Sometimes my husband jokes around by saying my thumb is black, not green. He chastises me when I bring new plants into our home, he'll look at it, put his arm around me and say, "Do you think it knows its in for certain death?" He chuckles when my tomato garden produces cherry sized tomatoes rather than large, plump heirloom tomatoes. Yet every year, he applauds my efforts.
Plant effort number 876 was a money tree. Said to be one of the easiest to care for (I read: hardest to kill). I bought it at Ikea, got a really lovely ceramic pot, and a three wheeled tray, of sorts, to place the whole combination atop. It had a fighting chance after I did a little online study on how to care for the plant: let it dry out and then water it, don't put it in direct light. Check and check. Pretty pot and online advice aside, it was really starting to look pathetic, shriveled, sad. I hadn't come to terms with disposal of the once lovely, twisting plant until this morning.
I gave my toddler a bit of play-doh to mess around with. She had already combined the three colors into one, so I wasn't on "play-doh watch", I just wanted to run down and switch the laundry. I thought the play-doh would certainly buy me a little time. Wrong. From my post in the basement laundry room, I heard some pitter-patter feet, some closet doors opening, and then I heard the dog's claws merrily hopping around on the wood floor above my head. I walked upstairs and there before me were the remains of the money tree - scattered all over the entryway. Not a single twig or leaf on the stem of the plant, only leaves thrown about its soil.
My daughter was hiding in the closet. I said, "Hunny, what happened here?" She said, "I'm sorry, Mom." I said, "You know you aren't supposed to play with Mommy's plant. Its special to me." She opened the closet door and said, "Well, I know. I'm sorry. But Roscoe and I were just hi-hoing and hi-hoing. So that's all."
What is the proper response to this? I should have been angry and reprimanded her in some way. Though, part of me was kind of relieved the last-leg money plant had bitten the dust. A few months ago she told me she thought my plant looked sad. I couldn't disagree, but said I was trying to make it look happy again. Today, she took matters into her own hands, and tore the sorry tree to bits. All in the name of hi-hoing.
1.29.2010
12.09.2009
The Cuteness Strikes Again
I'm clearly doing something wrong when it comes to bed time right now. I am. My daughter will not go peacefully no matter what I try. The problem began around Thanksgiving, or so my short mommy brain memory believes, and is simply this: she wants to stay up and/or she doesn't want me to leave her alone. According to her, she is afraid of the dark, afraid of being alone, she has a tummy ache, her foot hurts, she's definitely got a boo-boo, she needs a drink of water, she can't find her pacifier, she wants Mickey instead of Minnie, or she needs to poop. On several occasions I believe she has made herself poop simply to prove her point.
Needless to say, I'm at my wits end. I can't think of another way to make this bedtime deal happen like it once did - smoothly. I try something new, it works for two or three nights, and then we're back to "ITS TOOO DARK IN HERE!"
On top of that, my dog drives me crazy around bedtime because he, too, needs attention. He wants to go out, he wants to come in - like what, he can't figure out the door? Monday night when things were going pretty well with the girl, the dog barks to come in, and of course that throws a wrench in the "smooth" thing. I waddle down the stairs, quickly open the door, let the dog in and then slam the very heavy sliding glass door closed DIRECTLY ON MY THUMB.
I screamed in sheer terror and pain. I ran to the sink, turned on the cold water and held my throbbing, immobile thumb in the cool stream. I also cried like I haven't cried in ages - a sobbing, heaving, horrifying cry that one might have heard across the street. My daughter came running (or one-stepping as quickly as 2 year old legs can) down stairs with her blanket and pacifer. She moved her step-stool next to me at the sink and said, "Mommy! What happened?" I said, through sobs, "I hurt my finger real bad." She said, "I'll go get my daddy." I thought, "wow! what a good helper!"
She proceded to go upstairs, put her pacifier and blanket in her bed (as that is where I ask her to keep those items when not in use), then she came back through the kitchen, quickly turned to me and yelled, "MOMMY STAY RIGHT THERE!" Then ran to the garage to get her father who was repairing a snow-plow issue. I heard her yelling at him from her spot at the doorway, "Mommy is crying! Mommy is crying!"
When they arrived at my side, I explained what had occured. My husband did the first aid thing, "Can you move it, describe the pain..." and he got the ice bag going. My daughter stood next to me, she placed her hand on my shoulder and said, "Mom, you want your Mommy come back over?" It was THE CUTEST thing I've heard her say ever. She was sincerely concerned that my pain would not subside without my own mother's assistance. I said, "No, hunny, you're taking care of me just fine." She smiled and gave me a little hug and said, "Thanks."
It just doesn't get cuter than that!
Needless to say, I'm at my wits end. I can't think of another way to make this bedtime deal happen like it once did - smoothly. I try something new, it works for two or three nights, and then we're back to "ITS TOOO DARK IN HERE!"
On top of that, my dog drives me crazy around bedtime because he, too, needs attention. He wants to go out, he wants to come in - like what, he can't figure out the door? Monday night when things were going pretty well with the girl, the dog barks to come in, and of course that throws a wrench in the "smooth" thing. I waddle down the stairs, quickly open the door, let the dog in and then slam the very heavy sliding glass door closed DIRECTLY ON MY THUMB.
I screamed in sheer terror and pain. I ran to the sink, turned on the cold water and held my throbbing, immobile thumb in the cool stream. I also cried like I haven't cried in ages - a sobbing, heaving, horrifying cry that one might have heard across the street. My daughter came running (or one-stepping as quickly as 2 year old legs can) down stairs with her blanket and pacifer. She moved her step-stool next to me at the sink and said, "Mommy! What happened?" I said, through sobs, "I hurt my finger real bad." She said, "I'll go get my daddy." I thought, "wow! what a good helper!"
She proceded to go upstairs, put her pacifier and blanket in her bed (as that is where I ask her to keep those items when not in use), then she came back through the kitchen, quickly turned to me and yelled, "MOMMY STAY RIGHT THERE!" Then ran to the garage to get her father who was repairing a snow-plow issue. I heard her yelling at him from her spot at the doorway, "Mommy is crying! Mommy is crying!"
When they arrived at my side, I explained what had occured. My husband did the first aid thing, "Can you move it, describe the pain..." and he got the ice bag going. My daughter stood next to me, she placed her hand on my shoulder and said, "Mom, you want your Mommy come back over?" It was THE CUTEST thing I've heard her say ever. She was sincerely concerned that my pain would not subside without my own mother's assistance. I said, "No, hunny, you're taking care of me just fine." She smiled and gave me a little hug and said, "Thanks."
It just doesn't get cuter than that!
10.05.2009
tired and sick
I liken being pregnant and sick to swimming while wearing a trench coat. The entire body is engaged in a very difficult and strenuous process and then the coat adds to the already exhausting situation.
My daughter caught a cold a week and a half ago. For her, this quickly turns into an upper respiratory issue. Antibiotics are called in, a nebulizer is hooked up; we're like a mini-hospital and its only October. Her doctor says, "She has narrow passage ways that we hope will widen as she grows" that lead to this upper-respiratory cough. If left untreated the cold, turned ugly chest issue, would swiftly move into croup and I say, no thank you Senor Croup. I don't wish to meet him again.
A winter ago, non-prego, her cold/cough combo packed little punch for me. But this year, no such luck. The body, busy forming another person's pancreas and sense of sight, was too busy to fight off the infection and here I am, laid up with sickness. I've never felt so nearly what life as an asthmatic must be like; effort, both mentally and physically, is often required to breathe.
And yet, my peanut shines. In the morning my little germ-spreader awakes she calls to me. "Missin' my mommy!" I enter her room she quickly hides, only to giggle with delight when I swoop her out of bed. Sitting on the rocking chair she looks at me with a concerned head tilt and furrowed brow, puts her hand on my throat and says, "How are you feeling today mama?"
Cynicism is out the window.
My daughter caught a cold a week and a half ago. For her, this quickly turns into an upper respiratory issue. Antibiotics are called in, a nebulizer is hooked up; we're like a mini-hospital and its only October. Her doctor says, "She has narrow passage ways that we hope will widen as she grows" that lead to this upper-respiratory cough. If left untreated the cold, turned ugly chest issue, would swiftly move into croup and I say, no thank you Senor Croup. I don't wish to meet him again.
A winter ago, non-prego, her cold/cough combo packed little punch for me. But this year, no such luck. The body, busy forming another person's pancreas and sense of sight, was too busy to fight off the infection and here I am, laid up with sickness. I've never felt so nearly what life as an asthmatic must be like; effort, both mentally and physically, is often required to breathe.
And yet, my peanut shines. In the morning my little germ-spreader awakes she calls to me. "Missin' my mommy!" I enter her room she quickly hides, only to giggle with delight when I swoop her out of bed. Sitting on the rocking chair she looks at me with a concerned head tilt and furrowed brow, puts her hand on my throat and says, "How are you feeling today mama?"
Cynicism is out the window.
9.17.2009
At least she isn't a spendthrift
On Tuesday my daughter and I went to the zoo. She'd recently squashed my sunglasses, so we stopped at the local Walgreens to find a new pair of cheap mommy sunglasses. On the way into the store I noticed a dollar sitting on the sidewalk. I said, "Hey look! A dollar!" She reached down and picked it up - unsure of its importance. Had it been a quarter she would have been ecstatic, but as of yet, I've avoided giving her bills. I said, "That is pretty neat - a whole dollar, you should put it in your pocket and use it at the zoo to ride the carousel." She was pleased with this, but still looked at the dollar like it was funny paper that she should not keep because clearly, it was not really hers.
When we went in to Walgreens I looked at a few items. In the hair accessory aisle she set the dollar next to other green items and said, "Look match." When I'd selected my clip, I said, "Ok. Next we need to buy daddy some shaving cream. Let's go!" She said, "Shaving peam?" while following me out of the aisle with no dollar in hand. I stopped and said, "What about your dollar?" She replied, "Oh." She found it next to a green hair brush and said, "I found it!" In each aisle we visited she did the same thing, set it down, walked away from it to play with something else and then forgot about its existence completely.
At the checkout she did everything she could to pay for my things with her single dollar. She handed it directly to the cashier, she set it next to the cashiers hand, she waved it in the air like a little flag. Finally I kneeled and said, "Hunny, that dollar belongs to you now. You found it and you can keep it." She said, "Ok Mama." Certain the child understood the situation, I paid and we left. Once outside I said, "You're dollar is in your pocket, right?" She replied, "No." We turned around and found the dollar resting on a shelf near the exit.
So now I'm a dollar richer and she "found" a quarter in the car and can't stop talking about putting it in her piggy bank. Problem solved.
When we went in to Walgreens I looked at a few items. In the hair accessory aisle she set the dollar next to other green items and said, "Look match." When I'd selected my clip, I said, "Ok. Next we need to buy daddy some shaving cream. Let's go!" She said, "Shaving peam?" while following me out of the aisle with no dollar in hand. I stopped and said, "What about your dollar?" She replied, "Oh." She found it next to a green hair brush and said, "I found it!" In each aisle we visited she did the same thing, set it down, walked away from it to play with something else and then forgot about its existence completely.
At the checkout she did everything she could to pay for my things with her single dollar. She handed it directly to the cashier, she set it next to the cashiers hand, she waved it in the air like a little flag. Finally I kneeled and said, "Hunny, that dollar belongs to you now. You found it and you can keep it." She said, "Ok Mama." Certain the child understood the situation, I paid and we left. Once outside I said, "You're dollar is in your pocket, right?" She replied, "No." We turned around and found the dollar resting on a shelf near the exit.
So now I'm a dollar richer and she "found" a quarter in the car and can't stop talking about putting it in her piggy bank. Problem solved.
8.26.2009
Telling the little one
I have begun to "show" - as they say about pregnant women. Therefore, I thought it time to tell the youngster about her new sibling arrival. She's heard it a million times before, as she was usually in ear shot of our announcement. Nevertheless, I thought it was important to have a little chat with her about the baby.
Yesterday, I simply said that mommy is going to have a baby. She will be a big sister, much like her current favorite cartoon character, Dora. She looked at my tummy for a while. Then she got on top of me, sitting directly on my tummy and said, "Now I sit on baby." Today when we were in the car she said, "Where did Mommy's baby go? Oh no. Its gone."
She's already trying to squash the little booger in utero. This might be more of a challenge than I'd previously thought. I could start ignoring her more, I guess. Oye vey.
Yesterday, I simply said that mommy is going to have a baby. She will be a big sister, much like her current favorite cartoon character, Dora. She looked at my tummy for a while. Then she got on top of me, sitting directly on my tummy and said, "Now I sit on baby." Today when we were in the car she said, "Where did Mommy's baby go? Oh no. Its gone."
She's already trying to squash the little booger in utero. This might be more of a challenge than I'd previously thought. I could start ignoring her more, I guess. Oye vey.
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