Ellie has decreed that brownie sundaes shall henceforth be called brownie Saturdays because she likes Saturdays better than Sundays. Let it be so!
Tag: parenthood
Cause and Effect
Gwen is shaking her head rapidly back and forth at the dinner table.
Ellie: “Gwen! Don’t shake your brains! Your seat buckle will come undone and you’ll fall out of your chair and bang your head on the floor! Then the oven door will fall open and you’ll fly into the oven and get all fried up! You don’t want to get all fried up, do you, Gwen?”
and so it goes
Ellie turned four yesterday, and I must say, I like four. Over the last few weeks we’ve had a chance to spend more quality time together, one-on-one, and I’m reminded of why I always wanted kids in the first place — they know how to have fun! Ellie is old enough that we can do more things — baking and crafts and drawing. I show her how I draw on the computer, or how to take photos, and she’s genuinely interested and wants to learn.
Conversations with Ellie are fascinating, full of fantasy and wide-eyed drama. I love that she’s still young enough to live in her imagination, to enjoy simple play. She is in awe of the beauty of small, everyday things — a morning snowfall, the endless possibilities in a single cardboard box — in a way I sometimes forget to as a boring, grumpy grown-up. It’s an exercise in appreciating life for what it is, a reminder not to take myself too seriously, a state of being to which I am particularly prone.
I am so lucky to have her to teach me, even though I’m not always the best student. Happy birthday, sweet girl.
points for efficiency
Me, to Ellie: “So, do you think you’re on Santa’s Nice list or his Naughty list this year?”
Ellie: *sigh* “Mama, I’m on Santa’s Nice List. I’ve been very nice to Santa so he’ll bring me presents.”
I think there may have been a miscommunication about how this whole “Santa” thing works…
how to make a cupcake costume the lazy way (aka no-sew)
(If you’re looking for actual instructions, you may want to click this link.)
I have this annoying aversion to buying Halloween costumes.
Annoying, because that puts the burden of effort on me to make something, since the kids are too young to make their own.
Annoying, because I will spend just as much (if not more) on supplies to make said costumes than I would on a mass-manufactured, made-in-China number.
Annoying, because the kids could care less about the costume as long as they get candy.
In other words, this is a neurosis of my own making, and I know it.
Unfortunately for this neurosis, I don’t sew. I don’t even craft, when it comes down to it. Last year I basically glued some felt onto plain-color clothes and that worked.
Side note: Ellie kept telling everyone I was going to crochet a Halloween costume this year — not only for her, but for Gwen, myself, and Tim. I’ve never crocheted in my life, but I’m glad she still has that kind of faith in me.
Originally, Ellie wanted to go as Rapunzel from Tangled, and I was thisclose to buying the costume dress and calling it good. But then she asked if Gwen could go as Pascal, which started a frustrating chain of events that led to a new plan: Ellie and Gwen would both go as cupcakes, and I would make the costumes.
I have a tendency to approach these things full speed, head-on, with little planning and big expectations. Anyone remember my infamous gingerbread house experiment?
So, here’s how you, too, can make an adorable cupcake costume the lazy way, no sewing required. I can’t promise your kid will still talk to you when this is done, though.
How to make a cupcake costume, sanity not included
1) Don’t use a pattern — that would make too much sense. No, just take rough measurements of your kids while they’re squirming around — even better if they’re naked and coated in Crisco — and follow the detailed instructions that sound so simple in your head.
2) Buy fleece fabric at the store. Eyeball it, because you’re not using a pattern, so you don’t know how much you actually need. You have the money, why not waste it?
2a) Buy fancy, $9-a-tube fabric glue at the store, after being assured by the saleslady it will work. Get it home, realize it takes 24 hours to dry — screw that. Plug in the trusty glue gun.
2b) Also buy scissors, since you don’t have any that are sharp enough to cut through tissue paper, let alone fleece.
3) Attempt the hat design first, because it’s simple, in theory. Overcomplicate it by cutting out a series of isosceles triangles and spend an hour and a half gluing them together. Realize later you could have Googled “no-sew fleece hat” and been done in ten minutes. You barely have enough fabric for the second hat now. Feck.
4) Move on to the frosting part. Don’t make the smaller, easier infant costume first — that would be silly! Go big! So big, in fact, that you size the costume for a ten-year-old instead of a three-year-old!
5) Experiment with sizing. Bully your three-year-old into trying on multiple variations of the frosting to get the measurements right. If you have difficulty with this, bribe her with TV and candy.
6) Using a large needle, thread yarn through the outer edge of the cupcake frosting to gather it. Yarn will break and fray after you’ve spent half an hour with this. At this point, your significant other may want to bring the children upstairs, “until it’s safe to be around Mama again.”
7) Brilliance ensues. Substitute the frayed yarn for a spare shoelace! You are a crafting genius! Children are allowed to return to the room, Mama no longer a threat.
8) Cut out sprinkle shapes from colored pieces of felt and hot-glue them to the surface of the cupcake. DO NOT DO THIS WHILE YOUR CHILD IS WEARING THE COSTUME. Especially if she’s still coated in Crisco. Ahem.
9) Realize the frosting piece is stupidly huge. Cut it back to a manageable size, re-thread the shoelace for the third time.
10) Cut out a rectangle from the brown fleece, and poke holes along the top. Realize you have to re-thread the shoelace for the fourth time to connect the frosting and the base. Cry.
11) Put it all together. Force your child to try it on “just one more time.” (You may have to promise her a pony.) Put $20 in the therapy jar for good measure.
12) Step back. OMFG it looks like a cupcake! You did it! Now, where is the awards committee? What do you mean there isn’t an awards committee?!? Disappointed.
13) Realize this took five hours and you still need to make another costume. Cry.
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the good life… with a little more nothing
It’s still hard for me to believe, but a few weeks ago this little monkey turned one. She also started walking, and now she’s in college, working on an ambitious Furniture Climbing degree with a minor in Bumping One’s Head On Things. It is ridiculous how fast kids grow up these days, no? If this one doesn’t land us in the ER at least once before she’s two, we’ll be very lucky. Her favorite things are shoes, a toy bus, and a dancing stuffed bunny. She will eat almost anything, although she’s not as fond of fruits (except avocados, those are a big A+). She is as jolly and giggly as she is hot-tempered and stubborn — I did not know babies could have mood swings, but Gwen makes sure to have several each day. She can say “kitty” and “Ella” and “ny-ny” and “kick kick”, and when she grins, her dimples are magnificent.
And what about this little girl? Well, she’s very precocious and full of thoughts — so many thoughts! She tells us she’s getting a computer for her birthday (I have no idea who put this idea in her head) and that she’s going to marry her little sister someday (hey, works for us — we’ll only have to pay for one wedding, and we already approve of her future spouse!) Her favorite Halloween costumes, in no particular order: Rapunzel (from Tangled), a zombie (her sister would accompany her as a sunflower, a la Plants vs. Zombies), a bird. She has the facial expressions and vocabulary of a thirteen-year-old, but with all the sweetness of a three-year-old. She is afraid of trains (but only the sound they make — she loves riding them) and thinks having a little sister is awesome, except for the part where she has to share her toys, but only sometimes. She is my cuddlebug, and I think four is going to suit her well.
The much dorkier monkey in the photos above has had a busy couple of months. Tim and I had the pleasure of spending a week in San Diego with our co-workers at the beginning of September, which was awesome and worthy of its own post, if I could ever find the time to write it. I’ve never been in a situation where I loved my job so much that I had to remind myself to stop working… and that’s where having children keeps me grounded, since they have this thing where they need to be regularly fed and bathed and snuggled.
For the last few weeks we’ve tried to get out and about as much as possible. There’s a certain sense of urgency that sets in about this time — winter is coming, enjoy this while it lasts. Normally I find autumn inspiring and invigorating, but I’ve had a difficult time getting into it this year. S.A.D. may be the culprit; I have to soothe that panicky little bird in the back of my mind that tells me the cold will never end, that we’ll all be sick and miserable and stuck in the house FOREVER!
In an effort to pick myself up a bit, I got back on the exercise bandwagon. Well, I didn’t quite fall off the bandwagon this summer, but I was definitely dragged behind it for a while. I’ve been taking 2-3 mile walks in the evenings, and I’ve just recently discovered Just Dance 4, which will keep me company when it gets too cold to go outside.
So, that’s my life in a nutshell. I work, I enjoy our family, and I carve out time for myself when I can. What I struggle with is finding peace in the chaos. There’s always one more CSS bug, one more runny nose to be wiped, one more load of laundry, one more trip to plan and pack for, one more project to start. “Just one more thing” turns into “ALL THE THINGS” and at the end of the day I am exhausted and yet, full of experiences and life. But I wish I knew how to live in the moment, just… being. I’ve never been good at that — I get impatient in the time it takes to pour myself a glass of water, for pete’s sake (because there are SO MANY THINGS I COULD BE DOING in those ten precious seconds, right? Who has time to pour water?!?). I take long walks because I have a destination in mind, with no focus on the journey. In the interests of keeping my sanity, I think I need to spend some more time on… nothing. Yeah, that’s exactly what I need. A little more nothing.
my kids are growing up too fast
The highlight of my morning…
Let me set the scene:
Ellie is supposed to be getting into the shower where Tim is bathing Gwen, who is covered in poop.
I am frantically running around with wet rags and a can of Resolve in an effort to remove said poop from the white carpet in Ellie’s room before it stains.
(Yes, I am an asshole for having white carpet installed in a home with two young children and three cats. Let’s just set that aside for the moment, shall we?)
Ellie gets curious and goes to check out Gwen’s masterpiece, as I’m rinsing out the rags for the third time.
Ellie: “MAMA! Come look!!”
Me: “I know, Ellie, she pooped in your bedroom, I know. I’m cleaning it up, hold on.”
Ellie: “No, Mama, come look!”
Me: *sigh* “What?!?”
Ellie, beside herself with excitement, gestures to one of the stains on the carpet.
Ellie: “Mama! Look! It’s a POOP STAR!!!”
I look down and sure enough, at my feet I see a recognizably star-shaped blob of poop.
Leave it to Ellie to find immense joy in the little things.
(Also, Gwen is fine and happy as a clam; it’s just a stomach bug. A really messy stomach bug.)
my life as a parent, if life were a bunch of facebook status updates
The baby has discovered she can grind her newly-minted top and bottom teeth together. Please scrape me off the ceiling when she loses interest in this fingernails-on-a-chalkboard-es
que habit.
“Mama,” says Ellie, after listening to her sister SCREAM in the car all the way home from Ellsworth, despite being offered a bottle, a binky, and a clean diaper, “babies don’t know what they want.” Wiser words have never been spoken, kid.
Ellie is throwing a ball and encouraging Gwen to go get it. Yes you read that right–she’s trying to play fetch with her baby sister. I am witnessing the source of some lucky future therapist’s paycheck.
A letter to my youngest: Umm, kid? I know you want to keep up with your sister, but this whole cruising thing is a bit much. You’re EIGHT MONTHS OLD. Please feel free to slow it down. Short of putting you in a padded room for the next month, I’m not sure what to do with you, so please stop bumping your head on everything. Love, Mama.
Life with a three-year-old in a semi-crowded restaurant: “Excuse me! Sorry. Thank you. Excuse me… thank you! Sorry, excuse me, thank you… Ellie! Oops, sorry, excuse me, thank you!” Repeat.
Second-guessing our decision to watch The Daily Show while the kids are awake. Normally it’s pretty tame, but tonight one of Jon Stewart’s punchlines included the word “penis” and now Ellie is chanting, “penis, penis, I love the penis! This is my penis!” Oh, dear.
Clothes shopping with a three-year-old means a loud, running commentary on the entire dressing room experience. “Mama, why are you trying on THAT new bra? Mama? Why doesn’t your shirt fit? Mama, you’re squishy!!!! Squishy SQUISHY BELLY! Ahahahahahaha! Oh Mama, those pants are beeYOUtifull!!!!!” I hope the rest of the store enjoyed the show.
Evening’s highlights: Ellie stomping through Gov’s after we’ve been to the restroom saying (in an uncomfortably loud voice, of course) “Measure your pleasure!” (NO idea where she got that from, but it sounds like a condom commercial.) Then we get home and she starts randomly taking off her clothes. Tim asks what she’s doing and she replies, “I haven’t the faintest idea!” Kid is crazy.
In which my kids get the best of me, as always
By the time I returned from Vegas, Gwen had begun pulling herself up. One month later and the standing is a regular thing, along with creeping alongside the couch (leaving a lovely trail of drool on the cushions behind–apparently she keeps her sense of balance in her tongue.) I can’t say I’m ready for this. She only started crawling for real 2-3 weeks ago, but apparently she’s taking AP courses in mobility. Also, she’s learned to feed herself finger foods, clap, give kisses, and wave hello, all in the span of the last week and a half. If she keeps up at this developmental pace, she’ll be starting college in about, oh, three years. Two if she really applies herself in toddler school… but those quadratic equations are a bitch when you don’t know how to properly hold a crayon. 😛
Now I not only have to keep Ellie from unintentionally giving her sister a concussion, I have to keep Gwen from giving herself a concussion. Double your pleasure, if by “pleasure” you mean “number of small heart attacks.”
Gwen is also teething, and I don’t remember teething being this… nerve-wracking. Maybe I’ve blocked it from my memory for a reason, but Ellie cut all her teeth in the span of about six months, so it was wham, bang, done. No muss, no fuss. In contrast, Gwen’s chompers are taking their pleasant time. Apparently she’s going to draw this out as long as painfully possible and suck down every last ounce of my patience in the process.
Speaking of patience or a lack thereof, let’s talk about Ellie.
I have mixed feelings about three as an age in general. I realize my experience in this arena is limited, and those of you who are familiar with teenagers are looking at me with “Oh, honey, you have no idea” eyes. Ellie may have an attitude, but at least she doesn’t have car keys, a credit card, and a hulking boyfriend named Todd, right? I still have some illusion of control here.
Ellie, oh my sweet Ellie. I know a big part of my struggle comes down to a difference in personality. She is so fiery, and I am not. I don’t know how to handle all her passion and angst. That’s not to say I’m not angsty, but I’m not outwardly angsty. Keep that shit to yourself, please!
But Miss Three does not know how to keep her shit to herself. Miss Three wants us to know about everything–every single thought in her adorable blonde head. All. Of. It. All the drama, all the time, like a Lifetime movie marathon on constant repeat.
And the noise! “Mama? Mama?!? MAMA! Hey Mama! MAMA!!!!” By the time I go to bed, every last nerve is fried and overstimulated to the point where I can’t sleep. I’m physically buzzing in an effort to keep up with my kids. Like a junkie who gets high on silence and desperately needs a fix.
Mostly, I can’t believe they’re growing so fast. Every time I look at Ellie climb the rope ladder to get to the big kids’ slide, Mama!, and every time I look at Gwen’s chubby legs taking tentative steps alongside the furniture, I am reminded of how much has changed in the last three years. I’m frustrated because I can’t hold onto it. The kids are always slipping out of my grasp, literally and figuratively. They want to move, they want to go, and I won’t hold them back, but part of me wants my babies to stay innocent and sweet and chubby and attitude-free. So much change in such a short period of time is overwhelming. Such is parenthood, I suppose.