The Answer to the Question, "How's Rohan Adjusting to Preschool?" is...

 

Check out the comment at the bottom. I removed the girl's name, but this would be the 4th little girl whose name I've heard mentioned in connection with Rohan. Three weeks into school and my boy is already a Casanova.

 

I asked him about the girl because I don't know who she is. His response? "Oh, she said I can come over to her house sometime to watch movies together." Trollop.

 

I'd say he's adjusting just fine, thanks for asking.

Little Loves.

For my mom's Christmas gift, a friend who's starting up her photography business agreed to take pictues of her with my kids. And as a bonus, that means *I* get pictures of her and the kids.

Lucky me.

I mean, if that doesn't send your uterus into a fit of baby-wanting, what will?

PS: And I finally ran tonight, after a month of slacking. Pat's Run in 3 weeks! ---->

More to Come.

I actually have quite a few posts to write, but I'm in the midst of work drama, so for now....just a picture:

My two blonde loves and their BFF.

THREE!

Friday was Rohan's birthday. He's three now. THREE. It's so...not a baby. I'm not sure I'm ready for that, you know?

He is everything good a mom could wish for: smart, funny as hell, so kind, protective of those he loves, gentle in spirit, cute, cuddly, tender and wild and free. He's amazing in so many ways, and he has brought so much joy into our lives in the past 3 years. I could never have imagined the joy and intense happiness he brings into our home and our family.

Not only is he the world's sweetest boy, he's the bravest and most good natured as well. You can see his right wrist is wrapped in this picture. He was burned at a restuarant by hot water a week before his birthday, and sustained 2nd degree burns that required treatment by urgent care, then his pediatrician, then the burn center at Maricopa Medical Center. He had to have his wound 'debrided twice a day (we soaked him in the tub for about 20 minutes, then had to wipe the area gently with a cloth to remove the film that would form over the burn as it healed), which I KNOW hurt like hell. He had to sit on a hospital bed surrounded by strangers and have multiple people inspect him and eventually remove his blisters and wrap his arm. He couldn't climb into his own car seat, pull down his own pants to go potty, or hold anything with his right hand. And yet, he almost never complained. Not only did he let the doctors and us do everything we needed to do to help him heal (and elicited major compliments and swooning from every medical professional he flirted with along the way), he really blew me away with his generous heart. At the hospital, a staff person came in with toys to entertain/distract him, and one toy included his choice of stuffed animal to be his 'patient': a pink kitty or a green bird. He chose the kitty, holding it and dressing its imaginary wound, and to our surprise the staff said it was ours to keep. We left from the hospital to get Luca at preschool, and he handed that pink kitty right over to her, telling me he picked it because he knew his sister would like it, and he wanted her to keep it.

What kind of 2 (almost 3) year old kid is that selfless and thoughtful and generous? Mine.

Happy 3rd birthday, big guy. From the day you swam into our lives you've made our world brighter, sweeter, and more fun.

Progress.

We're the proud owners of Hardibacker, 18' of 2"x4"s and new drill bits!

I know, I know. I get excited about the weirdest shit these days.

I'm off work tomorrow because I have a Dr appointment smack in the middle of the day, so I convinced Darrick to get the wood we need to build a frame for our bathroom cabinets so I can get it stained tomorrow. We'll be building a square that is the same dimensions as they bottom of the cabinets to bump them up a few inches, since they are fairly short and we are reasonably tall. While we were there we got the Hardibacker, a cement board that goes up behind tile in the shower surround, so that we can get going on that project sooner rather than later. We decided to continue the tile all the way to the ceiling and around to the door frame, which also means we'll be raising our shower head several inches so it will look more in proportion and so Darrick can stand under it instead of in front of it.

I am getting really excited to get this next phase of work done. Once the Hardibacker is in place, we are ready to decide on wall tile. And once THAT is done, it's on to floor tile, paint, and new counter tops. I already bought new faucets, which are patiently waiting in the garage for their grand debut! I can't wait to hopefully have some good progress this weekend!

In other news, my day wrapped up in the sweetest way. When we got home from shopping, I sat the kids at the table with paints and asked them to paint some paper. My original idea was to cut the paper into smaller pieces and write a Valentine's Day note on them from Luca. Well, my girl instead decided she wanted to make 23 painted hearts for her friend. And make them she did. They look so cute, and I cannot wait to put them in envelopes and deliver them to school tomorrow with her!

When she was done painting, both kids got smiley faces painted on their tummies, then I shuttled them upstairs with popsicles in hand and piled them into the tub. They ate the popsicles with no worry over stickiness or messes, then brushed their teeth and put on jammies. Then it was time for songs and tucking in and kisses goodnight.

About 20 minutes later, we heard a funny noise upstairs, so Darrick and I went to investigate. There, in our bed, were both kids. They were tucked in under our giant blanket, their cheeks warm and rosy. Between them was about 7 stuffed animals and 3 extra pillows, and in the middle of all that cheek and eyelash and cuddly animals, they reached out and held each others' hands. I almost couldn't bear to move them, but I hefted each sleeping body into my arms and put them back in their rooms for the night.

Not much can beat that, you know? Craft time. Bath time. Popsicles. Best buddies falling asleep holding hands. Life is sweet.

Da Mean In Your Eyes

Over the weekend, Mo skipped a nap. This was a first for him, for the most part. He fell asleep for about 6 minutes in the car, was carried to bed, and woke to use the potty a few minutes later. His little toddler brain decided that constituted a nap, and he couldn't be convinced otherwise.

With Luca and Darrick asleep, Mo and I prepped dinner for the crockpot and settled in to a snack and a movie under the blanket on the couch. It was sweet, for sure, but not nearly as sweet as a nap would have been.

And here's how I know the kids still needs to nap:

A few hours later, we made a Home Depot run, and somewhere between the home appliances and the bath fixtures, my patience ran thin. The entire time we'd been there had been spent with me trying to curb his impulsive two year old behaviors, which include but were not limited to touching everything in sight, running in the store, and intermittent hyper screeches the likes of which only little kids can manage. I must have asked him to 'use walking feet' and 'keep your hands by you' and 'hang in there because we're almost done' a quatrillion times, and here's where I acknowledge that as his parents we should have recognized imminent meltdown and removed him from the situation. But I had Just One More Thing to find, and meanwhile Darrick took a detour to the far other end of the store. Just as we passed the fridges and washing machines, I knew we were in trouble. Despite the fact he knows the rules, he ran over to a front-loader, opened the door, and attempted to fold himself inside.

I intervened before his foot had cleared the opening and, in my best patient-mommy-suffering-the-kid's-madness moment, bent to his level and said in a calm voice, "Sweetie, we need to keep moving and stop touching things. We're almost done."

As I stood and took a step away, he looked up at me and said, "I'm sick of you, Mommy!"

::deep breath::

Let me just say, I've been here before. During one particularly stressful night with Luca nearly a year ago that had me convinced that all other parents are assholes for not telling you that 3 is really worse than 2, Luca said the exact same words to me. Being new to this kind of thing, I had scolded her and put her in time out to cool us both down. A few minutes later, I went over and asked her to explain to me why she said that. It took a while, but eventually it came out that it was a phrase she had heard before. When I dug deeper, I suddenly became aware that she had no idea what she was saying. "What does that mean, Luca? Do you know?" I had asked. "Yes. It means...I'm sick. Like I feel...like my nosy is all sneezy for you?"

Right. Toddler = literal. Sick of you = my nose is sneezy for you.

So I didn't flip. Oh, I know that old couple who was lingering near and evesdropping was probably waiting for me to throw him over a knee and give him something to cry about for such blasphemy and talking back. But I knew he didn't know what it meant, so I reattaced my invisible Mother Perfect tiara, and, ignoring the words I knew he didn't really 'get', bent to his level once more. By now he was in a sample kitchen, sort of peering at me with a resolute disapproval that told me he was pissed at life in general.

"Rohan," I said while gently putting a hand on his arm to get him to look at me, "I know you're tired - - -"

And here he cut me off with an "OWWWWWWWWWWWW!" that echoed through the entire store, and a glare at my hand on his arm. Which is where I sort of dropped that Mother Perfect tiara and lost my patience with this whole bit because there was no way I was hurting him. I mean, I couldn't have killed an ant with the amount of pressure I was(n't) applying.

"Look, buddy, I know you're tired but you CANNOT act like this. You need to say sorry for using mean words with mommy." I said more sternly. Because, you know, NOW he was going to know I was serious.

"Sowwy!" he stubbornly mocked my request.

I decided this wasn't the time, nor the place, to work a proper sorry out of him, so I stood and started to walk again.

"Mommy," he said, stopping in his tracks. And for a brief and incredibly naive second I almost thought I was going to get a legitimate apology.

Instead, he raised his hands so they were by his eyes and, with his best jazz hands, informed me bitterly, "When you say dat, you got da mean in your eyes!"

Updates in January.

I just completed Week 7 of C25K, and it was really, really hard. All 3 runs were 25 minutes, and according to the podcast I use, that's supposed to equal a 2.5 mile run. Can I just take a minute here to point out how insane it is to think that I'm supposed to go from 'couch' to 10-minute miles in just over 6 weeks? I came home after each of this week's runs and mapped them, and I'm not quite clocking 2 miles in 25 minutes. I'd be embarassed to admit that it takes me more than 12 minutes to run a single mile except for the fact that I've never in my LIFE run for 25 minutes straight, so while I'm a little disappointed in my distance, I'm really trying to focus on the positives.

Week 8 will kick off for me tomorrow, upping the runs from 25 to 28 minutes. So far this year I ran 5.26 miles (and I added a ticker right up top on my blog, over there --->, to keep me accountable), and on top of it? I may not be seeing the numbers on the scale changing yet, but I am feeling a difference in my body. I definitely feel the burn in my legs while running, and can feel my muscles tightening up. The other night, after my first 25 minute run, I even made Darrick feel my calves to see how strong they are getting. Nerd.

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In bathroom news, our insurance adjuster is going to come out this afternoon to inspect the damage and let us know whether any of it's covered under insurance. I'm not optimistic. Honestly, they've already tried twice to have us pay for someone to come out to set up fans in the garage and 'remove moisture and humidity from the walls'. Um, great...except we're talking about just enough water to bathe two little kids (half full tub?) that leaked on a day that was 80 degrees with almost NO humidity. I'm thinking it's not likely worth several hundred to several thousand to pay someone to do that.

In the meantime, while we waited for the insurance people to come out, we started chipping out tile. Darrick figured out a new way of removing it without the pieces breaking so small, which definitely helps minimize dust and other messes. As of the other night, when these pictures were taken, he'd only chipped up a small section of the floor. However, in preparation for the adjuster's visit today, he chipped out the whole area in front of the tub. Under it is a tile subflooring we also need to remove, then the tub will be ready to pull out of its place!

These pictures are crappy and the colors are funny, but you can see the work he did in here in them.

***Update*** I took a few pictures to show what he did in here last night.

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In other news, Rohan has discovered his Mastocytosis spot. The other day, I witnessed him telling Luca he had a 'big ouchie' and pointing to his arm. She took it in stride (we've prepped her for this, explaining it to her in kid-terms from very early on so it would be a normal thing when it came up), telling him it wasn't an ouchie, it was just a spot that turns pink and puffy if he eats kiwi. I laugh because she must have heard us tell people this many times, that kiwi is the only food we know of so far that he has bad reactions to, and she picked it up and fed it right back to him. I did ask him if it was hurting, and he said no, so I think he was reacting to it looking like an ouchie more than it feeling ouchie. His spot is always a bit red and is about the size of a quarter, so I knew it would be a matter of time before he caught sight of it and asked about it.

He has since pointed it out to me a few times, and I just say "Oh yep, that's your little spot. It's ok right now though, so let's just leave it alone." With Masto, if he messes with the spot itself it could possibly trigger a histamine reaction that would cause him some irritation, so we're opting to just encourage him to leave it alone to hopefully avoid that. He still remains largely unaffected by his Masto, rarely having reactions like some kids with Masto do have, so I'm optimistic we can just approach this in a way that normalizes and minimizes it for him.

New Years Tradition: 2012.

The past two New Years Days, Rohan has woken me before the sun was up, and before Darrick and Luca were up as well, and we've ventured out in the apricot and rose morning to take a photo.

January 1, 2010.

January 1, 2011.

This year, we all slept in until about 7, when I grabbed him in his jammies and ran him outside for our photo op. He's almost too big to hold on one hip while taking a picture, so I ended up in this one. I can't believe the difference in him year to year. And I'm more than a little sad to think that this time next year I probably won't be able to hold him on a hip for our first photo of the new year. And how many more years before he won't even humor my love for a good photo op anyhow?

But, for now? For 2012? We stood together in the middle of the same street and smiled our hearts away. I love this sweet moment we steal just for us. What a way to kick off a new year!

January 1, 2012

From Surf to Turf in A Week's Time.

The first weekend of December, we celebrated like this:

A few things about these pictures, in no particular order:

~ The green green above is my Grandma's backyard, smack in the middle of not-so-nice LA. And oasis for great grandkids.

~ The beach is Santa Monica

~ It was cold, but during our beach outing the weather was perfect and beautiful

~ Yes, my husband and son went in the water. No, the rest of us did not.

~ Yes, my husband has a black eye. No it's not from me, but from coaching wrestling.

~ Funniest misunderstanding of the trip:  When my aunt asked Darrick about his injury and he said, "I make black guys look good, huh?" And it took all of us about 3 times making him repeat himself before we realized he wasn't being awkwardly racist. "Black EYES. EYES."

~ That matriarchal beauty with my kids is the woman of honor who we traveled to visit: My gramma!

This past weekend, we mixed things up a bit by heading in the other direction:



Notes on these pictures:
~ We cut our tree this yaer just south of Heber. There was about a foot of snow on the ground in most places from a storm during the week.
~ Snow angels are all the rage this year, you know.
~ Also: snowman, complete with charcoal eyes and carrot nose. She left the nose and 'buttons', but insisted we bring home the hat, smile, and eyes.
~ The tree is obscenely large and we love it.
~ We strung white lights and haven't touched the tree since. And we like it that way.

One good thing about Arizona is that we can do this. We can fly to LA one weekend and bask on the beach and love on my grandma, then head up north to tromp in the snow and get cold and drink hot chocolate in the back of my mom's pickup truck the next. I am loving it. I am loving my kids this year and how engaged and excited they are about Christmas.

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Post-Script: We hung our stockings from the banister, though we later had to move them to acommodate the tree. Luca pulled out the stockings we had for our dogs and asked about them. I asked what she wanted to do, and she said, "I want to hang them up, mommy. We should try to remember them all the time. I think it's important." And then tonight I was out finishing my last run of C25K and a little mini pinscher dog came running up to me barking. Her elderly owner was waving frantically from the driveway, no doubt afraid I'd freak or get mad. Without thinking, I called out, "Don't worry! I have dogs!". But I don't, and I still miss them. Rest in peace, little loves.

We Tricked. We Treated. And Now, It's A Downhill Run To Thankful.

Halloween this year could easily be put into the 'extra fun' category. We had just the right mix of excitement over the festivities and simple joy that comes with kids so little that EVERYthing about the holidays is SO MUCH FUN!

As far as I know, Rohan has never watched Super Man cartoons, so imagine my surprise when I asked what he wanted to be for Halloween and his answer was an emphatic "Supeeer Man!". Fortunately, after looking at pictures online, Luca became excited about the idea of being Super Girl, and my mom offered to make their costumes.

Other than the shirts, which were purchased at the store for less than it would have cost her to make something similar, she made their entire costumes, down to the fake boots. In a word? Awesome.

They were a hit in the neighborhood and got SO MUCH candy it's almost criminal. Already I squirreled some away to work and have plans to make even more of it disappear.

But before Trick or Treating, there was a preschool party for a certain honey bee:

Yeah, that's Luca again. Nothing says 'diva 4 year old' like a wardrobe change between the party and the outing. We were worried she'd mess up her Super Girl costume, so we took her to Goodwill to get her a witch costume (her request), but instead she fell in LOVE with this bee hoodie. For under $8, we got her that and the black and gold tutu, and she was set. I had plans to get a yellow shirt and put black stripes on it because a hoodie? in Arizona? on Halloween? Not weather appropriate. It was a high of 91 yesterday afternoon. But life got in the way, and I didn't get her the shirt. Luckily, the teachers at her school have all the kids put on 'normal' clothes after they trick or treat on campus, so we didn't have to worry after all. And Daddy dressed as the Grim Reaper (I really need to improve my Halloween make-up skills...he looks sad, not scary!) which was pretty awesome as well.



All in all, Halloween was great, and the kids already can't wait for next year! Tonight as I was getting him ready for bed, Rohan said, "You just wead da book and den we go walk and say "TRICK OR TREAT!" and den bed?" Optimistic little dude. Love him.

Now we are facing down the barrel of a LOT of holiday prep work and fun. We made a decision to pay off 2 credit lines we have open before year's end, as both have interest-free payments until January 1 (they were for major dental work I needed and insurance barely covered), which means money will be tight for presents this year. We're ok with that. We have SO MUCH already, and I am planning on making a few gifts and keeping it simple for the kids. And I confess I am very much looking forward to kissing 2011 goodbye! We've had a hard run of it in many ways, and January is shaping up in such a way that I think a lot of the things we've been stressed over will be resolved. In addition to paying off 2 credit lines, we had one of those life events that knocks the wind out of you when it happens but ends up being for the best recently. Our beloved day care provider, who watched Luca for 3 years and has watched Mo since he was 4 months old is moving a few hours north of us in mid-November. We were sad and stressed and just anxious when we found out, until my mom insisted we let her take over Mo duties through May when Darrick starts his summer break. This is perfect, because it means we don't have to search for a new provider for the next 6-ish months and after summer break he'll move to preschool and Luca will be in kindergarten. It's also perfect because it's going to mean several hundred more dollars in our pockets every month. Add that to getting rid of 2 credit payments a month, and we're finally going to be seeing a change in our financial situation for the positive.

With all this optimism abounding, I am VERY MUCH looking forward to taking some time off around the holidays to be with my family and to keeping things simple and spending this holiday season witha  focus on building traditions rather than building piles of stuff.

Last year, when November came and it was time to pack away the Halloween in favor of pretending it's winter, we created a Thankful Tree. I think we'll do something similar this year and I'm excited to involve both kids.

Welcome sweet November!!

Just Love.

Growing Pains.

We took a walk around the neighborhood tonight, all 4 of us, stopping at the big grass field to run around and play with a wayward football found in the shadows. The kids ran back and forth and back and forth through overgrown late-summer grass that was damp from the earlier sprinklers, sprinting until their legs itched from being whipped by grass blades.

We practiced our 'Power Super Girl' (and Boy) walk, balancing on the curb that circles the grass, hands out and palms up toward the sky. Luca named herself Power Super Girl Sparkles, and then allowed me to choose the name Power Super Girl Glitter. We let the kids yell at top volume and giggle and tackle each other in the somewhat swampy grass. And instead of turning and going home when that was over, we walked a little further to another grassy area in the neighborhood.

Luca asked to ride on her Daddy's shoulders, which of course meant Rohan wanted to ride on mine. They are 22 months apart in age, but he outweighs her by at least 3 pounds. And 3 pounds? On your shoulders? Is a lot. Still. "Sure buddy," I answered, and he raised his arms up in the air so I could lift him over my head to sit on my shoulders. We started to walk, and I could feel his little (big) hands rubbing one of my cheeks and then meeting below my chin to clasp together and hold him safely in place. He gets heavy quickly and my shoulders start to burn a little, but I hold him there. It's such a literal moment that clearly illustrates the nature of motherhood: we are strong because we need to hold them up.

They ask us to hold them to remind us how much we are needed. And how much we need them. As much as I float him free of gravity's pull to earth, he grounds me and gives me roots. The rest of the walk we hold hands, and I absorb every sweet second of feeling the weight of his tiny hand in mine. I am too painfully aware of just how soon this era of motherhood might be ending. I don't know when it will happen, but someday I won't be able to hold his hand anymore.

He stops once, asking to be held. I say, "On my shoulders?" and he shakes his head and points to my chest. "On there. It fits." he answers. So I lift his warm body, heavy like a bag of wet sand, and hold him in front of me like a koala holds her joey. It does fit there, just perfectly. I struggle a little under the weight of him clinging around my waist, but I carry on. I am painfully aware, as well, how soon this era of motherhood might be ending. There are times I hold them in my arms and am acutely aware of how their feet dangle almost to my knees and how it might not be much longer before I can't carry them on a hip anymore.

And so I sing him all the way home:
Sittin' in a railway station
Got a ticket for my destination
Woah-oh-oh-ohhh
On a tour of one-night stands
My suitcase and guitar in hand
And every stop is neatly planned
For a Rohan and Mama band

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When I picked up Luca from school today, she seemed a little withdrawn and quiet. I couldn't figure out why, but I didn't want to miss the window right after school to find out if something was bothering her. I sat on a large rock outside the preschool and pulled her close. "You ok, buddy?" I asked. She dipped her face down so I couldn't see her eyes, just the long curl of lashes dusting her apricot cheeks.

After a few seconds of silence, she turned those giant green jewels on me and told me something I never expected her to hear, "I don't like this school."

This year has been different for her. Last year she had a problem with a girl in her class, who I will call "M". M was one of the older kids and quite bossy and pushy, and Luca came home repeatedly telling us that M was mean to her. We asked, and she assured us it was just her who M was being mean to, so after hearing it several times, I started to really ask her some questions about M. Mostly, I wanted to know why she thought M was being so mean. She didn't know, couldn't understand, and I got that. Luca's got not a single mean bone in her body so being at the receiving end of meanness was so foreign to her. So I explained it to her like this: M is not very good at knowing how to be a nice friend. She really needs someone to show her how, so when she is mean you might want to try ignoring her mean attitude and just being nice to her.

It never worked. She just kept being mean, so I finally worked up the courage to talk to her teachers and they nodded in agreement about M's attitude. But then they assured me that M was like that to everyone. It was not just Luca, but Luca just so happened to be one of the few kids who was bothered by it because she has the intelligence to take someone else's behavior and internalize it.

It still broke my heart into 100 pieces to hear Luca tell us that M wasn't nice in school, but I felt confident that her teachers had it under control and it wasn't personal, so we just looked forward to the day when M would move on to kindergarten and Luca wouldn't have to worry about her anymore.

Because, really? These are 3 - 5 year olds we're talking about. Surely M is an anomoly.

I am so naive sometimes. Almost as soon as school started this year, we uncovered M version 2. After school one day I asked Luca about who her new friends are this year, and she said, "No one plays with me."

My heart stopped under the weight of my soul crushing down on it. A little more digging revealed that it wasn't that no one played with her, it was that there are 2 girls in her class who were there last year who only play with each other. I agonized again over what to do or say, settling on telling her that there are a lot of other kids in class and if those two aren't nice she could play with someone else. She half-heartedly accepted that answer, but when it came up again a week or so later, I knew I had to talk to the teachers again. And once again, I was told it wasn't about Luca, it was about the girls themselves. Apparently M trained them well in the art of being exclusive and harboring all the toys for themselves. The teachers were splitting those two girls up during most of the day, having them do centers apart and sit by others at the lunch tables.

But the cycle seems to be continuing, with other girls creating little factions of twos and excluding Luca. And my heart is crushed for her. There are only 6 girls in the class, and I can tell she badly wants to make good friends with one of them, but for whatever reason it doesn't seem to be happening that way.

So when she told me she didn't like the school, I expected it to be a friend problem and I steeled myself to get all mama-bear on the situation and find a better resolution to the situation. Turns out, she's just not feeling challenged. The activities and general syllabus are the same this year as they were last, and she's frustrated by having to re-learn things she already learned. It's frustrating, but I think it's workable with some conversations about why repitition is important in learning and maybe a tete-a-tete with the teachers to see if there is a way to challenge her more.

Challenge in scholarly ways I can do. it's that other kind of challenge I'm still not prepared for, both in terms of mom-skills and in terms of raw emotion. I know this is Girl Crap 101, and from here it's going to get harder. I know there will be tears and jealousy and cliques and anger and meanness. And I am not prepared. I want to wrap her up in a blanket and snuggle with her on the couch for all of eternity instead of letting her out into the big, mean world.

2 and 4.

The sun was behind the mountains to the west when we showed up to the football game. My husband's team plays on a field that's backed by a horizon of mountains, and at that time of night their silhouettes stand crisp in front of a backdrop of cherry red sky.

Following the lead of my kids (is there any other way?), we climbed the bleachers and settled in a seat behind a man and his wife. Turning to smile at us, the man commented, "What beautiful children you have!" and I smiled and thanked him.

"He's so blonde, isn't he?" he continued.

"Yeah, he gets it from his Daddy. They both do." I answered. Experience tells me he's probably silently questioning whether I, with the dark brown hair, am the nanny.

The man lifted his hat to show a bald head that gleamed under the stadium lights. Rubbing his hand over it, he smiled at my son and said, "I used to have blonde hair JUST like yours, son."

Grinning and seeing his moment, Rohan pointed to the man with one hand and grabbed some strands of his own hair with the other. "Oh, I have more than YOUUuuuu DOooooo!" he answered, laughing.

And his audience cracked up at the joke.

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I am officially in love with the sweet spot found at the intersection of 2 and 4.

(I feel as though the black plastic on the floor and the absence of baseboards are deserving of an explanation, so here it is. We are broke as hell, so though the new floors are all in, we haven't yet purchased the new baseboards to be installed, and thus we have not trimmed the plastic to sealed the cracks between flooring and wall/foundation. I'm hopeful that it'll happen over Christmas break.)

They fight like crazy people, her bossing him and deciding that the exact toy she needs is the one he just reached for/mentioned and him shrieking at the top of his lungs and curling into a ball on the floor while saying, "Leave me alone!"

The "Leave me alone!" kills it, either making us crack up at the melodramatics of it all or hurting someone's feelings. And, ok, I can admit that when it's aimed in my direction it stings a bit. I know Luca will probably hate me by the time she is 11, being that she's a girl and all, but I expect Rohan not to hate me until he dates the first girl who tries to convince him I am the devil. (For the record, I already hate that imaginary-possible-in-the-future little trollop.) So hearing that he wants me to leave him alone hurts sometimes.

But, as soon as it's out of his mouth he runs over to me, almost without exception, saying, "I want you!" and begging to be held and cuddled.

Meanwhile, she sometimes tests the patience of everyone in our house. Luca and her daddy can be like oil and water sometimes, though they adore each other to no end. I think they have more in common than either recognizes, which leads to them butting heads like crazy. I'm not a complete believer in things like horoscopes, but I think it's no surprise that you'll often find Rohan (Pisces) and me (Aquarius) sitting on the couch cuddling and giggling while Luca (Taurus) and Darrick (Leo) battle out the wills over some inane point of contention.

She is tender and sensitive and fiercely protective and intelligent. He is tender and wild, a typhoon of hilarity and touch. I adore them when they are nothing but soft skin and heads bowed together, her honey hair and his wheat strands blending into one flare of sunshine. I love evening bathtime, with two naked bodies sharing a tub of bubbles, warm water, and soap as they create their own narratives of play. I cave willingly when they beg me to let them sleep in the same room or even the same bed, their sleeping faces all cheeks and curled lashes and puffy lips.

I hope they stay best friends. I hope his raucous sense of humor always cracks her more serious shell, and I hope she continues to protect him like a lioness would her cub.

That Mom.

I was at the grocery store tonight on our way home after picking up both kids. No, I will never learn not to take my kids to the grocery store when it's dinnertime. Apparently I enjoy making the same mistakes repeatedly.

This time I decided it would be different. I would hurry in, buy just a few essentials to carry us through the week (meat, milk, produce) and be out before the kids lost their cool. And this time it worked!

...almost...

I pushed my cart into line and grabbed my wallet to find my debit card, and next thing I know Luca is about 3/4 of an inch from some man's cart, staring longingly at his ice cream. "Luca," I said calmly, "Could you please come back closer to me so that man has some space?"

Smiling, he turned to me and said, "Oh, it's ok. I have 4 at home. She's not bugging me."

Such a kind gesture, and one he regretted about 7 seconds later when my kids simultaneously started to wiggled their butts and sing -LOUDLY - "Shake your bootie! Shake your bootie!"

Mortified, I figured I'd nip it in the bud quickly and bent to their level to tell them they needed to stop. And stop one would, while the other would defiantly continue to sing. The quiet one would inevitably lose it and start giggling, thus encouraging the singer to sing LOUDER and agitating me enough that I would again stoop down to reprimand both offenders.

And...repeat scene. I swear I contemplated just laughing it off at one point, until I caught the judging eye of the mom behind me in line as her toddler daughter was paying close attention to the spectacle. I wanted to be annoyed with her, but at one poitnt I WAS her, smug and sure I'd never be the one with kids causing a borderline-inappropriate commotion in a public place. Still, her condemning glare was enough to make the heat rise into my face and suddenly I could feel sweat trickling down my back and I was starting to panic. But kids smell fear, you know, so the more anxious for them to behave I became the more obnoxious and defiant they became.

Finally, after the 4th or 5th round of "SHAKE YOUR BOOTIE! SHAKE YOUR BOOTIE! ::giggle:: SHAKE YOUR BOOTIE!" accompanied by actual bootie shakes aimed in the general directions of the (now wishing he hadn't been so) nice man in front of me and the (unwarranted) judger behind me, I crouched down and pulled both kids to me. I was thisclose to lowing my damn cool, but I knew it would do no good, so instead I tickled both kids to get them giggling, then quietly begged the crap out of them, asking for good behavior just long enough to get out of the store without someone throwing a head of lettuce at us or calling CPS for my subpar parenting.

It worked. Well, the begging + the promise of peanut butter cookies at home did anyhow. I'll take it.

The sourpuss behind us was still giving me judgy-face as we left, so I made sure to give a nasty look back to her. And a look of sympathy to her husband.

Fresh.

A new school year starts today. Luca is in her 2nd year of preschool (too young for Kindy just yet), Rohan is back at Laura's after a summer hiatus from daycare, and Darrick's back in the classroom.
I had some proud moments dropping off the kids this morning. Being able to tell Laura that Rohan is potty trained ("Even at naptime?" "Yes! Even at naptime! Shoot, almost overnight already!!!") was definitely mom-brag worthy. And dropping off Luca at school only to see her walk right in and hug her old teachers made this Monday morning so amazing. I'm excited for a new year for her and can't wait to see how much fun they both have at school and daycare.

I promise, she is wearing shorts under that.

The only thing I'm nervous about? Coaching started Friday for Darrick, so the pick-ups are squarely on my shoulders from now through February for the most part! I'm on a new work schedule which is going to take some work to figure out, coming in earlier and leaving by 4 at the latest so I can have both kids in the car by 5. Should be interesting. Thank goodness I have my amazing mom not 2 minutes from daycare, just in case I need back-up now and then.

It should also be noted, we finally bit the bullet and cut Rohan's hair. I never thought I'd let my son's hair grow too long, but Rohan has exceptionally beautiful hair for a little boy. It's super blonde and thick and shiny and soft. In addition, it grows really fast so haircuts don't happen as often as they should. It was getting embarassingly long, as you can see here:

This is also an exceptionally bad picture of him, but let's just say we were verging on rat-tail territoy in the back. We started making jokes about braiding and beading it.

But look at how amazing that hair is! There are a LOT of women in Scottsdale who pay a pretty penny every 6 weeks to try to get hair this blonde.

But when I came home from work last week to find his sister trying to sit him down for a pretend "Free-Off Haircut" I got the message.

Him? Not so much with the shorts. Yes, my son owns pants. No, he doesn't like to wear them. Please see 'potty trained' above.

My sister-in-law offered to cut it for us on Sunday, but then my husband took the kids to visit his parents on Saturday night and my mother in law took her kitchen scissors to his bangs, then straight back over his ears. I didn't take a picture because I couldn't bear to, but suffice it to say he looked a lot like this:

From here.

So now it looks more like this. Super cute AND super grown up! Ack! Where'd my baby?