If It Looks Like Chicken....

While not officially attempting to potty train yet, Dagny has become quite interested in bathroom and potty activities of late. In general, mothers lack privacy the moment they give birth. Maybe when the kids go to college, privacy will return for most of us.

Going to the bathroom today with the door wide open, Dagny sauntered in and asked what I was doing.

Me: Well, what does it look like I'm doing?

Dagny: Going pee-pee! (stated proudly)

Me: Good guess. I'm going poopy. (offering her the words needed to describe her own bodily functions)

She ran around to the side of the potty and shouted, "I wanna see. I wanna see!"

After peering over the side, she shouted, "CHICKEN! MOMMY, LOOK CHICKEN!"

Oddly enough, we ate meat-loaf last night......

Monkeys Jumping on the Bed

A few weeks ago, my girls started this bad habit of jumping on their beds. To absolutely no avail, I have tried to discourage this extremely dangerous exercise, largely because bed-jumping is the reason why most kids end up with a broken limb at the closest emergency room.

Last night, we put the girls to bed as usual. Within a few moments, we could hear the springs squeaking. Instead of running upstairs to attempt altering their behavior, I thought, "They'll get tired of it soon and eventually fall asleep." Let's just say, my motherly instinct was completely off-base this time. We all have bad days, right?

At 8:25pm, the creaking mattress spring suddenly halted. Then we heard a piercing scream from Dagny. At the same moment, Valerie panicked and screamed, "MOMMY, DADDY COME QUICK. DAGNY IS HURT. HELP! HELP! HELP!"

What felt like slow motion, Ken and I ran through the kitchen, up the stairs and through the hallway to their bedroom. I found Dagny screaming while sitting on her bed. Her hands drenched in blood, covered her nose and mouth. As parents, we wanted to do anything to take away her pain and to stop the blood. We offered cold cloths and ice to reduce the swelling.

Apparently, little Dagny jumped right into the headboard and smashed her face. By 10pm, the house was quiet and the kids were asleep. All night, I feared her nose was broken.

Fortunately, this morning, she looks better. Her nose is a little swollen and tender, but she is not black and blue. A couple of times, her nose has dripped a drop or two of blood, but she seems in pretty good spirits.

For those who allow their children and grandchildren to jump on the bed, I hate to say, "I told you so", but really it's not acceptable to teach children how to jump on beds. Our job is to protect them - not to teach them how to permanently maim and disfigure themselves.

I am just so thankful that she only hurt her nose and did not break a limb. Hopefully, this will be the last time they jump on the beds. I explained to Valerie that anyone who jumps on the bed in our house or who encourages jumping on the bed under our roof will sleep in the garage without bed privileges until further notice!

As the doctor says, "That's what you get for jumping on the bed."

Happy Camper

Today marked Valerie's first day of camp at her new school. I left her at the school this morning feeling a little apprehensive. The place seemed completely chaotic - kids, counselors and parents just milling about. I feared there would be little organization to the day.

Fortunately, I stayed long enough to see that Valerie was assigned to a particular group. She trotted off with her counselors and I still had an uneasy feeling.

The day passed very slowly. I watched the clock tick and waiting by the phone, expecting them to call me to inform me of her difficulty adjusting.

The only noise in the house besides Dagny and myself was the ticking of the clock.

As the time neared for me to fetch her from camp, I grew anxious. We had enjoyed such a nice day yesterday at the museum and I missed her so much. Surely she had missed me too!

As I drove through the carpool lane, I viewed her smiling through the rearview mirror, happily ambling toward the car with her counselor.

Once she was settled in her car-seat, I asked, "How was your day? Did you have fun?"

Valerie: Yes, mommy. Camp is SO fun! (with an ear-to-ear grin)

Me: Great. What did you do that was so fun?

Valerie: I don't know.

Me: Did you make new friends?

Valerie: Yes (still beaming)

Me: What are their names?

Valerie: I don't know.

Me: What are your counselors' names?

Valerie: I don't know.

Me: Did you go swimming at camp?

Valerie: I don't know.

Me: But, you had fun at camp right?

Valerie: Yes - I LOVE CAMP! Can I go again tomorrow?

I have no idea what happened at camp today, but I do know that I reside with a truly happy camper!

Stinky Dinosaurs

We went to the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County today. The purpose of the visit was to see the Pavilion of Wings exhibit. The butterflies were a hit with the girls.



We enjoyed viewing the dinosaur bones, the sparkling rocks, the stuffed mammals and visiting the interactive Discovery Center. Valerie even pet a California kingsnake named Oreo. Dagny made me carry her through the dinosaur exhibit when she panicked realizing the immensity of these former beasts.

Prior to this morning's visit, I explained a little about our trip to mentally prepare my offspring.

Me: We are going to a museum today to see butterflies. There will also be big dinosaurs at the museum.

Valerie: Are they alive?

Me: No, not anymore. We will see the dinosaur skeletons because these animals are now extinct.

Valerie: (pausing) Why do they stink?

Me: (giggling) Honey, they don't smell. Extinct means that the dinosaurs are no longer living. It means the whole species has died out and no longer live here with us. But the words stink and extinct sound alike right? Can you say extinct?

Valerie: No. I think I want to only see the butterflies.

The Gift of Father's Day

In the US, the person who decided to take time to celebrate fatherhood and motherhood had to be a woman. Really, whoever came up with these special days, often marked as Hallmark holidays, was truly a genius.

Mother's Day is a time for mothers in this country to celebrate their motherhood ALONE. Yes, it's great to send the kiddies off with the daddies and say, "Mommy needs a break".

Father's Day, too, I now realize, is a time for daddies to spend time with their kiddies too.

So, thanks Kenny for letting me get so much done today without having to referee the girls. Hope you enjoyed your time as the involved dad that you are.

Aspirations for a Brother

As we drove to school today, the conversation turned to brothers and sisters.

Valerie announced: My friend Stephanie has a big brother. I want one too.

Me: Well, it's doubtful that you'll have a big brother or little brother at this point. Your daddy and I have decided that we're happy with just two kids - you and your sister.

Valerie: But, I WANT a brother....

Me: Sorry. Maybe you can borrow your friend's brother until you get tired of him. Or better yet, why don't you pretend you have a brother.

Valerie: (excited) When I grow up, I'm going to be a brother.

Me: How are you going to do that? You're a sister. Once you're a sister, you're kind of stuck - you don't have any options or choice in the matter.

Valerie: It's okay mommy, I'm going to be a brother when I grow up.

Me: Maybe you could dress up as a brother for Halloween. Try that first. Later, you can decide if you want to be a brother when you grow up.

The conversation reminded me of my own disjointed assumptions as a little girl living on 48th Street in Des Moines, IA. I clearly remember straddling the potty. I had to practice going potty like a boy so that I would be ready to "turn into a boy" on my seventh birthday.

How do kids come up with this stuff?

Hang Time

The latest and greatest weight-lifting program:

A Proud Moment

Two years ago, a few weeks after Dagny's birth, I specifically recall the girls waking up for the day at the exact same moment. Upon hearing the children stir over the baby monitors, I swiftly gathered up Dagny from her crib and entered Valerie's room.

Valerie's face fell the moment I opened her bedroom door. She screamed at me holding her sister, "Baby, back to bed! Baby, back to bed!" I think those were the first words she uttered toward her sister since bringing the newborn home from the hospital.

In the last two years, Ken and I have worked hard to create a bond between the two girls and to teach compassion toward other people. As any siblings, they have their battles and their bonding moments.

This morning at the breakfast table, I looked over from my position at the sink to see that Valerie had opened Dagny's juice box without anyone making such a request. Valerie not only opened her sister's juice box, but opened her sister's juice first. Valerie offered this help to her sister completely out of the blue without a single prompt from mother or sister. My heart swelled with pride at the thoughtful and considerate behavior my eldest daughter displayed.

Two years ago, dealing with a self-centered only child, the outlook for teaching compassion seemed bleak. For some reason, viewing this small demonstration of kindness today reminded me of how far we've come. Of course, we have a long journey ahead, but it was truly wonderful to mark the moment and see that Ken and my teachings of compassion are not being entirely ignored.

It's moments like these that make motherhood a rewarding experience!

In the Summer Time

When recounting a memory, Valerie is apt to begin the story with, "In the summer time, ...."

For example, "In the summer time, we ate watermelon." I may not recall the particular moment of consumption, but most likely, this occurred at some point last summer.

Or, "Remember when I took swimming lessons in the summer time?" Why yes, of course, I remember.

Whether a particular event happened a year ago, a month ago, a week ago, or even just yesterday, Valerie often begins the story with the phrase "In the summertime, ...."

In describing another flashback, Valerie might say, "Daddy, in the summer time, I saw Santa Claus." Um, yes, we went to the mall to visit Santa Claus, but that was during the winter time just before Christmas.

Recently, "Mommy, remember when you came to visit my school to celebrate mother's day in the summer time?" Well, last month, I came to your class to celebrate mother's day and that was in the spring time.

Or even, "In the summertime, last week, Stephanie came to play at my house."

Perhaps the confusion of time stems from the warm southern California climate to which we have become accustomed. Or perhaps, the confusion of seasons and timing relates to the failure for most preschoolers to comprehend time in general.

The Ear Ache

Today marked the second morning Valerie awoke with an ear ache. (At least I hope it was only the second morning. My days tend to run together.) Making a mental note of the complaint, I helped the kids get dressed, teeth brushed, hair combed and tummies fed.

My most insightful moments often occur while driving the car. As I returned to pick Valerie up from school, I remembered I should probably call the doctor to schedule an immediate a sick visit to check Valerie's ear. I would hate for her hearing to be negatively impaired from an ear infection. So, off we tromped to the pediatrician's office.

Arriving at the doctor's office, the nurse began by asking, "So how can we help you today?"

To which I responded, "Valerie, can you tell the nurse why we came for a visit?"

Valerie shrugged her shoulders and smiled shyly with that childlike blank stare, "I dunno."

Me: Do you have any aches or pains today? (thinking, I must look like an idiot parent, but I don't want to always respond on behalf of my kids as though they are mutes)

Valerie: Ummmmmm - maybe because of my ear? (Right on, sister!)

Me: Does your ear still hurt? (or did I drive us here to appear like the resident nutcase?)

Valerie: I think so.

Me: Can you tell us which ear hurts? (hoping she would pick the same one as earlier)

Valerie: I dunno.

Pause

Valerie: I think it's this one? (pointing to the left ear)

Me: (Phew, at least she was consistent!)

As we waited twenty minutes for the doctor to arrive and check the ailing ear, I wondered if I jumped too quickly by making the doctor appointment after only two days of complaints. Valerie has not had a fever yet. She has cried "wolf" enough times in our four year tenure together that it might be possible she just awoke on the wrong side of the bed again this morning.

As the doctor ambled into the examining room and thoroughly checked out Valerie's medical condition, I worried that I wasted the physician's time. Am I one of those overly cautious parents that just likes to waste doctor's time? Whatever the pediatrician diagnoses is going to have a pro and a con: either she's sick (bad) and I was right (good) or I was wrong (bad) and she's well (good).

The doctor determined that, in fact, Valerie has an ear infection and needs to start antibiotics. On the bright side, I am glad I followed my intuition and was not exposed as a lunatic.

Unfortunately, getting her to ingest the prescribed thick and chalky antibiotics is the worst part of the diagnosis.

Maybe tomorrow, I can hope that for improvements in the taste!?!?! Or my stunted brain cells will discover a creative antibiotic recipe to serve.

Starting with "S"

This morning, Valerie announced, "I want my name to start with an 'S' like my friend Stephanie. Why doesn't my name start with 'S'?"

Me: Are you sure you want your name to start with S?

Valerie: Yes.

Me: Do you want to change your name to Sarah or Sabrina or Samantha? Those names start with the letter "S".

Valerie: No, I want my name to be Valerie with an "S".

Me: Okay, should I call you Salerie from now on?

Valerie: No, my name is VALERIE!

Me: Great, I like the name Valerie, too. But Valerie starts with the letter "V".

Valerie: NOOOOO, I want my name to start with "S".

Me: Well, as soon as you can figure out how to accomplish that, let me know.

Juice

Having run out of 4-oz Juicy Juice boxes that the kids drink for breakfast this morning, I poured each of them small cups of my beverage of choice, Tropicana orange juice.

Over the last few days, the girls claim to love my daily serving of orange juice and fight over who gets to drink from my cup first. Since becoming a mother, there is no such thing as my having personal belongings. As the saying goes, "What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine." So true, in our household.

Sitting at the breakfast table, they each scrunched their nose at their personal cups full of orange juice.

Dagny stated, "Don't like it!"

Valerie claimed, "This doesn't taste good, mom!"

I offered, "Do you want to drink my orange juice instead?"

In unison, "YES! Your orange juice is better!"

So, I drank their cups in exchange for their sharing my glass.

After a few minutes, I interjected, "Do you realize that each cup of juice came from the same juice container? We're all drinking the SAME juice - just in different cups."

No response - they just looked at me and smiled.

Ain't that something to ponder....

Drawing Straws

With Ken traveling again, the girls are up to their usual antics: fighting over any toy the other one decides she likes. This evening, the toy of choice was the Fisher Price Little People School Bus.

As they squabbled, it was a textbook girl fight including hair-pulling and skin scratching. I intervened to avoid the fangs leaving marks. My solution du jour was drawing straws.

I explained, "See this toothpick? I am going to break it into two pieces. One piece is short and the other is long. If you pick the long straw, you get to play with the bus first for five minutes. If you choose the short straw, you will play with the bus second - after the timer buzzes in five minutes. Understand?"

Smiling with the excitement of a new game, their heads bobbed affirmatively. I knew this would be a short-lived, fun game as the one who drew the short straw would fuss that about life not being fair.

Valerie chose her straw first, since she seemed to fully understood the game. Dagny just followed suit because she tends to go with the flow. Ewe... she drew the short straw, but she didn't know it yet.

Then it was Dagny's turn. We compared the two straws, noting that Dagny received the first opportunity to play with the bus. As Valerie complained that drawing straws isn't a very fun game, I set the timer and continued stacking the dinner dishes. The complaining died down and the timer rang five minutes later.

"Valerie it's your turn to play with the bus!" I shouted.

"Oh, I already played with it!"

Go figure!

I guess the other alternatives are to buy two of everything to avoid these fights. Or, we could separate and label all of the household toys into what belongs to Valerie and what belongs to Dagny. However, to me those alternatives just seem like the easy way out. As parents, aren't we supposed to teach our children out to interact with others? If they don't learn how to negotiate with their siblings and family members, the world will eat them alive, eh?

So, we'll stick to taking turns and drawing straws until I can come up with a better solution.