The first four years of his life, my oldest was an only child. Luckily we lived right next door to two of his cousins so playmates were close by. Still though friends go home, and he was left all by himself. To this day we tease him about trying to bribe them with candy to stay and play, and when that didn’t work, throwing himself in front of the door screaming so that they couldn’t possibly get out. Oh the life of an only child in a single parent house can be a touch lonely.
Now, however, our home situation is very different. There are five of us, two adults for the entertaining, and three kids to keep each other busy. The youngest Riley doesn’t quite view this as a positive though. She never gets anything to herself, and has to share everything. Given that I was the youngest of three I feel like I can relate to her frustrations, but afterall she is only two so their isn’t much I can explain to her as of yet.
For all that, times are changing. See the big sister just started school. So now, when mom isn’t working, all attention is on her. The first day all by herself she was pampered with a manicure, pedicure, and haircut (thanks to a good friend). Now today is day two. She got to pick the cartoon, has all the toys to herself, doesn’t have to cut the banana in half (which I learned was apparently a very exciting thing), and is getting ready to go out to run errands with mom…all by herself. Out of the blue she said with more enthusiasm then I have seen in a while “I get to play all by myself” (to which I replied) “is that a good thing?”…”uh HUH!”
One thing for sure, her demeanor is very different, from the aggressive child who screams and shouts when big brother and sister are home to a reasonable one who is almost serene when they are gone. Poor thing just needed to get some time to herself.
Haven’t we all heard at some point in parenting our toddlers that old adage, “just wait for the teen years”? It somewhat dimishes the troubles we are facing at the time, but it is usually coming from a mother who knows and has been through both stages of development. Well here I am parenting one child with a light case of the horrible threes, another bouncing eagerly towards the terrible twos, and finally the subject of todays post, the boy itching to be a preteen.
See my 10 year old has always been the adorable, delightful type that everyone has wanted to be around. This is not a mom bragging here, I am just saying he has been almost abnormally good his whole life. In fact the biggest complaint we have ever received is that he is too friendly (meaning he is super talkative).
Recently however, this sweet little boy of mine has been perfecting his new role as a “know it all”. Whenever he asks a question, he is compelled to spout out , “I knew that, I was just checking”, after I respond. Or if he is asked to do something, before the request can be completed he feels compelled to abrubtly stop me to sharply say “I KNOW”! Oddly enough you would think that knowing everything would be an advantage, oh like when I need him to find something he has lost, however this is when his career choice of “space cadet” shines through. See the child can find almost nothing! I mean it. If he was holding it seconds before or if it is directly in front of his face, he is oblivious. Also unless something is specifically asked of him, it rarely gets done. Like teeth brushing. Unless I say it, EVERY time, he does not brush his teeth, and when I say “do a good job” I get the inevitable “I KNOW”!
Now I am not saying that this previously angelic child of mine has turned completely over to the dark side of teens years as he is very much still in love with his sisters and can be super helpful, but I almost feel blindsided by the body language and attitude that I didn’t expect for a few years yet.
I always hoped I would meet a man who really loved his kids. One who wanted to play with them, who read them stories and one who hugged them when they were sad. When I met my husband I KNEW I had hit the jackpot on all of these things. For that reason I snatched him up quickly. Sure enough I was right. He turned out to be all of the above and more.
Now, here comes the “and more” part. We happen to have a spoiled princess in our home and one in training. These girls have “daddy” wrapped so tightly around their tiny little fingers that if the eldest princess says jump, daddy literally jumps. Case in point. Last week the littlest one wanted a “red” from her dad (red being fruit punch that dad has made super sweet). After it was made, she changed her mind requesting soda instead. So being the responsive father he is, down the drain went the red to be traded in for Coke. Needless to say, the sight of the red being poured down the drain sent the princess into distress resulting in a rather loud shriek. I imagine most moms wouldn’t have made it this far, however our endearing dad calmly poured out the Coke to make another red which her highness now demanded, only to get yet another curdling screech for losing the last one. As mom is rolling her eyes and laughing at dad for the situation he has gotten himself into, she notices that he has now poured BOTH drinks into separate cups for her highness. Problem solved, right? Personally I would have stopped with the first drink and said if you don’t like it you can have nothing, but she didn’t become a princess because of mom, as I suspect is the case in many homes 
Note: the above mentioned scene is not a rare one. In fact just this morning the princess woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Of course mom can rarely fix the problem without a full intervention when daddy is requested, so she just sits back and giggles while observing the hoops he is jumping through. Within a five minute interval this morning dad prepared cereal, a banana, a book, and finally, wouldn’t you know it…cake icing to please the princess.
Once dad was off to work order was restored and the cake icing was replaced with a reading of Miss Spider’s Tea Party, but for the record, mom wouldn’t want it any other way then all of the kids flocking around for dads attention.
When I was growing up very little that was seen in movies or television was censored in my house. We watched scary movies, rowdy movies, and sometimes crude humor. Meanwhile hubby grew up in an almost opposite environment where certain shows were completely off limits and ratings were relevant. Somehow we both ended up with bad language that periodically peaks up. Now, to my point.
Tonight while watching tv our almost three year old out of nowhere exclaims “what the hell is that?” Try as we did not to laugh, it was difficult. After explaining that she shouldn’t say that and trying not to make a big deal out of it, (lest she add it to her permanent vocabulary) I began to wonder which one of us let this phrase out of the box. I suppose it isn’t really relevant where it came from, it just reminds me to add “watch your language” to the long list of resolutions I hope to keep in 2008 (topped only by losing weight). I wonder if this year I will actually stick to the list…hmmm, only time will tell.
Do you ever feel like you are on a practical joke show? You know, one where so many things are going wrong in such an exaggerated manner that you have to wonder if it could possibly occur outside of rigged television? Well today I had a moment where I wondered as much. See, my van looks as though our entire party of five actually lives in it. Complete with back up outfits that are dirty because they have already been swapped in a crunch, stacks of ads that never made it in from the mailbox, toys for long road trips kept in case of tantrums on the road, and crumbs everywhere. In fact, I even had shelving, a tv, and dvd player that were given to me which had never made it in the house. So I decided it was well past the deadline to clean this mess out. The first step was to bribe the 9 year old with a trip to the movies in an effort to get help. Next I pulled out the center set of seats and removed all unrecognizable fragments of candy stuck to the carpet and drug the vacuum out to finish the task. This is where it went awry.
Bouncing back two weeks ago, the 9 year old was cleaning his room and busted the vacuum. Luckily the next week I was fortunate enough to pick up a used one off of my local freecycler. Unfortunately it was free because it gets clogged and can’t seem to maintain suction. So after dragging it out and rigging it to stretch, it was off to option number two, the free vacuums at the local car wash. Leaving the middle seats in the front yard planning on rushing home, and hoping the sprinklers were not set to turn on, I pull up ready to finish the job. Well the first vacuum was out of order, so I moved to a different stall, where the next one was missing the tip and wouldn’t pick up fuzz, on to the next one which excitedly had the tip and turned on, but wouldn’t work either. Hmmm. Beginning to wonder if someone was out to sabotage my attempt at driving a clean vehicle, and determined not to be taken down, I headed back home.
At this point I am thinking that even though our original vacuum is squealing really loud from what would seem to be a busted fan, it at least still has decent suction, so I drag er’ out to get it all done and wouldn’t you know it, I start smelling a really foul scent similar to burning rubber, or rather burning plastic. Which is precisely what it was. As I turn back to see why it is so strong, I find that the 5th vacuum I have attempted to use to clean out the car, is now on fire. This has got to be bloopers practical jokes right?
About a month ago our littlest family member started drooling and chewing on everything in sight.
Though my first instinct might have been that she was teething, she wasn’t quite 4 months old, so that didn’t really seem likely. So I waited to start any teething aids except supplying the chew toys (yea, I know, now she sounds like a puppy).
A couple of weeks passed and on top of the drooling, and chewing, was a sad fussy girl who wasn’t getting much sleep looking like this:
Shortly thereafter when mom and dad were completely sleep deprived and exhausted trying to walk with the baby we were believing to be extremely gassy, because no front teeth had still yet appeared, a discovery was made. Not two front bottom teeth like usual, nor the next set in sequential order, instead we found her bottom fang teeth had popped through. Yep, the ones that are not scheduled until around 2 years old. So now this:
and this:
are making much more sense. I suppose when I see her doctor in a couple of weeks and he tells me this is perfectly normal I will feel better, until then I will be dreaming of strange dental procedures like when my son had to have an extra tooth pulled at 4 years old. Maybe spare teeth run in the family.
I tried thinking of a Thursday Thirteen, but couldn’t, so my next best thought was to share the predicament I found myself in last week when I returned home from school. I came home, got comfy, and realized my two year old was being far too quite upstairs. Though it was ten pm and I should have assumed she was sleeping, I knew better seeing how hubby was in charge (ha ha, sorry hun). So I attempted to sneak up on her only to learn that not only has she mastered the ancient art of door opening, but that she also decided to follow in Picasso’s footsteps. This is the scene I snuck up on.
Just two years ago I was starting my oldest daughter down the road of being a girlie-girl by getting her ears pierced. Since then she has grown to love anything prefaced with the word “pre-tty”. That includes allowing me to comb her curly (often matted) hair without much complaint, picking a wardrobe which is primarily pink, and making scented lotions available to her. She lets me change her earrings and seeks out lip gloss whenever mom’s purse isn’t put up high. Today was a new right of passage however as she got her first manicure, complete with butterfly and flower decals.
Yes, we are talking about a two year old here, but she sat through it like the potential princess that she works hard to mimic daily.
Today was also the littlest one’s initiation into the girlie world as she got her first pearls. Before you know it they will both be on their way to the shoe department and perfume counter.
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