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!"

Conversation with a 4 Year Old.

Me: Do you know how much I love you, Luca?Luca: This much! (stretching arms above her head)
Me: Yeah, sweets. That much and so much more. So much I can't stretch my arms that far. I love you enough to fill the universe with love.
Luca: Mommy, do you know how much I love you?
Me: How much?
Luca: More than all the buildings that were ever built and all the babies that were ever in a pregnant mommy's belly.
Me: Wow, that sounds like a lot!
Luca: Yeah.

I get up to leave her in bed, and she calls me back.

Luca: Mommy, how did that happen? How did the oldest first babies get borned? I mean, if there were no other babies yet, where did the first ones come from?
Me: That is an excellent question. And, uh, I'm not sure how to answer. But I bet if I talk to your daddy we can see if together we maybe know the answer.
Luca: Ok. But momma? I bet I know. I bet the dinosaurs laid a bunch of eggs and they had magic in them, and every time a new egg hatched, it was less like a dinosaur and more like a person baby.
Me: ::silence::

I Guess It Makes Sense?

The weather has taken a turn for the colder, and this weekend in particular was pretty cool for Arizona. We decided to meet my mom at the train park near our house for dinner tonight. Midway through eating, Mo announced he needed to pee, and Luca wanted to go too. We walked toward the bathroom, and on the side closest us was the men's room door.

"Are we going into the men's room?" Luca asked.
"No way! I'm not a man. We're going into the women's!" I replied.
"Oh, why? Because the boys' bathroom is stinky?"
"I suppose it might be."
"Right. Because there are a lot of penises and toots in there, right?"

I love this kid so much.

Astronaut Resume.

(A conversation with the 4 year old, courtesy of her daddy)

Luca: "I think maybe when I grow up I want to be an astronaut."
Daddy: "That sounds like a good idea."
L: "I can go to the moon."
D: "Well, first you have to go to school and learn a LOT of things. It takes a lot of book work and studying to be an astronaut."
L: "Mickey and Minnie are astronauts. They go to the moon."
D: "Mickey and Minnie aren't astro physicists, though, sweetie. That's what you would need to be to become an astronaut."
L: "They don't need to be asro missifizz, daddy. They know how to do the hot dog dance."

Well, there you go.

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.

----------------------------------

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.

Deadpan.

If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you probably know that a year ago this summer, we made the really difficult decision to put our dog, Miss Piggy, to sleep. We put it off as long as was humane, then took her one evening to say good-bye. We also brought her remains home and buried her in a hole in our backyard.

Life's lessons about life and death are never just taught and let go when you have kids. You don't have the conversation about how the dog is dead and gone just once, but many many times in multifarious ways. You explain it on the day you make one of the toughest choices of your (dog loving) life. You explain it the next day as you read a book about saying good bye to a family pet. You talk about the body returning to the earth and enriching the soil with its power, just as the animal once enriched your life with her love.

And, if you have a very literal toddler in the house, you talk about it in practical, measured, real terms.

The dog was ill. No, it's not the kind of illness you can catch from her. She died. When someone or an animal dies, they are gone from the world we can see forever. No, she's not really gone forever. She's in your heart as long as you remember her. Her body will help the flowers and trees grow, so she lives on through them. Where is she? (Shit? Do I believe in heaven for dogs???) Um. In a hole in the ground. Out back.

Ever since she made the connection that "Piggy's in a hole in the backyard." we hear her talk about it ocassionally. There was the time when my mom took both my kids to storytime, and the story was about a dog. When the reader asked the kids who had a dog at home, Luca called out, "I have two. Ruby who is lazy and Piggy who's in the hole." Surprisingly, no visit from CPS, nor animal control, was paid us that week.

My kid is nothing if not linear and literal. She's one of the most sensitive kids I've ever known (take that for what it's worth, since she's also the first kid I've ever know this well) but one thing she is not is sentimental. So talking about her dog in a hole doesn't make her sad or wistful. It's just another fact of life.

Meanwhile, our other dog Ruby is no spring chicken. At 13, she's been having issues off and on with one of her front legs, and other than giving her supplements and managing the pain for her, there's not much we can do about it. Surgery IS an option, strictly speaking, but not a viable one in her case. Her condition took a nosedive about a week ago, and as a result she's now struggling more with things like climbing the stairs to sleep in our room or jumping on the couch. Real first-world dog problems, I realize, but those creature comforts are very much a part of the lifestyle with which she has become accustomed.

Yesterday, she made a leap for the couch and didn't make it, falling back on the new wood floors and doing a roll/flip move that left her righted lying on her belly in the middle of the floor. Once we assessed that she hadn't hurt herself more in the fall (she hadn't) we started talking about how sad it was that she couldn't get on the couch anymore.

Luca was deep in trying to force her brother to play some game she was making up as it went (that no doubt involved her being in charge and him obeying) when she looked up at us and said, with the most deadpan delivery yet, "We should probably just go ahead and put her in a hole now, guys."

And then, she went back to playing.

Don't Skip Any Parts.

After dinner and some swimming time, I piled the kids into the car for a pre-bed McDonald's ice cream run. As we're waiting in an impossibly long line, Luca pipes up from the backseat, "Mommy, turn this music down. I need to talk about things."

I cooperate and turn the radio off, asking what she wants to talk about.

"Let's talk about babies."

"Ok?"

"How do the babies get out of their mommy's belly?"

"Well, remember we talked about this before? The baby grows in the mama's belly, and when it's ready to be born the mama pushes with her tummy."

"And then she goes to a hospital?"

"Sometimes sweetie. But sometimes, like when your brother was born, the mommy decides to stay at home."

"Oh." She pauses for a minute to think. "But how does the mommy push the baby out?"

"Um, she uses her tummy muscles. Kind of like when you go potty."

"But where does she push?"

"Um, well....she pushes with her tummy (here, I take a rolled up tube of fabric I have in my car and place it in my palms, then web my fingers together around one side of it) and the baby moves. Pretend this (gesturing to fabric tube) is the baby and my hands are the tummy muscles. They tighten and push and the baby moves down (I mimic this with my hands and the fabric). See?"

"That's cool!"

"Yeah, it is pretty cool."

"So then the baby comes out through her tummy?"

"Sort of." shit shit shit shit shit

::I interrupt this story to explain how I feel about having these kinds of conversations with kids. My husband and I decided long ago that we would always tell the truth about these types of issues, but that we would try not to over-explain (see Parenting 101: Don't Overthink It). In other words, the last time Luca and I had this conversation, I was able to avoid directly explaining the anatomy and physiology of giving birth and making babies because she wasn't really asking about that. She was happy with a vague explanation that matched the reality of images she's seen of birth. If she's not asking the question, I don't need to try to answer it just yet.

But when she does ask the question? I owe it to her and I'm only being true to myself and my husband and how we choose to raise our kids, if I answer her in an honest but age-appropriate way.::

deep breath

"Actually, the baby doesn't come out through the mommy's tummy, Luca. It lives there while she's pregnant but when it's ready to be born she pushes it and it comes out her vagina."
"Oh."
"Yeah." And then, from both of us, a moment of silence. I turn the radio back on.

"Mama? Turn the radio down again. How does the baby get in the mommy's tummy? I wanna know the WHOLE story mama. Don't skip any parts."
shit shit shit shit shit double shit

For a second I considered not really answering. I mean...the girl is FOUR. Does she really need to have that much information? But then I thought about it a different way. She doesn't need to know it all at 4, but I also don't want to be having this conversation when she's 11 or 13 and wishing we'd been talking about it all along. The way I figure, if we talk about it all along, she not only will feel more comfortable talking and asking questions as she gets older, but we'll also have time to ease into being comfortable with these conversations. Plus, at 4 she has no idea that her questions might make people uncomfortable, and I'd rather she get the answer from me than ask others who might not know the right way to answer.

"The daddy's body makes something called sperm and the mommy's body makes little eggs. When they want to make a baby, the daddy puts some sperm in the mommy and it meets the egg and then grows into a baby."

"Oh. That's really neat, mama. I want to see how that happens someday."
"I hope you will, sweetie," I answer, silently saying to myself When you are at least 25.

I know it's not the most eloquent explanation, and it definitely glosses over the finer details. But she was satisfied with the answer to that one as well. I really never knew a kid her age could be so observant of her world and so inquisitive. I love it, especially how she warns us not to bullshit here and to be sure to give her 'the whole story'. Here's hoping our approach doesn't mess her up forever!

Parenting 101: Don't Overthink It.

My brother and his wife had a baby, and my kids are fully obsessed. When Rohan was a newborn, Luca often could be found 'nursing' a doll or stuffed animal while I nursed Rohan. As soon as there were no nursing mommies in her immediate life, however, she switched to mostly feeding her babies from bottles.

Since Patrick's birth, Luca has been around a few times when he's nursed, and it's reignited her interest in breastfeeding her own 'babies'.

The other day, we left the house to meet my family for dinner, and when the kids dragged their feet a bit, I encouraged them to hurry so we could see Patrick. On her way out the door, Luca grabbed her baby, who she has named Rainbow, and brought her along for the ride.

A few minutes into the drive, from the backseat, she chirps up, "Mama? How can I feed my baby?"
"You can nurse her, sweetie."
"No."
"Well, you didn't bring any bottles, so you'll have to nurse her."
"But how? How can people feed babies with their boobies?"
(This is big, I thought. I have to handle this correctly. Explain how a mom's body makes the milk and the hormones and the biology...)
"Well, honey, a mama's body was made to make milk for her babies. When she has a baby, her body knows how to make milk and the baby knows how to drink it."
"But how can I feed the baby my boobie milk, mama?"
"Well, sweetie, you just lift your shirt and...you remember, right? You just hold your baby and she can eat. And if you're the mama, your body will -"
"Mommy. Mom?"
" - make the - yes, honey?"
"I mean, how can I feed my baby when my seatbelt straps are in the way?"

Friday Night Talent Show.

Today I had to go to a small town about 30 minutes south of my house for an all-day event for work. Sitting at a display table bored between visitors, I decided to catch up with a few people via text.

First, I texted my friend who is also on WW:

"I've always heard a tomato is a fruit since it has seeds inside. Does this make pumpkins, bell peppers, and squash fruit as well?"
"I guess so?"
"Sweet. So I can eat an entire pumpkin and it's 0 points."

Then I texted my brother's wife who is due with Baby #2 on July 4th. This baby is a boy, and an active one in the womb. I jokingly call him Seamus, though my daughter has nicknamed him Bingo. In fact, when we learned she was pregnant with #2, we asked Luca what nickname she wanted to give it. "Bingo!" she answered. We then asked if it was going to be a girl baby or a boy baby, since she was 2 for 2 with guessing the sex of her other baby cousins. "A boy of course, Mommy. Bingo is a boy!" And she was right...about the boy thing, anyhow. About the name Bingo? Not so much.:

"Any baby news? When do you see your Dr next?"
"Still officially due on 7/4. See the Dr. next week. Unofficially, I am a planet, can't walk, and am having random contractions here and there. I am soooooo done!"

Seeing as her baby was still in her belly and not on his way out, I kept searching for someone to give me an excuse to leave the event early. So, I texted my other sister-in-law, who is also due with her second in December. Luca has also proclaimed this one to be a boy, and I wanted to know when we will find out if she is right:

"Is today your ultrasound?"
"Monday is the big day. Your kiddos are coming over to swim. Leave early and come over!!!"
:::Ding Ding Ding:::

(My husband is in summer school, but has Fridays home with the kids. They had arranged for a post-nap 'borrowing' of my brother- and sister-in-law's pool.)

Never one to turn down an invite, I headed home around 3, fed the dog, grabbed my things and headed over. We spent some time in the pool, the kids playing and splashing and having fun (my neice, who is 1, and my daughter have matching swimsuits which was just too cute for words). Somewhere along the line, I noticed Rohan pulling at his...um...crotch. A lot. At first I chocked it up to boy obsession with the penis, but then I noticed he was looking around the pool area sort of anxiously. Turns out, he had to pee. He was wearing a swim diaper, but didn't want to pee in it (HOLY amazing!!!!) so I had him get out and I stripped him down, staying in the pool myself. Then I pointed to the plants by the edge of the pool decking and said, "You can pee on those."

Next thing we know, Luca jumped out, stripped off her swimsuit, and stood beside him. Both kids, completely naked, butts to the pool, faced the wall. She reached over and patted his back, leaned in to say something to him we couldn't hear (I love that. Nothing is sweeter to me than the relationship they are building with each other.) and then smiled over her shoulder at us.

The next thing we knew, twin streams of urine started to flow. Oh, yes. My son and my daughter stood side by side, peeing into the rocks. It had to have been the cutest and most hilarious thing we'd ever seen. I mean, I guess I sort of knew girls could pee standing, but to see her do it with such expertise was seriously amusing.

The Literal One.

Me: "Luca, you are the sweetest little girl."
Luca: "I know, Mommy."
Me: "You're so sweet, I want to nibble on your tummy!" ::nibbles on tummy::
Luca: :::giggles:::
Me: "You are so sweet, I bet your tummy is all full of sugar inside!"
Luca: "No, Mommy. It's full of blood. People have blood inside their bodies, remember?"

Carpool Buddy.

Mornings are interesting in our house. A flurry of bowls of Cheerios, bananas, wardrobe changes, bag packing, hair brushing, calendar checking (for the preschooler in the family), and shoe finding. By the time 6:45 hits, the parents are on their way to caffienated wakefullness and the kids are ready for the morning routine of waiting for the garage door to rise so they can run onto the driveway and hopefully get misted by the sprinklers.

Rohan's my morning car pool buddy most of the year, except during wrestling season when Darrick does the drop offs for both kids and I do pick ups. Those morning drives to daycare or grandma's house are a sweet time for the two of us. Most mornings, we put the windows down and wave to cars next to us at red lights, talk about where we're headed, listen to music, and make faces at each other in the rearview mirror. Sometimes I try to engage him in something educational, like practicing counting our the alphabet song, to which he always interrupts and says, "NO, Mama!" over and over while I ignore him and carry on from the front seat. I will admit I sometimes worry that he isn't interested in these games, since Luca LOVED playing the counting, singing, alphabet, and 'what sound does this animal make?' games in the car at his age. But my worry went away the other day when he surprised me by singing most of the alphabet song by himself, unprompted by me.

This morning, Rohan snuck one of the 'goody bags' leftover from Luca's party off the counter (inside was candy someone picked up when the pinata broke) into the car with him. I looked back in the rearview mirror and saw him gnawing away at an orange lollipop, happy as could be. His facial expressions get the best of me and make me laugh, so I snapped some pictures when we were at red lights. My little carpool buddy! He makes mornings more bearable.

PS: Camera still getting repaired but man I CANNOT wait to get it back!

Rohan Is Two. Where's My Wine?

The terrible 2s? I am totally getting them right about now.

Rohan welcomed his second year like a cyclone, spinning circles of mud and toys and fury and unbounded joy in life. This kid? The very definition of a happy baby. There were those first few months when he had me bouncing him on a yoga ball for upwards of 45 minutes at a time as he cried and fussed and begged for I-never-knew-what. And there were night wakings and troubles getting to sleep and fussy episodes we didn't know if we should blame on age or temperament or his Masto. There were tough days followed by good days. There were worries that had me (against my better judgment) frantically reading Google and venting to poor, unsuspecting (and amazing) friends. But by the time Rohan was 4 months old, we knew we were seeing the real him: lively, engaging, sweet and affectionate, opinionated, often easy-going, always hungry for both food and love, and with a smile that is so bright and wide it makes my body hurt with love for him.

He's always been active and a bit wild. It's a shift from Luca, who has her opinions and is very Type A but is largely agreeable and cooperative. Luca will tell other kids not to climb on things that may be unsafe. Rohan will climb on things that may be unsafe, and when reproached by his sister he will smile that wide boundless smile and leap into the air, always landing on his feet. He runs and skips and jumpe everywhere he goes. He says hi to friends and strangers, approaches dogs while we're out on a walk without a second thought, and if you tell him not to do something, he WILL give you the silly side-eye and act like that's what he's going to do. "Rohan," I'll tell him, "don't touch that because it's hot." Smile. Side eye. Evil grin. Twinkle and squint. All while a hand gets precariously close to said hot item and he waits for me to flip my shit. I've learned, by the way, not to flip my shit. Because he (almost always) pulls away at the last minute and runs away laughing.

He steals Luca's toys straight out of her hand, then tears across the room, dodging her and she shrieks in protest, his grin splitting his face open from cheek to cheek. He throws the toy as far as he can throw, then laughs uncontrollably as she lands square on his back and tackles him, annoyed at the perpetually annoying little brother.

With Rohan, I've had my first parental experiences in:
- putting a hysterical and defiant toddler into a football hold and carrying him crying from the mall while avoiding judging (and probably some understanding) stares;
- chasing after him as he ran to the very edge of the sidewalk with the sound of a fast-approaching SUV humming in my head, then crying and shaking as adrenaline coursed through my body and he patted my face and said, "No street, mama. Ho-yud hands.";
- asking my child not to climb in an unoccupied restaurant booth only to have him nod in agreement and scramble onto the tabletop for an impromptu dance routine;
- feeling your face turning red as your husband escorts your child out of Safeway and you maniacally try to replicate the order that used to be present in the Easter greeting card display he just knocked over in the middle of the store on a busy evening.

To be fair, the mall one happened when he was a few months shy of 2, after a Santa visit at the mall. All the rest of those things have been in the 6 weeks since that fateful birthday. It really does give me new perspective, and a new dose of sympathy for those moms I probably silently condemned prior to having kids of my own.

I know this is to be expected, so why didn't I expect it? The answer is simple: Luca didn't really have a 'Terrible 2s' phase. Which is not, incidentally, to paint her as perfect. What no one (other than my mom who HOLY HELL why didn't I listen to her when I was younger because she. knows. everything!) told me was that a lot of kids hit it later, making it more of a 'Terrible 3s'. That was our experience with Luca. She went to bed 2 and compliant and woke up 3 and full of opinions that pretty much were based in nothing other than being different than those opinions held by her parents.

But Rohan? My little Mo is revelling in 2, dancing on tabletops and nearly running into traffic and generally keeping me on my toes.

But it's not all bad. It's really not. He still remains one of the happiest and sunniest kids I've ever known. He makes us all laugh 100 times a day, and kid knows he is funny. He makes silly faces and sits for minutes at a time curled into my body holding my finger and making me point to pictures in books as he names the things he sees. He's smart too: knowing several nursery rhymes and colors an instantly being able to navigate almost any physical task with ease. He adores his sister. At least once a week she tells me they are going to get married because, "You marry your best friend, and Romie is mine best friend." and he nods seriously and says, "Best fend, mama. Sidder (sister) best fend."

But times like tonight, when he landed a closed fist straight on his sister's head, dumped a bin of toys all over the floor as we were cleaning up, cried because he wanted water but he wanted to hold the cup while I filled it, attempted to climb up the outside banister on the stairs, and then pulled his *ahem* boy business out the top of his diaper and ran around the house singing, "Weenuh...weenuh...WEENUH!" remind me why I'm so not ready for a 3rd kid right now.

How A Baby Is Born.

"Mommy, can we talk about hospitals?" she asks. It's just one of her typical leading questions, and I was hoping this time it would be benign, unlike last time. I'm cute when I'm so foolishly optimistic, huh?

"Sure, sweetie. Why don't you start?"

"Can you tell me what the hospital did to me when I was little and I borned there?"

"Well, mommy gave birth to you, then they weighed and measured you, checked you to make sure you were healthy, gave you a bath, and helped mommy and daddy take care of you."

"And the doctors took me from your belly?"

"Um, well....not exactly, sweetie. Mommy actually pushed you out and they helped me."

"Oh, how did you push me out?"

"Well, I used my tummy muscles and pushed until you were born."

"But how?"

"Um, you know when you go potty sometimes you use your tummy and push?"

"Yeah."

"Like that."

"Oh. But did you push me out from your tummy?"
(I chose to only answer the 'how do you push' part and not tell her how the baby gets out. I'm all for full disclosure, but until she asks me specifically about the logisitics, I think she might be too young to really understand a woman's multipurpose nethers.)

"Well, honey, you grew in mommy's tummy, but you didn't come out that way, exactly."
(husband growing more uncomfortable)

"Oh. Yeah. I came out your leg like in those shows where babies are born. The doctors helped you push out your leg."
(Here's where I was momentarily confused, until I realized what she meant)

"Well, in those shows the doctors hold the mommy's leg to help her push, but the baby doesn't come out her leg."
(silence as she considers)

"When Flower is born (Flower being the name Luca has already decided on for her hypothetical baby sister to come) I can help you push her from your tummy, right?"

"I don't know sweetheart. That's kind of the mommy's work. But I'll tell you what. IF mommy ever has a baby Flower, I promise you can watch her be born, ok? And then you'll know how mommies push out their babies."

"Ok mommy. But I'm not going to breastfeed her, ok?"

That Man Has One Too.

Ah, being a mom to a talkative toddler has its perks.

This morning I was driving both the kids to daycare. Luca asked to go to Laura's house instead of preschool, and because we think it's nice for her and Romo to have a day together and for her and Laura to keep a good relationship, we said yes. However, the whole way there, Mo was asking to go to grandpa's house. "Graaaanpa's. (pause) Houuuuuse," over and over.

I kept telling him, "Sweetie, we're going to Laura's. You can see Grandpa later this week." Luca, thinking herself quite helpful, informed me, "Oh mommy, Rohan likes to hang out with other men. They all have weiners."

Stifling a laugh, I said, "This is true, sweetie. Except, we call them penises, ok?" (something about a 3 year old saying 'weiner' doesn't sit right with me).

"Ok mama. Rohan has a penis."
"Yes, he does."
"And so does...GRANDPA!"
(cringing) "Yes, he does."
"And Daddy."
"Yes."
"And Uncle B. And Uncle Aaron."
(Cringing more, but thankful she's only mentioning my husband's brothers and not mine, as I really didn't want to think about that.)
"Yes, sweetie. All men do."
"Can we talk about all the men who have penises?"
"How about we skip that, ok?"
"Ok. Why?"
"Um......oh look!" I say as I pull up to a red light. "That man has a really cool bicycle."
Derailing my plans to change the topic, she says, "And a penis. He has a penis too. Don't forget, mama."

Bubbles.

A side effect of all the sickness we've been battling in our house lately is the ever-running and stuffy noses. Rohan has taken to lifting the neckline of his shirt to his face, saying, "NOTS!" (snots) and then wiping it off on the inside of the collar. Luca tends to be more demure, asking (ok, demanding) a tissue or wipe when her nose needs tending.

On Sundays we meet with my family for dinner, and though we were not feeling well this past weekend was no exception. I probably would have bowed out, but my Grandma is having some serious health issues and my mom wanted to update us, so we packed up the kids and headed to a little Mexican food place near our house.

My brother and his wife have been dealing with the plague I had a few weeks ago, and Sunday was the first day they were both feeling better, but they came a little later than everyone else because their stomachs are on weak legs still, and they had eaten a late lunch. Luca was super excited for them to show up, as they brought her cousin Julia, and Julia makes the sun shine in Luca's world.  She quickly abandoned my end of the booth to go sit by Julia's highchair and entertain her Aunt and Uncle.

We were all talking when Luca interrupted saying, "Uncle Bob! Uncle Bob!" He turned his attention her way, and she proudly bragged to him, "I just blew a booger bubble with my NOSE!"

I'm fairly certain my brother has never been so proud.

My 3 Year Old Is Bad For My Self Esteem.

I was in the kitchen the other day, making breakfast for my family and just generally enjoying being in the midst of 4 days home together, when Luca wandered in with a Christmas ad.

Excited, she called to me, "Look, Mommy! Look!"

Thinking she was goign to show me something she wants for Christmas, I said, "What is it honey?"

"I found something for you! I will tell Santa you need THIS!"

I looked, and realized she was pointing to one of these:

Photo credit OneShotFitness.com

Sometimes, having a toddler in the house is killer on the ol' ego.

Duality.

"Mama?" she says, as I buckle her carseat so her daddy can take her to preschool.
"Yeah, baby?"
"When I grow up, I want to be a Mommy just like you."
"Oh, I think that would make me very happy!" (It would. Grandkids! Someday. I think seeing my kids as parents will probably be one of the best things I ever experience, should I be so lucky.)
"And maybe...a wrestler too."
(from the other side of the car where he's buckling Rohan into his seat, my husband grins ear to ear)
"I think that's a fabulous plan, Luca."
"Ok, mommy. I love you."
"Love you too, tiger."

------------------------------------------------

Ok, she can totally be whatever she wants when she grows up (please, universe, not a stripper) but I laughed all day about how well my husband's gotten into her head.

Leaving on a Jet Plane.

I'm heading out shortly for Portland for 2 days of meetings. Traveling for work is something I have a love/hate relationship with. Before I had kids, it was a great excuse to see other parts of the U.S., get some quiet alone time to control the remote, and order room service. Now that I've got short stack and momack at home, leaving is hard. Akin to clawing my heart out of my own chest and setting on the kitchen table before hopping on a 747.

But we had a great weekend, with park time and breakfast out and a long-overdue brow wax for me (amazing how that can really change how you feel), and family over for dinner. So I'm in a positive place and ready to tackle two nights in a big bed with nobody crying for me at 4 am and no sharp toddler elbows in my ribcage all night.

But I'm going to miss them.

I'm going to miss my husband and his homemade dinners and bear hugs and the way we can look at each other and speak without words and how we're a team who can laugh at the insanity that is parenthood.

I'm going to miss Rohan's hugs and kisses and tumbling cuddles and his smile and laugh and the way he collapses into me at the end of the day, ready to be carried to his crib to meet his dreams.

And I'm going to miss Luca and conversations like this:
Luca: "Did you get your eye hairs fixed today?"
Me: "I did. I got my eyebrows waxed."
L: "Oh. Maybe I can get my eyedroes waxded too."
M: "No way. YOURS are perfect just how they are! In fact, when I went in I said, 'Please make mine look like Luca's' and so they did."
L: "Hm. No, I think the lady doesn't know me and she would say, 'WHO is LUCA????'!!"
M: "I guess you're right."

Love that girl and how clever and funny and sweet she is.

I'll miss them, but Portland here I come!

Compassion.

I had a rough day on Friday for reasons I'm not interested in delving into on a blog (you've heard of Dooce and being Dooced, right?) though in the interest of clarity I will share I was not dooced, I just don't want to delve into things that could get me dooced. Let's just say I'd been looking forward to things happening on Friday and my expectations far exceeded my reality. So after work I headed over to my in-laws' house to meet up with my husband and kids and eat dinner, and I was definitely in a funk. Add to my funk the fact I was on day 2 of a cold, which always and without fail makes me more emotional and sensitive, and it was a recipe for a breakdown, but it was a breakdown that had to be put on pause until I was alone.

Except that 'being alone' is hard to come by when you have two kids, and by the time Luca begged to ride home with me and not her daddy, I was wound so tightly I felt like a spring about to burst and shoot across the room.

I decided to treat myself to coffee and chocolate cake from a little coffee shop near our house, so Luca and I stopped and went inside to order. The shop is right off a man-made lake, and usually we go to a restaurant in the same plaza and let Luca and Rohan go see the ducks by the lake. But seeing as how it was almost 8 pm and the only thing by the lake was coffee-drinking chain smokers, when she asked to go see the lake I said no. And then, I said no to that same request approximately 17 more times in the 10 minutes we were in the coffee shop. I kept my cool, loaded her and the drinks in the car, and then fielded no less than 6 requests to hand her the chocolate milk I'd bought her so she could drink it, all answered with a "You may have it when we get home." and by this point I was not even out of the parking lot yet.

And, I lost it. Big, ugly tears started to stream down my face and my congested nose was running and there were tissues in piles and I said to Luca, "Sweetie, mama is having a tough night and needs you to just not talk right now please, ok?"

Being the sweet and sensitive soul she is, Luca replied from the backseat, "Ohhhh, mama. Don't be saaaaad, mama. I'm sorrrrry mama."

I thanked her and continued to cry, trying to focus on the road ahead. I wanted to be alone to break down, but at the same time I was glad for a compassionate soul so near me. She was silent and gave me space to be emotional and sad and a snot-nosed mess.

And then, from the backseat, "Mommy?"

And me, figuring she had something really sweet and endearing to say, "Yes, baby?"

"Um, the booger I just ate tasted like a corn chip. Isn't that crazy?"

Words.

In the past few weeks, Rohan's vocabulary has really increased. I'm not sure what it is, but it must just be a developmental phase. I remember this happening with Luca right around 15 months, and I knew that most boys were a little further behind girls in language, so I was just sort of sitting back waiting for it to happen.

And now, here we are. Rohan's a big boy, which for anyone who knows him in person comes across as a sort of understatement. Like calling Arizona's summers 'hot'. So it makes it even more adorable that his voice is little and sort of squeaky, whether happy or defiant. In just the past few weeks, he's started to say:

-Down
-Please (Pease or tead)
-Thank you (tan dooooo)
- On
- Off
- Boom (for when he falls down)
- Ruby (our dog's name)
- Gaga (for grandma and/or grandpa)
- Laura (daycare provider)
- Yuca (for Luca)
- Kiss (tiss)
- Book
- Sit
- Bop-bop (for his Boppy, or pacifier)
- Go

He has been saying things like, "All done." and "Ine down (I want down)." and "Go Ruby!" (which he hears about 34 times a day as we're constantly shooing her from underfoot) for quite a while now, but the newest addition to his repretoire is a three-word sentence: "Read a book?" And let me tell you this: not much makes this mama swoon more than those early sentences, especially when one of those sentences gives me a little hope that maybe, just maybe, he will grow up to be more dork than jock.

Ok, fine. I have no real qualms with jocks, other than the fact I fear they end up dating vapid girls with small pores and fake tans and that is where this mama's head starts to feel a little like it's on crooked. You see, much like we half-kid about enrolling Luca in a convent and feeding her vats of bacon grease in the hopes it'll keep gross teen boys away in about 10 more years, I'd also like to make Rohan into more nerd and less jock to keep those hussy teen girls away in about 12 years. So if books be his true love for now, you can bet the farm I'm going to encourage him down that route. Because everyone knows that nerdy boys don't date tramps and harlots, right?*

Right.

*No actual pig fat is going to be used in our attempts to keep Luca wholesome. It may be too late, anyhow, seeing as how her new best friend at school is named Maddox and is the son of the school's Vice Principal. Shoot for the top, Luca-bear!!