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Tot Talk: three year old gems

So this guy is posting videos of conversations with his two year old, as reenacted by himself and another grown man. They are very funny, especially the cookie convo in episode #3. I’ve had that conversation, or a version of it, on several occasions with both my kids.

So it got me thinking about conversations with my own children and I thought I’d share two gems that occurred just this morning, in the span of 3o minutes, with my three year old daughter.

Little Miss, at a young age, took a vested interest in her clothing, to the point where we started having arguments over what character she wanted to wear on her underwear when she was barely two. For the record, I do not give a hoot what she chooses, I just want her to choose…and therein lies the issue most mornings. The upside is that she has now started to thank me for washing her favorite undies.

 Today’s clothing drama had to do with shoes. The conversation went something like this.

 Me: Do you guys have your socks and shoes on? We need to leave.

Little Miss: No. I want to wear flip-flops.

Me: You can’t wear flip-flops. No open toed shoes at school because you play outside.

LM: (pouting): I want to wear flip-flops like you.

Me: I’m wearing sandals. And I don’t get to play outside.

LM: You don’t get to play outside? (Accompanied by the saddest face ever so now I’m feeling bad I have to go sit in an office).

Me: No, but you do, so let’s get shoes on.

LM: I want to wear Cinderella shoes. With socks.

Me: Fine (and we get her in shoes).

 As I’m locking the door, she turns to me and says, “These hurt, I want my fast shoes (that’s what she calls her sneakers).

And I wonder why I’m never on time.

The second conversation gem took place in the car.

LM: I want Minnie Mouse.

Me: Where is Minnie Mouse?

LM: There.

Me: Honey, I’m driving the car, I can’t see her.

LM: She’s right there.

Me (straining to see where she is pointing in the rearview mirror): On the floor?

LM: There!

Me: Sweets, I’m driving on the freeway,  I can’t reach her right now. You’ll have to wait.

LM: You are not driving the freeway, you are driving the car.

Me: Right, I’m driving the car on the freeway.

LM (a little quieter): You are driving the car, not the freeway.

 She always has to have the last word.

By the way, the second conversation took place after she ate it in the parking lot when dropping her brother off. She was walking on the curb, slipped and scrapped her knee, then freaked out when it started to bleed. I tried to console her with kisses but she only wanted a Band-Aid, which, thankfully, I found in the glove compartment shoved between sunglasses and my car’s user manual.

Note to self, restock the car with Band-Aids.

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Turning FIVE & getting to be “only-child” for a few hours

Fussypants is five years old. Yesterday was his birthday. I still can’t believe it. Five. 5, cinco, 5, fünf.

Crap.

Am I old enough to have an almost Kindergartner?

Ok, don’t answer that.

He had an amazing birthday, mostly because he was so excited to be 5. Seriously excited. Beyond seriously excited. I could have thrown mud at him and he’d still have had a good day. He told me that “5 is his favorite number and now he gets to be it”.

Isn’t that funny?

I started a tradition on his first birthday, of filling up his crib with balloons, then his room when he moved out of the crib. He woke up an hour earlier than normal and squealed in delight when he saw the balloons. I love that I can make him happy with something as simple as using my excess hot air (and I gave myself a headrush rush too. Bonus).

Taken at 6:33 am, because someone was too excited to sleep in, even though it was a holiday.

We had a hockey game the night of his birthday and he politely requested that his baby sister stay with Nana and Grandpa instead of going to the game so that he could sit on my lap, “because his sister never lets him sit on my lap” (such a little thing, to sit on mommy’s lap. I guess I need to be better at making one-on-one time with him).

My parents (the Nana and Grandpa of the aforementioned Nana and Grandpa) are amazing and didn’t hesitate to say Little Miss could spend the night with them. Seriously, beyond amazing. So we obliged his request and just the three of us went to the game. He had so much fun with my hubby and I because we could each hold a hand and lift him in the air (again, such a little thing but made him so happy). He very much enjoyed that all our attention was focused on him.

Getting hot chocolate before the hockey game. Nana gave him the sticker on his hat.

He was on a birthday high almost until midnight. The game went into overtime, then a shootout and by the time we got home and got him to bed it was close to 11pm. But it’s all good because he enjoyed every minute of his birthday. And in the wisdom of like mother, like son, he pulled the “it’s my birthday” phrase out several times. “I’m wearing sweatpants to the hockey game, because it’s my birthday”. “I’m having a corn dog and fries for lunch, because it’s my birthday”.

I Love It.

I’m a fan of birthdays because if you were never born, you’d never live so why not make the most of the YOUR day? And why just the day? Why not celebrate all week, or even all month? Birthdays are a season, are they not?

So, along that vein, I had a special treat for Fussypants this morning. I had bought a cake and a #5 candle but we didn’t get around to having any because of the hockey game, so I sang to him this morning and he blew out the candle and made a wish.

Yes, he got to eat a tiny piece for breakfast.

And at school today he got to wear an awesome dinosaur crown his teacher made for him and we brought cupcakes to share, since school was closed yesterday and I would have kept him home anyway because nobody should have to go to school on their birthday.

The cupcakes almost caused an issue but we sorted it out. He really wanted cupcakes with Lightning McQueen and Dinoco rings on them but the store (school policy, no homemade food for birthdays) didn’t have them so he settled for Thor rings. There were three different rings on the cupcakes and he told me he really wanted the hammer. So I said that he should get that one then and he said, “We are not allowed to throw a fit, we get what we get”. Clearly there has been cupcake infighting issues in the past in his classroom.

I can only hope he witnessed the fit, and wasn’t the one throwing it. 

So I told his teacher about his desire for the hammer ring, and she assured me the birthday boy would get first pick. Phew.

Due to the fact that the date of his birthday is kind of crappy, and the closest weekend this time around happened to be New Year’s Eve and New Years Day, we are not having his party until next Saturday. So he kind of gets to celebrate all week, because at school tomorrow they go to Chapel and that’s when they’ll sing Happy Birthday and he’ll get to pick a birthday bear or necklace (or so he tells me).

See, Birthday Season.

Fussypants says a lot of things that make me laugh but yesterday he said two things that made it into his Quotables book, so I’ll share. While walking into the hockey game he exclaimed, “Dude, someone just gave me a flat tire and I didn’t even know them” and when driving home he told us of this very elaborate play date he wants me to set-up with some of his buddies, to play street hockey. He was so detailed in the events that will transpire that I asked him, “Have you really thought this through or are you making it up on the fly?” and he responded, “I’m making it through”.

That’s my boy. My 5 year old boy. Making it through.

gingerbreadmama

Making lemonade

I had a maddening mommy moment today.

Yesterday another mom texted me to verify that it was “feast” day (where the parents all bring a food item so the kids can have a special lunch party and we don’t have to pack our kids a lunch) at the preschool because she didn’t make her son a lunch. I told her it wasn’t until Wednesday and Thursday, so she had to scramble to catch her hubby at home so he could pack a lunch for their kid.

So I get to the school today, confident in my knowledge that it is feast day, with no lunch packed for Fussypants and overhear one of the teachers telling another parent that it’s not a “feast” party it’s a “snack” party.

WTF?

So I say,” Really? Because that wasn’t my understanding and I know another mom who didn’t pack her son a lunch either” (but she hadn’t brought her kid to school yet so I had no back up). And the teacher says in the most condescending way, “If you didn’t need to bring Fussypants a lunch, then we would have put up a note”.

Well la-de-da and FU too. By the way, I only thought that, I didn’t say it. It’s a Christian preschool so I kept my mouth shut. For once.

Now out of the three teachers in my son’s room, she is my least favorite. We’ve just never made a connection, probably because she doesn’t engage and is more like a greeter than a teacher, “Hi, have a nice day, see you tomorrow” is really the most I ever hear from her. She never talks to me about my son, like the other two teachers do. And when I ask her questions about him she answers in really short sentences. It’s painful.

So now I’m really ticked off. One of my main duties as a parent is to make sure my child is fed and he has no flipping lunch. And the teacher made me feel like an a-hole for not knowing.

I’m already late for work but I race to the store to buy him lunchables and apples and a drink. I also bought a bag of frozen peas to keep it all cold because there is no fridge (and made a mental note to let Fussypants know he didn’t have to eat those for lunch – because he would have had a fit if he thought he had to eat an entire bag of peas). And a bottle of wine. For me. For later.

As I’m paying, the check-out kid cards me. Which gets my attention. Because I’m 41. And stressed. Which adds years to your face.

When he looked at my ID, he says, “Wow, you don’t look anywhere near 41″.

Bonus. Even though life had given me lemons that morning, my day got a little better. Just like that.

Sometimes, it’s all about making lemonade.

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Sharing, with stipulations

Fussypants is very good with his sister. He does push and shove and terrorize her on occasion but she’s tough and pushes and shoves and terrorizes right back. Her best tactic however, is to just cry because then she gets an immediate response from me and dad and Fussypants usually gets scolded. He is always honest though and tells us exactly what he did to make her cry (it usually involves a shove or a stolen toy).

Sibling love. Thankfully, they get along really well 95% of the time.

Sibling love

Keeping busy with crayons

Over the weekend Fussypants wanted to make a book, so while he was illustrating his pages he let his sister use his crayons. All’s well until she decides to use them the wrong way. It’s all about sharing, but with stipulations.

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Thought process behind 6 word memoir

One of the prompts for this week’s Writer’s Workshop was 1). Last week you chose a 6 word memoir to share…this week elaborate. Tell us the story or thought process behind the sentence you wrote.

I wrote six six word memoirs because I can’t pick just six words to describe anything, especially myself. And I have too many moments that I want to capture and remember and describe. Which all takes words. Lots and lots of words.

But this one seemed to resonate with others: I overaccessorize with stress and exhaustion. I can actually sum up the thought process behind that one in six words: Two kids, I work, Firefighter husband

To say that some days I feel spread a little thin is an understatement.

My kids are 4 and 1. One of them can’t do much for herself yet and the other one can but doesn’t want to because he is envious of his baby sister. The baby is teething so she is up 2 to 3 times a night and the toddler is going through a phase where he just.won’t.go.to.sleep. I don’t sleep well and therefore am operating on minimal sleep. So I wear my exhaustion like an extra sweater only it’s not hip to do so.

My husband has been working a lot lately (96 straight hours on, 48 off then it starts over again) which leaves the daily chores to me. You don’t realize how many little things you do each day until you are doing all of them. Feeding everyone, cleaning everyone and the house (toy pickup is practically a full time job on it’s own, watering the garden, taking the trash cans out, picking up dog poop (ok, I do my best to not do this much to my hubby’s chagrin), washing, drying, folding and putting away laundry (and good lord the amount of laundry in this house is astounding), school food (deciding what to pack the baby for her 3 meals a day is daunting), school drops offs and pick ups. I know I’m forgetting something but trust me it is a long list of To Dos.

I don’t want to discuss work too much here but I manage a team of 12 people. So that should explain the stress. And my team is now global so with the time differences I’ve had early and late meetings which contribute to the exhaustion and stress.

It’s fairly plain to see why I think I overaccessorize with stress and exhaustion. The worst is the when you leave the house thinking you look like hot stuff and then catch a glimpse of yourself in a window reflection and realize that you left the house wearing your stress and exhaustion like an extra sweater and instead of h0t stuff you just look like stuff and you look exactly how you feel.

Now I am not (really) complaining. And I know there are women out there who do all this and more and women who don’t have any help at all, or are single parents and women who have even more kids. The fact is, we all live busy and hectic lives. And we sometimes need a break.

But until I figure out how to beat it, I’m going to join it and just incorporate my stress and exhaustion into my wardrobe. And maybe wear a little extra mascara and lipstick too while I’m at it.

A couple of you suggested I overaccessorize with stress and exhaustion should be on a tee-shirt so I created one. There are a couple options (including a tank top) and you can get your own here:

http://www.cafepress.com/gingerbreadmamasays

Enjoy and for those of you that can relate, hang in there!

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop.

gingerbreadmama

Wordful Wednesday: Morning girl

Little Miss is happy in the morning. Today, she woke at 5:30am. I put her in the sink while I applied make-up (after taking the faucet handles off so she wouldn’t get herself wet). She loved holding (and chewing) lipgloss and mascara tubes. She’s my girly.

Little Miss is a morning person

Wordful Wednesday. See more goodies at ParentingBYdummies.

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