The Daily Fuss

Open Door Policy

Let's say I'm sitting in the living room and there's a random cabinet door that's been left open in the kitchen - I must get up and go close it. Even if I can no longer see it from my vantage point once seated, I can't handle knowing it's open.

Similarly, we have a sound bar for the TV. Its optimum volume happens to exist at different levels for DVDs versus cable versus an iPad etc. If the cable remote volume is all the way up to 25 (the max), I need to adjust the sound bar so that the perfect volume is actually at 12 (roughly half).

I don't know why, but I cannot enjoy my show knowing that I am at an audibility limit. I know it sounds strange, but it's the truth.

They say (not sure who "they" is, but it sounds about right) we all have a little obsessive-compulsive disorder in us, right? Or perhaps an apple doesn't fall too far from its tree?

Little Miss Mairin likes ALL doors closed. She doesn't limit her preference to cabinets - blocking all means of ingress and egress is her goal.

Me: "Put your head down. Time for bed."

Mairin: "The door is open mama. Please close it."

Me: "It's barely cracked. Put your head down."

This could go on all night. I've finally learned to just shut the door.

Perhaps the strangest part is that she is diligent about closing her bedroom door even in her sleepiest state - when she wakes in the middle of the night to creep into our "big bed".

I hear her exit the bed thump, leave her room, pitter pat pitter pat pitter pat and then BOOM! She slams the door behind her.

I'm not sure how she manages since she's teeny weeny - seemingly lacking the requisite leverage to pull it shut.

Then pitter pat pitter pat pitter pat to the big bed, leaving poor sleepy Leighton to struggle with the knob in her partial dream state when she makes her way to our bed a few hours later.

Either Mairin shares a few of my tendencies or she simply wants to keep her sister out of the big bed. Either way, it's likely one of those little things that will spontaneously disappear over the coming year, to be remembered one day as I flip though my archives.

However cliche it may sound, they really do grow up so fast - just not fast enough for me to enjoy a night of uninterrupted sleep any time soon.

Mern

My little Mairin will turn two next month. She appears sweet and innocent in this photo. And she is ... for the most part.

The wee Mairin wakes cheerfully most mornings. She's been eating well. She even goes down peacefully for a nap these days.

Bedtime is a very different story.

At bedtime, I refer to her as "Mern" (rhymes with Vern).

Even though she has been "weaned" for some time, I feel compelled to use air quotes around the term because she still asks for "boobie dish" or "boom boom" when she's tired.

I can rebuff her advances at nap time. However, the same approach in the evening elicits an argument from Mern. 

She sticks her hand down my shirt, makes sly attempts to negotiate ("May I have some boom boom, please?") and gets pretty cranky when refused. This little game can last an hour or more and I've grown tired of it.

I've tried ignoring her, negotiating with her, explaining to her. I've even tried citrus, but suspect she may have acquired a taste for tartness as a result.

I know she knows I don't want to argue with her over this any more. She's super duper smart. She's been potty trained for months, accesses a vast vocbulary for a teeny tot and can hold a discussion about what happened in The Sound of Music or Dora the Explorer.

The problem with Mairin is that she's the most stubborn person I've ever met.

She's absolutely particular and holds her ground when challenged. She would categorize parties as sheer torture - it takes her a long time to warm up. She simply refuses to eat yesterday's leftovers and can muster the energy to carry a temper tantrum to the highest heights.

Miss Leighton is nearly four. By stark contrast to her sister, she's rather aimiable and will go with the flow when encouraged or distracted. She can find the fun in almost every situation and loves a grand party. She'll try any food at least once and rarely loses her temper.

Night and day in many ways.

The silver lining here is that it's interesting to see how two little girls can grow up side by side in the same house with the same parents and turn out so different. I know the "Mern" veneer will fall away and Mairin will finally stop hassling me about boobie dish once and for all.

I respect my girls, their differences, similarities, stengths and areas earmarked for improvement. I promise I will never take them for granted.

I just felt the need to revel in the ridiculousness of a situation that I will someday probably miss.

Mama loves you, Mern.

Now please keep your hand out of my shirt.

The Girl Who Wears Pink

Me: How about these pjs, Lei? 

I offer her pink pjs.

Leighton: No thanks.

Me: These?

Also pink.

Leighton: Um. Nope. Not Pink. 

She says this as if pink is NOT unequivocally her favorite color. And that she did not just tell me the other day that while wearing pink, she feels like herself again.

Me: Sooooo, you're going to start rotating other colors into your wardrobe?

Leighton: Yes. I am.

Me: Which ones?

Leighton: Purple, blue, yellow, green, orange, red ...

He tone indicates a certain obviousness and implies that I do not know my colors.

Me: Why the sudden change?

Leighton: I don't want to be known as "the girl who wears pink".

I'm suspicious.

Me: So your very favorite dress in your closet is what color?

Sheepish look melting into a huge grin.

Leighton: Pink.

Me: Your favorite top?

Leighton: PINK!

Me: And, your favorite pants?

Leighton: Oh that's silly mom. I look HORRID in pants.

It's really just another day with Lei - full of zingers. I have to write them down from time to time or I fear they will be lost forever.

Laws of Attraction: A Three Year-Old's Interpretation

Leighton: Mom, why do you need to get married when you get older?

Thank you Disney Princesses.

Jen: You don't need to get married. Ever. Some people just do it. In fact, it's fairly common.

Leighton: It's common for moms and dads to get married?

Jen: Sometimes men marry women. And sometimes men marry men. And sometimes women marry women. Usually kids come after, but not always.

Leighton: Why do sometimes two girls get married?

Jen: People can marry whoever they want. It just depends whether you are attracted to men or women. Men and women together are the most common couples these days, but there are lots of women who marry women and men who marry men.

Long, thoughtful pause from the back seat.

Leighton: I am definitely attracted to boys, but I'm not sure I would ever marry one.

Jen: Oh?

Leighton: They are silly and rambunctious and don't listen very well and are messy. I'm just attracted to boys, but I might marry a girl. Maybe boys are different when they are growed up.

Jen: Um. Sure.

I wrote this down immediately because I can hardly believe a three year old brain is able to work through this line of reasoning. Bless you Miss Leighton. You make me smile several times every single day. 

 

Nothing Game

When I was pregnant with Leighton, imagining Ryan and I as new parents, my mind's eye perpetually flipped through the rosy, picturesque aspects of motherhood juxtaposed against the darker "what if" fears realistically beyond reason.

Both sides of that coin draw tears to a hormone-jacked woman about to give birth. But, until I actually had Leighton in my arms, I had no idea how special the small moments would be.

It's impossible to appreciate the day-to-day silliness children bring until it happens. The dinner-throwing, first-words, first-times, sibling-rivalry, middle-of-the-night-fussing, no-pants-partying, vomiting, teasing, slapping, laughing, questioning and just plain banality of parenting is amazing.

The small moments shore up the monumental ones and keep my relationship with my children in perspective. I make a concerted effort to NOT take my family for granted.

Stringing together the small moments offers some of our most cherished memories. Those moments are fleeting and I don't write about them as completely as I would like. Which brings me to today, and this very moment to be specific.

Leighton takes classes. She genuinely likes school - both the learning and social aspects - so we go with it. Today, she had "Crayons Cooking and Fun".

She loves this class, just as she's adored Gymnastics, Music, Ballet, Head to Toe, Swim, Yoga, Arithmetots and Phonics over the last year. She generally comes home and spills the beans on whatever happened in the 90 minute class.

However, starting this week, when asked "What did you learn at school today," Leighton would unflinchingly answer, "Nothing."

In my opinion, this apathy should not have reared its ugly head for several more years. What the heck? These classes are pricey and we want to know whether she's enjoying them, at the very least.

Is she seriously dismissing me?

Her new "nothing" response obviously bugs her daddy, because he started playing a little game with her. After three days, we refer to it as the "Nothing Game."

The Nothing Game goes like this: If we ask her how her day was or what happened at school and her answer is "nothing". We get to tease her a bit.

It's fun. Here's a typical example:

ME: "Hey Leighton. UPS delivered a package today and it was wrapped in pink sparkly paper and tied with a big, purple, satin bow. I tore it open and dug through the packing peanuts and, you know what was in it?" 

LEIGHTON: "What mom?"

ME: "Noooothing."

And Lei will laugh her ass off. Once she recovers, she will formulate a zinger of her own and keep it going. Then Ryan, then Leighton, then me, then Mairin (who just starts laughing and screeching and so on) and the game continues.

The lesson, of course, is that the answer "nothing" is annoying. The Nothing Game loosens her up, gets her talking. It's like verbal tickle torture. It's hilarious to us.

I can't take credit. Ryan started it. I just fully intend to keep it going as long a the imaginitive cackling continues and she eventually tells us what she did at school that day.

Boom Boom Part II: Lemon Drop

As I may have mentioned, Mairin is still nursing and basically using me as a pacifier at night. What sleep I do manage to get is achieved in a crooked "S" shape on my right side.  

I understand the argument that my youngest will eventually roll her eyes at me and make me drop her off a block before the theater and I will long for the days when she was a wee babe.

I realize that I said I would coast along for another two months and then phase out feedings. I said this as recently as Monday.

But, I can't take much more of this. She and I both need a good, solid night's sleep for a change. Actually, all four of us need it. Mairin's late night fussing has been waking up Leighton, who ends up in our bed, digging her toes into Ryan's spine.

We enjoy the family bed, but sometimes it's an ugly commune-type situation that results in a tough morning. We've had a string of those lately and something needs to change. Plus, my little Marinka Dinka has all but forgotten how to self-sootheas she likes to nurse to sleep. It's unequivocally my job as her parent to help her with that.

At approximately 1:00 am Tuesday morning, I broke free from my crooked "S" and found my iPad next to the bed.  I began Googling "how to wean a toddler," and "toddler resists weaning" and a few other seemingly absurd variations.

Most of what I found on the good old interweb pertained to weaning toddlers from a bottle. This, to me, seemsa much simpler proposition than weaning a toddler form the breast. I've done it with Leighton. I just didn't give her a bottle and talked her through the withdrawal. She was done in two nights at the age of sixteen months - from boobie to baba to batte just like that.

A toddler can't climb into the upper cabinet, fetch a bottle, assemble the nipple, get the milk from the fridge, heat it up, pour it into the bottle, screw on the nipple and have her batte. Toddlers are crafty, but not that capable.

They are, however, able to unbutton a blouse, shove their hands into the neckline of a shirt, stretch it out, throw a temper tantrum, bite through the blouse, pull out your earnings and repeatedly yell, "BOOM BOOM" as loudly as possible to cause a scene.

If I could put my breasts in a kitchen cabinet on some days, I would do it.  Alas, no.

So that brings me back to what the Google machine eventually did reveal. The message boards and blog comments have all the goods - the real answers from real people who aren't afraid you're going to try to sue them for giving worthy advice.  

I stumbled upon a few comments about toddler weaning using lemon juice. WHAT? I know, rubbing lemon juice on my boobs struck me as something akin a dare or a cruel trick to play on a little kid. Still, the desperate women who tried it happily reported that it worked like a charm. Their babies didn't mind much and lost interest fairly quickly.

So,I tried it. I cut a lemon in half and applied it to the targets. Before bedtime, Mairin made her plea for "Boom Boom". I let her try it and she pulled back, made a little face and said, "taste", "taste" while shaking her head. She tried it again with the same reaction. Then, she hopped off my lap and got a book to read.

A little while later, Ryan picked her up for bed. She said, "boom boom?" so I offered it up. She looked at me for a moment and, apparently remembering her previous attempt, changed her mind. She said "no" kissed me good night and went off to bed.

And then, I cried.

Smashed Fruit (and Veggies) Revisited

I've previously mentioned my love affair with baby and toddler fruit purees here and here and I thought it best to post my annual update.

We still love these innovatively-packaged wonders. And, we still have a giant wooden salad serving bowl filled with several different brands in our favorite combinations. It's stocked at all times.

It's worth mentioning that in the two years since I wrote the first post on what we affectionately refer to as "Mish Mash" no matter the brand, there are so many more options - more veggies - more combos - more fun!

We still hit the Plum Organics and Happy Baby pretty hard. We've also added Ella's Kitchen and some Earth's Best into the rotation. All have more stages and more vegetable combinations than ever before.

We do a lot of smoothies too with cow, soy, coconut and almond milk. Mairin needs a few alternatives because she's a bit sensitive to dairy all of the sudden. Fresh food is our first option, but we also blend in a mish mash when we don't have enough fruit or veggies in the house. Plus, it's winter in the midwest and selection of good fresh food can be limited.

To the companies who make these wonderful on-the-go treats.

Keep it up!

And, thank you!

Pin It

Bleeping Haters

Oh boy. Apparently, Modern Family is eroding what's left of the Leave-It-to-Beaverishness in America.

I should have known better than to watch that show. Prudish 18 year-olds are all the rage these days, anyway.

Admittedly, I would be a much better parent if I just pretended certain words don't exist and joined the no cussing club.

This is just so silly.

FUCK.

It's a word. It's part of our lexicon. I've studied language and literature extensively prior to studying law. I'm smart and funny and use the f-word from time to time. Okay. Let's be honest - several times each day.

I truly appreciate language (structurally, contextually, historically and culturally). I also have an affection for the 1st amendment as it relates to creativity.

I'm thirty-five years old and have two small children. I work and watch this show with a glass of wine when it's time to relax. Modern Family is a smart show. It's hilarious and far more family-centric than the commercials bookending segments of children's shows airing on ABC (Viagra etc.).

Once McKay Hatch has lived some real life, I'm sure he will look back and see what a useless and ill-placed crusade this is.

To be clear, let's remember one more thing - this is just my fucking opinion.

Pin It

Multitasking

So, I'm feeding Mairin. Since she's almost one, she only requires a top-off around dinner time and then some evening nursing. On this particular night, I'm also still working - tap, tap, tapping away at my laptop.

Leighton is quiet for a moment or two (which is certainly suspicious) and so I look up and whip my head around.

Woosh. Woosh.

Not to worry. There she is on her little, green PBK couch with a baby doll stuffed up her Dorothy dress, shimmering her fingers about. ("Shimmering" is the best way to describe it. "Fluttering" would be close too.)

"Are you feeding your baby?", I asked.

"Yes.", she replied with confidence. "But I also need my laptop."

Pin It

Date With Leighton

Leighton needed some mommy time. Okay, fine. Maybe it's the other way around, but no matter. Lei happily accepted my offer to take her to her very first movie in the "thee-ay-ter".

The Muppets.

It's playing at Northbrook, so we decided that Ryan and Mairin would mill around the mall while we went to the movies. We would regroup afterwords for dinner at California Pizza Kitchen.

Sidebar: I love CPK. The food is consistent. Prices are reasonable. There are plenty of healthy options for kids and grownups and they serve alcohol. Perfect. Did I mention that they serve alcohol?

Leighton carefully readied herself for our date in a way that let me know she understood just how important the outing was for me. I haven't spent a large chunk of time with just Lei for a while now and was looking forward to some bonding.

My peanut picked out some textured tights, pink corduroy skirt and a white top with tulle at the collar - a good look for a two-and-a-half year-old to be sure.

We sang and danced to Let's Go To the Movies from Annie while we dressed.

Lei then took it several steps further and accessorized herself with sparkly shoes, a hair bow clip, a necklace and one of my purses from I couldn't even tell you when.

I think "embellishment" is one of her favorite words. In fact, I'm certain of this.

As we walked through the mall, Lei turned heads with her confident little gait. "What a girly girl." "She's so cute." "Look at those shoes."

She was oblivious to the attention, which pleased me immensely. She was only going about her business, after all.

We left Mairin and daddy at the entrance to the theater, picked up our tickets and headed straight for the snack counters. Out of all the candy, crap and junk food she could have chosen, Leighton settled on fruit snacks.

God bless her.

So I talked her into ordering a white cherry ICEE to wash them down. She later admitted that it was a smart decision.

She was mildly irritated by the previews, but loved the Toy Story short film and Muppets feature. She bounced around during the musical numbers and clapped at the end.

We saw a two-hour kids version of The Nutcracker last month and she got antsy half-way through. But for these Muppets, she made a little camp in her seat, ate her snacks and gingerly sipped her ICEE - taking it in and out of the cupholder a thousand intriguing times.

For the undisputed littlest ticketholder in the thee-ay-ter, she behaved perfectly.

We had a lovely dinner, fish tacos for mom, bbq chicken salad for dad, banana and avocado for Mairin and grilled chicken and broccoli for Leighton. She cleaned her plate and we made our way home.

We stopped at Walgreens on the way home to get more kid toothpaste (mint is too "spicy") and Lei said she couldn't wait to brush her teeth. She went straight upstairs and did just that when we arrived home. And put on her PJs and went to sleep.

Thank you my sweet little Leighton for the absolute best date EVER.

The Littlest Bride

Regarding gender roles, the whole little-girl-dresses-up-as-a-bride thing just hits you right over the head doesn't it?

We really aren't the kind of parents who encourage extreme girliness. We certainly don't discourage it either. Still, we expose the girls to a wide range of experiences and some things seem to stick more than others.

I've mentioned the unstoppable force of Disney, and it's obvious that we haven't tried too hard to hide it from the girls. They can figure out on her own exactly which princesses are most lame and why.  Lei appreciates Buzz and Woody, but identifies the most with Jessie. She really doesn't care much for animals and prefers pink over ever other color. That's just how she is.

Lei likes garlic chicken and chili and tilapia and pomegranate and broccoli. She tries a variety of foods and some just keep reappearing on her requested menu.

I'll admit this bride stunt tripped me up a bit. I was putting up a few final holiday decorations and I overheard Leighton rummaging through items in the family room. She thoughfully chose a swaddle blanket and said to herself, "This will be my veil." Then, she picked a faux flower bouquets out of a vase on the side table and said, "My lovely bride bouquet." 

She asked me to secure the blanket dress and blanket veil, so I cinched her get-up with a few binder clips and she was "bride walking" down an imaginary aisle before I could fire up my camera flash.

 
 
 
 
We weren't sure whether to laugh or cry. We didn't know what to say. So, we simply said, "Congratulations!"

The little bride reports that next time she gets married, she will hold her flowers down a bit so we can see her face. Good to know.

Big Themes

I saw The Lion King for the first time my freshman year of college. The only thing I remember thinking about the movie at the time was how adult Simba and Nala rolled around in the grass a wee bit too sexily for a cartoon. I also recall appreciating the voical stylings of Jeremy Irons and James Earl Jones. And wait ... isn't that Jonathan Taylor Thomas?

I recently saw this movie again as a parent. This time around, I was struck by the number of times the words "kill" "die" and "dead" pop up in this flick. I was so not ready to explain the sinister plot culminating in Mufasa's demise to a two year-old.

I have to say, she handled the whole Circle of Life thing pretty well. She had some questions about Mufasa being "injured" and "sleeping" and then questioned his absence form the remainder of the movie. But, by the time she saw Simba and Nala's lion cub, she was fine. She told me she loved the movie. And, when I asked her if she was still sad about Mufasa and scared of Scar she said, "Hakuna Matata, Mom. It means 'no worries'".

Excuse Me?

A toddler can turn a ten-minute car ride into an hour.

A toddler who needs to stop to pee in crowded downtown Chicago on a friday night on the way to your brother-in-law's rehearsal dinner can turn that ride into a circus sideshow.

Ryan, his mom, Leighton, Mairin and I packed into the minivan for the brief trip from Navy Pier to Maggiano's. As soon as the last seat-belt clicked, Lei informed us that she had to pee. I said, "We will be there in five minutes. You can pee at the restaurant.

Traffic was horrendous and we made a wrong turn. A series of wrong turns and one-way streets led us a bit north. The whole time, Leighton was calmly repeating that she needed a rest stop.

Mairin started crying.

Lei's volume increased. "I have to go potty. I have to go potty." In a sing-songy cadence.

The radio was on. (Don't ask me why).

My mother-in-law dug frantically for an address.

My husband began sweating.

I focused on breathing in my nose and out of my mouth. I was feeling car sick.

Finally, it became obvious that Lei felt she needed more attention. "I HAVE TO PEE DAMMIT. DAMMIT I HAVE TO PEE. DAMMIT. DAMMIT. DAMMIT."

Whoa.

We stopped at a restaurant and Grandma whisked Lei out of her seat. We were parked around the corner from the entrance (another one-way situation) so we couldn't readily see that this particular restaurant was closed.

Grandma came back twelve minutes later, sweating, carrying Lei in heels, back aching because the toddler insisted on being carried the five block trek to find a suitable potty and Grandma obliged.

Ryan's brother was married in July (feel free to go back and reread that knowing it was 85 degrees outside). Until yesterday, I had forgotten about that car ride and how we spent the remainder of it trying not to laugh at Leighton's proper use of such a naughty word.

Yesterday afternoon, Lei was goofing around on a chair and knocked over my external hard drive. As it crashed to the floor I yelled "Dammit Leighton". She happily skipped around the house yelling "Dammit Leighton" for the next five minutes.

I no longer have to guess as to where she learned that word.

What the Fuss? Monkey Business

Last weekend, Grandma and Grandpa brought over the game "Five Little Monkeys" (from the creators of this children's book) and it was a hit. 

The game targets ages three and up. As we unpacked the pieces, I didn't believe my wee lass could follow so many rules. However, Lei, who just turned two and-a-half, had a blast following every last monkey-related directive.

Each player (up to four) has plastic colored monkeys. There is a big, plastic, pop up bed that sits in the middle of a board with spaces that direct players to do one of four pretend things when they land on them - take a bath, put on pjs, brush teeth, and go to sleep. 

Players take turns spining  to move around the board, act out the picture on the space they've landed on, place a monkey on the bed and then push the button on the spring activated bed. No one knows when it's going to pop.

Monkeys that fall off the bed remain off. Monkeys that simply tip over, but stay on the bed, are stood up again. The game continues until someone has four monkeys on the bed AND has acted out each of the four pretend scenes.

Leighton had no issues with patience.

 
Mairin, on the other hand, has yet to grasp the concept of "taking turns".

 
WE LOVE THIS GAME! What a great way to introduce small children to counting and strategy while developing fine motor skills.

We bought Five Little Monkeys for $20 at Toys R Us. It would make a fantastic holiday present for the little kid on your list.

Big Girl Shoes

She begged me to let her try on my shoes.

I said, "no". And she asked, "why?" And I told her, "I don't want you to ruin them before I even get to wear them."

And she asked, "why?"

I didn't have the time to explain that I felt I deserved to wear them for the first time - damage free.

And, I didn't have the heart to tell her that with those sparkly Badgley Mischkas comes much more responsibility than she could possibly understand.

I would have to tell her that those shoes come with a job ... nay ... a career attached to them.

I would say that I must drive to and from meetings in the city, in my minivan on conference calls while pumping and doing my makeup so I can wear those shoes.

I would explain how desperately I try to wrap up my work work day by 5:30 so I can send the nanny home and be truly present while getting the little ones fed and bathed, so daddy can get some quality time in before putting Lei to bed.

Those shoes come with a tremendous amount of concern over bumps, bruises, choking, cavities, sunburns and bug bites and excessive fear of the day my kids will be old enough to drive a car.

Those shoes come with mortgages and retirement accounts and a roof that needs fixing and a garage that needs rebuilding and condo tenants in need of a brand new dishwasher because they somehow managed to break the one we have.

Those shoes ignore my husband sometimes and that isn't fair. 

I suppose I could have couched my denial of her request in terms that she'd somewhat understand - such as, "Those shoes are worth a thousand poopy diaper changes and hundreds of 2 a.m. feedings." But it wouldn't have mattered. She really really wanted to try them on.

Admittedly, tied to those shoes is a strong desire to be more fashionable than I actually am at this phase of my mommy life. The shoes do help that cause. I swear.

I still need to lose the baby weight I packed on with Mairin and those five inch heels make me look two pounds thinner than my four inch heels. Somehow, five minus four equals two in this instance.

I need those shoes.

And they need me.

And I promise you, those are the ridiculous things that went through my mind when she begged and pleaded and whined until I let her try them on.

She struggled a few smiling, shuffling steps on her tippy toes in those shoes and then gingerly stepped out.

She assured me, "These are too hard mama. These are your shoes."

I smiled and nodded and said "no shit" to myself. Someday I will explain the whole thing to her.

Someday.