usual spots.

Just as I approached this Monday afternoon chore, Valerie ran toward me proclaiming, "I want to help! I want to do it mommy! I can put the cans away! Please, mommy, can I help?"

In this instance, I happily relinquished the duty to my oldest child.

Dagny observed the situation. Barely a moment passed, then she, too, ran to me, shouting, "I hep too! MOMMY, I HEP TOO!"

My little helpers....

I thought to myself, "The day has come! It's cool in the Haim household to help with the dirty work!"

I offered each child a coin for their piggy banks to show my appreciation for their help. I guess I'm one of those parents who thinks it's important in child development for kids to help around the house - to give them a sense of teamwork and of accomplishment. They really are so proud of themselves when they help!

It may be cool for the moment. The question now becomes how quickly will this "fun-to-do-chores attitude" dissipate?

I'm hoping it remains fun for at least five more years. I mean really, isn't this why we have kids - so they can help around the house? I have a long list of things to do -
garbage
laundry
breakfast
vacuum
garden
clean
put things away
pull things out
lunch
grocery
dry cleaners
bills
dinner
diapers
baths
change light bulbs
schedule appointments
etc.

Really, the list never ends and is quite repetitive. I can see why people used to have more kids... And they didn't even have any of the modern day conveniences like washing machines, garbage disposals or dishwashers which we fully utilize today!

Falling Down

When many kids make a game of falling down, it often seems to relate to the age-old game of "Ring around a rosey, A pocket full of posies, Ashes, ashes, We all fall down."

Dagny has come up with her own falling down game.

As daddy watched an NBA game this afternoon, Dagny opted to dive head-first off the couch onto the floor.

With her arms reaching for the ground and her hips hanging over the arm of the davenport, she shouted, "Hep, hep" until one of us would start pushing her over the side of the couch. As she shrieked in joy, she would roll to the ground. Her head popped up and she exclaimed, "Falling down! Falling down!"

If only her birthday presents were this fun!

On Being Sad

After her nap, Dagny sat on my lap.

Me: Do you miss Grandma and Grandpa?

Dagny: Yeah!

Me: Do you miss Abby?

Dagny: Yeah!

She paused for a moment. Looked at me in her special way and said, "I sad."