The Queen's Rambles

I got my first note home from school today. Apparently Erik was “acting silly” and when his teacher corrected him, he “gave her the evil eye.” I shouldn’t laugh, but I know the exact look she’s talking about. It’s pure evil, no doubt. No wonder he got in trouble. I assume the teacher handled it so I didn’t need to do anything more than talk to him. He was asked to leave his reading group, which meant he needed extra help with his reading book tonight. I think that’s why she sent a note home.

Elsa was also in fine form today. She’s over the biting phase. Now she walks up to people and slaps them in the face or upside the head. Very attractive behavior. She only does it with people she likes, so that’s. . . good? Guess she has some social learning to do. I need to remember that she doesn’t respond to “no hitting” but she does respond to “gentle.” I guess it’s true–children really do respond better when you tell them what they can do as opposed to what they can’t do.

One of the most helpful pieces of advice I ever got during a teacher in-service day related to this. They said always put a positive spin on thing. The big example that worked so well it was like a miracle: Don’t tell kids they can’t borrow a pencil. Instead, tell the kids they could borrow a pencil from anyone in the room but you. You would be amazed at how well this simple little trick worked. No hurt feelings. No whining. Someone always had a pencil they could borrow. I didn’t have to spend my entire paycheck on pencils for the classroom.

I am wondering if Elsa will potty train soon. She hates diapers. HATES. She totally refuses cloth diapers, and fights pretty hard on regular diapers unless her daddy changes her. Today she said, clear as a bell, “leave me alone” when I tried to put a diaper on her. I just started laughing. Erik couldn’t really talk until he turned 2, so it feels strange to have a baby express her thoughts so clearly. It’s not so funny when she kicks me in the stomach. That girl has some powerful muscles.

Today she pulled off her pants and her diaper and sat on the potty. I was really hoping something would happen, but it didn’t. Dang it!

We let her go naked quite a bit and she’ll come up and ask for a diaper when she’s ready to go potty. We try really hard to make her go on the potty, but she refuses and will hold it until she gets a diaper on. What a waste of a diaper! But this is a good sign for potty training readiness, at least. I am a cheapskate and hate paying for diapers.

She’s also very picky about her clothing. I bought a really nice purple stripey sweater from Baby Gap a few months ago (I don’t hate spending money on cute baby clothes) and she refuses to wear it. She screams and cries if I come near her when I am holding it. One day she was totally focused on her baby show, so I slipped it on her without her realizing what was happening. It was adorable! But then she noticed she was wearing it and had a full on melt down. She was screaming, crying, clawing at the buttons, rolling on the floor trying to get it off. It was craziness. I can’t figure out why she hates it so badly. She has another sweater like it, only in a different color that she wears all the time.

Since the sweater had never been worn, I put it in my consignment shop bag today. I don’t like consigning things because I don’t like my local consignment shop, but I also hate selling clothes on ebay or Craigslist. Even if they are new with tags, you hardly get enough to make it worth the effort. Normally I just give stuff away, but I had several like new Christmas dresses and a few toys that Elsa never plays with that I thought might be worth a little money. I also wanted to look around and see if they had any decent toys for Christmas. The toy prices are usually great, and you don’t have to assemble them or remove them from anti-theft packaging.

I scored big time. You know those kiddie roller coasters that are basically a low-grade ramp and a push car? They retail for around $120. I got one that looks brand new for a mere $60. That means Elsa’s Christmas is pretty much taken care of. I’d really like to get her this super fancy playhouse, but I’m not made of money.

I think I just have our photobooks/calendars, stocking stuffers and something for Mike left on the list.

I think I saw a sister-wife at Elsa’s gym class yesterday. There was a lady wearing a lavender t-shirt with a black tank top over the top of it. Why? WHY???? It is so unattractive. Is that really a look, now? I’ve only seen it on Sister-Wives, so I don’t think it’s a fashion statement. If it is, one of those fashion shows needs to nip it in the bud.

I do understand the sister-wives are supposed to be modest. Apparently they have to wear very old fashioned, long sleeved magic Mormon underwear, not the more modern short sleeved Satan repelling underwear that LDS Mormons get to wear. That still doesn’t explain WHY they would put a frilly blouse over the top of a long sleeved t-shirt.

They think this show will make people more open to polygamy, but it is heartbreaking to see them living this lifestyle and thinking that it is the only way they can get to heaven.

But back to fashion! I don’t understand why they don’t wear a nice, long sleeved blouse and put a cami under it. When I was looking for pictures for this post, I found pics from the first season and that’s exactly what they were doing. It is much more flattering.

Look at me, dishing out the fashion advice like I know anything. I don’t know much, but I know ugly. Send those ladies to my house and I’ll get them straightened out with some decent looks. It’s sad when I could be a fashion consultant to someone. I can barely be a fashion consultant to myself.

Why do I keep talking about this show? I just can’t stand those layers! The show itself is dull as dirt, but it’s like a train wreck caused by a hyperactive conductor in desperate need of a haircut. I think he has Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

Last but not least, I’m thinking of getting an Elf on the Shelf. I have resisted in previous years because I like doing an Advent activity calendar, but this year we don’t really have time to do an activity every day. School has sucked all the fun out of mommy and Erik time. Now it’s rush to get ready, rush to the bus, get home, get a snack, do homework, cook dinner, bedtime. Crazy.

OH NO! I just realized tomorrow is Dec 1! I bought a Star Wars Lego Advent calendar. Am I supposed to put together a whole friggin’ Lego thing tonight? I hate Legos. I have very poor fine motor skills. I guess I better go see what I’m supposed to do before it gets much later. I’m just glad I was searching through my closets this weekend to see what all I’ve bought over the course of the year. I had totally forgotten about buying the Advent calendar. I buy things on super discount, then forget they exist. I had gifts in there for Elsa’s third birthday. I’m nuts.

*I’m back to to-do list making. I get so much more done if I can focus on a list and have the satisfaction of physically crossing the items off. Achievement! Finally a way to make stay-at-home-momhood have some sort of grading rubric (in a very vague sense). Unfortunately, I quickly completed all the short term projects so everything that’s left will take days to complete. There is not much instant gratification, but having them written down gives me the motivation to work on them instead of procrastinating. I’m no longer watching TV during Elsa’s naps–I’m working on the list. Mainly, I’m working on photo books and calendars. I lost all my saved photos from Feb-August of this year, so now I have to go and download them from flickr. That’s a project and a half in and of itself. And a very boring one at that.

*Erik wanted to make a family quilt, so we started working on a little something. It’s difficult to work with him because he thinks he already knows everything and refuses to listen to suggestions or reality. Like, he wants it to be about 18″ square, but wants us all to be able to sleep under it together. And he doesn’t want to cut anything, he just wants to go through my fabric stash and start sewing things together until he gets a square. I suppose that could sort of work, but not really. Not without set in seams and a big, fat mess. I’m very excited to teach him about my hobby and don’t want to discourage him, but if he’s going to learn, he’s going to have to start with some of the basic skills. We started Sunday. He drew out a picture of the quilt he’d like to make and he picked out a bunch of fabrics. I thought he should be able to handle a little ironing if I was right there. I was right. He did quite well. It was me that ended up with a horrible burn. I reached over to grab something and managed to get a very nasty burn next to my elbow. It hurts so bad, especially if I wear long sleeves. It’s the end of November so long sleeves are sort of required (except for our freaky weather day yesterday–I was outside playing in shorts and a tank top after we got home from the gym). That was the end of quilting for that day.

*We have company coming for dinner this Saturday. I have no idea what to cook. Instead of focusing on a menu, I’m focusing on my dining room chairs. They are mortifying. Why anyone would buy fabric upholstered dining room chairs is beyond me. Doh! We got them before we had Erik and they were fine for awhile. Then we had him and they got nasty. I re-covered them once, but they are in dire need of another recovering, so that’s what I’m working on this week. It’s turning into a fiasco. I bought brown fabric with a little blue in it and didn’t think about the direction of the print when I cut out the covers. I rarely buy directional fabrics. I suppose it’s not the end of the world, but it seems like the print is running in the wrong direction. Also, I suck at sewing three dimensional items. I only had time to do one chair today and it turned out pretty bad, but it looks better than it did before. We are planning on getting a new dining set soon anyway, so this is just a stop-gap measure to keep from being totally embarrassed when we have company.

*I finally sewed something on my newly repaired sewing machine! I wanted to get it back so badly, but I haven’t had time to get it all set up. I am in shock at what a difference a cleaning and repair can make. I have always had trouble with the machine, but now I am thinking mabye it just needed some kind of internal tweak to make it work right. Even though the finished product sucked because of user error, the machine sewed like a dream. Score! Can’t wait to finish up my Harry Potter POD blocks! I have two left.

*I couldn’t figure out why Elsa was kicking so much. Today I realized she is saying “ki-yah” when she kicks. Oh my. She’d doing karate. Now that she’s older, she can sit with me during Erik’s class and behave fairly decently. I guess she’s been paying attention. Maybe having her observe behaviors I don’t want her to exhibit isn’t the way to go.

*I am almost finished with Deathless by Catherynne Valente. I have no idea what it means or even how to begin to parse out what she’s trying to say. I’m sure it means something really deep and profound, but I have no idea what it might be. Communists are bad? If the writing wasn’t so beautiful, I would swear the author was on some serious drugs when she wrote it. I’ll have to see if I can find some online reviews to help me figure it out.

*Why am I still up? I’m trying to think of another bullet, but I should go to bed. The day starts way too early around these parts (or I stay up way too late. Whichever).

We went totally non-traditional this Thanksgiving and met up with long-time Ameri-Swede friends in Lancaster, PA. They live near Manhattan and we live near DC, so it was a great place to meet up–an easy drive for both of us.

Dawn is an American with a Swedish husband, T. We’ve known each other via LJ for close to 8 years or so. They have two kids, Max (5) and Mia (21 months), so it was a perfect match-up for our little family. The boys hit it off great and the girls didn’t kill each other, so what’s not to love? I think Max really liked Erik, but he wasn’t sure how to express it so he kept kicking him. Erik likes to fight, but he wasn’t sure what to make of that. He is in an “I don’t want to be in trouble” stage right now so it was hard for him to control himself. He tried so hard to do the right thing, but it didn’t always come out right since he has no tact and would tell Max he didn’t want to be by him. Parenting is hard. You get through one thing, then you have to teach the next thing.

I never thought he’d hit a stage where he didn’t want to be in trouble, but it’s really nice. He is such an enjoyable, pleasant young man right now. I am savoring every minute of this kid. Let’s hope it lasts.

T was recently diagnosed with celiac (I need to connect Dawn with Jennifer), so we didn’t enjoy the bounty of Amish food. It was probably better for our wallets and our waistlines anyway. We had to stick with chains that would have a gluten-free menu and some understanding of how to prepare gluten-free food. Amish fried chicken and shoo fly pie wasn’t up to gluten free standards. I never did get my Amish pie, but I came home and made a pecan pie that was probably better anyway.

We did enjoy the bounty of PA entertainment. I can’t believe Hershey Park and Dutch Wonderland are only a couple hours away from us and we’ve never been. I will never get used to East coast distances. I always think of a trip as being at least six hours. I’m on Remote Oregon Mountain Travel times. I need to get with the States That Are Smaller Than Oregon Counties Time. We need to explore more.

Anyway, the parks had really wonky hours for the holiday weekend, but we went, we saw, we conquered. We left a ton of stuff un-ridden, but there’s always next time. We thought we did pretty great to spend 4 hours at each park with toddlers who were on the verge of melt-downs by hour 3.

I think the absolute favorite thing for all the kids was a patio full of building blocks. I want to buy a bunch of these blocks, rent out space at the mall and charge admission. If the kids at Dutch Wonderland were any indication, I would be rolling in the dough within the month.

It was so much fun to connect with Dawn again, and see her family. I think Mike really enjoyed speaking Swedish with T. I’m sure they must have commiserated about their bossy American women. Who knows? I only speak kid Swedish. I can’t follow an adult conversation.

We did have a couple of bumps in the road.

We were staying at a nice hotel that included a children’s playground.

You people had to see this playground. It was a death trap. I don’t know how they got this playground past safety inspectors or insurance inspectors. It did not pass muster. I could point out at least six things that would get the playground shut down here–they had three swings crammed into a spot designed for two swings, they had a swing that was inches away from a park bench, a swing that went by a castle window that kids could easily stick their heads out of, a rope climber with much too large holes, big openings on the play structure that were way too high. It was terrible. I’m writing them a letter. I can’t believe they haven’t been sued over this playground.

Erik was swinging “super man” style instead of on his butt. Elsa was in the baby swing next to him. Mike and I were both standing right there, but at the time I didn’t realize that the swing set was not set up properly. He twisted his swing around, Elsa’s swing went crooked and BANG. Her swing hit him in the head.

He got quite the goose egg and a small cut. Thankfully it barely bled, even though it was a scalp wound. It was such a long walk to the front desk for an ice pack, that I think Erik forgot he was hurt by the time we got there.

The other bump in the road could have turned scary.

On Saturday we were getting ready to leave for lunch when we all heard a bang. The people in the car next to T and Dawn had slammed their door into their car, leaving a dent and scratch. First the people offered T money, then they called over their travel companion who claimed to be a lawyer from NYC, then they called the police and denied the whole thing. They were so frustrating. They tried every excuse in the book, even after the police officer opened their door and showed them it was an exact match. Then they offered T a measly $25. As if! They tried to say that it couldn’t have been them because we didn’t know which child slammed the door into the car. Of course we didn’t. We were focused on the door, not a gaggle of tweens.

I was really glad it didn’t escalate because they were very loud and pushy. I was worried they were going to punch T in the face, then Mike would have to jump in. Mike and T are both small, Swedish men. A fight would not be in their best interests.

It took forever to take care of the whole thing, but at least no one was hurt. We just had screaming kids in the cars, and hungry adults talking to the police officer.

I’d have to say Dutch Wonderland was the highlight of the trip. It was designed for younger children, which was perfect for us. It was not as fancy as Hershey Park, but it didn’t need to be. The kids got to ride things designed just for them, without the help of an adult. They couldn’t ask for anything more. Erik even said he wants to go there for his next birthday. I told him we could do that instead of a birthday party. I would love it if he really agreed to that next year. Birthday parties are way too stressful.

I have a lot more pictures, but I haven’t had time to edit them. I’ve been doing a mountain of laundry, making pie, and checking items off my ever growing to-do list today. A weekend away is delightful, but the aftermath makes a woman tired. Hopefully I’ll get to photos tomorrow, or maybe Dawn will post a few. They were taking pictures with a fancy camera.

My brain is a blank today. I’ve been working my butt off on Camp Fire and I’m finally free! Free as a bird! At least for a few weeks.

I came up with the idea of joining a club, then realized if I wanted one I’d have to start one myself. I conned a few people into joining me, so I felt very responsible for making sure everything went smoothly at our first meeting, so I was the first leader*. Being first is extra difficult since you have no freakin’ clue what to do. We had a curriculum guide provided by Camp Fire, but a lot of the information was unfamiliar despite our training. We didn’t know the songs very well and we didn’t know what patriotic songs all the kids might know. We are supposed to come up with a club devised opening and closing, which is kind of difficult since all our children are between the ages of 3-6. They don’t know how to create an opening and closing or what the options might be.

In the end it all worked out despite a few stumbles. The kids had a lot of fun, which was the most important thing. The only song all the kids new was “She’s a Grand Old Flag,” so I printed out the lyrics and we all did a great job singing it until the last two lines. It was hilarious to hear us all come to the last two lines and be completely clueless about how to sing them. The grown-ups were laughing pretty hard.

We’re meeting again in a couple of weeks and will do a big ceremony where they get their vests and a few emblems. I just hope our order comes in by then! They are dying to get their first emblems and to start a real camp fire. It’s a good thing the lady who has agreed to host bought a fire escape ladder. We may need it, if these kids have their way.

How about some pictures since my mind is a blank?

Elsa has been very angry about her broken ball popper. I forgot we even had it, but for the past week she’s been pulling it out and trying to make it work. They must have one at the gym.

It needed size D batteries, so I finally bought some at Costco. We’ll have enough to last a few months.

We quickly discovered that it had a too-big ball stuck in the middle, so having a battery didn’t fix the problem. I tried removing the ball with a hanger, but had no luck. Mike got it out by taking a bunch of wiffle balls and shoving them through. It was quite a process. But now the thing is fixed and the girl is beyond thrilled. I chose this picture because her face is happy instead of doing the grimace-y “cheeeeeeese” face that toddlers tend to make.

And this is her other favorite toy. We can’t get a clear picture because she rides at about 100 miles per hour. She really prefers to stand on it, but we don’t allow that. Much. So far she’s only fallen once, but it did involve blood. Poor dear.

I don’t want to leave Erik out, even if he has lost all that toddler cuteness. He’s a handsome devil in his own right, if only he wouldn’t screw up his face any time the camera is pointed his way. He got this little shop for his birthday and totally loves it. We have to go shopping and make up different voices for each customer. This is the problem with having kids almost five years apart. I can’t just throw them together and tell them to play this game together.

You’d think I could take a non-blurry picture of a static item, but I guess not. I barely managed to get a picture at all–I had to pull it out of his backpack at the last minute and snap a pic so I could show you guys our scarecrow that I was complaining about. It turned out to be a fun, cute project. I think the key was ignoring Erik and not asking him to help. He’s such a little turkey sometimes.

At the time I didn’t know that the kindergarten class has a big Thanksgiving feast each year. Now I understand why the teacher wanted these to be fairly nice–they are the decorations for the feast.

I volunteered to do some of the feast shopping and don’t know if I did it right. I was supposed to get 100 juice boxes, 100 plates and 100 napkins. I got the juice boxes at Costco, no problem. But the plates and napkins were my downfall. I could get regular old white napkins and paper plates for less than $10. Or I could get holiday products. What to do? What was the budget? The PTA is paying for all this if we submit receipts, but they didn’t give us a budget to work with. Did they want this to be super fun? Or super cheap?

In the end I went with the middle ground. Holiday plates were $3/10 pack. Cra-azy. I ended up with brown plates and fun holiday napkins for a total of $28. Probably too much, but they are fun. If the PTA says I spent too much, I don’t mind taking the hit. I guess they can pay me what they think is fair. But then again, they didn’t give me a budget or tell me the expectations so who knows. If I was throwing a Thanksgiving feast, I would want the plates and napkins to be festive.

And lastly, no pictures, but I must be crazy. I decided to host a “Left Over Holiday Cheer Party” for a few friends. I told people to bring over their left over goodies a few days after Christmas and we’ll throw on a movie for the kids, sugar every one up, and have a last hurrah. I know we always have way too many cookies, candies and pies left over. I think everyone does. We shall see if anyone can even make it so soon after Christmas. People might actually have families they want to visit. Or maybe they will be tired of parties. I know I will be. Heck, if I was skinny I would buy a pair of adult pajamas and declare it a pajama party for the moms. I don’t want my boobies to be bouncing free around all my friends, so I think giant grown-up pajamas are out.

*Camp Fire clubs can be run in several different ways. We are doing a family club, which means each family supplies a leader (a mom or dad) and we do the whole thing as a co-op.

I’ve officially been to the gym 10 times in November! Ten is the magic number because it means my daycare pass was worth it. You either pay $2/hour or buy a monthly pass for $20.

When Erik was little, I was there six times a week. It has been much harder making that happen since Elsa came along. First she hated it, then she was always sick, and now I just have a lot of scheduling issues. I can’t figure out how to schedule in the classes I really want to take, so I’ve just been doing cardio. I need a new plan.

But ten times! I think this means that Elsa’s immune system is finally up to par and we are getting in our groove with our schedule. She hasn’t been sick in weeks (knock on wood).

Of course, a big part of our scheduling problem is that I have friends. When Erik was a baby I didn’t have friends. I was timid.

Can you imagine? I can’t imagine. I was painfully shy. Looking back, I was just ridiculous. What was I so afraid of? Why did I care so much what people thought about me? Yes, people form opinions based on appearance, but people also believe what you tell them about yourself. If you tell them you are fun and confident and worthy by acting fun and confident and worthy they will believe it.

My 2008 resolution to “Be Vivacious” has changed my life in so many ways. I can talk to just about anybody about just about anything these days. I am first to strike up a conversation. I schmooze. I really didn’t know I had schmoozing in me, but I do. Since becoming MOMS Club president, I have to be extra-super friendly and chatty to everyone who comes along. I guess it is not a requirement, but people certainly prefer a friendly president over an aloof president, and we live in a pretty small town as far as the stay-at-home-mom population goes. I decided that I wasn’t going to strike up conversations or be social in Elsa’s gym class. I need a break from being so damned vivacious. Who knew I’d ever get to the point that I was so successful with my plan to make friends that I could take a break from it?

The other piece of gym time scheduling has to do with Elsa’s sleeping habits. After having a kid who absolutely refused to sleep; a kid who screamed, cried, kicked, fussed, and had a meltdown for at least an hour before every single nap and every single bed time; a kid who could seemingly live on no sleep at all; well, let’s just say Elsa is different. A kid who melts down if they aren’t given the opportunity to nap a few hours after waking up? What strange creature is this? She’s been getting up at 7 and wanting to nap from 11-3. Maybe I need to up her dosage of iron.

But I should be posting about new things, right? Don’t I post about this every day? Ugh. Boring.

Warning: just another mom post. Except the gym post. I’m sure it excites you greatly to hear that I’ve been running on the elliptical for ten days.

The only exciting part has been the book I’m reading–Deathless by Catherynne Valente. Wow. I knew it would be strange, but I was also hoping it would be wonderful. I picked it out for our book club this month and I’m not sure what I’m going to say about it. It is strange. It has some amazingly beautiful bits of writing. The plot is completely baffling. Basically the author is either totally into S&M or had a really, really abusive marriage. Or both.

I know that some people are really into the whole pain is pleasure thing, but I don’t get it. I hate pain. I don’t like to get a paper cut, a stubbed toe, or a too-hard love pat. I simply don’t understand the appeal of causing pain or wanting physical pain in a relationship. I want to be treasured and cherished. I want to be coddled. I do not want to be harmed in any way. I don’t have the mental capability of understanding why having someone try to exert control over me through pain would be a fun thing. I know it’s a real kink that some people enjoy, but it eludes comprehension for me. Book club will be interesting this month (if anyone actually read the book).

Let’s talk about something that doesn’t involve bloody sex scenes.

Things have been good on the Erik front this week. I don’t know why, but he’s been behaving exceptionally well the past several days. Perhaps because I put his video game in a time out for a day and he doesn’t want that to happen again? Is he really old enough to start understanding consequences and making good choices that aren’t totally in the moment? I hope so.

He’s been doing his homework without whining, getting ready for school without whining, and just generally being a nice kid. It’s such a pleasure to be around him when we can have a normal conversation and work together without having a screaming match. I hate yelling at my kids. I feel like I’m abusing him, but then I realize he is giving as good as he gets so I don’t think he’s all that intimidated by me. I always swore I would never yell at my kids, but hot damn. Sometimes I swear he likes it. Any attention is good attention? Hmmmmm. . . .

Elsa continues to grow and develop at an astounding rate. I want to capture her sweetness and light and somehow hold it for all eternity, but I know I will love her more and more as she grows older and begins to reveal her true self to us.

Then she’ll be a teenager and I’ll need that captured sweetness and light.

It’s so fun to hear her trying out new words every day and watching her face as she makes connections between cause and effect. She’s no longer a little lump of dough. She’s a real person with real thoughts and real demands. She marches down to the bus stop, waits patiently, then waves “bye” the second the bus pulls away and marches right back home. She’s very determined and has no time to waste on talking with other people at the bus stop.

She loves going to the gym now and will even give the ladies hugs when she leaves. Her hugs are full force affairs that about knock you down if you don’t brace for them. It’s no so much a hug, as a throw-down. Today she demanded a “hus” from me, so I picked her up and whirled her around. Then she wanted a kiss, so I puckered up.

Oh god, people.

She stuck her graham cracker coated tongue into my mouth.

My mouth was closed at the time, but she used so much force and it was such a surprise that I didn’t stand a chance.

(This is where I stop writing for you and start writing for her virtual baby book).

I don’t ever want to forget the utter and complete joy she takes from rolling around on the floor. That sounds silly, but how else can I explain it? She’s exploring her body and its limits and loves feeling the feel of rolling. She could roll around all day, except then she’d miss out on playing peek-a-boo (the kind where she jumps out of something) or singing Itsy-Bitsy Spider (her very favorite song).

I love that she is talking so much. I don’t remember Erik talking until he turned 2, so I’m always taken aback when she starts blabbing away and I understand so much of it and am able to respond to her requests. Three most requested items: Puppy (meaning sign language DVD), pretzels and shoes. She’s doing a ton of sign language, like Erik did. He preferred bird and shoes. She likes go, shoes, milk and monkey.

She also likes to talk about “boo-boos” and let every woman she meets know that they have boo-boos and that daddy doesn’t have boo-boos. As most people guess, she means boobs. Being a mother is nothing if not an exercise in humility.

I really need to make some movies of her, I think. Not to show you guys, but just to have. I have a few of Erik up on YouTube and I get a kick out of watching them every once in a while. I barely get out my camera these days because I am so unhappy with my photog skills. I need to get over myself and get pictures, even if they are blurry. She’ll only be this small once. I’m never going to have another toddler, so I need to make this one count.

Our new neighbor is a chain smoker who refuses to smoke in her own home because it’s bad for the kids.. She’s a really nice lady, which makes me happy since we see her sitting on the porch all the time. We are both end unit, side facing townhouses so we see each other constantly. Nice to have a nice neighbor when you are smooshed that close together.

Anyway, she’s a chain smoker. Apparently she also goes out for smokes in middle of the night. This morning she told me that she though I had a critter in my garbage can. She heard it scratching all night, so I needed to check it out before taking the trash out.

I’m glad I had some warning.

Our lid disappeared last week, so I just have a can sitting by my porch. The trash truck comes twice a week, so we never have much to put out. We used to just put it out in a bag, but they usually don’t come until mid-afternoon so crows and critters attack the bags and make a mess everywhere. A big can is a necessity of life.

All that to say, I peeked into the can and the neighbor was right. I had a mid-sized raccoon all curled up in the bottom of the can. I screamed because I’m a wimp. I was planning on kicking the can over and running into the house, but the neighbor is an animal lover and thought that was mean. She came and stared at the raccoon, then very gently sat it onto it’s side so it could make its escape. Thankfully it ran off into the woods and not toward our feet.

Mike and I are trying to watch our brand spankin’ new Harry Potter 7 pt. 2 DVD, but it is slow going. It’s been two nights and we are less than an hour into it. One day we won’t have tiny children who cry at night. One day we will have old kids who can watch a scary movie with us. Or will be off to a friends house for the evening or something. One day!

I am so ready to stop co-sleeping with Elsa, but I am not sure what to do with her. I am ready to wean her, but she is a strong self-advocate for continuing the nursing relationship. I know “how” to do a few of these things, but I don’t know how to do them in a way I am comfortable with. And that’s really what it comes down to. I could do a lot of things differently, but I choose to do them my way so I guess I can’t complain.

She is such a funny girl. I took her to her gym class again today and she did a lot better. She sat during circle time and did the little activities. She would be totally ready for a little Twos preschool program next year if I could find one that I was willing to send her to. I went to the preschool fair and found out that the only programs that take her age are either religious or super expensive. There goes that idea.

Last week I noticed the kiddie gym had a zipline running down one wall. I didn’t think it looked too safe, but figured they had it there for a reason.

Today I discovered the reason. They hook a baby swing to the zipline and give the kids “space rides.” Too bad Elsa fr-eeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaa-ked out. She would have liked it, I think, but there was a guy running along side it for safety and she was having nothing to do with strangers today. If looks could kill, Mr. Diego would be dead as a doornail.

And Mike is back. How am I supposed to post and watch Harry fly around on a broomstick at the same time? I can’t. Sorry, people. Harry rules tonight.

I’ve been so busy that I can’t believe it’s only Saturday.

Friday was nuts. We had Erik’s conference (went well, he’s at a first grade level for most things, he’s stopped telling his teacher “I already know that” and will listen to her most of the time, he is an asset to the class, he’s wiggly–nothing I didn’t already know), a birthday party and a dinner with new friends. That’s a lot to pack into six hours. How did I become a social butterfly? It’s almost a relief to go to Elsa’s new class and not know a soul. I am not even going to try to be vivacious. I don’t have room in my life for more new friends.

I’ve just made a friend who wanted our husbands to meet because they are in the same business. I think she wants her husband to get a new job so she doesn’t have to move to an undesirable location in the very new future. Networking with Mike couldn’t hurt.

It turns out that her husband and Mike have a lot of people in common. They were both shocked to meet someone in “the business” here in our little town and seemed to have an enjoyable time talking about stuff that flew right over the non-rocket scientists’ heads. I see more dinners in our future.

I think I was really tacky because I took home the left overs from the dinner. The hostess said they don’t eat leftovers; they just throw them away. This was a travesty in my little money saving heart, so I asked if I could take them. I felt bad asking, but not bad enough to keep my mouth shut. The food was good! Better it go in my belly than the trash can.

We got home late, got the kids in bed and watched Fringe. I can’t believe the fall finale is next week. It just barely got started.

Today was really outside my norm.

I had to get up at 6:45 so I could make it to Camp Fire training at an ungodly hour. Ok, so it was at 9. But the location was a good 45 minutes away in good traffic, which means my overachiever friend and I left 1.5 hours early. We only got there with 20 minutes to spare after getting lost because of Google Maps and a road that didn’t exist.

The training was . . . interesting. I think the trainers needed some serious training on how to train. I’m still confused about a lot of things.

Our Council (what they call a big area) is not very large at all. For several years they were completely dormant, so they’re still in the re-building stages. They only have five family clubs in the whole area. They focus on after school programs, in school programs, and programs that meet the needs of at-risk youth. They have a staff paid for by grants and the staff runs those programs. The office is in a ratty, old apartment complex that was kind of scary. It was not comfortable, but they have meetings there with the kids in the neighborhood. They actually do a whole lot of good in communities and I am really pleased that we hooked up with them. I do wish there were some more family clubs in the area so we could do group outings with them. I don’t know if all the clubs feel like a low income thing or if that is just our area vibe because they don’t have many family clubs. Everyone I talk to has never even heard of Camp Fire. I guess it’s a lot bigger on the West coast. As soon as Erik started talking about scouting I knew we would try to do Camp Fire. I refuse to put my son in a program that discriminates against anyone.

We are all trained now, though I still feel like we don’t have much of a clue what we are doing. We have to figure out how to finance all our projects. We have a few options. Pay dues or just all throw money in a kitty. Do we need a treasurer and bank account? How much do we each pay? Sounds complicated. I prefer to be told what to do and have become used to money being very tightly controlled because of my MOMS Club involvement. I am not comfortable with money talk.

At least the meetings are completely planned. They have a curriculum that we follow. We can change things up a bit, but overall everything is spelled out, which will make it very easy in the beginning. We’ll just have the kids pick a goal, then we’ll follow the page in the book that will get us to that goal. As the kids get older they get to make more choices, but we will learn about that when the kids enter 3rd grade. We’ve got a ways to go. Right now our kids want to dig for fossils, so I don’t know how we’re going to fit that in or if there is a page in the manual for fossil digging.

I’ve been so busy that I keep thinking today is Sunday. I’m so glad I have another day to rest, though I don’t think it will be very restful since Mike has to do a lot of working from home tomorrow. Bah humbug. It makes me want to go have a little retail therapy.

There will be no retail therapy for me. Mike and I have made a deal. As soon as we (and by we, it is mainly me since I’m the spender and he’s the saver) have saved XXX amount of money, we are going to buy a new dining room table. It’s going to be our Christmas gift to each other (though I made a rule that we still have to stuff stockings for each other and give each other a $30 present under the tree. I like opening presents.). As I continue to save money through out the year we will buy the chairs. I get a new chair each time I reach a certain savings goal. I think this will work well for me. I have a hard time saving money when the goal is “retirement” since that seems so far off* (even though I logically know how important it is). It is easier when it is a tangible goal.

Once the dining room set is complete, we will move on to our next household goal. I can’t decide if a new bathtub or hardwood floors are the priority. Or maybe a new sofa and chair for the basement. You shouldn’t have to find a pillow pet to sit to make the couch tolerable. Not only is it mentally disturbing to sit on a pillow pet, the head is really uncomfortable if you don’t position it correctly.

Maybe this problem could be solved with other cushions. My son is obsessed with pillow pets, though, so we have several floating around the basement.

*Don’t worry. We are still saving for retirement. That money comes out of the paycheck immediately and doesn’t count towards my dining set fund.

It’s been one of those days. I am PMSing hardcore, which means every little whine from my children feels like someone is using my spine for a guitar string, leading straight to a brain explosion. I can’t stand the whining. Or the crying. Or the arguing. I can usually tolerate it to some extent, but not on days like today.

Of course when mommy is upset, it makes the kids more upset, so mommy gets more upset and around and around she goes.

Yesterday Elsa fell off Erik’s bathroom stool and smacked her face into the toilet. She bloodied her lip and was in obvious pain yesterday and today. This threw my whole day off. She loves to sleep when she’s not feeling well, so she fell asleep for a nap at 11 am. I wasn’t prepared for it. What kind of toddler decides to take a nap that early in the day?

I didn’t have my laptop, a TV, or any reading material handy. As usual she was on top of me. I know, I know, I know. Stupid napping arrangement. Every time I try to fix the problem, my strategy fails completely. It wouldn’t be so bad, but I have to go fetch Erik from the bus at 3:20 so I don’t have a lot of flexibility in my afternoon schedule.

Back to today.

I finally decided to try to change locations because I was being driven insane by the boredom, but it didn’t end well. She woke up and never did go back to sleep. Instead she whined and fussed and cried and acted crazy all. day. long.

I felt those nerves being plucked.

When she’s overly tired she throws herself off things, she bites, she falls down, she pinches. It’s pleasant

There were positive moments in the day. Elsa thinks it is her job to carry Erik’s lunch box down to the bus stop. Woe betide any one who dares get between her and that danged lunch box.

Every day it is a fight to take it and give it to Erik.

Today I totally forgot the fight, until the bus was pulling away.

I tried to chase the bus down, but I was in my jammies and Birkenstocks and I’m a fat chick who can’t run. Wasn’t happening.

My neighbor grabbed it from me and took off running. He had to run all the way down to the stop sign to catch the bus. What a nice, nice neighbor! He seemed to enjoy being the hero. He never brings his daughter to the bus, so I guess it was just his lucky day.

.

Today was an early release day and I kept reminding myself that I needed to get Erik at 12:45. Around noon I completely forgot about early release day and that was the end of that until I heard the bus pulling out at 12:50.

I ran outside in my barefeet with a naked baby on my hip and my heart sank. There was no way in hell I was catching the bus.

Does it seem like a lot of my stories involve a naked baby? Why don’t Possums like clothes?

My nearest neighbor pointed and said “There he is!”

Thank dog my other neighbor, the wife of the morning runner, had picked Erik up from the stop. They don’t let kindergartners off the bus unless there is someone to claim them. They take them back to the school. I know it would have been traumatic for Erik. He was already sort of crying because I forgot him.

My failings as a mother did not make my day feel fantastic, but it is a wonderful feeling to have neighbors help me out. I’d do the same for them (maybe not running, because that’s not my talent, but you know what I mean). I love my neighborhood. I really do. I decided I should make the neighbors a pie for rescuing me twice in one day, but then I saw the big pile of rotting Costco bananas on my counter and made them banana bread instead. I will deliver it tomorrow morning.

Why does Costco keep their bananas wrapped in plastic? I took the plastic wrap off as soon as I brought them home, but it was too late. They were ruined.

The problem with the banana bread? It spilled over the pan and started burning on the bottom of my oven. I was already wound too tight, and the sound of the smoke alarm going off over and over and over and OVER and OVER AND OVER AND OVER did not help matters. It is somehow wired into the house so you can’t even pop the batteries out when you make a stupid cooking error. But gosh darn it, we are safe from a fire! Don’t ask what happens when your electricity has some weird thing happen at 2 am and you can’t get the alarm off. It’s not fun. But I suppose it is a lot more fun than not having an alarm and burning up in your bed, or having an alarm and running out of the house so you can watch all your worldly possessions burn to the ground.

Luckily, we were in no danger of that happening. I opened all the windows, but it was cold, as it should be in mid-November, and Elsa kept trying to jump out the window. They are really low and I’m afraid she will be able to make her escape into the rhododendrons if I don’t keep an extremely close eye on her. I’m scared to open the windows on the top floor. If she decides to do some climbing and peek out the window she’s a goner.

On top of all the kid antics, my brain deficiencies, and a smoke alarm blaring for an hour, I had to deal with people I didn’t want to deal with.

Erik hasn’t been eating his breakfast this week and it’s been driving me crazy. He’s been asking for scrambled eggs, and I’ve been obliging even though I know he hates them. I also provide him with his usual waffles but he won’t touch them. This kid needs to eat something. They don’t get lunch until 12:50. He is like his mother: a complete nightmare to be around if he gets grouchy-hungry. Not eating breakfast is not acceptable. Waffles are barely tolerable for this purpose. They are whole wheat and I sprinkle them with flax seeds to try to boost the nutrition a little. I’d love to add peanut butter or something with protein, but I’ll take what I can get. He’s picky.

This morning he tells me the dentist (I think he meant hygienist) told him he’s not allowed to eat waffles for breakfast. He’s only allowed to eat eggs.

I’m sure she meant well. I know it is her job to educate. Erik may have twisted her meaning all around; he is not the most reliable witness.

But I was seeing red. You know I’m pissed when I pick up the phone and make a call. I never make calls, but I called the dental office and had a little chat with the receptionist. She was apologetic and said she was sure the hygienist only meant to be helpful. I agree. I’m sure the hygienist didn’t mean anything bad by it, but she needs to understand that her words have power. Little kids see her as an authority figure. A few well-intentioned words on her part ended up making my last few days quite hellish since I had to deal with a cranky, hungry boy. If I can’t convince Erik to eat his waffles (or something else), I’m going to take him back to the office and have them tell him he can eat waffles. GRRRRRRRRR!!!

Then I got an e-mail from one of the teachers at the school about a mistake I made with my volunteer paper grading. They have a program called Basic Facts, which is a once a week school wide math test. It’s a whole complicated thing. I agreed to grade the papers from Erik’s class, but then they already had a volunteer so I’m grading papers from the special needs kindergarten class. I only have six papers to grade, so it’s no biggie. Except the paper work and procedures are a time suck and fairly complicated for a new person.

They know that I don’t go into the school and that they have to send everything in Erik’s backpack. I told them right up front that I would not be able to go into the school twice a week and they said that was fine, we can send everything back and forth with Erik. They seem to be back pedaling on that a little and want me to go in to write a name down on a specific piece of paper.

Ummmmm.

No.

I can write it on a sticky note and someone else can write it on the paper.

So today I got an e-mail written in total “bitch speak” about a mistake I made. I somehow recorded a score for a student who was absent and it was a horrible, horrible mistake. There are only six kids, so either I wrote a score in the wrong column and then confused myself or someone is messing with me/this kid’s score. I’m sure I just wrote the score in the wrong column, but I specifically remember being really surprised that this kid got 100% on the test because last week this same kid didn’t get a single answer right. I don’t get it. There’s no reason for someone to mess with the kid’s score. They are not a part of the child’s grade in any way. Most of the teachers don’t even look at the tests or the results according to the person who trained me. Don’t ask me, I don’t know.

Remember, I’m PMSing. I’m not very rational, so this e-mail upset me. The tone was so patronizing that I wanted to punch someone and then rub math sheets all over her face.

Instead, I wrote back a very nice e-mail with some humor and an explanation that it was an honest mistake. I also let them know that if it wasn’t working out for them to use me as a grader for this program I would be happy to let someone else have the job.

The next e-mail was a complete 180. Ha! Of course I am wonderful! Of course simple mistakes are easy to make! Of course it’s no biggie!

Somehow we all managed to survive the day, just barely. I feel so bad for Mike. He is having a horrible week at work. The big guns are in to check out what’s going on, so he’s wearing a suit and tie every day. He gets home and has this crazy woman shove a grumpy baby at him before he can even remove his tie and jacket. The house is a mess. There’s a naked six year old complaining that he’s cold. There’s me yelling for people to just put their clothes on and quit whining.

Wouldn’t you want to come home to all that? Where’s my pearls and Mike’s slippers?

But there were good things:

Erik was still really excited about his scarecrow, so he finished it up and it looks pretty good. He glued chocolate chips on it. I have no idea why. He also did some embroidery on the face, so that was neat. I wouldn’t recommend teaching a person to sew using paper instead of fabric, though. It is very unforgiving.

Dinner turned out really great (beef stirfry).

Erik did all the mashing and stirring for another batch of banana bread. Hopefully I can bake it tomorrow, but I have to clean the oven first.

Unfortunately things ended on a bad note. Elsa is so cranky and crabby and uncoordinated–a typical toddler response to sleep deprivation. She refused to listen when I told her to stop climbing on the couch and tossing around the laundry I was trying to fold. I was about to blow a gasket, but then she did a head dive off the couch and landed on her face. Her mouth was spurting blood. There was lots of screaming. I didn’t even have much motherly devotion in me. My nerves were so shot by that point that I just handed her over to Mike and didn’t even feel all that guilty about it. She likes him better anyway.

Let’s hope tomorrow is better. Is there something you can take to lessen the effects of PMS on your mood? I need something. I hate being so tense and on edge. It’s almost a physical thing, not just an emotional thing. I swear every muscle in my body hurts from being so keyed up all day.

I was so worried about this silly scarecrow homework, and then it turned out to be a fun project. Maybe I need to worry more often so I can be proven wrong.

I decided to use fabric as a base (I’ll take a pic when it is complete). Erik loves messing around with my fabric and wants to make a quilt (but won’t actually sit still to get started), so I thought he would like the idea of using fabric. It would be very “us” and would be something I could easily do. I quietly started the project with out him and made the pants, shirt and hat while he was playing a game with his dad. By the time I was ready to glue them on, I had captured his interest and he wanted to know what I was doing. It is hard to trick him, but my most successful strategy usually involves ignoring him.

He willingly gave up his “gaming with daddy” time to do crafting with me. Color me shocked.

I let him go through my fabric and pick out whatever he wanted for the finishing touches. You’d think I’d given him a million bucks, he was so thrilled and proud. He took total ownership of the project and instructed me on how to cut everything. He did the gluing. Truly, I think he knows he is not great at certain crafty things because he doesn’t practice, so he doesn’t even want to try since he won’t be the best.

I think he liked this project because gluing down a piece of fabric has a much bigger payoff than sitting still in a chair and coloring. You cut, you glue, you get something that looks nice without scribbles or barren spots. I totally get it. That’s why I like quilting. I can take already created prettiness and manipulate it into something even better.

Elsa also had some success today. She stayed with a sitter for the first time ever and didn’t even cry. She was a good girl and didn’t harass the sitter’s kids. I am so happy! I was afraid she was going to be a bully for life, but she does listen. You just have to pay attention and catch her before she’s naughty.

My friend came over this afternoon and it was hilarious to see Elsa want to lay down just like the baby. Elsa is soooooo not a baby anymore, as this picture clearly illustrates. Where did that giant toddler come from? My friend’s baby is five months old.

Of course, just a few seconds later Elsa showed her true colors. Don’t worry. No babies were harmed in the making of this blog post.

Isn’t my friend’s baby a little doll? So sweet!

My friend doesn’t know how to do braids and all that. Her mom always took her and her sisters to a hairdresser to get their corn rows, so she’s clueless about the whole thing. She had dreds for the past five years, but she cut them off shortly after her baby was born.

In an effort to learn to braid, she’s been searching the internet for tutorials. One of the sites suggested a fake hairboard made out of yarn and plastic canvas so you can practice without a real head in front of you, so she made one and has been trying out different styles.

I mentioned that I wished I knew how to braid, especially in the herringbone style. Obviously our girls have very different hair textures and will have very different needs as they grow up, but that didn’t stop her from trying to help me out. She, smart woman that she is, went to YouTube to figure out how to do it. She brought her hairboard over so she could teach me and I could practice. I never even thought of using YouTube to learn to style hair, but it’s a great resource. I know you can use YouTube to figure out video games, but real stuff? I’m totally old school. I thought you learned to braid by going over to a girly sleepover and having a make-over. I’m not a girly sleepover kind of gal. Never was. I never learned how to braid.

Not that Elsa’s hair is ready for braiding yet, but now I know what to do when she has longer hair and wants fancy styles. Whoo-hoo! I’ve been kind of worried about it because I know nothing about fixing fancy hair. Maybe I can learn, even though my fingers are awkward and I have no confidence in my fine motor abilities.

When Erik was a baby I quickly decided that baby classes were a total scam. Going and sitting around with a bunch of women I didn’t know and a very uncooperative baby/toddler was a complete and utter nightmare. He wouldn’t cooperate at all. He didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t enjoy it. There was no point. I was a first time mom and freaked out about being judged by all the other moms. I was new to the East coast and didn’t know the proper wardrobe, small talk or anything else.

Elsa is a completely different child, I’m a completely different mother, and I’ve been wondering if a baby class would be something we would enjoy. I feel guilty that Erik can’t do a cartwheel or somersault because he was one of the very few children amongst our over-scheduled peers that never took a gymnastics class. I don’t want Elsa to miss out on those skills.

I hadn’t really looked into it because I knew it would be expensive and I wasn’t sure where I would want to take her. The other day a great deal came up on Living Social–four classes, four open gyms and a lifetime membership to My Gym for only $49 so I jumped on it. You really can’t beat that price, especially since the classes are an hour long. Typically classes for toddlers are 45 minutes.

We have several different kid-centric gyms in the area, and now I can say I’ve tried them all. My Gym is far and away the best of the bunch, from what little I’ve seen. Maybe Little Gym is ok for older kids, but I really liked the structure of the My Gym class. We did a song and a dance together then got turned loose for free play. During free play the staff (four of them!) brought out several different activities for the kids to concentrate on, but if the kids preferred to lounge in the ball pit or run down the slide that was ok. Well. Maybe running down the slide wasn’t ok, but Elsa wouldn’t listen to her mother constantly repeating “No, sit, no, sit, no, sit.” I guess I think she’s a puppy.

During the last fifteen minutes they had “separation time” and had the moms go sit along the edges of the play area while they let the kids play with some toys that they brought out of storage. I was very impressed with the whole thing.

Elsa didn’t like to sit and sing, but she didn’t have a meltdown. She didn’t really want to do the structured activities, but she didn’t cry when I made her try them. She loved playing with the various pieces of equipment. She was nice to the other kids. She tends to be a major bully (hitting, kicking, pinching), but I was able to nip it in the bud each time and didn’t have to deal with any “mommy of a bully” embarrassment. I’m glad she’s starting to understand behavioral limits. If she continues to do well with the class I’ll probably sign her up for a full session.

I am such a mommy blogger. Ugh. But what else is there to talk about? I have to keep drama close to the vest because the internet never forgets.

Moving on.

At least we had success with Erik’s karate tonight. We’ve had terrible fights the past few weeks, but I decided we weren’t going to fight him about going to his leadership class tonight. I can’t deal with more fighting. That’s not the relationship I want with my son. I called the karate school and left a message about our problems. I told Erik he didn’t have to go to leadership, but that we would all be really happy if he went. He wanted to go to Pizza Hut for dinner because he had a coupon for a free pan pizza. I told him we’d go if he went to leadership. Cue the shit fit. So much for not fighting. I managed to remain calm and just keep repeating “you don’t have to go, but if you do we can go to Pizza Hut” even when he was wigging out and rolling all over the ground.

Mike came home early just to deal with karate, which was an amazingly nice surprise. The owner never called me back about the message I left, so Mike talked to him and let him know we need solutions. We are paying a crap load of money for this and need some support to make it worth it.

I guess communication works. The teacher nicely manipulated Erik into staying for the class and being happy about it. That’s the kicker–he loves the leadership class because they are learning a sword dance, but he’s too afraid to stay.

So guess what? We had Pizza Hut for dinner and now I have a major tummy ache. I think Erik thought it was going to be like Chuck E. Cheese so he was a little surprised that it was just a restaurant with no games or toys. Despite the heart burn, it was really nice to be able to reward Erik for a job well done. I am hoping that he will start to understand that it is a lot more fun to do what we ask and have nice family times instead of refusing to take care of his responsibilities and having us nag him and fight with him all the time. Keep dreaming, right?

Speaking of fighting with a kindergartner, you guys will not believe what came home from school today. He brought home a scarecrow that we are supposed to “decorate as a family” using anything we want–glitter, fabric, straw, beans, buttons, that kind of thing. The scarecrow is due in 10 days and will be on display in the hall of the school. The child is supposed to write two sentences about the scarecrow with their own words using invented spelling.

Ok.

So do I nag him to do a significant part of this damned scarecrow? This is the child who hates craft projects. He might be into it for three minutes, but then he’ll get bored and want to go away, but he won’t want me to touch the project. Or he’ll want to do it all himself but just do a few scribbles and call it good.

Or do I do it and do it right since it says the whole family is supposed to decorate this thing?

I’d like to ask for his input, and let him do a few things, but I know he will not agree to let me come up with a master plan. I can try to trick him, but he’s getting very difficult to manipulate. He will want to be the boss, but won’t do the work. Why does it have to be so difficult? I’m sure the teacher thought this would be a fun family activity that would bring the kids and parents closer together. Excuse me while I go laugh in a paper bag filled with vodka.

Basically do I view the project as mine or his? What about Mike? I’m sure Mike is just dying to decorate a scarecrow after a 60 hour work week. Maybe he can decorate it with shredded satellite reports.

I went to kindergarten many, many years ago. I even graduated. Why do I have homework? I just need to get Erik to buy in to letting me do most of it so that he can be really proud of it when it is on display for the whole school to see. Grrrrrrrr. I don’t want to do most of it. It is his project! But it is the family project! But I want it to be nice! But I don’t give a shit! But obviously I do!

This is in addition to his regular homework, which is problematic enough.

Ok, let’s end on a positive note. I think Elsa may be trying to potty train herself. She took off her diaper and sat on the potty all by herself. It didn’t seem like much was happening, but then I noticed she had a chocolate chip, but she wasn’t eating it. She was just smearing it around.

Of course I had company. Thankfully it was another mom.

I jokingly said “Elsa, I really hope that’s a chocolate chip.”

I did a sniff test and it was definitely not a chocolate chip.

I’m focusing on the positive. Potty training! Whoo-hoo!