Tag Archives: Little Ones

Because…

24 Replies

“Why do you always ask me my name?”

Because he’s trying to communicate with you. He knows your name, but he wants to ask you a question. To have a conversation with you.

“Why do you always try to talk to me like that on the bus? It doesn’t make sense.”

Because he understands what he’s trying to say and hopes that you will too. He wants to be your friend. And to him, this is what is sounds like when friends talk to each other.

“Why are you speaking another language? I don’t speak that language.”

Because it’s the one he created when he couldn’t speak ours. He’s learning ours, but he’s far more fluent in this one. Nobody else speaks this language. It’s entirely his. And that can get lonely.

He never asks me my name. He doesn’t have to try so hard to communicate with me. I always listen to what he’s trying to say and I understand. I don’t speak his language, but I don’t have to.


Because I speak the universal language that mothers have with their children. He never feels lonely with me.

As much as want him to be able to communicate with the world, I hope he never forgets our own language. This is the language of my heart.

A Couple of Firsts and Lessons Learned

11 Replies

We had a couple of “firsts” over the past few days. Both of which provided me with those “teaching moments” that parents are always going on about. Of course, the teaching moments were for me…but I think that still qualifies.

Number one involves the universally anticipated and either loved/hated daylight savings time. Before having kids, I reveled in the extra hour of sleep that autumn daylight savings time bestowed upon us. The annual “fall back” morning was like a holiday – people looked happier, younger and willing to ignore the fact that it was suddenly dark when they left the office. They had an extra hour of sleep, making that early sunset dazzle like no other.

Then I had a baby. And I learned that babies don’t wake up and say, “hey – I have a whole other hour to keep sleeping. Score!” Autumn daylight savings time became a major inconvenience. And I started to much prefer the “spring forward” perk of my baby finally waking up at a far less cruel hour of the morning.

This continued for years until recently. Now that Oliver is five and the twins are four, they rarely torture me with 5:00 a.m. wake up calls. And if they ever do, they’re old enough to be tossed in front of the TV with a snack while I go back to bed. Gaining an extra hour in the morning may not mean that I’ll get more sleep, but that earlier wake up time isn’t unreasonable. It’s the extra evening hour that holds so much appeal for me. The fact that it feels like it’s an hour later when bedtime rolls around should hold great potential for new kid-free time before 9:00 p.m. Or at least that’s what I thought…

Sadly, it was no easier getting them up to bed Sunday night than any other night. And if anything, they fell asleep even later. This is probably due to my own hubris – thinking I could just close the door and forgo the previously required time in their room, making sure they calmed down and fell asleep. At the very least, I thought they’d all sleep in yesterday giving me a little alone time in the morning – but that was another disappointment. Everyone was bright eyed and bushy tailed at 6:00 a.m.

So my first year of “fall back” working in my favor was a total bust. Next time I won’t have such high expectations. Exactly why do we do all of this falling and springing anyway? What percentage of the U.S. population is planting crops?

The other recent “first” is pretty exciting. My first born, Oliver lost his FIRST tooth last night. We have been eagerly awaiting this event for about a month after he first wiggled it at us. I checked that thing every day looking for progress and had recently decided that I would probably have to pull it out myself when he graduated high school.


But the new tooth coming in finally pushed the old one out. And last night around 7:00 p.m. we all jumped up and down cheering for the tiny speck of white enamel lying on the dining room floor.

(Not the best picture I have of Oliver – but definitely the best one of the hole in his smile.)

Now – one would think that over the course of the past month, someone (I) would have procured a Tooth Fairy gift to have ready in the wings. But no – not a single celestial surprise existed in any of our closets or storage spaces. So five minutes into the celebration, I turned to Chris and said, “I guess you’d better run out and buy something.” Go Supermom!

When Chris arrived home, sneaking in the “best thing could find at Rite Aid on short notice”…


(More goofy pictures…he really is a handsome boy…)

…he knew the kids would be upstairs brushing teeth and getting ready for our bedtime marathon. Unfortunately, Cindy Lou Who (Eleanor) surprised him on his way in the door. I didn’t know anything about this until this morning when she announced to everyone exclaiming over the fabulous cheap plastic train set from the Tooth Fairy that “Daddy bought it at the store.” Go Superdad! I wonder if there will be probing questions about why Santa’s workshop produces the same crap we see at Target every week…

Lesson learned – plan ahead for sneak attacks from the Tooth Fairy. And have a good story ready if your cover is blown.

Live and learn…

The Young Master

12 Replies


It was very apparent soon after my son George was born that he was a character. An observation that continues to be communicated to us by friends and strangers alike. I’m not sure what it is though… I mean, he’s a normal little boy. He has all the same likes and dislikes typical to other little boys his age. He looks normal enough – no unique physical traits to set him apart from the rest. And if anything, he strives to be like the older boys who serve as role models in our neighborhood. So why is he always labeled “the little character?”

I’ve given it a lot of thought and have come up with a few reasons. First – he’s on the small side. He also has a little voice, so the general perception of him is “little guy.” Then as if to make up for his diminutive size, he’s kind of loud. Everything he says seems to register at several decibels higher than it needs to be. So it often sounds as if he’s yelling – usually about something you’d rather he not broadcast in public.


Again – neither of these traits are all that unusual for four year old boys. But I think the clincher is his dramatic flair and pronounced air of self importance. There have been numerous blog posts here dedicated to my children’s quirks, and I’ve definitely talked about how George is a screamer. And I don’t mean a shrieky “eek! I saw a mouse!” kind of screamer…I mean a wide eyed, hell to pay, berserker kind of screamer. I really should capture this with the video camera sometime as it’s quite a show. You can literally see the steam coming out of his ears and feel the vibration of his head starting to explode. He is intense.

If it wasn’t so funny to watch it would probably scare us. It also tends to be rather short lived since like other preschoolers, he can alter his mood on a dime. And he never actually hurts anyone or breaks anything, so we’re inclined to just keep an eye on it, but not worry overly much.

One of the everyday things that can set him off is being interrupted while he’s trying to talk. And since he has a motor mouth twin sister who demands an ungodly amount of spotlight time, this tends to happen about one hundred times a day. Usually I can diffuse it by enforcing turn taking (letting George finish what he was saying first of course). But I cringe to think of the wrath that would ensue without swift intervention.


I can’t blame him for taking himself so seriously because he comes by that honestly. I have needed to get over myself already since birth, so I do understand how he feels. And his father is a pretty intense guy, so I think we unwittingly created a monster with our genetic contributions. A perfect storm of DNA that resulted in a four year old George Jefferson strutting around my living room.

Oh my George… I’m so crazy about that little nut. He cracks me up every day with the way he looks at life. He really is a little dictator at heart – he wants to run the show. And everything he does sounds SO important.

All children mix up syntax and use the wrong words as they acquire language and communication skills. But George makes everything sound as lofty and important as he feels. Back when they were toddlers, I tried to teach my kids that instead of just throwing tantrums, they should tell me if they need some attention. George still incorporates this into his meltdowns. Long after I think the issue should have been resolved and tears dried, he will demand that I give him more. He doesn’t just say, “Mommy, come downstairs. I want some attention.” No…that would sound like he was asking rather than directing. He has to exclaim, “MOMMY! Come HERE! I will take my attention DOWNstairs.” Well okay then…


One of my favorite Georgeisms started last month when he began calling the art projects he brought home from preschool his “workings.” How great is that? Like he’s one of the old masters – an artiste. And I can’t get rid of ANY of his workings. Not even a single crayon slash on a piece of paper. Oh no! He likes to lay them all out on the floor and admire them, “Mommy – can I see my workings?” He needs space to stand back and observe. Putting them away before he’s done with the viewing is frowned upon. He takes great pride in his glue and glitter creations.

What inspired me to write about George today though – after what could be considered my longest dry spell of writing attempts to date – was his presumptuous acquisition of an entire DC neighborhood. After picking up the twins at preschool, I planned to take them to my high school’s annual Esprit de Noel (or holiday bazaar). Since none of that would mean anything to them, I just said that I was taking them into the city to get a treat and see some fun things. Eleanor asked where we were going and without thinking much of it I said, “Georgetown.” In pleasure and awe, George asked, “MY town?” To which I replied, “yes George – as soon as we get there, I’m sure it will be.”



It’s Come to This…

4 Replies

I still have no writing mojo. Or I have these short windows of time that I rarely use for writing. Either way – I’m not doing a lot of writing. As a result – I continue to inflict family photos on my readers.

Took these today:











Children who play nicely together without requiring my participation? If it had lasted longer than ten minutes, I’d probably contact NASA with ranting accusations of alien plots to abduct kids and replace them with pod people.

Maybe I’ll write something tomorrow. It could happen…

Happy Halloween!

9 Replies
I’ve written before about how this is not my favorite holiday (because, you know – it’s scary). But I can’t dispute the complete joy of little kids in costumes.


Oliver is going as Batman again since his costume from last year still fits. I was hoping George would do the same, but he insisted that he wanted to be Spiderman. Of course Target didn’t have any of those, so he ended up picking this hideous plastic Transformer thing. But he loves it – so whatever. To stay in keeping with the original Justice League trend, Eleanor wanted to be Wonder Woman and we DID find that costume at Target. Funny enough – it’s really cute, keeping my guilt over not being the mom who sews beautiful handmade costumes (i.e. my mom) at a comfortable low this year.

We went to a Halloween party last weekend where the costumes were given a test drive:

Off to fight crime!

Optimus Prime joins the Marvel gang.


Want to know what Eleanor first said she wanted to be for Halloween? Well – she knew that Batman is a superhero, and she wanted to be a girl hero. So she was very insistent that she wanted to be “Batgirl Star Underwear.” It took us several weeks to figure out that she meant “Wonder Woman.”

Happily – no cheap synthetic fabrics were ripped or shredded at the party and we’re all ready for the big show tonight.

Wishing you and yours very little gory dismemberment and tons of sticky candy smiles!

I Think This May Be the Year!

Leave a reply

Before I had children, I received many holiday cards from friends featuring smiling babies and toddlers. And they all looked more than thrilled to be posing for the all important statement that yes – their parents have given birth to THE most adorable child/children EVER.

So of course, I assumed that I would do the same with our own annual holiday mailing. And we had a good start the year that Oliver was born. He was old enough to sit on Santa’s lap and not cry or look like a festive potato, so I used one of the pictures I took for the card:


A little dark – but it did the trick. And I was even able to come up with a cute caption for the inside – something along the lines of “...and I want a remote control, and some paper clips, and a calculator, and a cell phone…OOOH and a few pennies…”
I ordered my holiday cards through Shutterfly and was very happy with the finished product.

Then I had the twins.

They were born a couple of months before the following Christmas, and to say that I didn’t quite have my act together would be like saying that the Titanic was short one or two lifeboats.

This is the closest thing I have to a festive group shot that holiday season:


Aside from the bizarre tree that looked like a porcupine with a mohawk gone awry (Chris wasn’t at the top of his game either when he went out to buy it), and the fact that my oldest child wasn’t in the picture, you couldn’t have paid me to publicize that picture of my exhaustion and general dishevelment. Now of course, I have no such compunctions since I’ve looked like that for the past four years and am used to it.

The following year when Oliver was two and the twins were one, I TRIED to pull something off with the help of some toys and cookies (and a table to trap them against their chairs):


But no dice. That was the best of the bunch.

In 2008, I thought I had a great plan in grabbing them right before we left for a holiday party. I promised Tic Tacs (ah – the days when they thought Tic Tacs were candy…) for each pose:


Sadly, the Tic Tacs were a distraction and caused too much jumping up and down and arm waving. Not to mention the Tic Tacs visible in their mouths in some of the livelier shots. Above, is the most normal looking one of all the pictures I took. FAIL.

Finally, last year, I did manage to get a group picture in front of our tree on New Years Eve. It was too late to do a card, but I think this one would have been “good enough.”


I mean – with the exception of the Irish cross ornament growing out of Eleanor’s head.

But THIS year… THIS is going to be the year. I WILL get a decent group picture on a card and put it in the mail, even if it’s an image of them in their underwear in front of a trash can. I’m sure a Photoshop-adept friend can help me paint in a tree and some pants. If necessary, I will send out a picture of someone else’s children. But I’m mailing a damn holiday card and Merry Christmas, Hanukkah and Quanza to all and to all a goodnight goddammit!

So what luck that I was asked by Shutterfly to review their new line of holiday cards for 2010!

I’ve always loved holiday photo cards best. They don’t even have to be of people. Just knowing that there is a personal photograph involved makes the message all that more tangible. Why offices continue to send out those boring generic holiday cards is beyond me…what a waste of paper.

Since my number one priority is the picture, the designs I prefer are rather uncluttered with just a simple statement of good wishes. I also look for “holiday” cards as opposed to Christmas cards since not all of my friends celebrate the same religious holidays.

Here are a few that fit all of my requirements (click each image for full details):




I also liked this one as an alternative to the lengthy holiday “letter.” Just enough space to give a few highlights (and a better chance that the recipients will actually read it!):


I don’t think I will go with the option above since I could NEVER limit myself that that small amount of text… But the other three are definite possibilities.

This is the year! We will send out a holiday card – and even if the picture stinks, at least the design will be lovely.

Do you want 50 free holiday cards from Shutterfly? Click here to go to Shutterfly for information on how you can get 50 free cards this holiday season, and make sure to select Clever 1000 as the referral source.

This post is part of a series sponsored by Shutterfly. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.

A Reemergence, A Lot of Pictures and An Excuse or Two

14 Replies

Have I really not posted anything in the past two weeks? And the last post was about a bug infestation…nice.

I do have two posts I’ve been meaning to write (one for a couple of weeks and the other for a couple of months), but I’ve been so scattered lately. Maybe I’ll just fill in with various and sundry recent goings on…

First, we just returned from a road trip to Georgia. We left mid-last week and were gone for about six days. That is a long time for three small children to be living as vagabonds. Even longer for their parents.

We were there for a big Hood family reunion, and while there, we also celebrated the twins’ fourth birthday. George and Eleanor are so happy to finally be four. Eleanor would rather be five like Oliver, but she’s settling for four. She’s cool like that.

Here are some pictures from the reunion:
















The actual reunion party took place on a river and we spent half our time sighing at the breathtaking view and the other half trying to keep or children alive. It was a good time. And yes I did notice that most of my immediate family is wearing green and NO that was not planned.

The downside to the twins turning four is their awareness that they can combine forces to make defiant an understatement. I’ve been seeing a lot more of this of late:



If I’m lucky, I can turn it into this…


…but all too often we fall back on tears, time outs, door slamming and even the odd spanking. I’m not wild about hitting of any kind, but it has become a last resort when the sassiness gets out of control. And when I spank, it’s like one whack on the bottom that probably doesn’t even hurt that much. Of course that doesn’t stop Eleanor shouting “and DON’T hit me” when we’re in public places. She’s great like that.

In other news, George just got a super cute new haircut…


…and Oliver is about to lose his first tooth! (Sorry – not pictures of the last – it’s hard to capture a wiggly bottom tooth in a photo.)

Writing will probably continue to be slow on all of my sites for a while. For someone who doesn’t work in an office 9-5, I seem to have a hard time getting anything done around the house. I blame the children and all of their “needs” and stuff. Because they aren’t old enough to read my blog and comment. So yeah – it’s all their fault.

Oh – and I’m seriously thinking about just clearing my reader and starting over since there is no way I will ever catch up on the two weeks of posts I’ve missed. Let me know if you’ve written anything particularly brilliant. Or just good. Or interesting. Or funny? Whatever – you be the judge. Just let me know.

Raisin’ ‘Em Right!

11 Replies

I have been SO busy with life lately. I mean, now that my twins go to preschool three mornings a week I have a whole 7.5 hours of alone time to devote to examining my new wrinkles, making myself snacks and reading Project Runway recaps online.

All of this distracted meandering around my house is exhausting! I have very little inclination to do anything productive like writing blog posts or cleaning or giving myself that much needed pedicure. I’m simply too worn out from the lassitude of loose endedness.

But my children make up for my cuticle picking torpor by achieving new personal bests on a daily basis. The most remarkable of these was a tandem effort by my sons, Oliver and George to start the school year off with a literal “pow” by hitting people. And it gets better! The incidents occurred within a week of each other and both of the targets were GIRLS. I’m just bursting with pride…


I already mentioned Oliver’s outburst in a previous post. He hit his teacher the other week. As a special needs kid, Oliver has some little quirks that could be explained as “self soothing,” and when they don’t disrupt the classroom, they are allowed. One of these is “self talk” or the tendency to keep up a stream of semi-intelligible chit chat with oneself while performing tasks or playing. Sometimes it’s scripting from favorite TV shows and DVDs and sometimes it’s something else, but from what his special ed teachers and therapists have told me, it’s not a problem and they don’t see the need to interfere with it. Unless of course, he really has to be silent. Which is the case for certain “zones” in the school hallways. Apparently he was chatting away in one of these zones and when his teacher tried to end it, she inadvertently opened a can of whup-ass. Or more specifically, he got upset and struck out at her (connecting with her face).

Super.

It’s all okay though. His special ed case manager was called and she talked to him about how his reaction wasn’t “a good choice” and what better choices he could have made (here is where I’m madly taking notes on how I should be handling things with him at home). Then he had a little time out before going back to join his friends. They weren’t too worried about it overall since Oliver is rarely violent and seemed very upset about what he did (and his teacher said he’s still apologizing to her, so maybe the lesson will stick?). Anyway…BYGONES!

Then, there’s George. That’s become almost a catchphrase of mine of late, “then, there’s George…”

My very intense younger son has embraced preschool with his usual unmitigated enthusiasm, and from what I could tell was seamlessly assimilating to this new environment. Then came the check in call (that all of the parents got) on Friday, reporting on the twins’ first couple of weeks. It was all rainbows and unicorns until a final caveat that there was just one incident in which a few days prior, George had a fight with another student. The teacher claimed not to have seen what happened, but that he and the LITTLE GIRL (note to self: must augment his school wardrobe with some new wife beater tank tops) were “really going at it.” I believe she even used the word, “fisticuffs.” Nice. But the good news is that the little girl’s mother was there and could comfort her while the teacher focused on talking to George. So that was great…

The truth is, George’s teacher didn’t seem overly concerned about it and just wanted to let me know in case he brought it up (yeah right!). Knowing my son as well as I do, I pretty much assumed that he was the instigator. Not that he starts a lot of fights, but we’ll chalk it up to mother’s intuition. So I wasn’t in the least bit surprised when I asked him why he and his friend had a fight and his answer was “‘Ecause she wouldn’t make room.” So basically, he wanted her to scoot over so he could sit down, and when she wouldn’t (or couldn’t), he decided to forcibly move her. Then the “fisticuffs” ensued.

I was able to apologize to the other mom, and I think that there are no hard feelings. But seriously – what is wrong with my boys!? We don’t encourage physical violence at home. I’m just going to assume that they’re busting out the inevitable bad behavior as early as possible instead of waiting until later in the school year (my little over achievers!). At least I won’t be lulled into a false sense of confidence.

But now I have a little free time, so I’m going to be Scarlett O’Hara and leave those pesky worries for another day called “tomorrow.” I can’t sit around thinking about parenting strategies right now. I’m fairly certain that I have some old chocolate chips in the back of the freezer and I simply must check the TV listings for this evening. Hope I’m not forgetting anything unimportant…

A lazy woman’s work is never done…literally.

First Day of Preschool (Alternatively Titled: How Many Mediocre Pictures Can I Cram into One Post?)

17 Replies
Oliver wasn’t the only one who had a first day of school. Today, the twins had their very first day of preschool!

I wanted to take a picture of all three kids on our front steps, but Eleanor had just had a wardrobe crisis and was still reeling from the stress of it all. She refused to sit with her brothers.




Yeah – so they weren’t all that cooperative either.

Then I decided to try again after parking next to Oliver’s school. First, just of Eleanor since she was striking a pose. But George kept jumping in front of her.



Then I found some good lighting and lined them up, all the while, spewing empty promises of candy and special treats for good behavior…









That was the best I could get out of them. And at this point of reviewing my shots, I realized that there must be a smudge on the lens. Luckily it’s just in the lower corner. Note to self: don’t let George play with the camera anymore. Especially since it results in hundreds of images that look like this:


We were a bit early for preschool arrival, so thought I’d try for a nice first day of school shot of the twins…


I want to kill whoever taught George that Home Alone pose…










Again – this was about as good as it got. Striking “Crew Cuts models” off the list of ways the kids can make money for their college funds.

At any rate – they had a very successful first day and barely looked at me when I left them. We went out for pizza and ice cream to celebrate.




And just when I was starting to feel all smug about what great scholars my children are turning out to be, I spent an hour yelling at the twins to get back into bed and GO TO SLEEP! AND had a super fun phone call from Oliver’s school about how he hit his teacher. Sigh…oh well – one day at a time I guess.