How’d She Get So Smart?
Saturday morning, at around 6:45 a.m., the Big One was standing outside our bedroom door. Yes, she disregarded the Good Nite Lite and the fact that the sun was definitely not shining.
We have a baby gate up in our doorway. It allows me to hear the girls if they need something, but keeps Gracie Lou corralled in our room. Yes, Gracie Lou has earned the right to free reign of the house during the day when we go out to run errands, but I’m not ready to let her roam at night. More than anything, I don’t want her going in the Big One’s room and waking her up.
So anyway, the Big One is standing at the baby gate, saying, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.” Yes, I admit I was awake, but pretending to be asleep. It was early and I was still tired.
So I reluctantly opened my eyes and said, “Is your sun on?” She responded that no her sun wasn’t on, but there was a bug in the bathroom.
I guess she got up to go potty and discovered a cricket in the bathroom.
Here’s my question, why when she found a bug that needed dealing with, did she tell me?
Why not say, “Daddy there is a bug in the bathroom?” Why does it always have to be the FixItMommy who deals with spills, bumps, bruises and bugs?
Ahhhh, that’s right, Mommy knows best. Besides, I guess it’s job security for me to remain the FixItMommy. {granted “job” implies I get paid for what I do… yeah not so much}
Although, I suppose I do get paid in the form of love, admiration and portraits.
Yep —-> that’s me according to the Big One. Awesome, huh?
By the way, but the time the Husband got inot the bathroom, the cricket was nowhere to be found.
My Favorite Things: Good Nite Lite
Moms love to share their information and knowledge with other moms. I guess we figure that it’s hard enough being a mom, that anything we can do to support each other or make the day a little smoother is worth sharing.
So today, I bring you one of my new favorite gadgets: the Good Nite Lite.
Both of my girls are early risers. Up until a few weeks ago, both girls were up by 6:30 a.m. at the latest. I know for many of you that’s late, but for theFixItMommy that’s a tough time.
It’s not that I am still asleep at that time, it’s that I am trying to enjoy one peaceful cup of coffee downstairs before the chaos ensues.
I saw an advertisement for the Good Nite Lite in one of my magazines. I cannot remember which one. I have this habit of finding free or next to free subscriptions to magazines and I go with it. At any given time, I may have 10 or 12 different magazines coming to the house.
{Just a side note: Here’s a subscription to Real Simple for $5 }
So anyway, the Good Nite Lite is a round nightlight that has a moon face and a sun face. Parents can set the time for bedtime (the moon lights up) and also for wake-up time (the sun lights up).
I’m telling y’all the thing is awesome. It’s in the Big One’s room. Quite often when the Little One wakes up around 6 a.m. she will talk herself back to sleep as long as the Big One doesn’t engage her in conversation.
We’ve had it for about three weeks now. It didn’t take the Big One long to get the concept. She is so smart, she got it on the first day and was very excited to try it out. She knows that when the moon face is on, it’s still time to sleep. But when the sun face comes on, she can get up.
Prior to the Good Nite Lite, we would go through all the stalling techniques prior to getting her in bed. The Big One needed water or to go potty, or “to tell you one more thing.” Now when the moon clicks on (at 7 p.m.) she knows we need to wrap up the routine. If we are still reading a story when it turns on, she will say, “Uh-oh, my moon is on, it’s time for bed!”
Then the most amazing part is if she wakes up to go potty somewhere between 6 and 6:30 a.m. (which she often does), she will go back to bed until the sun comes on at 7:30 a.m.
Before the Good Nite Lite came into our lives, the Big One would stand at the top of the stairs, screaming “Is it time to wake up yet?” It was not a pleasant way to start every day.
But now she knows when it’s time to get up and when it’s time to quietly go back to bed.
So to the inventors of the Good Nite Lite, I salute you!
Revenge of the Bathtub
The Husband was gone last week for work. When he got home last night just in time for tubby, I was very relieved to turn that duty over to him. The girls had not been in the bathtub for long when I heard the Husband exclaim that tubby time was over because someone had pooped.
Now I cannot entirely blame the Little One, you see she apparently told the Husband that she needed to poop. But he didn’t think it was imminent, so he didn’t move quickly. She often tells us that she has to go and very rarely does it turn out to be true.
Unfortunately, last night it was true. So my brief moments of peace were short-lived as I had to go Lysol the tub.
So tonight, the Husband is in San Diego for a meeting for work, so I am once again on my own.
The girls were in the tub and playing as usual. When it came time to get clean, the Little One proclaimed that she wanted to do it herself. She is becoming little miss independent. I gave her a little soap and let her do her thing.
One of the reasons I despise doing tubby time is that the Little One likes to stand up to get her body clean. It takes a year or two off my life every night when she wobbly stands up to clean her body.
The Husband, who is the regular bath person, swears she’s never fallen.
Well, that luck ran out tonight when the bathtub apparently wanted revenge for the poop incident.
Why is it that when kids fall in the tub, they never fall back and land on the butt? Instead they always go face first into the side of the tub.
So mouth-first she went into the side of the tub. It’s one of those things that happens really fast, but in your brain it is going in slow motion. It’s like your mom instinct just wants to tease you into thinking there is something you can do to prevent the bloody lip that is sure to follow.
Of course it happens so fast, there is nothing that can be done to prevent the slippage once the slippage begins. {Yes, I know the solution is to not let her stand up in the tub. Trust me, I tell her at least 10 times a night to stay on her bottom.}
So after some screaming, tears and blood she seems to be okay. Her teeth are all intact, she tore her labial frenum {that little flap of skin between your gums and top teeth, impressive huh? Not really, she’s whacked her mouth so many times and I have Googled it just as many times, so it was bound to stick in my brain one these times).
Lesson to be learned, don’t poop in the tub. Revenge is brutal.
{It’s all in jest, of course the bathtub didn’t really seek revenge!}
Unconditional Love, Yep I’ve Got It
At least I feel it for my kids, whether or not it’s reciprocated remains to be seen. After my day, I’m not so sure.
The Big One gave up naps years ago (yes she is only four, but she gave up naps at about 18 months so it feels like years). But she still has to rest every day. About once a month she will actually fall asleep during her rest time. When she does fall asleep it’s usually because I have threatened her with spending the entire day in bed unless she sleeps.
I only pull out the threat when the black bags under her eyes are taking over her entire face. Today was one of those days. She woke up whining and crying and freaking out. It continued all day.
So when nap time rolled around, I made the threat. I know better than to make it unless I am serious. After three hours of whining, crying and fussing I relented and let her get up. But first I gave her a great lecture on listening and doing what the FixItMommy asks her to do, etc.
Yes I am aware at how effective it is to lecture a four-year-old. Okay, leave me alone, we all have our moments. Yes I am also aware that consistency is the key and I should not make threats and then relent. I will pay for it next time, I know.
So anyway part of the {lecture} conversation rolled around to how the Little One is a better listener. Yes I made the statement, but the Big One wholeheartedly agreed. Then the conversation when something like this:
The Big One: Why is {the Little One} a better listener than me?
FixItMommy: I don’t know. Maybe her ears work better. Maybe she likes Mommy more than you do. Maybe she just wants to make Mommy happy.
Big One: Well, I like Daddy better than you.
I took the oh-so-mature approach and told her that it’s great she likes Daddy better. And pointed out that it’s going to be a long couple more days for her until Daddy gets home.
Ahhhh, the joys. I can’t wait until she is a teenager and can really articulate how she feels about me.
A “Lucky” Rabbit’s Foot
Dogs. Why oh why oh why do I love them? They are wonderful and lovable and cute, but they can be disgusting and vile at the same time.
Gracie Lou was outside chilling while I was playing on Facebook (the girls were napping). Suddenly Gracie Lou starts freaking out, whining, scratching and the door and generally having a fit. This is quite unusual behavior for her. The only time she freaks out when she is outside is when there is a crazy loud sonic boom.
So the fact that she was going crazy and even knocked the screen door off the tracks should have clued me in that something was going on.
Being clueless, I let her in, fixed the screen door and then turned around to see a bloody thing on my kitchen floor. She was standing next to it proudly wagging her tail and I suppose waiting for some praise.
Instead I shooed her away, grabbed at least 18 napkins and picked up the part. I took it out to the garage, put it in a plastic bag and then scrubbed my hands 10 times. Then I set out on a mission to find the rest of the carcass. I couldn’t find anything, but a whole lot of loud squawking birds flying overhead.
Then my neighbor came home, so I asked him to help identify the part. I thought it looked like a rabbit leg, but I wasn’t sure.
So he confirmed it was a rabbit and then proclaimed how lucky I was that she brought me the foot.
He heard the birds too. I asked him if he thought maybe a bird dropped it and that’s why they were being so loud. He told me if Gracie Lou had gotten it, there would be fur all over my backyard. Since there wasn’t and I can’t find a carcass, I assume the bird dropped it.
Gracie Lou knew how ticked off the birds would be, so that’s why she wanted in the house so darn bad.
So now I am afraid to go outside and I am not letting my dog outside for fear of being pecked to death by some ticked off birds.
Oh…. Where do you think the Husband is during all of this? Yep, you guessed it, he’s TDY. I can’t wait for his upcoming deployment and the joy that that is sure to bring.
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Just an update… I can’t keep Gracie Lou in the house. She is whining and scratching at the door. I think she is convinced that there will be more rabbit feet falling from the heavens. She keeps going back to the same spot, sniffing and looking up in the sky. It’s like she is asking God for just one more!
She Takes Years From Me, Every Day
The Little One is an accident waiting to happen. I’ve shared some of her bumps, bruises, crashes and full on collisions where I thought she was a goner. I thought it would get better as she got more steady on her feet.
Apparently her feet have nothing to do with it. It’s just her personality, no fears, no holds barred.
I told you we took the crib rail off her bed to make it a toddler bed last week. Well after a few days of her getting out of bed, raiding her dresser, hiding in the closet and causing a mess, I was questioning my decision. So when she asked on Sunday to have her “baby bed” back, I happily obliged.
Yes, I am aware of the regression issues. Yes I know one step forward, two steps backwards. But I don’t care. She is my baby and she can stay in there until she is five if she wants to.
The problem of course is her climbing prowess. Yesterday morning, the Big One and I were downstairs while the Little One slept for e few more minutes. Then I heard the tell tale thud followed by the blood curdling scream. She flipped out of bed. Literally. I had her recreate it for me so I could figure out what she was doing. She puts her hand on the rail, tips her head out and pushes up with all her might until she somersaults out.
Sounds fun, right? Well not when she whacks her face against the wall for the entire trip down.
By the time I got upstairs, both her lips were swollen, her cheek was flaming red and the side of her nose was bleeding. Fortunately no limbs were broken, but she was shaken up.
I thought it might scare her into being more cautious at least for a day. Not happening.
After nap she was coming down the stairs. Normally I don’t pay much attention to her because she learned how to use the stairs months ago. But yesterday, I was watching her. When she got to the second to the last step, I figured she was alright so I turned and walked the 12 feet to the thermostat (I couldn’t stand sweating in my 82 degree house so I was turning on the air conditioner). Just as I reached the thermostat, I heard the splat.
Yep, she managed to fall down the stairs. According to the Big One, who happily recreated the fall. The Little One missed the last step and went splat onto the tile. It sounded like a horrific slapping sound, followed by that scream.
Fortunately she landed on her tummy, which was still full from lunch and it broke her fall. So no more blood. But another couple years taken off my life.
The Husband happily pointed out the good side of the situation. A few years ago, on his 30th birthday to be exact, he missed the last step and broke his foot.
Be Honest With Me
As you know my girls are 4 and 2. Is this concept too difficult to grasp?
I mean I know there are a lot of shoes, but all those on the floor will fit in a neat little cubby.
Just so you know it’s not just the girls who do this. The Husband is TDY so his shoes are with him, or they would be neatly stored under the table.
So tell me, are my expectations too high? Maybe I should lower them.
A Lesson in Economics
The Big One is four years old now. She will proudly tell you that and then she will tell you all the things that four-year-olds do. She will also tell you all that she knows.
The Little One is two years old. She thinks her big sister can walk on water. She also believes everything the Big One says.
As I was making dinner, this was the conversation, I heard. Just some background, the Big One got some new headbands over the weekend from the Dollar Tree. It was a two-pack. They are those head-wrap things… just a circle of stretchy fabric.
Big One: Do you want to hold it?
Little One: Yes.
Big One: Are you going to break it?
Little One: Yes
Big One: I said are you going to break it?
Little One: No!
Big One: It was really expensive, so I don’t want you to break it.
Little One: No!
Big One: Do you know how much it cost?
Little One: NO!
Big One: It was a hundred dollars.
Little One: A hundred dollars?
Big One: Do you know how much a hundred dollars is?
Little One: A hundred dollars?
Big One: That’s a lot of money. . . Maybe I should just hold it.
I really wish that I could have seen the entire thing playing out. From the kitchen it sounded hysterical and I can just picture the incredulous look on the Little One’s face as she repeated “a hundred dollars.”
Let’s see how long it takes for the Big One to lose her really expensive new headband at preschool.
The Art of Denial…
We need to work on it, apparently.
I’m just going to tell you up front, we are talking about farts today. If you find that juvenile or offensive, then just move along.
Everyone has been in a store or mall or somewhere in close proximity to other people when someone has farted. It may have been you who did it or it may have been someone else who did it. But we’ve all smelled the offending smell and known that someone farted. The true art comes in determining who did it.
If you are embarrassed about it, you can target someone near you and pretend they did it. You can laugh and fess up or you can just run to then next aisle over and hope nobody notices. Well if you are my children you will proudly raise your hand and claim it.
That’s all fine and good if in fact they were the responsible party. Last night at bed time, the Husband and I were getting the girls ready for bed.
I had read a story and we were preparing to divide and conquer for the rocking, singing and praying portion of the routine. The Husband noticed the smell and asked who farted. To which the Big One’s arm shot up in the air and announced, “I did it! I farted!”
Not wanting to be outdone by her sister, the Little One followed suit raising her hand and proclaiming that she had done it. This was followed by a couple minutes of giggling and sillyness as they debated which one of them had farted.
Meanwhile, Gracie Lou was conspicuously lying behind the rocking chair. Of course the dog cannot talk and fess up, but one whiff of it and it was obvious that the fart was of the canine variety, not the human variety (don’t shake your head at me, you know dog farts smell much different than little girl farts!)
So I’m not sure what to do with my girls. I don’t want them to be embarrassed about farts, they happen. Everyone farts. But at the same time, they do need to learn the art of denial or they will have some problems when they hit junior high.
{Just an aside if you are reading Grandma, no more doggie birthday cakes. Gracie Lou had the worst gas ever after inhaling the leftovers from Omega’s cake. I even had to sleep in the spare room last night because the smell was killing me.}
A Big Girl Bed
Oh man, the Little One is growing up. It’s so hard to be excited and enthusiastic for her growing up because it makes me a little sad.
Yesterday the Little One asked if she could take a nap in the Big One’s bed. I said sure, figuring she would last about two minutes before she wanted to move to her own room. She likes to show a lot of bravado in front of her sister, but when it comes down to it she usually retreats to what’s safe and comfortable.
So as I left her in the Big One’s bed all alone for a nap, I really thought she would cry. But she didn’t, instead she took a perfectly peaceful two-hour nap and then stayed in the bed until I came to get her.
The Big One was so excited that she asked the Little One repeatedly if she now wanted to sleep in her own big bed. To which the Little One replied enthusiastically, “YES!”
The transition began shortly after nap. The FixItMommy took the side rail off the crib, lowered the mattress to the lowest setting and installed the “guard rail” to turn the crib into a toddler bed.
When it came to bed time, I really thought the freak out would begin. After all when we tried this with the Big One when she was about the same age she screamed, cried and wailed for an hour or so before collapsing on the floor.
Silly FixItMommy anticipated a similar experience. Of course, the Little One had to prove once again how opposite the girls are. After bath and reading books I usually rock with her for a few minutes before putting her down.
Well after we read, she asked for a drink of water (classic stalling, I thought). I got her a drink and then she climbed up into her bed and proclaimed, “I not want to rock!” And with that she put her head on her pillow, cuddled with her baby doll and waited for me to put her blankets on.
Ahhh, my baby is getting bigger. And yes, I am sad about it.
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