The Rechristening

My kids don't read this blog, but they know that I write it.  They also know that I don't use their real names when I write about them.

They almost never hear their real names unless they're in trouble, anyway...we're big on nicknames around here.  When they hear their first and last names called (or God forbid, the dreaded first-middle-last sequence) they KNOW they're in for it.  This is also true for the adults, I should add...I almost never hear my given name unless my husband is annoyed with me or under stress.

Anyway, back when I was starting this blog, I had to decide what to call the three kids here.  I do actually call my boys Thing One and Thing Two (among many other things) in real life.

For good reason, I might add.  They are named after characters from The Cat In The Hat, by Dr. Seuss.

'i will pick up the hook.
you will see something new.
two things.  and i call them
Thing One and Thing Two.
these Things will not bite you.
they want to have fun.'
then, out of the box
came Thing Two and Thing One!
and they ran to us fast.
they said, 'how do you do?
would you like to shake hands
with Thing One and Thing Two?'

and sally and i
did not know what to do.
so we had to shake hands
with Thing One and Thing Two.
we shook their two hands.
but our fish said, 'no! no!
those Things should not be
in this house!  make them go!
they should not be here
when your mother is not!
put them out!  put them out!'
said the fish in the pot.

'have no fear, little fish,'
said the cat in the hat.
'these Things are good Things.'
and he gave them a pat.
'they are tame.  oh, so tame!
they have come here to play.
they will give you some fun
on this wet, wet, wet day.'

now, here is a game that they like,'
said the cat.
'they like to fly kites,'
said the cat in the hat.

'no!  not in the house!'
said the fish in the pot.
'they should not fly kites
in a house!  they should not.
oh, the things they will bump!
oh, the things they will hit!
oh, i do not like it!
not one little bit!'

then sally and i
saw them run down the hall.
we saw those two Things
bump their kites on the wall!
bump! thump! thump! bump!
down the wall in the hall.

thing two and thing one!
they ran up!  they ran down!
on the string of one kite
we saw mother's new gown!
her gown with the dots
that are pink, white and red.
then we saw one kite bump
on the head of her bed!

then those things ran about
with big bumps, jumps and kicks
and with hops and big thumps
and all kinds of bad tricks.

When I started the blog, I called my third child "The Girl" simply to distinguish her from her brothers.  However, she has recently pointed out that this is a boring name, and she wants a better nom de blog.  In real life, I probably call her "Bug" or "Peanut" more than anything else, but since she is named for a flower, I'll use another flower (and another of her real-life nicknames) for her name here: she will henceforth be known as Petunia.

Oh No You Don't

Both of our first two children were boys.  As much as I love them, I really wanted a girl too.  Himself said he'd do his best to throw me an X chromosome on our third go-round (which was to be final, no matter what we got)--his only condition was that if he succeeded, I had to deal with anything relating to hormones, boys and drama going forward.  

I agreed, which falls squarely into the category of Famous Last Words.

Fast forward to this year.  The Girl gravitates to every boy in the area.  Or they gravitate to her, more precisely.  She is a beautiful child, but it is more her spunk and spirit that draws them in, as far as I can tell.  A boy two years older than she invited her to his house for a playdate on about two minutes' acquaintance the other day...I thought Himself was going to pop a blood vessel!  He's about ready to buy a shotgun and start cleaning it on the front porch. 

It isn't bad enough that she's already engaged to one of the boys in her class at school.  Yesterday, she had a playdate with two others.  They are twins, so they come over as a set.  The three of them were upstairs playing in her room, and I was in the kitchen getting a few things done, with one ear directed up the open stairway to the bedrooms.  They are all young, and these are nice little boys, so having them upstairs in her room together was not of major concern.  Until I heard one of the boys talking about taking off his pants, anyway!!

I'd forgotten about her dress-up box, which contains not only an abundance of princess dresses and such, but also all her brothers' old Halloween costumes.  This boy was innocently trying to put on one of the old racecar-driver suits from the box, but he couldn't pull it on over his shorts.  The other boy and my daughter were dressed to the nines from the box as well, but fortunately both still had all their clothes on.  After sprinting up the steps to see what the hell was going on up there, I had a quiet chat with my daughter in the hall about the need to leave the room when boys are changing! 

The boys went home at the end of the playdate, and about an hour later, we were due at a friend's house for dinner.  This friend happens to have a son about The Girl's age, as did another guest.  Both of these women are longtime friends of mine, and their sons of The Girl's.  Within five minutes of arriving at the house, my daughter asked if she could go and play upstairs with these two boys.  I told her she could only go if she brought Thing One with her as a chaperone.  This kid is going to be a menace when she actually discovers boys...she's giving her father gray hair already!                 

Stat Shock

Messing around with the blog stats today and realized that this is post #366.  Three hundred and sixty-six!  Wow.

For some of you longtime or more prolific bloggers, I know this number is nothing.  But I started this blog on a whim last July, and I'd never have thought that I'd find that many things to write about in a ten-month span.  It's been a good experience so far...I love having this space in which I can vent or be creative or have an opinion, whatever my need might be on that particular day.

Thanks so much to all of you for being part of the ride.

Put Me In The Zoo

I will go into the zoo.  I want to see it.  Yes, I do.  

Or, at the very least, I love Thing Two, so I will go to the zoo with his class for their field trip, just as I did for his older brother a few years ago.

I have nothing against the zoo itself, please note.  Just the concept of chasing energetic elementary schoolers around it for the better part of a day in the blazing sun, trying to keep them off the statues, off the fences, and out of the pens!  And I was even grateful for the sun and heat that followed this morning's showers, since it was 50 degrees outside and raining sideways there the year I went with Thing One.

I've always attributed the beginning of one of my particularly good friendships to that first trip, actually: once you hit the point where you are too wet to need an umbrella anymore and cold enough to shiver, you either become a grumpy, miserable piece of work or you give up and recognize the humor in the situation.  My now-friend B and I bonded permanently while hiding from the frigid rain with our older kids in the zoo's ice cream shop and laughing like a pair of fools!  The animals had all had the sense to take cover from the downpour, anyway--we were just following suit.

B happens to have daughters the same ages as both of my sons, so this time around we made a point of signing up to chaperone together again.  We were assigned three children to watch: her daughter, my son, and the birthday boy of last summer's Mexican fiesta.  These three have been in school together since preschool and get along well, which is handy.  As chaperones, B and I were carrying the group's lunches, water bottles, umbrellas, jackets, sunblock, etc, etc.  I had a backpack; she'd brought a portable cooler thing, which she pushed around the zoo in a rented stroller!  She is nothing if not practical.

We were at the zoo for about four hours, the highlights of which (in the kids' opinion) were watching a gorilla poop, eating lunch, and getting to ride a camel.  Oh, and the umpteen-foot python and screaming peacock.  B and I were more impressed with the big cats, the polar bears, and the sky-high stilettos and hoochie skirt worn by another chaperone.

The kids' bus didn't get back to school until about 4:50.  Having made that mistake the last time, there was no way in hell I was going on the bus with the kids again...B and I and another mom drove together in my car in blessed tranquility.  And I needed the temporary peace and quiet, since Thing Two also had a baseball game tonight!  He needed to be at the field by 5:30.

About half the kids on each team had also been to the zoo and were exhausted.  The game was a nightmare of zombie fielding and very slow base running.  One outfielder actually sat down mid-inning to tie his shoe and never quite got up again!  When the coach suggested tacking one more inning of play onto the end of the game--at 7:45!--there was a popular rebellion in the parent section of the bleachers.

All told, I was home today for about half an hour between 8:30AM and 8PM.  Good thing Himself worked from home today.  And Thing Two is lucky that he's cute!

Interesting

Saw some survey results recently: apparently three is the most stressful number of children.

Lovely.

I'd agree with the comment in the article that most of the stress is self-imposed and the result of excessive perfectionism, too.  That's definitely a big part of the problem around here, anyway.

My experience was that the transition between one and two kids was harder than the one from two to three, though.  By the latter point, you already know how to juggle, and are just (ha!) adding a ball.  Maybe that's why the stress levels for moms of four or more went down in the survey...they could just have the juggling thing down cold.

But I don't plan to find out personally: I think that one additional ball would probably send me right over the edge!  I'll quit while I'm behind...

At Least There's A Good View From Up Here

The year I was nine, my mother would cheerfully have sold me to the gypsies.  Heck, she would likely have paid them to take me away.  Although I was a relatively good kid for most of my childhood, for some reason I was a completely rotten little brat that particular year.

Like many mothers, at some point (probably during that year) she must have put the famous curse on me, the one that goes like this: "May you have children just like you!"  Because I have at least one of those, and right now he is driving me up a frigging tree.

I have HAD IT with the arguing and resistance and backchat.  And since I try very hard both to be careful about what I threaten and to follow through with what I have threatened when challenged, a most-beloved DS has gone into extended exile as of this evening.

If this is indeed the mother's curse I'm experiencing, I sure as hell hope it only lasts the one year, and that this is his equivalent of the year I was nine.  If not, I'm really in for it.  Especially since I haven't seen any gypsies recently.

"Mom, Please Go Buy Me A Big Bag Of Jellybeans!"

Thing One's first words to me in the waiting room this afternoon after he (prematurely, as it happened) bolted from the orthodontist's chair in a fit of pure elation.

You see, the kid has had a palate expander permanently affixed to the roof of his mouth for a good nine months or so.  The type he had is made of wire and is slightly less cumbersome than the one pictured in the link, but it's the same idea.   He's been good about having it in (only minimal griping), but it's been a rough road for him: besides the discomfort of the device, he had to have two teeth pulled as part of the palate expansion process, and he's been ordered to avoid many foods that he would love to be eating!  Popcorn, gum, and chewy or sticky candies have all been off the table.

But today, and unexpectedly, the orthodontist finally took the blasted thing out.  He may need a retainer (we go back to see in four weeks) but until then, the poor kid can finally eat whatever he wants again.  I though it was a nice touch that they gave him a celebratory balloon attached to packs of gum and microwave popcorn at the end of his appointment!

And the icing on the cake of the appointment?  Seeing this on the whiteboard wall of the kids' play area in the office, drawn there out of the blue by my beloved daughter.

A happy afternoon, indeed.