Raising Pirate Girls

The holiday season usually means amped up kids in my house. Neither pirate has a good concept of time so Christmas could mean tomorrow or next month. Wee One is so excited to decorate the house that she can't sit still. Wee Two sees the fake Christmas tree in the den and she's thinking "let's investigate" while I'm thinking, "Don't touch it." Needless to say no breakable ornaments this year. So what's a mom to do? Meditate.

I've decided to take 15 minutes every evening to meditate so I don't go crazy and lose my patience. I'm on day 4 now and only fell asleep once. Not bad. Now if I can only meditate my house clean. Maybe there's some Jedi trick to getting a clean house by using the force.

When I was pregnant with Wee Two I swore I would never call my kids by the wrong names. That goal bit the dust soon after Wee Two was born. Then a few months ago I realized if my back is turned and one of the pirate girls sneezes I can't tell which one did it. They have the same sneeze.

This evening I'm cooking dinner while Trophy Husband is having another late day at school. The girls are happily playing in the living room when I hear one of them getting loud. I remind them to keep the volume down. Then I hear the same daughter talking at scream level. Of course I shout from the kitchen, "Didn't I just say not to scream in the house?" (Kind of funny how I'll shout about no shouting in the house isn't it?) Then I rush in ready to give Wee One a good talking to except...she's sitting quietly on the couch flipping through one of my magazines and her little sister is standing in the middle of the room giving me a defiant pirate look and laughing. Now that Wee Two is talking up a storm some of her words sound exactly like Wee One's voice. I'm doomed until the Mom's power of having "eyes in the back of my head" kick in.

Yesterday I was at the mall taking a walk with the pirate girls when we saw Santa. Santa looked bored and wanted us to visit with him so Wee One gave him a hug and told him that she wanted him to give Wee Two a stuffed animal for Christmas and that she wanted a Jack-in-a-Box. She's definitely too old for a Jack-in-a-Box but I have a feeling she wants one just to take it apart and see how it works. She's into science and mechanical stuff. Wee Two gave Santa a grumpy look from my arms and kept saying, "No! No!" I don't blame her. Santa told Wee One that she was on the Nice List but she could a better job picking up the toys in her room, but not to worry that she still had time to work on it and then repeated that she's on the Nice List. Then he gave the girls candy canes which made Wee Two rethink her first impression of the big, hairy man in the red suit.

I knew what was going to happen as soon as we walked away. The Questions. There's always Questions with Wee One. I love her scientific mind but it's really hard to keep the spirit of Santa alive when I have to keep making up stories about how the whole Santa-thing works. Last year she realized that mall Santa couldn't be the real Santa. So I told her the mall Santas were Santa ambassadors who e-mail the real Santa every night up at headquarters in the North Pole to let the real Santa know what every child wants.

This summer Wee One tried to imagine the most unique toy ever just to see if the elves could make it in time for Christmas for her. So I sat her down and explained production schedules, manufacturing, outsourcing, and elf labor laws. No kidding.

Now Wee One wanted to know how Santa knows if she's picking up her toys in her bedroom. This time I gave my lame excuse of, "Well that sounds like a scientific question and since Daddy's a science teacher why don't you ask him tonight." Then I hoped she would forget, but not Wee One. As I was giving Wee Two a bath I hear her ask Daddy, "Does Santa look through our windows to see if I pick up my toys? Does he do that to everyone?" In my head I"m thinking, "Great, now she's going to think Santa is a Peeping Tom." Trophy Husband and I came up with a story about a department of elves that go around checking on the kids and since elves are small no one can see them checking on us. Then I silently pray to myself that I hope Wee One doesn't become a paranoid kid who think elves are always watching her.

I like the idea of Santa, but my gosh how hard it is to keep up this charade. The thing is that Wee One isn't questioning Santa's existence, she just wants to know how his whole operation works. She has one of those scientific, questioning minds which is wonderful in a 4 year-old, but it really keeps me on my toes. I can only imagine what the holidays are going to be like when Wee Two comes up with her own Santa questions.

Every few months Wee One becomes obsessed with an occupation. For a while she wanted to teach monkeys, then become a chef, then a letter carrier, an artist, a scientist, a doctor...now she wants to be a writer.

The past two days Wee One sat at her craft table in the kitchen and drew squiggly lines and pictures in her notebook to represent the story. Today, Wee One told me the story is titled, "She Went to the Savannah." I asked her to tell me more about her story and this is what Wee One said:

"The story is about Curly Head Girl who is kind of like Wee Two. She packs a lunch and tells her mommy that she is going to the savannah to visit her friend, an elephant named Cotton Candy. At the watering hole Curly Head Girl doesn't find her elephant friend, but meets a Giraffe who says he'll help her find the elephant. Along the way they meet up with a turtle named Slow. Soon they find Cotton Candy and have lunch. Curly Head Girl, Giraffe, Slow the turtle, and Cotton Candy the elephant have a great adventure."

Not a bad story for a 4 year-old who told me it would be much easier if she could just learn to write because then the story wouldn't keep changing half-way through because she forgets what comes next. I love what goes through that little girl's head.

All weekend Wee Two would grab a book and put it in my lap. Then she would climb in my lap and say, "Read!" It's the funniest thing to hear an almost 17 month-old in her baby voice asking for me to read to her. Of course Wee One would then remind her little sister, "You need to say please. Say read please." Then Wee Two would say "please" which comes out more like a squeak and it gives me the giggles. Kids are fun and I'm so happy they love books.

It's mid-October, which for me means drafting a Christmas list for my kids.  I know it seems early but,  I've already received several toy catalogs that I'd like to recycle before they clutter up the house. So during nap time I write down a list of possible stocking stuffer and Santa gift ideas for the wee pirate girls along with the price and website. Then in November I narrow my list down and comparison shop online before purchasing. The good thing is that I don't shop the malls during the busy holiday season, I can stick to a budget, and by buying online the kids still think Santa comes Christmas Eve with their surprises.

I like to tame the Wee Pirate Girls by tuning the radio to the classical music station during mealtimes. Tonight I found it amusing to hear both girls humming along with Tchaikovsky's "Sleeping Beauty Suite" as they ate enchiladas. Surprisingly enough there was no food thrown to the floor by Wee Two and Wee One didn't have a speck of sauce on her shirt. I should have Tchaikovsky during dinner more often, but somehow I don't think I'll get the same response from the "1812 Overture."

Found out this weekend the brakes on the minivan are starting to go. Since we can't get the car fixed until Wednesday, the kids and I have been walking to preschool and back, and the same for running errands, etc. A few preschool grandmothers and moms who know I usually walk the Wee Pirate Girls to school and then do pick-up in the car asked why I was walking both ways. These moms and grandmothers were already shocked that I make Wee One do the 20-25 minute walk to school every day. Since we don't have the car I let Wee One ride on the sit-and-stand stroller with her sister on the way home until we get to the bottom of our hill and then have her walk the reat of the way home (no way I'm pushing more than 60 pounds of kids plus a stroller up a hill). 

All this walking made me think of the country's child obesity problem. Why should it be shocking for a 4 year-old to walk 25-45 minutes a day? Wee One also walks the entire time at the zoo, mall, museums, etc. This shouldn't be surprising to people. Kids should also be outside playing. I try to have my girls play for at least an hour outside when it's dry and not too hot or cold. Wee One tells me that some days her class doesn't have time for the playground or the gym because they were working on other projects. Maybe I'm a "throw-back mom" but good old-fashioned fresh air and a lovely walk playing "I spy" sounds wonderful to me. In fact Wee One commented today that our walks to school are her favorite part of the day. Nothing like family bonding while getting some exercise.

After a day of museum-going with friends, Trophy Husband and I took the Wee Pirate Girls out to an Italian restaurant for dinner. On the way over I asked Wee One if she wanted to order ravioli or gnocchi. She said, "Silly Mommy, gnocchi is the cat on Curious George. You can't order him." Trophy Husband told Wee One, "The cat on George is named after the pasta." To which Wee One replied, "Oh" but I don't think she understood.

When the waiter placed Wee One's dinner in front of her she said rather strongly, "This isn't what I ordered!" I said, "Yes, honey that's gnocchi." Wee One replied, "Noooo, I don't think so." Then I realized the problem and asked, "Are you disappointed the pasta isn't in the shape of the cat on Curious George?" "Yeah," was the reply. The two late-twenty-something girls at the table next to us couldn't help over hearing our conversation and started laughing hysterically. Oh well, it may not have been shaped like a cat, but it was delicious. Wee One ate almost all the gnocchi on the adult-sized order.

Yesterday, the girls and I were playing in the yard. Wee Two was busy discovering rocks and leaves. Wee One decided play with sidewalk chalk. I drew a few large gingerbread people outlines for her to draw in the faces and clothes. She drew clothes on two of the people. On the third person Wee One drew a heart in the middle of the chest. Then she asked, "Mommy, how do you draw lungs? They go around the heart, right?" So I showed her how to draw lungs and then she drew them on her person. Then Wee One asked, "What shape is a stomach?" I responded that it kind of looks like a baloon lying on its side. She then drew a stomach under the heart and lungs. Then it was, "What comes next?" I explained about intestines and said they looked liked snakes. She drew intestines. Satisfied with the middle of her person Wee One asked, "What's in our feet?" I explained about bones, muscles, and veins. Wee One excitedly said she was going to draw some veins in the feet. Then she exclaimed, "Look Mommy, here's a vein in my hand!" and pointed to a little blue vein. 

Wee One is 4 years-old. I'm so excited that her brain is this big huge sponge and she wants to learn everything...right now. However, I couldn't help thinking this poor child is going to be completely frustrated in Pre-K. So far she enjoys school, but she keeps asking me when will her teachers teach her how to read. Looks like I'll have to teach her on the weekends.

Trophy Husband and I bought a new used car recently and as I was filling out the paperwork I came across the dreaded question box titled "Occupation." When I first became a stay-at-home mom I felt guilty that I was at home with my little girl playing with Play-doh, going to the park, and enjoying Curious George instead of being stuck in meetings, writing marketing material, and trying to explain to management that marketing takes months of advanced planning. Although I was at home I would still write "Marketing" in the Occupation box.

Once the stay-at-home mom guilt stopped and I started feeling good that I could play and multi-task with two kids I wrote "Mother" in that Occupation box. As my pen hovered over the paperwork last week with Trophy Husband sitting next to me he said, "write homemaker." So I wrote down "homemaker" but in my head I heard a little voice that said, "Eww, I'm not a 1950s housewife! I don't vacuum my house wearing a cute frilly apron, a string of pearls, and red lipstick. I don't have dinner on the table as soon as my husband arrives home from work. My house is not spotless!" For some reason I really dislike the term "homemaker." I'm not Martha Stewart and my dust bunnies can vouch for that. However, I like to think I'm really good with my pirate girls, the wash gets done, the trash gets taken out, and there are groceries in the fridge. Who cares if it's actually Trophy Husband who does the cooking every night.

I've being wondering why I dislike the term "homemaker." The definition of the word is -- "a person who manages the household of his or her own family, esp. as a principal occupation." Yep, that's me. Maybe I don't like the word because the perfectionist in me wants to be able to do it all -- have fun with the kids and have a clean, organized home. Maybe I don't want people to think a homemaker is some tired woman who wears yoga pants all the time and has kids hanging off of her. Perhaps one day I'll be able to embrace my inner "homemaker," but for now I think I'll go back to writing "Mother" in that occupation box. At least until the dust bunnies decide to move out.

If you ever wanted to know what stay-at-home moms think about after a long day it's chocolate and ice cream. Last night I had an ice cream emergency. I desperately needed some as I was driving around town at 8:30 last night as a last resort to get Wee Two to go to sleep. Fortunately mostly_irish called so I asked her, "Why can't someone open up an ice cream delivery service? If they can do it with pizza, why not ice cream? Or at least have a drive-thru so I can get a gallon on the go." I bet there would be lots of moms who could use such a service. Alas I went home with a sleeping child and resorted to a back-up plan of peanut M&Ms and iced tea.

Wee Two will be a one year-old on Thursday and has decided to put toddler-hood on-hold so she can explore being a mountain goat. That's right, she can walk around while holding onto furniture or a push toy, but decided that independent walking isn't as cool as going vertical. In the past two weeks the mountain goat has scaled: 3 different play tables, her sister's toy piano, the end table in the living room, a cardboard box, the stairs, Wee One's toddler bed, managed to perch on top of her shopping cart several times, and kneel on the saddle of her new pink ride-on pony in order to grab a hold of the top of one of the child proof gates in the living room. Wee Two is giving me worry lines as I attempt to keep her grounded. At this rate she'll grow-up to be either a stunt woman or a Sherpa. When will this climbing phase end?

Wee Two gets excited about clean laundry. The past two days she's created a sport of diving into laundry baskets filled with soft, warm, clean laundry. It's quite funny to watch an almost 1 year-old get up on her tippy-toes and since she's too short to crawl in, she dives head first into the laundry basket with her back end up in the air. Then she wiggles her body to get her legs into the basket after her. Once she's in Wee Two makes a little nest for herself in the clothes. It's taking me longer to fold the laundry, but Wee Two makes me laugh as she repeatedly dives in and tries to climb out of the basket. Then when all the laundry is finally folded and the basket is empty of clothes Wee One gets in the basket and Wee Two makes a sport of diving into her sister's lap. It's never a dull moment in my house.

Three weeks ago I checked out a book for Wee One, "D.W. Gets Her Library Card." It's part of Marc Brown's Arthur series of books. D.W. is Arthur's little sister and happens to be a year or two older than Wee One. After reading the book for two weeks Wee One wanted to know if she could get her own library card.

Last week as we were walking into the library Wee One says, "Mommy, I want to ask the librarian, not you." Then she proceeds to race five steps ahead of me and I hear her asking the librarian quite loudly, "Can I have a library card? Am I old enough?" I was relieved when the librarian said "Yes!" Wee One beamed and immediately went to the play area while I handled the business of the library card.

This morning Wee One practiced writing her name small so that she could write it on her library card. Then off we went. She picked out three books and handed them to the librarian proudly stating, "This is my very own library card!" It was quite a moment for me since my first job in high school was working as a page in the town library. 

By the way, it's National Library Week so go check out a book. www.ala.org

Another reason I love Marc Brown's aardvarks -- The "Arthur" theme song suddenly became the magical song that can calm Wee Two down no matter how upset she gets.

Wee One and I got crafty with some Easter blooms as a centerpiece for my mother-in-law.



Elmer's glue, felt, mini pom-poms, popsicle sticks...I feel like I'm back in elementary school art class.

Wee One was playing a few computer games on the www.pbskids.org site this morning. I walk into the room and realize she's playing a Word Girl game and the little announcer guy is saying the word eradicate. 
I asked, "Do you know what eradicate means?"
Wee One responded, "Yes Mom, it means to get rid of."
"O.K." I say.
Then Wee One adds, "I eradicate Mommy."
Surprised, I ask, "You do? How?"
She answered, "I eradicate tissues after I blow my nose."

This is from the girl who told me she doesn't want to go to pre-K in the Fall because, "Mommy I know everything already."

Meanwhile my youngest may not have a way with words yet, but she is getting adventurous. She's trying to eat the houseplants and crawl up the stairs.

Friday morning on the way home from our mall walk I stopped at the grocery store to pick up pizza fixings for dinner. As soon as we parked Wee One exclaimed, "Mommy! Where is your list?" To which I responded, "I don't have a list. We're just picking up stuff for pizza night." She retorted with, "But Mom, you always have a list. What are we going to do?" (Wee One is a bit dramatic.) I said, "We'll wing it. It'll be okay." That's when I realized my kids think I'm the Mom with the plan, the list, the routine lady.

It's true. As a former business chick and now as a mom with two small kids I feel life will be less chaotic with a plan, a list, a routine. Every week Trophy Husband, Wee One, and I sit at the breakfast table and plan out the menu for the week at the bottom of our grocery list. Then I bring the girls and we buy what's on the list. I pre-shop on-line before going to a store to try something on. I'll even check the local library's on-line catalog and write down titles that will be on the shelves to save browsing time with two kids in a quiet library. Mondays are garbage collection, changing the sheets, and washing sheets and towels. Wednesday is zoo class. Friday is making pizza night. Predictable...yes. Less chaotic...maybe a little.

It's funny how a certain non-event like going to the grocery store without a list suddenly made Wee One think I was out of control. Yes, I did buy myself Hostess Cupcakes. I also bought a treat for Wee One and Wee Two. $40 bucks later I realized why I go to the store with a list.

I recently treated myself to a very fashionable silk scarf from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It's a pretty blue William Morris trellis print with a hint of pink in it. The scarf is very lovely, however my neck reacted violently. Turns out suddenly I'm allergic to 100% silk. How else to explain the unsightly red bumps all over my neck. My glands are swollen and I look like I've had a touch of the plague for the past week. I finally broke down and visited the doctor's office today. They too said my neck must be allergic to the silk. I don't get it. I used to wear silk scarves once upon a time. Now my neck will just have to go bare. So for the next few days I'll be strolling around town with a fashionably ugly rash. Ick!

I'm on a quest to find the perfect pair of pants. Unfortunately I'm not a toddler. Some brands of toddler jeans and pants have this incredible device consisting of buttons and elastic tabs inside the waistband. You can customize the fit of the pants by buttoning the elastic tabs to fit the size of your child's waist. Why can't pant companies do this for women as well? Certain times of the month I feel bloated and I would be able to let the elastic tabs out. Other times let's say I've managed to get in a few workouts and could button the elastic tabs up to form a smaller waist. How cool would it be to have pants that always fit no matter what?