Feel My Feet

Yesterday Hannah was playing outside in her crocs. When she came in, she took her shoes off, almost slipped on the floor and said, "Oh, my feet are all sweaty." Then, with genuine enthusiasm, she added, "Feel my feet, mom! They're all sweaty!"

Ummm, no thanks?

Yet, she so expected me to jump at the opportunity. Her little foot proffered in the air. Face alight with this exciting discovery.

Really, her innocence is endearing. Her sweaty feet... not so much.

The Affirmative Why

I understand that with toddlers, the inevitable "why" stage must occur. And it makes sense that as they try to understand the world around them, they ask questions - lots and lots of questions. It also goes to follow that many of those questions are simply expressed as "why?", with each successive answer followed by yet another round of "why?"s. It also makes perfect sense to me, that when something is denied (say, another cookie) an explanation is demanded. However, what I find strange, is the affirmative "why". See examples below:

Hannah: Can I have a cookie, please? (notice how I make her sound so polite?)
Me: Sure. (I am very generous and kind)
Hannah: Why?
Me: Because you asked for one!

Hannah: Can I put this blanket on the chair?
Me: Sure.
Hannah: Why?

Hannah: Am I being really loud?
Me: Yes.
Hannah: Why?

It just seems odd to me. It's like she's pre-programmed to ask "why" in any interaction, whether applicable or not. And what I want to know is...

WHY?

Can We Have a Do-Over, Please?

It's 8:30am and I've been up for 2 hours. Two of the longest hours of my life, it seems. I'm not sure quite what happened, but somehow both kids woke up in terrible moods. Mine quickly disintegrated to match theirs. I started taking a deep breath each time I went to speak to avoid snapping. Soon I was taking a deep breath, counting to ten, closing my eyes, plugging my ears... didn't help. Jacob wouldn't leave me alone and Hannah was having her own personal crises every few seconds. Somehow in all the chaos, I managed to get a load of laundry in and the dishwasher emptied (and then filled again, tells you something about the state of my kitchen). As I finally carried Jacob up for his morning nap, I could hear Hannah crying that she wanted a pretzel. Not just crying - a really annoying combination of whining/crying/panicking that she has perfected and employs regularly.

Now Jacob is in bed and blessedly quiet. Hannah is badgering me to "touch the H" on the computer, now she's fallen on the floor in a fit of despair, saying "Owie, owie" (her way of seeking sympathy when she's in trouble or upset for any reason), oh, she's up again and asking for a balloon that blew away yesterday. Is it just me or is she practically seeking out disappointments to support her current mood?

My only hope is that when my family arrives (they are on their way as I type - or they'd better be), their arrival will alter the dispositions my kids acquired over night. And since Jacob is in bed and not hanging off me right now, I'm going to have a cup of tea that I trust will alter mine...

A Few of My Least Favourite Things

Teardrops on faces and whining from kiddies,
strange shrieking noises and cups missing liddies,
tangled up pony tails twisted with strings,
these are a few of my least favorite things.

Cream colored spit-up and random weird stains,
door bells that ring while I'm napping in vain.
A three-year-old's tantrum in grocery store wings,
these are a few of my least favorite things.

Girls in white dresses who push down their brothers,
then blame all the crying on invisible others,
tired young babies that nap for mere minutes,
these are a few of my least favorite things.

When the kids cry, then the phone rings,
when I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my least favorite things,
and then I still feel quite bad ;)

Aiding and Abetting

Today Hannah worked really hard to get her brother in trouble. He was down the hall and I asked him (rhetorically, of course) if he was climbing the baby gate (again). Then I went to check and saw that he was merely playing with the hose from the vacuum cleaner. No sooner was I back in the kitchen when Hannah said, "Now he's climbing the gate!" And he was, because mysteriously the vacuum hose had been placed on the other side. And this was only one of many efforts to "bribe" poor, unsuspecting Jacob into the land of forbidden behaviour, where mom gets you "in big trouble".

But really, I can't fault her too much. After all, when I was her age, actually a bit older, I used to watch my younger sister get in trouble for taking off her clothes and diaper in her crib. Then one night, when my mom had had enough and warned her that she would get a spanking if she did it again, I got out of bed and helped her undress. I even undid the pins on her diaper and tried to throw them like she would. I then jumped back in bed and called out, "Mom, Sharlene's stripping again!"

Like mother, like daughter. Ingenuity, perhaps? Definitely a sign of a well-developed intellect...

If you're tired, why don't you SLEEP?

Okay, I've talked previously about Jacob's lack of good sleep habits, but seriously, the child is killing me. Today, yet again, he was nice and tired right around afternoon nap time... eye rubs, the whole nine yards. Went down like a dream. And then woke up 30 min. later bright eyed and bushy-tailed. No chance of getting him to sleep a bit longer. Fine. We got up, we played. And then he started rubbing his eyes again. And getting whiny. And becoming increasingly high maintenance. Clearly, he needed more sleep. But bringing him anywhere near his room resulted in the kind of resistance usually associated with cornered animals... or crazy animals. Remember, his sister is trying to sleep right next door (she is, in fact, having a blissful 2 1/2 hour nap, like she always does, because she enjoys sleeping). So we struggle through the afternoon, and then when it's finally time for bed in the evening, he snuggles into his blanket and goes right to sleep. For maybe an hour. And then the bedtime battle begins... (which, incidentally, is why whenever we get a babysitter for a night out, I have to have some bonus money on hand, just in case Jacob decides to be - well, Jacob).

Hannah-isms

The mind of a 3-year-old...

Dad: "Hannah, don't stand on your bed."
Hannah: "I'm not. I'm standing on my pillow."

When the toast popped up:
Me: "Pop goes the weasel!"
Hannah: "No, pop goes the toaster."

Me: "Hannah, don't jump on the couch."
Hannah: "I'm not. I'm just stepping high."

Me: "Hannah, did you pooh your pants?"
Hannah: "I'm not wearing pants! I'm wearing shorts."

Hannah to Jacob: "Don't be such a loudy boy."

Hannah after passing some road construction: "Mom, I want to see more tractors and dirt and men."

Of course you do.

To Bed or Not to Bed

Bed times around here are fairly consistent. Jacob goes to bed around 6:00 and Hannah around 7:00. Jacob doesn't always stay asleep, but it usually only takes a few minutes to settle him again, and then a kid-free evening awaits.

The other night, with Scott being out, I had lovely plans for my evening. I was going to finish Jacob's baby book and then work on my novel, with a steaming cup of tea at my side. Instead this is what I got:

Jacob went to bed at 6:00. Before Hannah was in bed, I'd had to settle him at least 3 times. Then Hannah went to bed at 7:00. Jacob woke up again. I was calming him down and I could hear Hannah calling to me from her room. I finished with Jacob and went to see what she wanted. Got her back into bed and went downstairs. Then had to go right back up to Jacob. And then back to Hannah who had decided she didn't like her P.J.s and was trying to change them. Back downstairs. Up again. Now Hannah had lost the letter "O" under her bed. You can see the pattern here. Back to Jacob, then to Hannah who was scared of the flamingo that had come to visit her through the window.

So, while I didn't ever get to sit down, I did get some fabulous exercise. Sprinting down the hall, leaping over the baby gate, flying up the stairs, all the while hearing a strange internal voice in slow-motion shouting, "Nooooooooooooo..." as I raced against time to prevent one child from waking up the other (normally not a huge concern for me, but I'd been putting in a Herculean effort to get these kids to sleep). By 9:00, my dreams of a productive evening had been dashed. I decided to cut my losses and take a book to bed for an early night instead. That way I wouldn't have to climb any more stairs in the inevitable event of another wake-up.

Oh well, tomorrow is another night...

What's in a Name?

My niece, who is 4, has known for a while how to write her name. One day she was practising writing JORDYN over and over again on a piece of paper. She filled a whole page. Then she started writing JOTIDPEY. She filled another page and informed her mother that it still spelled Jordyn, only with the letters she liked best. Those were the letters she wished were in her name.

Same name. Same pronunciation. Just new letters. Better letters. JOTIDPEY. Why not?

Where, oh where, has my patience all gone?

This morning, a dismal, rainy morning, both kids slept in until 8:00. That, in and of itself, is a luxury. And logically, that luxury should have resulted in two well-rested children and a grateful, happy mother. Instead, after changing Hannah's pee-soaked pajamas and sheets, while listening to Jacob cry in the next room, I found myself already getting frustrated. Then Hannah didn't want to get dressed. And I immediately went into completely irritated, had-it-to-here mode. Where did that come from? That kind of attitude should be reserved for the end of the day, when one more whiny comment is enough to send you over the edge.

Alas, by 10:00 when Jacob was fighting his nap and Hannah was still whining about the strangest things, I thought we might all have to go back to bed and start over. Instead, I gave Jacob an "emergency nurse" (yeah, how's that weaning thing going?) and I let Hannah "clean" the windows with a diaper wipe (one of her favourite things to do, though it leaves disgusting streaks that I have clean later). So, now all is peaceful and quiet and well with the world again.

But I'm a little worried. Do I really have that short a fuse? I mean, they slept in! That alone should have shored up some goodwill in my heart. Where has my patience gone and how do I get more?

How's Your Self-Esteem?

The other day, due to a rare and unprecedented backlog in laundry, none of my regular stay-at-home outfits (read comfy, yet ugly clothes) were available. So I pulled out a pair of casual dress pants. Nicely tailored, clean lines. I felt quite... put together.

Just before dinner, Hannah looked at me and said, half laughing, "You look like you're wearing pajamas on the bottom and clothes on top." More laughter. "You look silly."

Really? Pajamas on the bottom? I used to wear these pants to work and think that I looked good. Now, that pajama comment will forever be in the back of my mind. Granted, Hannah is 3, and her style choices often leave something to be desired; still, it hurt. Those were good pants... I thought.

So my wounded pride limped upstairs to get ready for bed. No need to change.

Training for Tantrums

Are all kids born with the innate knowledge that in order to throw a proper tantrum one must hurl oneself on the ground? If so, Jacob might be in training for these future theatrics. Lately, when he's upset, he ever-so-gently lowers himself to the ground and puts one cheek on the floor. Then he cries a little bit. After that, he lifts himself up and crawls away, whatever upset him long forgotten. It looks suspiciously like a mild attempt at a tantrum. At the very least, he's assuming the flat-out-on-the-floor position.

Or maybe, just maybe - due to his inability to master sleeping through the night or taking naps that his mother deems an appropriate length of time - he's just tired.

More Mush, Please!

Jacob is a big fan of being spoon-fed. He still loves his purees or mashed-up food and is not very interested in feeding himself or trying finger foods. I'm pretty sure that by the time Hannah was one, she was eating little bowls filled with ham and cheese pieces. Jacob gags on the ham and gums the cheese like it's made of glue. He will eat whole blueberries in his yogurt, but try giving him one by itself and he looks at it as if it's a piece of glass.

I know it's wrong to "compare" your children to others, but I'm going to do it anyway. My friend's son, who is a bit younger than Jacob, eats anything he can grab off your plate. That includes things like peppers. Just grabs a slice and starts taking little bites. Then again, his older sister's first crayon drawings resembled actual Japanese characters.

Jacob doesn't just snub his nose at bit-sized fruit and veggies, he wouldn't even eat his chocolate birthday cake until his dad fed it to him on a spoon! So, bring on the baby mush (and then a few nursings through the night as a night cap, or two, or three).

Don't Talk

Lately Hannah has a new way of letting me know when she a)doesn't like what I have to say, or b)doesn't want to get in trouble. It works like this:

Me: Hannah, please stop (insert any unacceptable behaviour).

Hannah: Mom, don't (in a somewhat whiny voice).

Me: Don't what?

Hannah: Don't talk (often with giving me "the hand"). Just don't talk.

OR

Me: It's time to go home now.

Hannah: Stop talking.

OR

Me: (not talking, but giving what I hope is a "don't even think about it" look)

Hannah: Mom, don't (again, with the whiny voice).

Me: Don't what? (I mean, I'm not talking...)

Hannah: Don't make that face.

I wonder, how would this approach work on a police officer issuing a speeding ticket? She might be onto something...