I don’t have much time to write – but there have been some little things that the kids say that make for a nice little sound byte.
One of the funniest things (to me of course) that they’ve done recently is this:
Me to George & Eleanor: Can you guys ask Daddy to come upstairs?
George & Eleanor: [walk over to the top of the stairs and yell in unison] CHRIS! HONEY!
And I wonder why they can’t grasp the concept of an “inside voice…”
Conversation with Eleanor and George on the way up to bed the other night:
Eleanor: Mommy, I’m hungry.
Me: But you just had dinner.
Eleanor: Mommy, I’M HUNGRY.
Me: Eleanor, that’s not possible.
George: Popsicles?
-Eleanor Hood, Age Two
This is one girl who knows what she wants!
Even if she doesn’t know what “it” is…
It seems like I have a lot funny Eleanor stories lately… Probably because she’s such a little talker now. I typically don’t chronicle every precious anecdote – but one from this weekend really made me laugh.
Warning: There is bad language involved – but it can’t be helped since it’s kind of integral to the story.
On Saturday morning, I was sitting at the kids’ table setting up an elaborate craft project for us to all do together (translation: I was sitting at the kids’ table with my laptop reading blogs and absentmindedly talking to them about the DVD that was playing).
Eleanor – who isn’t into dolls but IS into “ballminas” (ballerinas) came over to me with a little Polly Pocket doll that someone gave her for Christmas. We have very few of these little girly items and I find it interesting that she’s the ONLY one who shows any interest in them (nurture over nature indeed! ha!).
Eleanor: Mommy? What the fuck?
Me: What?!?
Eleanor: What the fuck?
Me: I’m sorry – I must not be hearing this right…what did you say?
Eleanor: What. The. Fuck.
Me: Try again – but slowly. What are you asking me?
Eleanor: Wha….The….Fog?
Me: What the “frog?”
Eleanor: Yeah! Wha the fog?
Me: OH – you want to know where the frog is…because she’s a ballerina…which to you, is the same as “princess”….and princesses kiss frogs!!
Eleanor: [blank stare]
Me: No – it’s funny – because I thought you said… Well – never mind. One day I’ll tell you about this and you’ll think it’s really funny.
Eleanor: What the fuck?
One evening over the weekend, I was playing with Eleanor in my room. Inexplicably, the boys were nowhere to be seen. This made for an environment more conducive to quiet conversation and hair grooming. Usually there are small male bodies flying in trajectories conducive to massive head trauma. So tranquil hair brushing was a bit of a treat.
When I finished brushing her hair, it looked like very fine corn silk and curled just a tiny bit around her face. When she finished brushing mine, I looked like I needed just a little blue mascara to finish my makeover for the 1985 We Are The World concert.
I then lifted her up to the mirror so that we could admire our work:
Me: Let’s take a look… Oh look!
Eleanor: Look!
Me: So pretty!
Eleanor: Pretty!
Me: What a pretty girl!
Eleanor: Wha pretty girl!
Me: Who IS that pretty girl?
Eleanor: It’s Mommy!
How long will this phase last? Or more accurately, at what age will she decide that I have no sense of style and cause her nothing but embarrassment in front of her friends? I need to appreciate this while it lasts.
On Sunday, we all had lunch at a local kid friendly restaurant. We spent most of that hour simultaneously keeping an eye on all three children as they ricocheted around the room in separate directions, encouraging them to actually ingest the grilled cheese sandwiches we ordered for them and moving all condiments as far away from the twins as possible (Eleanor seems to think that ketchup is a delicious “dip” that can be enjoyed as a meal on it own).
As we tried to eat our mediocre food, Chris and I had the following conversation:
Chris: Remember – I once suggested that we take on another wife to help out. So you have only yourself to blame.
Kate: What are you talking about? I told you that I was totally on board with that after I had the twins.
Chris: It would definitely simplify our lives… And hey – I can be fair. We don’t have to get another wife for me. We could consider getting another husband for you…
Kate: What?! Two husbands would just double my workload and nothing would ever get done. I’ll take the sister wife thank you very much.
Chris: Gotcha.
Epilogue: That night we watched the pilot for Swingtown and concluded that we’d have to make due with our two parent set up.
An excerpt from our morning as I got myself ready for work, got the kids ready for daycare and talked to my husband, Chris about what he would do with his day at home:
Kate: Since you won’t be going anywhere – you could work on cleaning out your closet. You keep saying that you’ll do that – and now you have a whole day!
Chris: Mmm hmm.
Kate: I bet you’ll find all kinds of things that you thought you lost…
Chris: Mmmm.
Eleanor: [drops yellow magic marker on the floor] Daddy – help!
Chris: Did you drop your pen? You can pick it up yourself – you don’t need me to do it for you.
Eleanor: No! Help!
Chris: You know – you shouldn’t get into the habit of relying on men to do things for you. They’ll never follow through, and even if they try to, they’ll only do a half assed* job of it.
Kate: Are you talking about your closet…?
Chris: Mmm hmm.
*Chris is trying to clean up his language around the kids – but things do slip through.
Hope all of my readers are having a great Friday. I haven’t been writing as much as I would have liked this week due to many sick children, snow days, and the fact that I was literally iced into my house for 24 hours (Obama really has a point regarding what wimps DC residents are about “bad weather”).
I may not get to my weekly Friday Confession today. But I promise that I’ll do it this weekend. Now I just have to think about what it will be…possibly barricading my husband in his closet until he cleans his way out of it.
Parents
Kate (36*)
Chris (35*)
Children
Oliver (almost 3 1/2)
George (almost 2)
Eleanor (almost 2)
*I included the ages of the children as a frame of reference and then decided to do it for all of us. Just like Us Weekly and People Magazine. They always do that. I don’t know about you – but I find something very reassuring about knowing how old people in magazines are. So what the hell – we’re old.
A Little Background:
It’s Sunday. The day started at 7:30 a.m. (which is a miracle since it usually starts at 6:00 a.m.). Chris left on Saturday for a business trip. I am alone with the kids for the day – and while it’s sunny, it’s also too muddy to play outside.
Oliver: Play Doh please!
Kate: Okay – let’s all play at the table. Sit in chairs. No Play Doh on the floor.
Eleanor: Pway Doh!
George: (Drags a chair over to the TV to play with the buttons.)
Oliver: Snakes!
Kate: Okay – let’s make snakes.
Eleanor: Nakes!
Kate: Oliver – put your Play Doh back on the table. George – that’s too loud. Come back to the table.
Eleanor: Tay-boo!
Kate: (Moves both George and his chair back to the table as he shrieks like he’s being dipped in a vat of boiling oil.)
Oliver: More snakes please!
Kate: Okay – let’s make more snakes.
Eleanor: Nakes!
Kate: George, I said stop it. Come back to the table. That’s too loud. (Moves both George and his chair back to the table.)
George: (Emits a sound that bursts dog eardrums throughout the neighborhood.)
Kate: Okay – who poopied? I smell poopie.
Oliver: Candy please!
Eleanor: Caddy!
Kate: No candy. George did you poopie? Hey – Play Doh stays on the table!
[Omit approximately 30 minutes of more of the same.]
Kate: Okay – that’s it! No more Play Doh. Oliver – do you have to go potty?
Eleanor: Potty!
Oliver: No…
Kate: Let’s go try. George and Eleanor, you come too.
Eleanor: Too!
Kate: George – I said that’s enough. Stop playing with the TV. Let’s all go upstairs.
Eleanor: Dairs!
[Omit the 15 minutes that it actually takes to get everyone upstairs.]
Kate: Okay Oliver – come on, lets go potty.
Eleanor: Potty!
Kate: Pee Pee first.
George and Eleanor: Pee Pee!
Oliver: (Stands at the potty and pees.)
George and Eleanor: (Try to position heads directly under the “flow” in hopes of getting the best view.)
Kate: Hey – that’s too close! Okay Oliver, let’s go potty now.
Eleanor: Potty!
Oliver: (Sits on the potty.) Candy please!
Eleanor: Caddy!
Kate: No candy.
George: (Muffled shrieks of delight from another room.)
Kate: George! Where did you go?
[Everyone moves from bathroom to master bedroom where George is jumping on the bed.]
[Phone rings.]
Kate: (Answers the phone.) Hello? George get off the bed!
Chris (on the phone): Hi! It sounds a little crazy over there.
Kate: Oh – you know, the usual. Eleanor get down!
Eleanor: Down!
Kate: So what are you up to? Oliver? Where did you go?
Chris: I’m looking for Starbucks but it’s not here. They said I should go to…
Kate: OLIVER! Get out of the shower! Put that down! Oh my god – it’s all over the place….NO! Don’t do that – you’re going to slip…
Chris: What happ….
Kate: Oliver just spilled soap all over the shower stall and now it’s all over his legs and all over the floor and…OLIVER! Get off the bed – you’re getting soap everywhere!
Chris: Okay – it sounds like you’re busy, so I’ll let you…
Kate: Okay bye! (hangs up)
Eleanor: Bye!
Kate: Okay Oliver (back to being calm Mom) let’s get that soap off of your legs so it doesn’t get all over the bed. George and Eleanor, get down (takes George off the bed and puts him on the floor).
George: (Screams and flails – then hits a note so high that glassware can be heard shattering throughout the house.)
Kate: Eleanor (puts Eleanor on the floor), you too.
Eleanor: Too!
Kate: I smell poopie. Eleanor – did you poopie? Oliver! What did I say? No jumping on the bed – get down!
Eleanor: Down!
Kate: George! (Lunges for George as he starts to climb back up on the bed, but trips and bangs head on the corner.) Ow! Shit!
Eleanor: Sit!
Kate: (Takes a minute to recover and then looks up to see all three kids now jumping on the bed.) Okay – everyone get down NOW. I said NO JUMPING!
Eleanor: Dupping!
Kate: (Changing tactics.) Hey – who wants to watch Curious George?
[Children continue to jump on the bed.]
Kate: Who wants to watch The Wiggles?
[Children continue to jump on the bed.]
Kate: Who wants milk?
[Children continue to jump on the bed.]
Kate: Who wants cheese?
[Children continue to jump on the bed.]
Kate: Who wants popcorn?
[Children continue to jump on the bed.]
Kate: Okay – who wants candy?!
[Children scream, “candy!” and trample each other in an effort to get to the stairs first.]
[It is now 9:30 a.m.]
Epilogue: I took them to McDonald’s for lunch.
Items of note:
The other night, we were in the middle of our evening routine (dinner for kids, baths for kids, bedtime for kids, bottle of wine for parents) and had the conversational equivalent of a wardrobe malfunction.
It was Eleanor’s turn (we’re still doing separate baths since Oliver goes to bed later and George…well – the explanations are boring and not based on any real logic – we just do it that way most of the time). Anyway – Chris agreed to do the bath while I cleaned up the kitchen, and he brought my daughter over for a goodnight kiss.
I said something about it being bath time and she tossed back the house party line, “no.” I explained that she had played outside that day and that her legs were so dirty that I could wet my finger and write my name in the filth (kind of like what people to do my – I mean – dirty cars). Actually – I didn’t say that to her because she wouldn’t have any idea what I was talking about, you know, not being two yet and all…but it’s good imagery for the amount of grime she had acquired during the day.
The rest of the conversation went like this:
Me: Okay – I love you – night night.
Eleanor: No!
Me: Yes – you need a bath. You are SOOO dirty. You have to clean up.
Eleanor: NOO-HOO-HOOO-HOO!
Me: YE-HEH-HEH-HESS! You are too dirty. You HAVE to take a bath.
Chris: That’s right – cause you’re a dirty girl.
(long pause as parents take in the words that seem to inflate like giant porn balloons in the air between them)
Kate: Don’t ever say that again?
Chris: Yeah – that didn’t sound good…
(Now with Eleanor update at the end.)
I was planning to post this quick sound byte from our weekend (already written below) but I need to do a little venting first (and I’ll TRY to keep it short since don’t want to be an online whiner).
I sometimes really wish I just wanted to (okay – that’s 50% that we could afford for me to) be a stay at home mom. Sometimes this is just too hard. Work is incredibly stressful right now. We have a seminar taking place tomorrow and the President is speaking. She’s notorious for finding SOMETHING wrong every time she does a seminar, and I’m just bracing myself for this one. Too many things were going wrong at the last minute today…
THEN at 4:00 I got a call from daycare that Eleanor had a temperature. Not too high – just 101 – but she has been having this off and on for the past few days, and it was up to 103 on Saturday. I only sent her to daycare because she seemed fine this morning.
When I picked her up, I planned to leave the boys there and bring her to the store to pick up a few things before the regular 5:15 pick up time. THEN while I was getting details about her day from our daycare provider, she threw up ALL OVER ME. The good news is that while it drenched my top, it somehow missed my skirt and I had just picked up the dry cleaning this morning. The bad news that there wasn’t one of my own tops in the dry cleaning. So I ended up wearing one of Chris’ dress shirts.
By the time I got Eleanor and myself somewhat cleaned up, it seemed ridiculous to leave and come back, so I packed everyone in the car. We carpool with Chris, so even though I called and told him to leave early, we had to circle the metro for almost 30 minutes. Thank god for portable DVD players, and Curious George, and the fact that my kids didn’t feel like watching the WIggles since their songs are already haunting my dreams.
Fast forward an hour – we decided that we wouldn’t wait until tomorrow to see a doctor since she gave us a 105.2 temperature scare last summer due to a UTI. I had a feeling that this might be another one and I’d rather not relive waking up at 3:00 a.m. to find my daughter having a seizure. We agreed that Chris would take her to our local urgent care center since the boys are both convinced that the world comes to an end when I leave the room (and because we naively thought that it would only be a couple of hours).
Now it’s 9:30, they’ve been there almost four hours and it will probably be another two. Eleanor has an IV, a catheter and has had blood taken for testing. Poor Chris has a phobia of needles (he passes out when he gives blood) and has had to be there for all of it. I did it last time and it was hard enough for me!
I’m not worried about Eleanor for anything more than her immediate discomfort. I know that this is another UTI. It’s not the end of the world. I certainly know people that have experienced worse – but it doesn’t make it any less scary for her. It doesn’t make it any less disturbing for my husband. And it doesn’t make it any less frustrating for me. I want to be there. I want to hold her and comfort her and let her know that I will ALWAYS be there if she needs me. That’s my real job. I’m the mom.
This time I will have to go to work. I’ve already exceeded my current vacation time by making the last minute trip to Key West. Chris can stay home with her as necessary tomorrow and I can’t. It’s just not a good day. I hate even thinking that. How can it ever be a bad day to take care of my children. If Chris was traveling for work, I would have to rearrange my schedule. But he can manage taking the day off – so there is no reason for me to stay home. Other than the obvious reason that I WANT to.
Don’t get me wrong – on good days, I like having a job. I won’t go into the history of that because I’ve gone back and forth on the subject. But I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t want to be a working mom. It’s just not working for me today. And I’m feeling a little sorry for myself. And I’m feeling guilty for that since I know that I have so much to be thankful for.
I just wish I could trade for a minute. I want to be at the urgent care center right now. I want to be home with my daughter tomorrow. And I want to feel like I’m giving 100% of myself to my children.
Okay that’s it. Sorry – didn’t keep it short. I did try though.
Back to our regularly scheduled program. This is some dialogue from this weekend that I found “weird on so many levels”:
Conversation over lunch at Chipotle:
Oliver (3 years old): OFF! OFF!
Me: No. Boys don’t take off their shirts off at Chipotle.
Chris: Yeah – what do you think this is? Your mother’s favorite gay bar at the beach?
8/12/08, 10:00 p.m. Eleanor Update:
Okay – so she’s fine. We have no idea what was wrong with her – but she woke up this morning like, “psyche!” (I’m feeling very 80s). But she really did seem to be very sick last night – so we don’t regret the ER drama. I mean they hooked her up to tubes and all…so it wasn’t like they were just humoring us. Anyway – it doesn’t seem to be a UTI like I thought, she hasn’t had a fever in 24 hours and she was tearing around the house causing as much mayhem as ever up to the minute we put her to bed. So for everyone that has been sending words of support – all is well. One last thing. Chris told me that when they were in the ER, she kept asking for her twin brother, “where George?” How cute is that?