Clean Laundry

Disclaimer: if you don't want to read about poop, just skip this post.  A know at least a few of our friends who will read on.  You know who you are.  

So...Clara's been potty training, as I might have mentioned.  And she's doing great.  But, she's only two, so of course there are accidents, especially when I'm not good about reminding her.  Sometimes these are a bit messy if she happens to poop in her pants.  Well, we had a bad one the other day, and in those cases honestly we sometimes just toss the underwear in the garbage.  But the jeans went into the wash.  Later, when I was folding the laundry, I found a little ball of poop that had made it through both the washer and the dryer.  There it was, just hanging out with all the clean clothes.  What to do, wash everything again, or just throw it out and move on?  We folded the laundry.  As Bridges said, it was clean poop.  

Finally, Pigtails

Happy with Two

The other day Lee said to me, out of the blue, "Mommy, too bad you have two kids.  It would be so much easier with just one".  She went on along these lines for a while, with me gently probing to find out what she was talking about.

I'm not sure where she heard this.  I have certainly never complained about having two kids.  Seriously, I grew up with five, seen my sister with her four boys, and fully realize I have it pretty easy.  But perhaps some stranger at a store said something that stuck with her about being busy with two little ones, or something to that effect.  

So I assured her that I loved having two children and that there was no way I wanted one less.  

Just a bit later, I put on a video for them to watch and looked over and saw them like this.  How could I only have had one, I thought?  

Best Friends

The Vernal Equinox

Today was the first day of spring.  At 7:44 am, according to my datebook.  At which time it was, for yet another day in this awfully long month of March, below freezing.  It's spring, Boston-style!  But, the days are certainly longer, and the sun feels stronger.   We took advantage of that to go to a new park we've discovered called Beaver Brook.  The magic of the place is a small babbling brook that is deep enough to carry things downstream, but shallow enough to rarely get over the tops of the girls' rainboots.  

 

Linda and Liam met us there with Mali, who spent the time fearlessly running around with much larger dogs and going after tennis balls.  

"Mommy, this is even excellenter than I thought it would be!" declared Lee.  "I'm learning new tricks, and disploring a lot!"  

Of course when it's only 41 out, the fun rapidly comes to a halt when the cold water goes over the top of the boot, or someone slips and falls in the quite chilly water.  But I had come prepared with extra clothes, and the girls were soon dry enough to continue on to the playground (my unfortunately soggy and chilly foot being the exception, because I was so busy grabbing things for them I didn't bring either waterproof boots or a change of socks for myself).  

Fabulous

I wish I could dress myself in polka dots, stripes, AND flowers, and then walk out the door thinking I looked simply fabulous.  

No Lizards

A while back Clara had a bad dream while she was napping.  She thought that there were lizards on my bed (which is where she usually naps).  It has really stuck with her, because every time she wakes up from a nap now, and I ask her how she slept, she says "No lizards on Mommy's bed!"

What Happened, Mommy?

We used to call Lee Calamity Jane, because she was always there to check it out when something went wrong.   You dropped a glass, or spilled something, and all of a sudden, there was Lee asking you for all the details of what was going on (which is really irritating when you're really frustrated about breaking something or the like).  

Lee seems to mostly be past this, but Clara has, in her more mellow way, taken up the call.   She doesn't usually come running, but just pipes up in this inquisitive voice, "WHAT HAPPENED, MOMMY?"    

The other day I developed a horrible case of hiccups (in the middle of practicing for my voice lesson).  For some reason these were loud, although they were occuring pretty infrequently, about every minute or so.  Clara was in the playroom, and I gave up singing and went into the kitchen to do something.  Every time I would hiccup, I would hear Clara pipe up from the other room,  with exactly the same emphasis, "WHAT HAPPENED, MOMMY?"

It was pretty funny.   But Clara learned about hiccups.   

Real or Pretend?

Lately, Lee often wants to confirm whether something is real or pretend.  Is a story about genies pretend?   What about the one with ghosts?  The story where I lost a tooth chewing taffy as a kid?  

Movies are a source of speculation as well.  With the quality of animation today, the line between real and pretend isn't all that clear to a kid.  I'm not sure Lee understands that Finding Nemo is animation, but Planet Earth is real.

Today we were watching the movie "Cars," and she suddenly said to me, "Mommy, I know this is NOT real. Real cars don't have eyes, AND they definitely do not talk."

Oh, good.  We're making progress.  

Good News

It's been a long winter here (although I think I've felt that way every year since having children).     

So this past weekend, which was sunny and in the mid-50's, was wonderful.  The kids had spring fever, and they wanted to be outside all the time.  We really enjoyed the weather.

It also happened to be the onset of daylight savings time (in early March?!?).  I've always thought that Spring Forward! sounds so nice and cheerful, but the reality doesn't feel that way on Monday morning.  Of course, theoretically the kids should sleep in an hour, but not in our house.  6 am Monday (which, let's be honest, was really 5 am), Lee tiptoes into our room.  

"Mommy, Daddy, I have good news!" she whispers, at a surprisingly loud volume for a whisper.

"What, Lee?" I grunt.

"It's snowing!" 

She pauses long enough to let that sink in.  

"Really hard!" she adds.  

We almost groaned audibly.  

Joint Replacement #3

My mom had her hip replaced last Thursday.  Her first hip was done many years ago (10-15 we think, although no one seems to remember exactly when), one of her knees about four years ago, and now her second hip.  I tell her she's going to be a bionic woman soon.  

I don't think she expected it to be worse this time around, but she is significantly older and it really took a lot out of her.  I took the kids to the hospital Friday and Saturday, and last night I went by myself.   I sat and read to her, and helped her to roll over, and gave her my fleece so she could take her arms out from under the blankets and not be cold.  It's strange, taking care of her in such a physical way.  

I think of how physical a mother's relationship is with a baby.  The hours of nursing, the constant diapering, the bathing.  How even by Lee's age there is less and less touching, and by the pre-teen years things have settled into a hug in the morning and a kiss at night.  Then there are years apart, until you become like me and my mom, giving each other a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek at the beginning and end of each visit.   

Who's Your Daddy?

Today the kids were eating lunch in the kitchen, and, apparently unbeknownst to Clara, Bridges was working upstairs, when we heard the mailman walk up the stairs to put the mail in our box.  

"Mommy, it's the mailman," Lee said.

"No, it's Daddy," Clara said.

"No, it's the mailman!" Lee insisted, and they went around a few more times, but Clara was adamant that it was in fact her Daddy arriving home.  

Hmmm......does she know something I don't know?

A Baby's Laugh

We've been listening to Peter Pan in the car.  I don't believe I ever read the story as a kid, and the first I really knew of it was from watching the movie Neverland with Johnny Depp.  

I'm really enjoying the story and am thrilled with the world that J.M. Barrie created.  It amazes me that an adult would be able to think like he did, but I suppose that's the whole point of the story.  

I was tickling Clara tonight, and listening to her laugh, and it reminded me of my favorite line in the book.  It's this:

"You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the very first time, the laugh broke up into a thousand pieces of light, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. So now every time a new baby is born, its first laugh becomes a fairy." 

Too Spicy

Clara's saying some funny things recently.  She doesn't really seem to understand the fine difference between "I don't want" and "I don't like."  So, for instance, she'll eat 3/4 of a banana, and then hand the rest back to you, saying "I don't like it banana."

Which is also funny, because she doesn't seem to understand that you don't use "it" if you actually specify an object.  So she will say "I don't like it shoes," or "I don't like it Lee screaming," or "I don't like it bedtime."  

Recently she also seems to have picked up a misconception regarding the word "spicy."  Spicy came into her vocabulary in a normal manner.  Something she ate a few weeks ago was "too spicy."  But now suddenly, everything she doesn't like is "too spicy."  I told her a few days ago that it was almost dinnertime, and she said "I don't like it dinner.  Too spicy."  And today she said "I don't like it ride in car.  Too spicy."  

Lee, as worldly as she is, either laughs or looks at me and rolls her eyes, as if to say "Oh, that Clara."  

No Frosting

The other day after dinner Lee asked if she could have dessert.  I thought about it and said, "Well, Lee, you had hot chocolate earlier today, and a piece of cake for a snack, so I think you've probably had enough sweets today."

"But Mommy, that cake wasn't dessert!  It didn't have any frosting!"

"Lee, not all cakes have frosting on them."

"I'm NEVER eating that cake again!  Not even when I'm a grownup!"  

Half-Naked Art

It's actually the artist and not the art that's half-naked.  

When you're potty training, it's just easier to keep the pants off.  

Snow