I 'pwomised'.

Kitchen table.  10:15 pm.

It was a pretty long day.  I took the kids out for the day, tutored in the afternoon, then had the kids again in the evening while Bill went to his hockey game.  At 7 pm, it seemed like Liam was fading fast.  I fed him his bottle and he was drifting off in my arms.  As his eyes began to close, Will bounded into the room, loud and full of energy.

To make a long story short, I promised (pwomised) him that we would make an art project (pwoject) as soon as Liam was in bed for the night.  In exchange, Will would play quietly on his own until I was ready.  

Liam was sleeping upstairs by 7:30.  I came downstairs, loaded the dishwasher and helped Will clean up his toys.  As I was taking out the markers, scissors, paper, stickers, etc, we heard Liam crying on the monitor.  He was wide awake and fussy.  He cried, on and off, for the next hour-- making it impossible for me to work with Will, who went back to his toys.

Finally, by 9 pm, Liam was back in the crib and sound asleep.  Will was standing outside of his little brother's room, reminding me in a whisper (as much as a 3-year-old can whisper) that it was time to 'make the awt pwoject'.  (Will's bed time is normally 9 pm.  This may seem late, but he takes a lovely 2 - 3 hour nap each afternoon.)  

So we headed downstairs.  I considered convincing him that we would do it tomorrow and that it was too late-- but he had been so good that I decided to keep the promise.  Even more so, I was just too exhausted to construct an argument persuasive enough to win him over.

Here is the finished product, along with my favorite night owl who, will hopefully sleep-in tomorrow.  

Note to Self

For future reference:

Leave no clean, folded laundry unattended.

Slush Day

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The phone rang around 4:30 am with news that Bill had a snow day.  We learned, later in the morning, that Will's school was open.  We looked outside and noticed that the snow was melting quickly and probably wouldn't stick around for long.  We called Will out of school, ate pancakes and headed outside.

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Although Will didn't go to school, he did learn a new word.

Slush.

Holy Moley.

"Honey, this is going to be a cosmetic procedure... it doesn't need to come off."

"Yes, but my grandfather had skin cancer..."

"This is definitely benign."

"... and it's doubled in size over the last couple years..."

"You've had children.  It's hormones."

And so went my third consultation with a dermatologist in the last couple of years.  Same conversation, different doctor.  However this time, I finally decided to get the mole below my mouth removed.  The doctor took a few moments to outline the surgery on my face with a black marker.  Then, before actually performing the surgery, he sent me back out into the crowded waiting room/reception area to pay the $450 out of pocket for a 'cosmetic' (not covered by insurance) procedure.  

I never saw myself as a candidate for any type of cosmetic surgery.  As I've gotten older, I have begun to feel more comfortable in my own skin.  Luckily, the minor issues I have can be cured with a few months on Weight Watchers, a Miracle Bra, the right pair of jeans and some routine waxings.  The one exception has been this mole.

This insecurity began in high school, as do most insecurities I guess.  I was at Great Adventure with a couple of friends and we were waiting on line for some ride.  I remember that it was insanely hot and sunny.  I was chatting with my then-boyfriend and in the middle of the conversation he felt it appropriate to burst out laughing and tell me that I had hair growing out of the mole on my face.  Now, I could have shot back a comment about his massively bad acne problem, but instead I covered my face in horror.  I laughed it off and went on with the day-- but to my 15-year-old self, this was earth shattering and an insecurity was born.  As years went by, it only got worse.  

Part of me is annoyed that I succumbed to the insecurity and got this procedure-- that I had what felt like a thousand stitches in my face this week-- that I spent a rare surplus in our bank account on something so nonessential... and painful.  

But another part of me is relieved that, when I bend down to talk to my three-year-old, he will no longer push on my mole and yell, "Beeeeeeeeeep!" at the top of his lungs.

And yes, it feels as bad as it looks.

The Ice Sculpture

When I saw Will's latest art project, I knew it would be trouble.  As I arrived to pick him up for school, it was sitting in his cubby.  Broken pieces of styrofoam held together by toothpicks-- they were calling it an 'ice sculpture'.  One of my arms was struggling with the 25-pound baby carrier and the other was juggling Will's lunch box, my purse and the book he wanted to borrow from the school library.  Add one ice sculpture to the list as we struggled up the stairs and out into the 18 degree weather.

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After school we were headed to a local pro shop to get Will some hockey equipment.  Will got his first pair of skates and gloves.  (Helmets were out of stock-- just one more thing to add to the weekend to-do list.  Awesome.)

We finally arrived home and I couldn't wait to get inside.  I assessed the situation and made a plan.  I left the car running while I brought in the garbage cans, checked the mail, unlocked the door and carried in the hockey purchases.  I went back outside, opened Will's door, undid the straps of his carseat and instructed him to go inside. 

"Carrrry meeee....", he whined.

I explained that I could not carry him and told him again to go inside.

"Carrrry meeeeee....", he whined again with a greater sense of urgency.  He was slumped against the dirty, salt-covered mini-van with a runny nose and tired eyes-- definitely in need of a nap.

I was tired too-- too tired to repeat myself.  I went around to the other side of the van to unload Liam and the diaper bag, lunch box, purse, book and... ice sculpture.

Will was now crying.

I came around the van and was headed towards the door-- the carrier in my left arm and everything else piled in my right.  Then came a gust of freezing wind, which sent the ice sculpture rolling down the driveway.  So I put everything down, chased down several pieces of styrofoam, then picked everything up and headed towards the door.  It was quiet.  

Had Will stopped crying?

No.

Was he outside?

No.

Why is the door shut?

He didn't.

Why is the door locked?

He did!

It was so fricking cold.  The keys were stuffed inside the diaper bag and my hands were full.  I was trying to knock with my elbows... trying to stay calm... trying to see the humor in this... thinking, "oh, in a few hours you'll be laughing at this".  About twenty seconds went by.  Then I was kicking the door, biting my tongue and trying to stay calm.  About twenty more seconds went by.  No sign of Will.  I put Liam down and dropped everything else.  I was seething.  I jammed my hand into the diaper bag, fished out the keys, and unlocked the door.  Will was inside, safe and warm, sitting at his train table in his coat and hat-- grinning at me from ear to ear.  While outside, a small part of me thought that this might be a mistake on his part, that he locked the door by accident-- but that look of self-satisfaction on his face sent that 'small part' of me packing.

Needless to say he was undressed and in bed for nap in record time.

And then I went back outside for the ice sculpture.

The Defamation of Daddy

Mondays through Thursdays are generally pretty hectic around here.  This week, for example:

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Monday:  Bill works late and gets home at 5 pm.  I leave for tutoring at 5:05 pm.

Tuesday:  Bill works, then has hockey until 7:45 pm.  I leave for tutoring at 8:00 pm.

Wednesday:  Bill works, has a dept meeting and gets home at 4:45 pm.  I leave for tutoring at 5:30 pm.

Thursday:  Bill works, then has hockey practice until 6:15 pm.  I leave for tutoring at 6:30 pm.

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Bill teaches full-time and then coaches ice hockey.  I tutor Sundays - Thursdays and lately I've been booking about 8 - 10 appointments each week.  I usually get home around 10 pm during the week.   

On most afternoons, I try to make dinner and/or bathe the kids before I leave.  However, Bill juggles the bedtime routines on his own.  Both kids are usually sleeping when I get home and only Liam is awake when Bill leaves for work the next morning.

Last week, Liam had a particularly fussy night and I got home just as Bill was tucking Will in for the night.  I went upstairs to say goodnight and I had asked Will what he did that night.  He played Transformers and trains, wrestled with Daddy, watched "WowWowWubbzy", etc.  I asked him if Daddy helped him brush his teeth.  His eyes opened wide as he realized that he forgot and he answered, "Daddy didn't brush my teeth."

Trying to be funny, I used my "mom voice" and turned to Bill, who was standing in the doorway.  "Daddy... you didn't brush Will's teeth?  You didn't brush Will's teeth?!"  

Will thought that this was hilarious and quickly added, "...and now I'm going to get cavities, mom!"

So we brushed and I told Will that if mommy or daddy ever forgot, that it was his job to remind us.  

This week, Will has this new routine that we go through every morning.  When Will wakes up, he puts his arms around my neck and spills the imaginary beans on his dad.

"Mommy, Daddy didn't brush my teeth..."

"He didn't?"

"And he didn't give me dinner..."

"No?"

"And he didn't play with me or help me go potty..."

"Really?"

"And he didn't read to me or tuck me in..."

"What?"

It goes on and on like this until Will runs out of ideas.  Then I get him to confess that Daddy actually DID do all of these things and that he was "just kidding" (which is Will's excuse for a lot of the trouble he gets into lately).

Part of me thinks I should have this big discussion about telling the truth, but another part of me thinks it's so cute.  My poor, tired husband's take on the cuteness of this issue?  Not-so-much.  

Catching Up with Six Things

Last Monday, my resolutions kicked in.  I started Weight Watchers and greatly reduced my coffee intake.  I kept the television and computer off for most of the day and spent more time playing with the kids.  Instead of falling asleep on the couch in the evenings, I started going to bed at a decent hour.  And the result?  A more patient and well-rested mom with happier kids who is down a few pounds and suffering from a slight headache due to sugar withdrawal.  Also, a blog that hasn't been updated in about a week.

For a quick update, here are six things I would've written about over the last six days, if I would have had the time and energy.  

1: Playdate at Chrissy's house. Will and I both met some new friends at a fun playdate. Chrissy made the most incredible sandwiches (chicken salad with apples on raisin bread... who knew?). Considering it was his first time meeting a lot of new kids, Will played pretty well. Proud mommy-moments included watching Will share, be polite and be kind to babies. Not-so-proud mommy-moments included watching Will make guns out of Legos, jumping off the ottoman and trying to pull the Thomas tent as it was full of other little kids.

2: "Are you kidding me?" Apparently, I say this a lot. I think this is my 'frustration phrase', reserved for times when I'm feeling stressed or irritated. For example, as we're running late for nursery school, when both kids are bundled and loaded into their carseats on a 20 degree morning and Will announces that he has to 'go potty right now'. Or when I've just finished bathing and feeding Liam, and he's finally drifting off to sleep, I hear the distinct sound of a diaper being dirtied. Are you kidding me? Now, it seems Will has adopted this seemingly harmless phrase.

"Will... come sit down for breakfast."

"Mom, are you kidding me?"

"Will... no more television."

"Mom, are you kidding me?"

"Will... time for a nap."

"Mom, are you kidding me?"

This is now his retort for any request he doesn't find pleasurable. He uses this pointedly annoyed tone and usually accompanies the phrase with a loud, deep sigh. Do I do that? Yep. Uh oh... Note to self: Omit 'sucks' and 'crap' from daily vocabulary before it's too late!

3:  Liam's 5-month well visit.  Liam had a well visit last Monday.  He is 26 inches and he weighs 17 pounds 10 ounces.  He got 2 shots and 0 tears-- He was happy and cooperative throughout the entire visit.  I think he likes all the attention.

4:   Twister.  We got Will a few new games for Christmas.  His favorite, by far, is Twister.  When he plays with mom, it's just Twister.  When he plays with dad, it becomes a wrestling match.

5:  Melanee's First Birthday Party.  We went to the party as a family and had a great time.  Bill and I enjoyed great food and conversation.  Will and Brodee made guns out of legos, ran and chased each other, destroyed the ball pit and tortured a poor 16-month old.  Liam discovered shiny, mylar helium balloons.  Like I said, great time.  

6:  Will's First Skating Lesson.  Will and dad had their first 'Parent and Tot' skating lesson.  Will did great.  He's one of the youngest out there and he made lots of improvement in the first week.  I met Bill and the kids at the rink, because I was coming from a tutoring appointment.  Bill got both kids ready and dressed Will in a matching outfit.  The pictures are priceless. 

Holiday Photos

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Nine in Nine

Resolutions, shmesolutions.

I don't usually make New Years Resolutions.  This is because I make resolutions almost everyday.  I usually get up in the morning and set some kind of goals.  For example, I might say to myself, "Today I'm going to _______."  This blank could be filled in with a number of different things-- avoid junk food, go to sleep earlier, remain calm, go for a run, read a book.  Unfortunately, I'm a great goal-setter and a not-so-great goal-getter.  But thankfully, tomorrow's always another day and a chance to do better.

So being that this is 2009: The Year of the Mom, here are nine major goals that I plan on accomplishing in the next year.

1) Read at least a dozen books.

2) Learn at least four new piano pieces.

3) Run a 5K.

4) Fit (comfortably) back into my pre-baby clothes.

5) Knit a hat for Liam.

6) Take a short (at least 2-night) vacation with Bill.

7) Quit biting my nails.

8) Find and serve on a volunteer community service project.

9) Edit/organize all of the video and photo footage we've accumulated in the past three years.