...That's not great.

Mother's Day by the numbers.

Hours I slept in after the kids got up: 2.

Cards I received from RD and the kids: 2.

Eggs, toast, and waffles I was delivered in bed: 2, 1, and 1.

Eggs, toast, and waffles delivered to me, but consumed by Sis: 1, 0.5, and 0.5.

Mimosas consumed by 11:00 am: 3 (I would not recommend).

Hours spent with mimosa "spillage" on my white t-shirt: 4 (I am SUPER classy).

Hours spent on my new MacBook while lounging in bed: an embarrassingly large amount.

Calls I made to my mom: 1.

Years I have been a mother: 5 (amazing!).

Bubbles.

This weekend gave me hope for many summer weekends filled with f. Friday evening I finally finished painting the kitchen. I had just one more wall to complete, and it had been mocking me for MONTHS. Saturday was a bit rainy, and in the morning the kids rain errands with RD and Bubba figured out how to play games on Sesame Street. A mellow day, but we got out in the evening to attend a fun birthday party that just plain wiped the kids out. Which is always a good thing.

Then Sunday brought sun; glorious SUN. The kids and I had a lazy morning, while RD worked on a list of mosquito tasks: siliconing all the door hinges, adding molding underneath the door to the garage, putting out the deck furniture, getting the oil changed and more.

We went out to the deck to play with the bubbles the kids received from the previous evening's birthday party.

   

They love to blow bubbles. And, frankly, I can't blame them.

   

I would love to have Sissy's hair; because come on. RD's genes are good for at least one thing: curly hair.

Completing my kitchen painting process energized me to get some additional spring cleaning done. I moved and cleaned under and the sides of both the stove and the refrigerator (PS. NASTY). I hung a bulletin board in the kitchen. I wiped down the kitchen cabinets. I packed up and stored my winter sweaters. I folded and put away three loads of laundry.

And then I weeded the front yard.

The bubbles were more fun.

Kindergarten tears.

I cried everyday of kindergarten for the first four months of the school year. Every. Single. Day. Even though I had spent the past two years attending Montessori preschool at my church with no adjustment issues, something was markedly different in my kindergarten experience.

My mother was my teacher.

She was an experienced teacher by the time I entered her classroom in September of 1981, but this was a new challenge for her. She taught elementary school right out of college while my dad was in the Lutheran seminary, facing the needs of kids in St. Louis, Los Angeles and the Bronx. After my sister was born in 1970, my mother stayed home with us until I (the baby of the family) went to preschool at three years old. Because of this, she never had the opportunity to teach either of her other children.

As I recall, I cried because she did what all kindergarten teachers do: they make every single child in their class feel capable, special and important. In layman's terms; my mommy hugged other kids. And I was NOT happy about it.

"But you get to go home with me everyday!" my mother would tell me, "Next year these kids will move on to first grade, but I will be your mommy forever!"

When dealing with me rationally didn't work, she did what any other self-respecting mother would do in these circumstances: bribery. Apparently, I'll do anything for a set of Strawberry Shortcake Colorforms. I was able to pull myself together and end the daily flow of tears.

I've been thinking a lot about this situation because my son will be entering kindergarten next fall. Will his teacher provide an environment that feel as special as my mother did for her students? Will he or she care and nurture my son the same way my mother cared for her students during her thirty years of teaching? I'm hopeful that they will, and I'll be there every step of the way to ensure it. I believe that it's our job as parents to work with our children's teachers in ways that assist them in enriching the lives of every student in the classroom, not just my own.

And even though you think that it's odd enough that my mother was my kindergarten teacher, I'll also share this with you.

My father was my high school principal. Discuss.

Wii came, Wii saw, Wii conquered.

We got a Wii today. It ROCKS.   

I've never been one for video games; either game console or on-line (Tetris doesn't count).  I am the right age for some video gaming lovin', but I think since my brother was older we never really got into video games at our house.  We had an Atari and an Odyssey, but do those really count?  While RD has a few things here and there (we DO have a Nintendo 64), he never really got into them either. So, no GameCube or Playstation at our house. And therefore, no Halo or Grand Theft Auto. Obviously, I wasn't losing any sleep about it.

I had read about the new Wii and seen the various ways that it has been marketed online.  I liked the idea that it was created for those of us non-hard core gamers out there and I thought it would be something that the kids could play with us. Still, it wasn't something I seriously considered.

Until.

Then I actually got the chance to play it. Game over.

RD and I talked about it and he liked what he saw, too (he's happy he'll be able to play GameCube games on it). We agreed to start looking around for it - they are pretty reasonably priced, but still hard to find. RD had no luck at Best Buy (they were not very friendly) and about a month ago he was fifteen minutes late to finding one in stock at Circuit City.  Two weeks ago he asked at Fred Meyer and they told him his best chance was to show up first thing on Sunday mornings, since the shipment comes in Sunday night. So, RD and Bubba (in their matching Oregon State sweatshirts), ventured out early this morning to Fred Meyer and were victorious. We were bowling by 8:30 am.

      

Sissy, however? Not so into the Wii.

Now if I can just talk RD in to getting Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock, we'll be all set. I think it will be an easy sell.

PS. Pay no attention to the mess behind them - yesterday the kids built a fort with all their toys in that corner of the basement. Hey, it kept them busy for most of the morning.

Baby Loves Disco; but Mama hates it.

On our last day of the "week without Daddy" we ventured to downtown Seattle with friends to check out Baby Loves Disco - Seattle.  In theory, there was potentially alot to love: a cool venue, lots of play toys, great DJ mixing dance songs, kid-friendly food and drink, and swag.  Unfortunately, it was everything I hate: a wait to get in, helicopter parents, crowds, disappearing children, and a line at the ladies room.

Even though we had purchased tickets before hand and they were to be waiting at "will-call"; we waited 20 minutes in line to get in.  Apparently, "will-call" loosely translates to "wait in the rain with two kids on a busy street in Pioneer Square while a women with a clip board checks names off the list".  However, people who didn't have tickets could head on in and purchase them inside.  This makes no sense to me.  On the positive side, they had a good way to dealing with the kids safety - each child got a one time use Tyvex bracelet to wear and their parent would get the corresponding ticket - so no one could leave with a child that wasn't theirs.  Once we were safe, we headed down a STEEP set of stairs (remember, these events are held in dance clubs) into the venue.  They had a few activities in the foyer (like coloring, etc.), a "chill" room, a dance area and a snacking area.  The music was loud, but fun.  The kids loved it - there was shakers for them to use, bubbles, a disco ball and lighting effects. 

       

My main challenge was in keeping an eye on my kids (and the kids I was with).  Instead of allowing the kids to dance in the middle of the floor, with the parents along the edges, the dance floor was a mix of tall (adults) and short (kids) that made it IMPOSSIBLE to keep track of the little ones.  And they actually weren't moving around very much.  Now, I understand that with younger (24 months and below) kiddos, you would want to be right next to them, so there should have been designated areas.  I "lost" view of one of the kids probably a handful of times and had to go searching for them.  Not fun.

Now, I'm not one to bad mouth without my share of some solutions to make it a better event.  There should be a better system of getting people inside.  Waiting, with kids in tow, should be avoided at all costs.  There seemed to be little or no staff presence inside - it would have been great if there was someone to "lead" the fun.  Another good idea would be to have a fenced in area to dance in, with one exit and entrance, so the older kids could get their dance on inside, while parents could dance outside while keeping an eye on them. 

Honestly, I'm not sure we will be back.  At least we can say we've been AND it killed the final four hours before RD's return.  So, it had that going for it, which is nice.

Co-sleeping: A love story.

Bubba usually comes into my bedroom sometime after midnight.  He will only emerge from his room after we've gone to bed for the night and the hall light is off (that's his cue that the coast is clear).  Most nights I don't even know that he's crawled into bed with me, I just know that I've been awoken by a bad-breathed toddler in the morning asking, "Is it wake-up time?"  By this time, the two of us occupy approximately 1/8 of the king bed.

++++++++++++++++++

I have never been a great sleeper.  Combine anxiety plus light sleeper; and you get a bunch of crap.  That's one of the main reasons why, when my son was born, we choose not to co-sleep.  I couldn't even sleep with RD in the bed (PS. that's a whole other post!), let alone a baby!  (I have since learned, however, that we did "co-sleep" for awhile.  We did not "bed-share", but he was in a bassinet next to me in bed for the first month or so.)  Bubba moved seamlessly into his crib, with alot of help from Dr. Karp's swaddling and swooshing noises.  God bless the five S's.

All that being said, I am a big supporter of so-sleeping.  I think the recent backlash against co-sleeping is another example of allowing our ethnocentric American ideals get the best of us.  I'm not a scientist or a doctor, so I invite you to go read more about mother/baby sleep research and information at Dr. James McKenna's site.  He is a doctor (anthropologist) who studies mother-baby sleep patterns - and provides great information on safe co-sleeping.  And co-sleeping doesn't necessarily mean sleeping in the same bed as mom, rather sleeping in close proximity, whether that be a bassinet or having the crib be in mom's bedroom.  Dr. McKenna explains all this much better than I ever could, so I encourage you to go and read for yourself.   

When my daughter was born, I had gotten better with my ability to fall and stay asleep.  We followed the same system as we did with my son, and she transitioned into her crib at about a month.  I, however, would bring her into my bed with me to nurse and sleep in the wee hours of the morning.  I felt confident in my ability to safely sleep with her; that I was able to relax and we both would get more rest.

I think since I was such a crappy sleeper, I was anal about providing the kids with a good sleep environment:  firm mattress, with no blankets or pillows; black out shades on the windows; a nightly routine; and, of course, their "sound machines" that make their wind noise.  Both kids developed good sleeping habits, and by 5 months they were sleeping from 7pm-7am with nary a peep.

All the baby books encourage you to provide a consistent sleep environment, but what no one tells you, however, is that the same kids that sleep great at home (due to the routine) have a BITCH of a time sleeping anywhere else.  Whenever we traveled, we needed to take the sound machines, the blackout fabric and on and on.  Also, since they weren't used to falling asleep with anyone else in the room, they would have trouble sharing a room with each other (or with us!) in hotels or at friend's houses.  Much to the annoyance of my family, we always needed multiple places to stick my kids (and RD) when we would travel. 

Which leads me to the summer of 2006 and a trip with my whole family to central Oregon.  Every summer we take a week vacation to somewhere warm and enjoy the family time with my siblings and their families.  We couldn't monopolize as many rooms as we usually require, so I decided to have Bubba and I share a queen bed.  Since it was a new place and a new experience for him, I would lay with him until he feel asleep.  A few days into our week, I started napping with him.  Lovely!  I had never really been able to nap before (not even in college), so this was a treat for me. 

We returned home and everyone returned to their corner (er, I mean, bed).  Except Bubba started coming into bed with me at night.  At first it was 3 out of 7 nights, and it slowly increased to every night.  And, then I started taking naps with him on the weekends.  How can I say no to, "Mommy, can I sleep wif you?"  You can't.  RD and I thought he would phase out of it at some point, but it hasn't happened yet.

And you know what?  I like it.  Neither of my kids are snugglers and it allows me to enjoy his babyhood just a bit longer.  He also usually sleeps later in the morning, which is a plus for everyone.   As long as I am able to sleep, too, I'm happy with the situation.  We've even had Sissy join us on a few occasions, and we all still wake up on that same 1/8 strip of the bed.

++++++++++++++++++

Now that I have taken my resolution of better sleep habits for myself, I am less reliant on my weekend naps with Bubba.  A few weeks ago, out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he fought sleep.  His eyes, with his eyelashes that go on forever, would go something like this:

Blink, blink, open.  Blink, blink, blink, close, open.  He watches the ceiling and fights it off as long as he can.  Blink, blink, close.  Sleep.

It takes me back to the time when he was little baby, and I would nurse him to oblivion, swaddle him tight, then sit down with him in the rocking chair and lay him across the Boppy and lock eyes with him as he fought off sleep.  It was the same process: blink, blink, open.  Blink, blink, blink, close, open.

Blink, blink, close.  Sleep.

I guess I'll revel in his childhood as long as I can.  Because one day, he'll decide to sleep in his own bed all night.  Until then, he's welcome in mine.

One day down...and updates.

RD left this morning (with friend, A-drod, in tow) for his almost yearly skiing adventure in Whistler.  He'll be gone until late, late on Saturday.  I'll be the first one to tell you that he deserves this yearly respite: to ski and to have fun, but it's a long time with just me and the kids.  I'm no super-mom, that's for sure. 

And so, I decided to take Tuesday off from work to do some fun things by myself.  Which for me is to organize the guest room, make a box spring cover to Sissy's bed and paint a dresser.  I know; luxurious. 

In other news, two weeks into my so-called "diet" and I am down 5 pounds.  And I am grumpy.  I just want it to magically fall-off, but that's apparently NOT how it works.  Slowly, but surely, I'll get there.   

We have not yet made it out of our pajamas.

It's 8:23pm here on the west coast, and while I have showered, I have not yet gotten dressed for the day and I don't think that I will.

While a weekend alone with just the kids might have driven me to drink a year or so ago; lately (which has been ALOT with RD traveling to Portland almost every weekend to work on the house), I have really enjoyed the time with just the three of us - almost looked forward to the weekends.  We would go out to lunch, head to the grocery, watch a movie, make pancakes for dinner; you know, fun stuff.

This was NOT one of those weekends.

One kid is in bed; and we're 15 minutes away from the other hitting the sack.

I may need that drink after all.

Today, my son's head almost exploded.

Bubba and I joined some friends to attend "Go, Diego, Go Live!" at the Paramount in Seattle. 

He's never been to a movie theater before (don't get me wrong, however, he's watched plenty of DVDs, etc.), so I didn't know what to expect in terms of his response.

He LOVED it.

We had a wonderful time.  The production was quite good, although there was quite a bit of overacting, but what would you expect when it's for kids?  (Sidebar to Noreen: it was very much in the "acting" - hands up; "not acting" - hands down territory).  I was quite entertained by it, as it was very interactive with the audience.  I sang along with Bubba, clapped and shouted when commanded to by Diego. But alot of the parents just sat there while their kids watched; what's up with that?  The set and set changes pretty nice (no "The Lion King" or anything), but Bubba had a fantastic time and that's all that really matters.

   

After all the fun and excitement, he crashed and burned a bit at home.

The end.