Everyone out there is writing about their New Year's resolutions for 2008. I tried to think of some, and there's none I can think of that aren't 1. obviously easy for me to keep, making them no challenge at all, or 2. so hard that there's no way in hell I have a chance of keeping them.
So I'd like to present my list of un-resolutions for 2008 - things I will not be doing in the new year.
1. Go to the gym. We have a gym membership and I haven't used it yet. Why start now? Besides, we have Dance, Dance Revolution now. It has a workout mode. I'll get fit and fit in at the local arcade at the same time.
2. Wear more makeup. Hahahaha! It's not that I'm a total slob (please, people! I do brush my hair and teeth every day!), but any morning prep that takes longer than five minutes is too long. For now, I'll stick with my current makeup routine - only for holidays and maybe my anniversary.
3. Stop procrastinating. It's 9:25pm as I write these un-resolutions, less than three hours before the new year. I somehow doubt my procrastination tendencies will improve.
4. Blog more. I wish I could write more, maybe even every day like some crazy people. But then there's nursing school. And a preschooler with special needs. And a baby who demands that I do a song and dance for her every five minutes to keep her entertained. And I have a house that occasionally needs cleaned. Now do you see why I can't get to the gym and don't have time for makeup? I do hope to at least keep up the pace I currently have of 2-4 posts a week.
5. Clean my house. See #4.
6. Learn a new hobby. See #4.
7. Lose weight. Nearly everyone says this, don't they? I could make some valiant declaration about dropping x number of pounds before 2008 is done, and then silently fail as Valentine's chocolates lead into St. Patrick's Day stews and soda bread, which then is followed by Easter chocolates and those evil Cadbury caramel eggs. Better to not set a goal, enjoy my food and if I happen to lose a few pounds, great! After all, I weigh 20 pounds lighter than I did at this time last year. Of course, I was pregnant then, too.
8. Allow less TV time for the girls. I possibly could have accomplished this one, until Noggin announced they were going 24/7 as of tonight. Knowing there can be Dora at 4am almost makes me want to put a TV in Cordy's room in the hopes that I could get more sleep. It's all about survival, people.
That's enough for now. The big hour is getting near, and there is champagne calling my name.
What about you? What are your un-resolutions?
Over the weekend, we went to a big gathering hosted by some friends. Most of us have kids, so all of the kids got to play together. Cordy has played with the hosts' two children several times before without any problems. The five year old sometimes gets annoyed with Cordy, but in that case he usually just ignores her.
But the dynamics were different this time. The five year old had a seven year old friend, and the two of them were playing together. Cordy and the two year old were also in the playroom. Now, looking at these four kids, you'd think Cordy belonged with the older two - she is only slightly shorter than the five year old, and may outweigh him. And of course the older two were having a great time making up their own games and creating imaginary worlds to play in.
The trouble started when the five year old brought out a new magnetic fishing pole. He and the seven year old girl immediately threw the fish on the ground and started fishing. Cordy - having little self-control - loved seeing the pole and grabbed for it so she could fish, too. The older kids screeched at her and yanked the pole back.
I stepped in at this point and reminded the older kids that Cordy was younger than them, and had trouble understanding the concept of waiting for her turn. I then focused on Cordy, explaining that she had to wait until they were done before she could have her turn, and that she couldn't take away toys from other kids. I also tried to redirect her to another toy, but she was obsessed with the fishing pole.
The older kids went back to fishing, laughing with excitement. The energy the two of them generated could have powered half of Ohio. Cordy, still standing on the sidelines, couldn't take it anymore. She again reached out and put her hand on the fishing pole, saying "Cordy catch a fish? Cordy catch a fish?"
The older kids again removed her, although in pushing her away from them, Cordy pushed back. I reminded Cordy that she shouldn't push. I could see the frustration on her face. "Cordy catch a fish!" she cried and reached again for the pole.
"No!" yelled one of the older kids. "Cordy will NEVER catch a fish! Never!" They then picked up a fish and ran around the large wooden puppet theatre in the room to "cook it". But they took the pole with them, too.
Cordy looked confused and hurt. Those harsh words hurt me, too. This social situation for Cordy was quickly turning bad and I wanted to pluck her out of it. But she was determined to get that fishing pole. As I tried to talk to her, she walked around the puppet theatre to join the other two. They had set the pole down for the moment, so she took the opportunity to pick it up. They quickly noticed, and a round of "No, Cordy!" erupted as they both grabbed her and pulled the pole from her.
The cartoon steam was coming from her ears at this point. She didn't understand why she couldn't have a turn, she didn't know why they were being mean to her, and she really wanted to play with this toy. I could see the inner workings of her mind on her face - she was furious, frustrated, and what little reason and logic she had were no longer accessible. I watched her progress to the edge of a full-blown, out-of-her-right-mind meltdown, teetering ever so close on the precipice.
Cordy reached out and grabbed the (very heavy, and a little unstable) puppet theatre and started shaking it violently. The older kids yelled at her to stop. I also firmly told her to stop because it was rocking enough that I worried it would fall on them. In those seconds, I knew what I had to do, but also knew the results: the first person to touch her was going to set her off into a screaming, kicking meltdown, but it was important that she didn't knock down the wooden structure.
I told her once again to stop, and grabbed her hand. As if I had some kind of jelly touch, she immediately collapsed and began wailing. I scooped up the seemingly invertebrate preschooler and moved her to another room. Aaron heard the screaming from upstairs and joined me as we held Cordy tight to prevent her from hurting herself as she flailed and screamed wildly.
She calmed down faster than I expected. After 15 minutes, she had calmed down enough to join the adults and sit with me, sniffling and coughing. We again talked about toys that belong to other kids, and how she could only play with those toys if the owner said it was OK. But the situation had turned into more than a fight over a toy.
"Do you want to go back downstairs with the other kids?" I asked.
"Nooooo!" she cried, hiding her face in her hands. She was scared to play with them again. Her attempt to play in a social situation was a disaster, and she didn't want another try. She was happy to remain with the adults, close by my side.
There is a somewhat happy ending, though. Later in the evening, she did venture downstairs to play again, this time abandoning all attempts to interact with the older kids. They had moved onto a different game, so she quietly took the fishing pole and caught several fish, proudly showing me each one.
And I in no way blame the other kids for what happened. They were acting like average five and seven year olds - I wouldn't expect them to act any other way. I can see how Cordy would annoy them. Cordy's new attempts to play with other kids often results in her approaching kids older than her, and these kids don't know how to deal with her. (Let's be honest - I don't always know how to deal with her.) She looks like she's as old as them (even though she's three), but at the moment she can't understand the rules of social interaction.
I think I was the one most affected, though. In true kid fashion, she seems to have forgotten most of what happened, while I play it over and over in my head. I wonder if I should have stepped in sooner, or not stepped in at all and let her navigate the murky social waters on her own. I know I can't always be there to interfere, and I don't want to be some helicopter mom. But every injury to her feelings seems to strike me twice as deep.
This is a whole new area of parenting that I'm not sure I'm ready for. Helping her learn to crawl and eat solid foods was much easier than helping her deal with the world of best friends, you're-not-my-friend-anymore, teasing and cliques. I was never any good at that area myself, so I have no idea how to teach her how to deal with it. We're both going to need tougher skin, I think.
But wait! Here are two more cards!
Caffeine high for me!
A new game - am I
smarter than a 5th grader?
We'll see, Foxworthy.
Aaron got a book:
Star Wars: Jedi vs. Sith
Total geek heaven.
So, what did you get for Christmas? My most impressive gifts had to be the three Starbucks gift cards - a combined value of nearly $100. Nursing school will be easier next quarter with all that caffeine in my veins. The girls received several Toys R Us gift cards, too, and I can't wait to go shopping for them. (I know, I'm such a dork for getting excited to buy toys NOT for me.)
Also, thank you all for your support last week. I really hope I'll be able to tell everyone what's going on soon.
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With Aunt Dot's passing earlier this year went the crazy gifts we received every Christmas. If you don't know about Aunt Dot, read the archives - it's a laugh. The last gift she gave us was on Labor Day, when she brought a plastic shopping bag containing stale rainbow Goldfish for Cordy and a ceramic piggy bank and first tooth holder for Mira. And stale cashews for me. A typical Aunt Dot gift.
However, when my mother and aunts were cleaning out Aunt Dot's apartment, they found something that was clearly intended for us this Christmas. While there was no name on it, we all knew this item was planned for an appearance at my house on December 25. It had been placed carefully in the guest bedroom, where she kept all of her Christmas gifts, waiting for the right sized shopping bag to ferry it to one of my daughters.
And so when my mother started unpacking all of the gifts she brought, Aunt Dot's contribution showed up as well. While we were unwrapping gifts, I placed this gem in the middle of the floor and turned it on. Suddenly, Aunt Dot was with us, at least in spirit, and we all laughed.
Here is Aunt Dot's last gift. I had no idea reindeer had cheeks on their noses, and I'm still not sure why it decided to dress like grandma and sit in her rocking chair. A motive for the killing, maybe? I think we'll keep it around and play it every Christmas in her memory.
Christmas Eve
We arrived at my cousin's house (or as Cordy calls it, "The palace!") and the girls are adorable and charming.
An hour later, Santa arrives with a giant bag of presents.
All of the kids surround him to make sure he can't escape claim their gifts.
But wait! Where are my children? Well...
They both missed out on Santa and the gift exchange. But the next day would be better, right?
Christmas Day
The day started early (as usual) and Cordy opened her presents from the night before. She especially loved the train set.
Then we let her open her gifts from Santa. All she had wanted was a magic wand and a ballerina skirt. She ignored the tutu until she opened the magic wand. Suddenly it all fit together:
She immediately went to work trying to make the world right with her magic wand.
By mid-afternoon, the excitement of the day (plus a nasty cold) had taken its toll on everyone, but especially Cordy.
Mira, however, tried to keep herself awake with caffeine.
As for me, well, I only had one Christmas wish this year: (click to enlarge)
...but apparently I didn't make it onto Santa's good list. Maybe next year.
OK, maybe I'm not a complete domestic zero.
Cordy wants only two things for Christmas: a magic wand, and a ballerina skirt.
Have you seen the prices for tutus?
No way, not buying one. So I bought the materials and made one. I think it looks pretty good for a first try.
I can't wait to see her face on Christmas day. Too bad the jolly fat man will be getting all the credit for it.
Please let us weather this storm
Crossing my fingers
My stomach in knots
Did we offend you, karma?
Let things go our way.
I wish I could tell
All these worries in my head
But I must stay mute
Want to know how to drive a blogger insane? Give her news that directly affects her family and stresses her out, but then tell her she can't blog about it because people involved may read the blog, which could affect the outcome. It's killing me.
I want to explain what's going on. I want to whine and cry and ask for a shoulder to lean on, spilling out my fears to any who would listen. It's a situation I've never had to deal with before, it's scary, and being unable to type out those words is almost painful. It's such a big part of my life right now that writing posts without discussing it feels sort of dishonest.
As soon as I'm able, I will share everything. But for now, I can only write these vague lines. Slightly therapeutic, but overall still unsatisfying to me, and I'm sure to you, too.
(Oh, and before you ask: I'm not pregnant. And everyone is healthy. Just wanted to make that clear.)
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Please Ignore The Smoke Coming From Ohio...
12/19/2007 | domestic zero, fate laughing at me | 11 comments • »...that would be me trying to set my kitchen on fire.
I've said before that I'm a domestic zero. Hate cleaning, can't cook, and I'm not so hot at baking. But I thought I might try my hand at some homemade food gifts this year - it's cheap, and people appreciate yummy homemade food. And it's cheap.
Last year I made this amazing peppermint bark (recipe here), and two different families loved it and praised my abilities to simply melt chocolate. So, ego inflated from last year's success and compliments, I decided to make it again this year, only adding to it a drizzle of white chocolate across the top.
Apparently having that second child took out that last remnant of domestic ability I had hiding in me.
I didn't have my grandmother's double boiler, so I decided to go all modern and melt the chocolate in the microwave. First was the Ghirardelli dark chocolate chips. They melted beautifully, a sea of rich dark brown liquid in the bowl. Easy peasy!
Next I had to add the peppermint extract. But instead of measuring out the 1 tsp of peppermint, I just dumped a little into the mix. A little too much, I think. The smooth sea of chocolate instantly turned lumpy, and I stirred and stirred trying to even it out again. I heated it more, but the lumps remained.
Giving up on this step, I poured the mix out onto the parchment paper and smoothed it out as best I could. So it won't be as pretty, but it'll still taste good, right? Having finished with the spatula, I licked off the remaining chocolate. Or should I say mint with a hint of chocolate. Ick.
Oh, and I burned my tongue in the process because who knew freshly microwaved melted chocolate was hot?
Time to melt the white chocolate. Maybe the drizzled white chocolate could at least make it look pretty again? Into a bowl I put a handful of white chocolate chips. A bowl I have used in the microwave many, many times, I might add. I set it for two minutes and walked away.
When the buzzer went off, I checked it. Still in solid chip form. Hmmm....needs more heat, I guess. So I microwaved them for another minute. Still chip form, but when I stirred them with a spoon they started to squish. OK, almost ready. Another minute in the microwave should do it.
Then I opened the microwave to a cloud of smoke. In the bowl was now something dark, not white. I pulled the bowl out, and immediately noticed something dripping. Looking into the bowl, I could see my toes. Uh, oh.
It burned straight through the bowl. Apparently the melting point of white chocolate is higher than that of microwave safe plastic. Nothing will melt those damn chips.
I quickly tossed the bowl in the trash and cleaned up the mess of melted plastic and white chocolate that had dripped across the kitchen, sizzling on the floor like acid trying to eat through the linoleum.
I always knew white chocolate was evil...now I have proof.
And a cookie sheet full of lumpy, too-minty dark chocolate bark.
So if Aaron is smart, he will revoke my kitchen privileges and limit me to nothing more advanced than making PB&J sandwiches and heating Lean Cuisine meals. Otherwise we won't have any mixing bowls left. Or possibly a kitchen.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go buy some peppermint bark and put it in my homemade containers to pass off as my own. If you want real, edible homemade treats, go see this woman.
It's too bad Lynne Spears's new parenting book has been delayed indefinitely.
With Britney unable to drive in a straight line and quit drugs long enough to get unmoderated visitation with her boys, and little sister Jamie-Lynn Spears now an unwed teen pregnancy statistic (a pregnant Zoey 101!), I was looking forward to reading that book.
I mean, I want to learn how to make sure my daughters self-destruct by high-school, assuming they make it that far.
Seriously, it would read as the ultimate "what not to do" guide, wouldn't it?
Maybe she should scrap the plan and work on a book about birth control and the dangers of drugs. It could be a board book for her grandchildren.
Oh, Spears family, you provide us with so much entertainment, but I wish for your sakes you wouldn't.
Mira has had the strength to sit unsupported for a few weeks now, but little actual interest in doing so. I'd place her in a sitting position, and she would soon fall over in order to grab a toy and examine it from a supine position. There was nothing that could convince her that sitting up was fun! And cool! And all the six month olds were doing it!
But over the weekend our friends Nico and Judith gave us a toy their youngest was no longer as interested in. Today's result: instant motivation to stay upright and play.
Overheard At Target This Morning:
"Here's the Stage 1 baby foods. Whatcha want?"
"Ugh! It's all organic! I don't want that organic shit - he don't tolerate that organic shit! It don't taste right."
"Well, whatcha wanna do?"
"Let's go to Wal-Mart. Maybe they got some Gerber that ain't organic."
(and then there was a loud boom as my head exploded...Welcome to Columbus, ladies and gentlemen)
Where's My Support Stockings and False Teeth?
12/16/2007 | being a mom, pop culture | 7 comments • »Today, Aaron and I went to the mall for some holiday shopping.
We poked our heads into Spencer's Gifts, a store I had to visit during every mall trip as a teen. I haven't been in one for a few years now, and thought it might be fun to take a walk down memory lane and see what quirky and slightly racy stuff they had now.
I can tell you this: it's not the Spencer's I remember. I was actually stunned by some of the stuff I saw there.
I walked out feeling old and conservative. Ouch.
Sigh.
I'll admit it - I'm lazy. I had all of the best intentions to create and mail out Christmas and Hanukkah cards this year. I even had a picture picked out for the Christmas photo card, but it never happened.
And now, well, it's too late to get anything in the mail. If I had actually planned ahead, people would be opening their cards in the next few days.
Thank goodness for virtual holiday picture cards.
So, to all of our friends, family, bloggy friends, (and even to the Google pervs who somehow find their way here), I'd like to wish you happy holidays. Consider this your virtual card, with all of the sentiment and none of the tree killing.
May you get everything you need, and a good bit of what you want, too.
Maybe snow or maybe ice
They get paid for this?
One says a shovel
Another an ice scraper
Weathermen don't know
I'm really not sure what to expect this weekend. Our area is already under a winter storm watch for Saturday, but no one can say for certain what's coming. However, it's enough to send the city into a panic to buy up all the bread and milk at the grocery. You'd think we were living in Atlanta, not Columbus. It's a little ice and snow, people! We're Ohioans - we can handle this!
Also, in keeping with today's haiku theme, I wanted to let you all know about a haiku contest at LeastLikely2Breed.net. Details can be found at their site, but the basics are if you e-mail them a haiku about one of their products, you can win a cool prize. And for each entry they receive, they'll donate $.50 to Doctors Without Borders. Deadline is Dec. 22.
To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:
1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.
2. Sign the Mister Linky below or at Jennifer's blog with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn't go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Jennifer or myself.
3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.
Last night we visited Wildlights at the Columbus Zoo. They do this every year, and we love going to see the lights, the model trains, and Santa. The challenge is always to get there at dark so we can see the lights best, but not too late, since Cordy is nearly always asleep by 7pm.
Cordy is beginning to understand the concepts of Santa and presents and Christmas this year, and to help her along we've been throwing every book, visual aid, and DVD at her. She now knows who Santa is, and she loves to talk about meeting him. I never imagined I'd have to force the Santa myth on my kid, going out of my way to indoctrinate her.
So naturally we talked a lot about Santa on our drive to the zoo last night. "Do you want to see Santa?" we asked her.
"Yes! We've got to go save Santa!" (I knew we should have laid off the Mickey Saves Santa TV episode we Tivo'd.)
"No, not save Santa, go see Santa. Will you give him a big hug?"
"Yes!"
"Will you sit on his lap and tell him what you want for Christmas?"
"Yes! A magic wand!" (Not sure why, but that's all she wants for Christmas. We're still trying to figure out if she means a fairy-type magic wand or a magician-type magic wand.)
Now, she has yet to ever enjoy seeing Santa. Each year's pictures show an unhappy Cordy next to a very patient Santa. Let's review, shall we?
The only reason she's smiling is because I'm there and she's not looking at Santa. She's still plotting her escape. (Can you tell I didn't plan on being in the pic?)But this is the first year she understands who he is and now he's like some rockstar with his present-bestowing abilities.
We loaded up the stroller and made a beeline for Santa when we got to the zoo. Better to get there before the crowds, in case Cordy needs time to warm up to Santa. We walked into the building, and there he was, surrounded by giant candy canes and greenery. Cordy was practically buzzing with excitement. I let her out of the stroller and took her hand as she dragged me into the line.
Waiting was tough. There were only three families in front of us, but Cordy wanted to be there! with Santa! NOW! I held her back as she kept trying to run up the ramp, yelling "Look, it's Santa! And candy canes!" We were roughly six steps away from Santa, and that distance was killing her.
The elf standing guard at the head of the line smiled at her enthusiasm. "I think she's the first one tonight to be excited to see Santa!" she laughed.
"Wait and see," I replied with the sage wisdom of a parent.
Finally, it was our turn. I released my grip on her and said, "OK, go see Santa!"
She took off up the ramp, then about two steps from Santa stopped cold. And wouldn't budge an inch closer to the fat man.
Or look at him.
Or breathe.
She was a statue of a child. I think she was trying to blend in with her surroundings.
I looked back and gave the elf an I told you so smile.
"Go see Santa," I urged, and tried to nudge her gently towards him. "You've been wanting to meet him and hug him, remember?"
She gave him a quick, corner of her eye glance. "NOOOOOO!" she cried and ran down the exit ramp, away from her rockstar hero. She wouldn't come back towards him, although she did try to steal one of his giant decorative candy canes before she left.
Ah well. At least we got a picture with Mira.
Last week at Cordy's preschool, the physical therapist pulled me aside when we arrived. She wanted to talk with me about Cordy's safety at school.
"I worry about her violent outbursts where she sometimes hits her head on the floor," she explained. The week prior, the PT had tried to do an evaluation on Cordy by taking her out of the classroom into the hallway. Of course, in doing so, she triggered a major meltdown in Cordy, complete with screaming and head banging. Cordy barely knows, and therefore barely trusts, the PT so of course she was going to have a problem leaving the teacher she knows well.
"Well, she's had a lot fewer meltdowns in the past month than before," I offered, "She rarely hits her head anymore."
The PT crossed her arms and sighed. "I'd like to recommend that she wear a helmet at all times when she's at school."
I must have looked like a dazed large mouth bass after she said that, because she followed it up with, "It's for her safety. I'm surprised she hasn't had a concussion yet."
I'm sure I must have given her my best "what drug are you on?" look, but she continued describing about the types of soft foam helmets they have for kids.
"While she's hit her head many, many times," I interjected, "she's never had any problems as a result. Not even any swelling."
"But she doesn't seem to register any pain when she does it, and that's troubling because she has no reason to stop. She's clearly learned that she can get attention by doing this."
Wait one damn minute - did she just imply that we have encouraged this? At this point I was seething.
My voice changed slightly from an accommodating willing-to-hear-you-out one to a you-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about voice. "We have never encouraged her to hit her head. When she does it, we walk away or ignore it. And I think a helmet is more trouble than it's worth. She hates having her head even touched - how do you think she'll react to a helmet? It'll send her into a fury and she'll freak out until she can tear it off."
I didn't even mention my other concerns with a helmet. First, we're sending her to this preschool so she can learn the skills needed to blend in with your average kid. Wearing a big stupid helmet will only alienate her and make her an easy target.
Also, wearing a helmet would, in a way, be reinforcing her behavior by sending the message that we expect her to hit her head, and therefore we're protecting it in advance.
She still didn't give up. "I'm just asking you to think about it. Yes, she may not like it at first, but I think it would be in her best interests to consider a helmet."
What I wanted to say was: "Maybe instead you should learn there's more than one way to do things, and find a way to get what you want from her without sending her into a meltdown. It's called compromise, and even children should be given that consideration."
Instead, I simply wanted out of the conversation, so I ended with, "I'll speak with my husband about it, but I don't think it's likely he'll want to pursue that option."
Thinking I was free, I turned my attention to Cordy for a moment, only to hear the PT then say, "Also, have you thought about genetic testing for her?"
WTF?
"For what?"
"Well, there's several syndromes that can have similar symptoms to autism."
"OK...like what?"
"Oh, well, it's not my place to diagnose that. But there are several she could be tested for."
Again...WTF?
Seriously? She wants me to take Cordy to the pediatrician and say, "I'd like to have her genetically tested. For what? Oh, I don't know, go ahead and test for everything, just to know." They'd think I was crazy.
I walked out of the classroom muttering, "Oh for Chrissakes..."
Cordy's teacher had told me before this conversation that it seemed that Cordy and the PT didn't get along very well. We all have someone we don't get along with, but can't figure out why. There's nothing wrong with personality conflicts - they happen, and you either avoid the person or work through it.
Of course, I'm not thrilled with the PT much right now either. A helmet? For real? And genetic testing? I'll agree that it might be dangerous for a child with no real fear of pain to hit her head on the floor. But Cordy has been doing soooo much better lately that it hasn't even concerned me.
Her teacher is so proud of how far she's come so quickly. I can count on one hand the number of major meltdowns she's had in the past month. Seriously, less than 5. Before we started her in this preschool, the number would have been more than 5 for a single week. It's huge progress.
Just to make sure this isn't just my protective Mother-Bear instinct kicking in (because really, I don't want to be one of those parents who thinks her kid is flawless), I've been checking with others to make sure I'm not overreacting. Aaron immediately got angry and said no-way to a helmet. Of course, he's the other parent, so his reaction is also biased. So I asked Cordy's pediatrician, who said it would do more harm since Cordy's head is so sensitive.
Am I crazy for getting so upset over the idea of a helmet? The PT has had only one major meltdown from Cordy, and she's already suggesting a helmet. I just think there are other ways to deal with the issue than slap a big foam helmet on her head.
Edited to add: I wanted to add that I don't think the PT is mean. She seems like a very nice woman, with years of experience. I just think there might be a personality conflict between her and Cordy, which makes it difficult for them to work together.
The Good: At the Hanukkah gathering for Aaron's family last night, Cordy got lots of great presents, including musical instruments. These included a set of maracas, a tambourine, and a triangle. She loves musical instruments, and went nuts with these new noise makers.
The Bad: Did I mention they make noise? Lots of noise? But she loves them, and I want to encourage a love of music, right?
The Ugly: "Take the instruments to bed, mommy? Carry them to my bed?" I can't say no - I mean, she was so good at the family gathering, so I can't refuse this little request.
Then, at 4am: DING! DING! RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE! CLINK-a CLINK-a CLINK!
Ugh.
***************
PS - New reviews up over at Mommy's Must Haves. See my reviews of a cool reading light for the car, and the ultimate family calendar/organziation system!
This term of school is done now
I passed my classes
But wait, no rest yet
It's the holidays, you dolt!
Shop, wrap, bake, cook, clean.
I took my last final exam last night, even though I was still recovering from the plague. I didn't do as well as I could have, but I know I still passed the class. This morning I took a deep breath, thinking that I would have some free time for the next few weeks between school sessions.
Then the crushing reality of the holidays fell on my head when I realized we haven't purchased any Hanukkah gifts yet and we're celebrating with Aaron's family on Sunday. Ack! Christmas isn't even on my to-do radar yet. So much for free time.
Sometimes I don't like being a grown up very much.
To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:
1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.
2. Sign the Mister Linky below or at Jennifer's blog with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn't go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Jennifer or myself.
3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.
According to Random.org, it's #4 - Steph!
Congrats, Steph - e-mail me your address so your giant Miffy can get to you soon.
And forgive me for being absent the past few days. The entire family has been struck down by a stomach virus I can only describe as mean. Cordy had it first, then me, then Mira, and now Aaron. For a little while yesterday, I thought I was heading to the hospital for sure due to constant vomiting.
Note to parents: when your kid is sick, do everyone a favor and keep your kid home from preschool. If it wasn't for a classmate projectile vomiting all over Cordy's class last week, we might not be parenting from the couch, weak and feverish.
PS - Haiku Friday will be appearing, only a little later in the morning than usual. Check over with Jennifer to see if she has it up before me, in case you're in a hurry to haiku.
Does your child love bunnies? Cordy is currently obsessed with anything of the rabbit variety, asking for anything with long ears and a cute twitchy nose. Christmas may be filled with bunnies. While Bunnytown has her obsessed (I still maintain it's crack for toddlers), she has suddenly fallen in love with anything of the bunny variety, including Miffy.
Ty's Toy Box is giving away Miffy plushes, and I have an extra one to give away. Now, I'm not talking about a little Miffy toy - this stuffed animal is 28" tall. Over two feet of bunny goodness, people! Look!
To win this awesome toy, leave a comment on this post telling me the toy your child would like the most from Ty's Toy Box. You don't have to be realistic - if it's something you would never buy, but you know they'd love, tell us about it. They've got a lot more than Miffy there, too: Wiggles, Thomas, Backyardigans, Charlie & Lola, etc.
One person will be chosen at random (http://www.random.org) to win the Miffy doll. You have until Wednesday night at 11:59pm EST to enter. Winner will be announced Thursday morning. (Due to shipping, contest is only open to US residents. I'm sorry, Canadians - at least you have national health care.)
Also, if you're still shopping for gifts, Ty's Toy Box is offering readers free shipping on any orders over $65, plus $5 off any order over $50 with the coupon code HOLIDAY5.










