Your dose of B's

Just uploaded some real gems.  HAD to share.

This is one of my favorite faces of Finny-Finn.  When he is sucking on his sippy cute he is just SO darn cute!

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As it turns out, he's pretty cute wearing a chef hat, too.

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My GOODNESS, look at those chompers!!! Doesn't he look so grown up in this one?  Whilst taking out the trash the other night, Littleman and I were doused in a brief sun shower and given this little gift from the sky.

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Check out this amazing shop that is opening down the road from us.  I swear.  That is not photoshop, that is freaking REAL.  It was a Pied Piper Pizza place a few months ago (similar to chuck e cheese).  Now we can take our kids to buy some guns...apparently dirt cheap. Awesome.

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Finny and I sneaking in a late morning nap...aaaahhhh.....sneaky daddy and his iPhone.

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So for our 9th anniversary, Bill thought he'd make the ultimate breakfast treat.  That's a pancake "cupcake" (literally pancake batter baked in a cupcake tin), an egg for frosting, and bacon sprinkles.  It sure was special.

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Finally, 44 seconds of little Finn walking around.  Yeah....he's keeping me on my toes.  Oh, and since I have not updated on this in a while, here's the skinny.  We are slowly weaning.  Finn nurses about three times a day - pretty sure NOT for nutritional value anymore.  He drinks three to four sippy cups of formula a day, in addition to real food at each meal.  He's gained nearly three pounds in as many months.  I think that is good.  So we are chugging along. I'll write more about the weaning another day.

Walkin

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Mother Goose!!!

Alright, this post will be of no interest to most of you...except maybe my dad.  When I was very little, my dad's parents, Grandma and Grandpa to me, sang a little song when they pushed my brother on the swings or the see-saw.  It went like this:

"See-saw, knock on the door/Who's there?/Grandpa/What do you want/A glass of beer/GET OUT OF HERE YOU DRUNKEN BUM!"

Weird, right? But, it was a part of my childhood and I sing a version of it to my kids - we change the people and drink accordingly, if Mom's at the door, it's a diet coke, Dad it's coffee, Liam it's chocolate milk, Finn it's booby-milk, and so on.  Then we shout, "Get out of here you silly clown."

ANYway, I was picking up books off the floor of my office. Liam had been exploring MY collection (ug). I have a facsimile edition of the 1833 Mother Goose's Melodies.  I randomly opened it this morning to a page with the following rhyme: "Who comes here?/A Grenadier/What do you want?/A pot of beer/Where's your money?/I forgot/GET YOU GONE, YOU DRUKEN SOT!"

As soon as I read it I could hear my grandparents singing.  Isn't that weird? A grenadier is some kind of specialized soldier from the 17th century, according to Wiki, by the way. 

Well, there ya go.  A mostly pointless post.  In other news, FINN IS OFFICIALLY WALKING. Yep.  Yesterday not so much, today, walking all over. 

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Being good means being very bad

Being a good parent means being the worst one ever in the eyes of my five-year-old. 

Today started out normal.  Littleman decked himself out in full "super spy" garb - goggles, cape, binoculars, and walkie talkies.  He was his sweet, creative, fun little self.  Then....dare I write it out for all to see? Well, a good chunk of my mommy friends were there to witness his heinous behavior so why not the world?

We met a whole bunch of friends at a new McDonald's at 10 to play.  Liam was fine.  Playing and whatnot.  Just as we grown ups got ready to purchase the whole lot of kids happy meals (super hero toy, by the way) a mother walks up to me and says, "Is this your son?"

FREEZE: Ridiculously, my honest first thought was, "Why yes, what adorable thing did he do that you want to come over and acknowledge?"  Ahhhh....I am SUCH a hopeless hoper.  Less than a second after that thought I sighed inwardly as I looked down at my beautiful boy whom I love so much.  Open fire, lady.

"He just spit in my daughter's face." I gasped.  Shocked, horrified, mortified, embarrassed, so, so utterly disappointed.  Really? Why Liam? Why?* 

I made him apologize, I gathered up Finn, said a quick good bye to my friends, amazingly snuck in a refill of diet coke, and dragged a hysterical, screaming Liam out to the car.  No happy meal.  No screaming (on my part). No discussion.  As we approached the car he screamed a litany of heartbreaking things that I will list below:

"I will never get in that car. I will never go anywhere with you again."

"You are the worst mommy in the whole world."

"I don't want to live with you anymore. I don't want to live."

"I don't want to want you anymore. I don't love you either. You are making this the worst day in the world."

"I want to go back to our old house and live there ALONE."

(Technically, all of those sentences should be written completely in CAPS because each of them was screamed at the top of his lungs, his face a shade of red tomatoes would envy and the vein on his neck looking like it was about to bust open and kill us both for sure.)

In addition to the verbal attack, he hit me a couple of times while I was strapping in Finn.  Not hard, more like frustrated swats...but still.  I felt assaulted. I wanted to cry.  I wanted to slap him.  I wanted to scream in his face to stop talking to me like that.  But, I didn't do any of those things.  I picked him up and forcibly buckled him in while he struggles (mostly just crying, though at this point) and said, "I love you and the things you are saying are making me very, very sad." 

I drove home, white knuckled, sucking on my diet coke and wishing being a good parent didn't have to feel so stinking bad.

*In case you were wondering why Liam spit at that girl his reply was, "She was nasty to me."  That's it. No details, nothing.  We had a chat about other ways to respond when someone is "nasty." Use words, move away from that person, come to mom....we'll see....

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The hardest thing

It is hard to exercise every day (good lord, it's hard to excercise just once a week, for me, anyway).

It is hard to say no to french fries or most things containing chocolate.

It is hard to stay in touch with all of my family and friends, all of whom I miss very much and think of regularly.

It is hard to iron a shirt.

It is hard (for me) to keep a car clean and scratch (and let's face it, dent) free.

It is hard to make decisions like going back to work and who will take care of my baby if I do.

It is hard to find your keys in the dark.

It is hard when you are not on the same page as your spouse.

But the hardest thing, the hardest thing in the world is being a good parent.  Being a consistent parent.  I was going to write discipline is the hardest thing, but really it's consistency.  Getting your six month old to sleep through the night in his crib is not about discipline, it takes consistency.  You think parenting starts when your kids start misbehaving, but no, it's the moment they need you to step outside your comfort zone...which is pretty much on day one.  I have struggled with this (as many of you know).  But Finn, now 11 months old, does sleep all night in his crib...but that's not why I am writing. 

I am writing because I am bewildered.  My little boy, my Liam, my angel, my sweet little cherub of boyish goodness screamed at me today in a way that made me want to crawl inside my skin and hide.  I was speechless.  I felt helpless.  I wanted the Super Nanny to swoop in with her little DVD player, point to exactly what I did wrong and teach me how to fix it.  I wanted to hide from the stares from the other moms at the pool...the ones with their perfect kids (ha!).  I wanted him to just listen.

I am told it is "the age." I am skeptical.  Littleman has always been dramatic...dramatic may even be an understatement.  Lately, however, when he is being disciplined or told we are doing this instead of that, he sometimes has a complete meltdown.  Meltdowns that involve him staring up at me and screaming.  The worst, worst, WORST part of the screaming is that he is using MY words, MY tone, MY everything...only louder, faster, and with an edge of hysteria that can make your skin crawl (I kid you not).

Littleman did this to me at our community pool today.  He had pushed a younger friend of his underwater.  Not exactly in a malicious way, these two boys are known for rough-housing, but still, you just can't do that.  The consequence was he had to get out of the pool and watch every one else swim for the twenty or so minute duration of our time at the pool.  Naturally, he was very upset and when it finally dawned on him that I was not going to let him back in the pool, he freaked out.  He was making such a fuss (disturbing all the other people at the pool with his cries) I sent him to the men's room (ten feet from where we were sitting) to "scream it out."  To put it bluntly, it was a freaking nightmare.  He would open the men's room door and shout, "I don't want to be your son!" And other equally debasing, humiliating, hysterical things.

What do I do?  How do I deal with that? We were already leaving the pool.  He's lost his TV priviledges for the entire week.  We emptied his "good choices" jar, which was nearly full, so there will be no trip to Chuck E Cheese in his near future. (Which is a crying shame b/c it is really hot here right now.)

Ug.

I know I am not a bad parent.  And I know no one is perfect.  And I know we are all trying to do our very best by our children (which gets complicated when you and your spouse aren't exactly on the same page, at least not every day).  I want nothing more than Littleman's happiness and good health.  Oh, how that sounds so simple....if only it were.

So tomorrow is a new day.  A clean slate? Well...not exactly.  A chance for a better ending? Sure.  An opportunity for me to control the tone of my voice? Absolutely.  A diet coke? Undoubtedly.

 

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I swear I didn't know...

Alright...I KNOW I am big, close to the biggest I have ever been.  It's embarrassing, slightly depressing, but it is what it is.  I have every intention of getting back in shape...you know...just like most of the obese Americans stomping around our country.  I was fit once and I will be again, it's just not happening right now.  The reason I bring this up is because today I asked  Bill to take some video of Finn taking his first steps. (Yes, he is starting to take those first adorable little steps!!!)  Naturally, because we had the camera on, Finn did not really take ANY steps.  However, the footage we did get is pretty funny and, since most of you are far away, I didn't think you'd want to miss this new level of cuteness in Finn's life.  Unfortunately, when I saw the footage I was literally SHOCKED at the size of my...well...my boobs.  AND, I honestly did not know how much they hung out of the particular tank top I am wearing today.  Really, I swear.  I am not pleased with the way I look OR how much of my milk factory you are about to see.  But, because I am an open book and there isn't a thing about me you don't know already, here's a video of FINN - try to ignore the ginormo-mama he is loving on.

*Disclaimer: Bill and I usually stick to a 20 second rule on most videos.  We have gone over a bit on all of ones you are about to see.  None are longer than a minute, though.  

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Next is Little Finn being a little fussy in the high chair.  He DOES try to blow mama a kiss though and it's super cute.

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And not to be forgotten, here's 18 or so seconds of Liam running on the shores of New Jersey.  I like this clip so much because it shows Liam's complete love of the ocean experience.  I wish we lived closer to the sea.  He clearly can be his true self whilst running in the waves....

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oh the drama....

This one was too good to not write about.

So.  Liam has been really revving up his drama-meter these days.  My little munchkin has always been quite the firey one, but, three weeks with my mom - being doted on, staying up late, traveling, all that nonsense, along with school ending has added fuel to an already blazing fire.  Tonight, however, was really special.

Allow me to preface with this.  Every night, after Finn goes to bed, we let Liam stay up with us, for some one on one time and usually, what he refers to as, "a special treat."  It's almost always a no sugar added fruit pop, but sometimes, if its early enough, it's a bowl of popcorn which we all eat together on the couch in front of the boob tube (the TV, not me in a tube top). Tonight, however, Liam lost this priviledge because just as I was getting the boys out of the tub, he decided to snatch a rubber duckie out of Finn's little mouth for no good reason at all.  This was the cherry on top of a day filled with similar little trangressions against the helpless baby brother.

While I put Finn to bed I could hear Liam wailing in his room about his lost special treat. (SO pathetic) He was under his covers crying and moaning about how "his wishes will never come true" and "I'm just no good at being a kid..." Where does he get this stuff?  Anyway, I came into his room, explained that it's hard to make good choices all day long, mommy and daddy understand, and tomorrow we could have popcorn together if he's nicer to his brother.  Then we headed out to the kitchen to make some wrapping paper for upcoming birthdays.

Okay, this is where the story picks up.  As I was cleaning up, Liam went into another room and started singing.  You know that kind of mindless, little kid, stream of thought-type singing? Bill lowers the TV volume and we hear snippets of things like, "I want to go back to NY and live in the country all by myself. I am only a kid. I am five and I am my mom's son, but I want to go away and be by myself all the way in New York...." You get the picture. 

Thinking I am oh-so-clever, instead of saying, "Ok, time for bed." I say, "Alright, Liam, go pack your suitcase.  I got you a ticket, you can go to New York all by yourself.  We will miss you."  And Liam, thinking HE is oh-so-clever, goes to his closet, pulls out his little suitcase, throws in a few beloved items (stuffed Mickey Mouse, a superman b-day card from Luke, a rock) and heads out to the garage.

Bill and I just stared at the door and waited.  Two whole minutes go by and Bill can't take it. He goes to the door, opens it, and in runs a tear filled Liam.  Throwing his suitcase to the floor, he is BALLING, sobbing, crying his eyes out.  "I don't want to go alone. I want to be together! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!!"  

Oh. My. God.  Later, when he calmed down, he told us that "When I got to the airport I changed my mind and drove back. I don't want to go anywhere without my family."  His imagination took him that far!  Man, I love that kid.  He may be dramatic, but I wouldn't trade him for the world.  He hugged me so hard for a solid ten minutes.  I felt a little bad that it I let him take it that far...but sometimes you have to really let a point sink in.  I do hope he'll be nicer to Finn tomorrow....

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