If you are in need of a make over, just give us a call.

DS, upon finding his mother unexpectedly and uncharacteristically made up:  Why are you wearing this?
SW:  to look pretty.
DS, skeptically:  Pretty?  Why would you want to look pretty?
SW:  (at a loss)  I don't know.  Wouldn't you want your mother to look pretty?
DS:  (thinking and then a bit exasperated),  Okay, shiny lips are good.  But all of that (and he points in the direction of my eyes) is too much.   (Ha makes a face that I simply cannot describe well, a mix of dismay and disbelief that is so uniquely his and that I will probably never witness again.)
SW:  should I take it off?
DS:  Yes.  Will you?
SW:  No.  I like it.
DS:  (sigh)
SW:  Now go to sleep.

I do have some unethical ways of winning an argument with a child.  What?  You have a problem with that?  You should also go to sleep!  Now!

Art imitating life

It's already past DS's bedtime and we are trying to fit comfortably on his twin bed.  When finally all the technical difficulties of sharing a small pillow and a child-size blanket with his quite overweight mother have been resolved, DS resorts to his usual, "Mom, tell me a story."  I have been in a horizontal position for only few seconds, but already feel my eyelids getting heavy.  I search the brain for a story, any story, but it has shut down for the day.  DS doesn't give in.  I can barely turn my tongue, but resistance is futile.  Hmmm.... Space, the final frontier, Captain Jean Luc Picard...  "Mommy, my story!"  jolts me from my half-asleep half-awake state.  And so I start.

"Once upon a time there lived a little boy, just like you, whose name was - surprise - DS!  Once he decided that he no longer wanted to fall asleep alone and started asking his Mommy to lie down next to him.  Mommy didn't like it much, but she loved her little boy and agreed.  Then the little boy would ask Mommy to tell him a story.  And Mommy usually would tell him a story, about kings and princes, and two best friends Baby Penguin and Baby Sea Lion, or about an Old Man and his Golden Fish.  But that night Mommy was soooo tired, she couldn't think of any story and asked DS if he could fall asleep without one.  And DS, being a nice and considerate boy, who took commandment of honoring his parents very seriously, happily agreed.  End of story."

DS:  This is a fake story!
SW:  Why do you say it's fake?
DS:  Because it is about me.  I want a real story!  (I'll let you ponder on the irony of that statement.)
SW: Tomorrow.
DS:  Today.
SW:  Tomorrow.

DS is also wiped, so he gives up and we both drift off to sleep.  Well, don't know about him, but I am gone before I finish saying"tomorrow," but after thinking "Real, huh?  Because friendship between baby penguin and baby sea lion is soooo real.  Just watch some National Geographic."  

Are you cute?

"Are you cute?" I asked my baby.
"No," dramatic pause, "I'm adorable."

Reason to lose weight #68

DD:  Mommy, why do you have a big stomach?
Me:  Ahem, because mommy was eating too much for far too long.
DD:  Oh, and I was hoping it was a baby...  I want a big family, Mommy.  Can we have another baby?  Please, please, please?

The joke's on you

When I was a little girl, one my father's favorite jokes was about Fantomas.  I don't know whether you are familiar with this character, but in Russia French Fantomas movies with Louis de Funes and Jean Marais were very popular.   Basically the heroes are:



Fantomas - a ruthless and extremely successful criminal, master of disguise always appearing under assumed identity, which he achieves by wearing masks.



Juve - police detective obsessed with catching Fantomas.



Fandor - journalist, covering Fantomas's crimes and also looking to catch him.


Helene - Fandor's bride

So the joke goes like this:

"Ha-ha-ha," said Fantomas, leaving Helene's bedroom and taking off Fandor's mask.
"He-he-he," said Inspector Juve, leaving Helene's bedroom and taking off Helene's mask.

I don't know why this joke was appropriate to tell in front of or to the little kids, maybe to acclimated us with more liberal attitudes of the West, but I heard it often.  Well, all of this intro is to tell you that we had our version of this joke play out at SubCasa.

I didn't get much sleep last night and needed a little caffeine, so I poured myself half a glass of Coke.  I took a few sips, turned around for a second, only to find my son holding now almost empty glass and laughing, "Ha-ha-ha."

"Well, buddy, ha-ha-ha, the joke's on you, I have a cold sore and you just might get it too after stealing my soda and drinking from my glass."  I repeated the "ha-ha-ha" (what, I wanted the lesson to sink in) and finished the coke in the glass, only to realize a second later that  - he-he-he, DS still had a stomach virus...  A virus that lasted quite a few days, affected both hubby and the kids; the virus that I miraculously avoided and now willingly ingested...  He-he-he indeed.

Corn chips anyone?

Well, I, for one, am glad that I didn't make that long list of resolutions for 2012.  Because the one about being a more attentive, gentler, and less yelling mom would've been broken - yes, you guessed it on January 1.  Here's the photographic evidence of my motherly inattentiveness.

Oh no, I do not think that I am an evil mother because my child fell asleep on the floor.  I am told it happens to the few lucky ones whose kids fall asleep on their own.  Which today is me!  (me! me! me!)   It's what I did next that makes me a viable contender for the title of Horrible Mother of the Year.  I reached for the camera only to realize that the battery is completely dead.  So I did  what any caring mother would've done in my place - went to charge the battery.  Then I snapped a few, OK, quite a few shots.  I might or might not have uploaded the picture on Facebook before finally transferring the poor kid to bed; I'll leave that up to your imagination.  

On the bright side please note that the floor is relatively clean (on a day when kids were mostly home!) and the chips next to the sleeping kid are organic.  So there's hope for me.  And for my kids.  And for Target, whose products are getting free advertisement from my blog.  

P.S. I was about to publish this, but Blogger had issues.  And of course the baby woke up.  She came into the living room, saw her picture on the screen and started screaming, "It's me, it's me.  I fell!"  I said, "No, baby, you fell asleep on the floor."  She gave me one horrified look and said, "Oh my God."  I think that describes it all.  

My 2012 resolution

I am not big on lists, even though I should get into a habit of making them.  I don't think I have ever written down my next year's resolutions, which I mentally make about every other December.  Being as disorganized as I am, half the time I forget to make them in December and end up scrambling first week of January or not doing them at all.  I decided to break away from that habit, and actually document what I wanted to achieve in the coming year.  There were lots of important things, such as paying more attention to the kids, becoming more organized, losing weight, ridding oneself of guilt.  It would include not only the goals, but the important milestones and ways of achieving them.  It would've been a very good list, even if never followed.

Only at some point between thinking about it and writing all of that down, I got re-inspired by The Bloggess.  I started thinking as to what was it that I really wanted in 2012?  And I decided I wanted to feel happy.  Somehow between taking care of my wonderful kids and a new bigger house and work and finances and all things that life threw my way this year, I forgot about being happy.  It somehow slipped away, almost by choice.  And yes, to be happier I need to become more organized, lose weight and feel that I am a better mother than I am now; I know that it won't happen by itself.  But the main focus should not be on the steps to happiness, but on happiness itself. And if it requires not only taking care of big stuff, but doing silly things that brighten up the day?  Well, I am up for that challenge! 

I will try my best to silence the voices telling me that once one declares the intent of being happy, all kinds of hell breaks loose.  Because I need to be happy, and if I don't try, I never will be.

Therefore, there is only one resolution on my list this year:  2012 should be the year of being

                  Furiously Happy!!!

Wishing everyone happy, no, furiously happy and healthy 2012!

And if you never read Bloggess, I suggest adding this to your list of resolutions!

(Jenny Lawson, The Bloggess, being furiously happy, which could be hard to see because she is wearing a wolf. But she is, trust me.)

 Wolverines!!!
  

Go to sleep, sweet little baby, go to sleep....

Yes, yes, I do remember posting something about posting more often.  Right around that same time my youngest decided that sleeping is for suckers and now refuses to do it.  Seriously, it seems that this child is never going to sleep normally again. 

She has been going to sleep relatively easy for months.  There were weekly or sometimes twice-weekly occurences of not falling asleep until 10.30-11.  (I normally do not let them cry it out and would take the kid out of the crib after about 5-10 minutes of crying.)   There were also episodes of her waking up in the middle of the night - fully alert - and not going back to sleep until 2-3 hours later, which usually meant climbing all over me and demanding attention. 

But I believe - and don't quote me on that since after having three kids my memory is gone - it hasn't ever been as bad as it is now, with any of my kids.  Take today, she had gone to bed at 3 a.m.  And only because hubby went to bed at around 2 and that's when she finally broke down and settled for the (keeping my fingers crossed) night.  I had attempted to put her to bed three or four times prior; all of these attempts ending in her very loud screaming.

We have tried various things.  We tried to let her cry it out, which I personally hate.  After several hour and a half screaming sessions, with screaming getting progressively louder and louder every ten minutes, we had to take pity on our neighbors, our nerves and our child and end the sessions.  Seemed like all that screaming didn't make her tired even one bit.  Eliminating daytime napping did nothing.  Once, after sleeping for only 6.5 hours the night before and no daytime nap, this child still wouldn't go to bed at night until 12. 

It is now at a point where she would only go to bed if at least one of us is in bed, preferably both, and even that is no guarantee of success as I usually conk out before my head hits the pillows and she climbs out soon after.  If we do manage to put her to sleep before us, she wakes up in the middle of the night and climbs all over me, saying "Mommy, mommy," which could mean anything from being thirsty to requesting my hand over her body to being bored.  Yes, sweetie, I am aware that entertainment options for toddlers at 4 a.m. on a weeknight are very limited.

Needless to say, the nighttime sleeping battles leave little time for blogging or simply unwinding.  It could all be a mental handicap, but I simply cannot do chores effectively or relax at night with the little one still on the loose.  So I end up begging her to go to sleep.

So what was the point of this post?  Getting this off my chest?  Posting something?  Getting HELP?!!

Sub-learning disability

DD burned her hand yesterday. Nothing major, but definitely not pleasant. She didn't even cry, and now I know why. She was nursing an evil plan in her cute little head.

DD: Mom, could you please write a note to my teacher that I cannot do my reading homework tonight because I burned my hand.
Me (stifling a laugh): But sweetie, you don't read with your hand.
DD: But I need to point!

Evil, I tell you, in Tiger Mom terms. Me? I'm proud, in a way. It was inventive!

Are you talking to me?

If one reads enough of mother-oriented materials, a few common themes emerge: disciplinary problems, staying home vs. working, breastfeeding freely vs. bottle feeding without prejudice. One will also find that there are themes that are either rarely or almost never covered. Which boggles my mind because I am sure I am not the only going through these issues, but rarely would I find something in parenting blog or magazine on the matter.

But back to the recurring themes, because there's one that has been bugging me for far too long. I am sure you are familiar with the story: the alpha woman gets pregnant, alpha woman decides that her career is too valuable to abandon, something bad/terrible/sad happens or she sees the light and the alpha woman decides to slow down, reduces her hours/finds a job with more life/work balance and the alpha mom, her spouse and her offspirng are all happier than they ever were. Lesson learned: money is not everything, career is not that important, large house/fancy car are not equal substitutes for sanity, happy balance is the best.

Well, here's my beef with this story. I work, and I work full time. I work with all kinds of women, many of whom are moms. I have seen only one alpha woman that fits the description of the story in 12+ years I am in professional workforce. The rest of us? We are not doing it for kicks, or because career is so important to us, or because a 5 bedroom mansion is just too small for our family of four, or because that second Mercedes doesn't pay for itself, you know. We do it because we have to and more often than not we have no other choice.

Every time I read about suggestions to scale down the spending so that I can stay home or work part time, I want to grind my teeth. We don't buy, but rent. Eating out less would mean growing my own vegetables. Our case is by far not the worst. Most women work because their husbands' earnings alone wouldn't pay the bills. End of story. More ironic is that even with two working adults many people financially struggle.

And then I hear the famous line about working part time. Really, the best of both worlds, right? You work a little, make a little money, see more of your kids. Yep, agreed, the best of both worlds. If you don't need full income from your job. If your employer won't scale down or take away the benefits due to reduced hours. And here's the biggie: if this option is available at all. Most employers are very reluctant to allow present employees to scale down on their work hours. If they do, they often reduce the pay, but not the workload. In case of layouts part timers are often the first to go. And being allowed reduced work week requires constant negotiation and re-negotiation and living with the threat of it being taken away. And that's when one already works. Finding a new part time job with decent pay and working conditions is almost impossible.

But that doesn't stop these articles. And suggestions about making do with less. Or reminding us that children are more important than careers and the precious time we spend away from them cannot be made up later. And the first steps/words/milestones we miss cannot be done over. As if I or any other working mother wasn't painfully aware of that. Who are these people writing for? Some clueless, oblivious to their children's needs, insanely successful but still pretty dumb career women? If these people exist in nature, how many are there to warrant that many articles?

I always suspected they weren't quite human

DD: DS, let dress up as people!
DS: Yes, let's!
Me: Aren't you people already?
DD: (exasperated) No, like different people.

Yep, that's what we have at home. Different species aka children.

You are only as old as your kids make you feel.

I'm too traumatized for the proper intro.

Today:

Me: Kids, why don't you play in pretend daycare? You could pretend that your dolls and bears are children. DD could be Miss E, DS could be Mr. C.

DD: (enthusiastically) Yeah!!! And Mommy can be Sandra!

DS: Yeah, Sandra!

(The kicker is that Sandra is a cleaning lady in their daycare...)

Me: (trying to salvage the situation) Why Sandra? Why can't I be another teacher?

DD: Because only old people can be Sandra. Sandra is much older than Miss E, and all other teachers are younger...

Yes, sweetie, nice save! Sandra is only 20 years older than Mommy... If you click on the link, you will detect a pattern here.

Aren't we all human?

DD and I were still on the subject of human beings today. Progress is slow in SubCasa, what can I tell you. This morning she asked me, "Mommy, are we all human beings?" To which I replied, "Yes, we are," thinking she was talking about SubFamily. DD was more globally oriented, and asked, "We are all human beings? Even boys?"

I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth - that the jury is still out on that one - plus, this is something she should figure out on her own. So I quietly nodded while her brother was busy combining hanging upside down with bothering the baby, throwing down toys, making wild noises and destroying something, over which he would endlessly cry only five minutes later. "Yes, sweetie, even boys." DD is pretty bright, just reread her question if you need proof. Do you think she bought it?

No issues with setting boundaries here...

My baby is (finally!) starting to talk. She now regularly and clearly says 5 words, and not so regularly and only semi-clearly another 5 or six. But her unclear vocabulary is growing every week. However, should I be concerned that out of the "regular and clear" five, two are "no" and "no way"?

The one where SubWife is too tired to come up with a title

A few weeks after one of my soliloquies on the topic of "Mommy is also a human being and thus needs to eat, sleep and rest" (if you insist, no I am not proud of it), DD and I are talking about her camp. DD is telling me about one of her counselors, and I inquire, "Is she a young girl? A teenager?" To which DD replies, "No, she is a human being."

10 thing one shouldn't do on 4 hours of interrupted sleep

1. Climb Everest - may trip and fall.

2. Take a hot bath - may fall asleep and drown.

3. Handle dangerous equipment or substance - may maim oneself.




4. Argue politics - likely to lose patience and get into a fight.



5. Make jokes - you almost certainly will misjudge how risque the joke is.


6. Perform open heart surgery - if you are a surgeon and I need to explain this one to you, please surrender you license, ASAP.


7. Write a blog entry - ahem, they are not as funny.


8. Drive - driving drowsy causes just as many accidents as driving under the influence of alcohol, 'nuff said.


9. Do housework - no serious danger unless handling dangerous substances, but seriously, go get some sleep and clean tomorrow. It will be there tomorrow as no one will do it for you anyway.


10. Parent .

Baby Pollock

Baby is trying to assert her independence and refuses to be fed. SHE WANTS TO DO IT HERSELF!!! NOW!!! This new development (actually not so new, I am just behind on blogging) limits the foods we can give her as she clearly cannot feed herself with a spoon. Yogurt is out. So is cottage cheese. And soup. And apple sauce. Or any kind of jarred baby food. If she gets her chubby fingers on edibles of this sort, anything within a 3 foot radius can and will be covered in the mentioned above food.

But her food adventures don't stop here. With fruit and berry season upon us and limited access to other art supplies, Baby explores her artistic side with whatever she can find on her plate. Her technique needs some improvement, as it mostly consists of taking fistfuls of berries and smearing them all over herself and her booster seat; on the other hand, something similar worked for Jackson Pollock, or am I mixing him up with someone else? (Original title of this entry was baby Warhol... Thank you wikipedia for setting me straight.)

Exhibit A: White is so boring! The booster seat obviously needed a touch of color. Enter blackberries!


Exhibit B: Who picked these clothes for me? Let's add a drop of avocado to bring out the pink in the shirt and blue in denim, shall we? (Note from Baby's future editor: It required special dedication to get avocado on her knee. I am still wondering how she had done it while being strapped in a chair with a tray table over her lap.)




Exhibit C: Baby in white - sitting in her white booster seat covered in yogurt could not have been located. That should add value to it upon discovery.

Exhibit D: Inspired by Lady Gaga, baby covered in red raspberry tidbits and juice. Since raspberries stain like crazy, photo op has been canceled in favor of Baby's clothes preservation.

I have a feeling that Baby will get a strong following after this post. Let me assure you that we are ready for fame, so don't hesitate to contact me for the piece of Baby's art. Our prices are not cheap, but fair given the talent we are dealing with here. To her critics I have this to say - hold your horses. She is still a young and developing artist, and I assure you she is working on her smearing technique DAILY! Let's pray that SubHub and his penchant for neatness won't squash the budding talent here.

No matter how you look at it....

DD, DS and I are on our way from the park. Kids are happily talking to each other, when DS suggests, "I am Kipper, DD, you are Arnold, and Mommy, you are Pig." DD, "No, I am Kipper, you are Tiger and Mommy is Pig." They went about it several ways, but either way I ended up being Pig.


Clearly, I am Jake. On the other hand, Pig makes one mean chocolate cake :)

Do as your mother does, or maybe don't.

Supper in SubCasa, and mac'n'cheese is on the menu. DD is playing with a string of cheese. I am putting a fork in my mouth and for some reason macaroni on my fork lose balance and start to fall off. At the same time SubHub, who is not paying attention to me, notices DD with her tongue stuck out trying to catch her string of cheese and says, "DD, why are you playing with your food? Do we eat like that? You should see how you mother eats and eat like her, " just as I catch macaroni with my left hand and quickly shove them in my mouth, the entire handful in one shot. OK, I never claimed to be perfect. SubHub did.

Hopefully back

Wow, it's been this long. Life just gets in a way of blogging, I guess. This past month children and FaceBook and the discovery of Arrested Development have been taking up more of my time than usual.

We interrupt our current programming to give you the following message. While I was typing the first paragraph, my baby got into her butt cream and tried to eat it for supper. True story. I wouldn't mind much because I, even after two kids before her, I still haven't figured out what to feed a toddler who only has eight teeth yet eats more than my 4-year-old and who is too old for baby food yet too young to eat regular supper with us. However, butt cream is $18/10 oz and never goes on sale; hence, I object. Generic vaseline, however, is another story... So yeah, that's why I shouldn't be blogging, like, ever, or my kid will end up with irritated bottoms and a mask of zinc oxide on their face.

So it would be very natural to dedicate this post to my kids, but I won't. Instead I will stop right here because the baby is finally at this cute to the nth degree stage that won't last forever, and I just can't miss it for blogging! I could, however, miss it for Facebook or Arrested Development.