Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Loud Laundry

During a recent visit from the in-laws, my mother-in-law remarked how loud the dryer seemed. I agreed, but assumed the immense clatter resulted from the metal hooks of Dagny's overalls clanging against the heated metal cylindrical interior of the dryer.

Until I peaked inside.

I discovered rocks. Apparently, I've in the practice of washing rocks because it's not the first time I've uncovered pebbles in my laundry facilities. My kids, with their compulsion for collecting gravel, stuff their pockets full of stones. Subsequently, they neglect to empty their coat compartments prior to dumping their soiled garments into the hamper.

Admittedly, I'm partly responsible. Any good mother checks the pockets of incoming dirty laundry, right? As far as I'm concerned, moms who have the time to check the pockets of each article of clothing prior to entry into the laundry just have too much time on their hands. Or, perhaps, I'm just less detail-oriented than they are.

Either way, I'd take rocks over crayons any day. With many things related to motherhood, it could always be worse.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

ABCs vs The Alphabet

In the bathtub yesterday evening, I washed Dagny and overheard her singing, "R S T U V W X" and she stopped abruptly.

I asked, "Dagny are you singing the alphabet song?"

She corrected, "No, mommy! I'm singing the ABCs!"

Duh! Moms can be so silly sometimes, eh?

Saturday, January 14, 2006

The Tarzan in My Midst

I live with Tarzan.

Tarzan

She's been doing this for months. I just happened to catch it on the camera today.

Next, she will swing from couch to chair to kitchen table to countertop. She already climbs atop all of these places, so how soon will I wake up to see her actually swinging from our home's domestic vines?

Note: It's not just the climbing and potential swinging that makes me believe I live with a child akin to Tarzan.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Begrudging Mom

The question haunts me, How Does She Do It?

I'm talking about my own mother. I'm nearly convinced she's superhuman. Even Ken is sure to point out, "Your mom IS impressive!"

Last weekend, Ken and I enjoyed a short, but relaxing weekend in Mexico, while my parents watched the girls. I wrote a seven page document outlining when to go where and how to get there. I even included medical contact information and insurance cards should the need arise. With limited time, I tried to be comprehensive.

I admit that I've been fretting about my maternal inadequacies since last weekend. To explain, last Friday morning, Ken and I departed the house before normal humans rouse their rested souls from their cozy beds. Sitting in LAX airport at 8:05 am, I thought I would call with my parents to make sure everything was going smoothly during the morning rush hour. As I've noted before, for me, it's a whirlwind daily routine that I feel is barely accomplished each weekday morning. Each day we arrive at school fed, coifed and on-time, I feel I deserve a metal.

As I talked on the phone with my mother, she informed me that the girls were dressed, with hair and teeth brushed. So far, so good. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, my mom continued by recounting that each of my offspring had eaten three pancakes for breakfast. I thought, "What, my children actually ATE breakfast?" Could she be talking about my Valerie and Dagny?

She proceeded, "Yes, and they ate their vitamins and juice and I packed Valerie's lunch and backpack. We're all set to go to school now. So, we'll probably leave in about ten minutes!"

WHAT? Not only did you make fresh pancakes (not the frozen kind you put in the toaster oven), but YOU HAVE TIME TO SPARE? In shock, I just accepted the news, hung up and blocked it out with my new IPOD earphones plugged into my head.

I've wondered about the ten spare minutes for several days now. I can't seem to let it go. HOW did she DO it? So, I expressed my concern to Ken. He laughed and flatly said, "Julie, as impressive as you are at getting stuff done, you're NOT your mother."

I grew defensive in that high-pitched whiney voice, "But, you see, she had a lot of things in her favor..."

As I grew more defensive, the truth of his statement hit me. My mom is truly superhuman at accomplishing just about anything. So, instead of focusing on my own inadequacies, I'll revel knowing that my children were well cared for last weekend in my absence and my seven page document was read and followed.

Thursday, January 5, 2006

No Tax Deduction Please!

Dagny finally discovered the potty over the holiday break. She went straight for the big one, attached to the pipes. We had the little potties left over from Valerie's potty transition, two years ago. I guess watching her older sister and being blessed with longer legs than her sibling, she completely ignored the tot-sized crappers.

Works for me.

Having allowed the potty progress to continue for nearly three weeks, I finally decided I'd had enough of those dirty little potties. Yes, we used them in our house, but only as stepping stools. Sometimes the kids would hid things inside, much to my dismay. Yesterday, I battled internally, "Should I continue to shelter these dirty plastic potty-slash-stools? Or, should I donate these and shell out the ten bucks to purchase real stools that don't double as potties."

I opted to purge the dirty crappers. Despite cleaning them, or trying to clean them, the thought of these potties is just grotesque.

I carefully packed the potties into plastic bags and placed them in my car. I drove directly to Goodwill. I had tried to dispose of our crusty old highchair at Goodwill, but was informed they do not accept baby items. This time, with the potties in tow, I wasn't sure if this donation qualified as a baby item or not. I crossed my fingers and hoped they would accept the bags. If it weren't for the security camera to discourage dumping, I would have left my offerings after dark for fear that I would again be turned away.

When the Goodwill donation receiver met me halfway to the drop-off area, I practically threw these potties at him. He didn't ask about the contents of the bags. Instead, he robotically asked, "Do you need a receipt for these?"

I had already turned back toward my car (which was still running). Over my shoulder, I retorted, "No, not this time. No tax deduction here. But thanks anyway!"

It felt like I sprinted toward my car, though I tried to appear calm. I feared that as he peered into those bags, he would turn back and run toward me with the bags exclaiming, "Miss, sorry but we can't accept these items! Miss, please come back!"

So, I found my way into the car, and drove away as quickly as possible, trying not to screech the tires on the pavement. Valerie noted my expedited departure, "Mommy, why are you going so fast!"

Because it feels so good to have purged those potties, honey!

Tuesday, January 3, 2006

I Want Yours....

Many mornings, I eat cereal for breakfast. I may not eat with the kids, due to the rush occurring at day break, but I always eat something at some point before lunch.

This morning, we survived the morning rush (brushing hair, brushing teeth, feeding my offspring, packing lunch, unloading the dishwasher, gulping coffee, filling the backpack, loading the car and driving to school). After dropping Valerie at school, Dagny and I returned home and I allowed myself a tranquil breakfast. As requested, I turned on the Wiggles to occupy my youngest child. I poured myself a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice.

I peacefully sat at the table and scooped the first spoonful toward my mouth. Before the flakey grains could enter my mouth, little feet pattered on the kitchen floor in my direction. I looked down to notice Dagny grinning in her charming way. She asked, "Can I have some, too?"

Sure. I stood up and moved toward the pantry.

"No, mommy, NO! I want YOURS!"

But, honey, don't you want your own?

"NO mommy. I want YOUR cereal."

But, it all tastes the same. It's all from the same box. It's going to be EXACTLY the same, just a different BOWL, okay?"

"NO NO NO, MOMMY! I WANT YOUR CEREAL."

Fine you can have my cereal and I'll get another bowl. As I get another bowl, I watch her take a bite of my cereal. She eats the one bite and watches me fix the next bowl. As I head toward the table with my second attempt of eating, Dagny clearly stated, "I change my mind. I'll have my own bowl, mommy. You take this one back!"

Isn't that what I suggested at the beginning? So, I ate the soggy cereal....