halfmama

Movin’ On Up

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Tue, 08 Jan 2008 03:09:00 +0000

Can you believe after so few posts in the last several months, I’ve actually redesigned and moved my blog? I feel like I just bellied up to the bar and ordered a round of drinks… all for myself. Is anyone out there anymore? […anymore …anymore …?]

Well. My new blog is halfmama.com. No more blogspot, baby. Some of you may already know this because I messed with it yesterday and got all my feeds mixed up, thus sending a dozen posts out to the feedlands again. Sorry about that.

Please readjust your blogs, feeds, readers, televisions.
www.halfmama.com

Thanks! Hopefully, I’ll see you over there.

Random Rememeergence

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Sat, 29 Dec 2007 02:21:00 +0000

I know, I KNOW! You people are blog vultures. Can’t you let a blogger hibernate in peace?

Okay okay… Well, what better way to reemerge than to start with a meme? I was tagged for the Random meme awhile back (by Kim, Hedgehog, and Angela), and I figured this is the best way for a slow re-entry. So, here goes:

Rules: Once tagged, you must link to the person who tagged you. Then post the rules before your list, and list 8 random things about yourself.

1. It has come to my attention that some of you actually absorb the shit I write on my blog and may have come to the incorrect conclusion that, when talking about one of my high school classmates in all of his glorious Hello Kitty gear, I was actually talking about an ex I mentioned in a past entry. Let me set the record straight: while C-Diddy is a great and funny guy, we did not date. The ex about whom I was talking shall remain nameless. He does have a movie coming out based on him, but it’s not an air guitar documentary. And that’s all I have to say about that.

2. I am so paranoid from watching Dateline and reading about kidnappings that when we stayed in a hotel over Thanksgiving, I kept getting up in the middle of the night to make sure the twins were still safely asleep in their bed. The more I got up, the more insomnia set in. Yes, I realize this does not bode well for my future in parenting, nor my future in sleeping.

3. My ideal man can best be described as a cross between Clark Kent/Superman, Maximus Decimus Meridius, Jason Bourne, and Coach Eric Taylor (you know — minus the kryptonite allergy, non-bathing, assassin, and lack of emotional availability during football season thing). I think I got pretty damn lucky with G. He’s sort of the civilian amalgam of my imaginary cinematic boyfriends.

4. I am vain enough to admit that I want Dr. 90210 to get rid of my muffintop. I am also vain enough to admit that I would never, however, show it on reality TV.

5. I love using tools. G and I once renovated our basement by ourselves. We framed, drywalled, laid down flooring… I wouldn’t want to do it all the time, but I’m glad I can. I’m too cheap to pay someone else to do it, even though they can do a much better job.

(We painted a room together too, with a special ‘linen’ effect. Because we made it through that experience, I know we can make it through anything. We were close to throttling each other’s necks. No joke. Painting a freakin’ room.)

6. I was once Fan of the Game at a Pirates game. My big round head was up on that Jumbotron, cluelessly stuffing a hot dog in my face before my friend Marcus poked me and pointed at the screen, then suggested that maybe I stop eating for a second.

7. Despite the fact that I worked in my parents’ jewelry store since I was ten years old (dude, Korean child labor laws are non-existent), I own very little jewelry. The only jewelry I wear regularly is my wedding ring. My sister also wears very little jewelry. FingKASIL is seriously perplexed by the lack of bejeweled fingers and necks in our family. I guess we got tired of it after being surrounded by it all of our lives. Too bad my parents didn’t own a Baskin Robbins or an Internet café. My life would be so much healthier right now.

8. I am severely incapable of remembering directions.

As a bonus (and if you got this far reading these boring details about me): These videos will never stop entertaining me. Go forth and enjoy.

Did you see Ellen showing these clips too? She begged someone — anyone — to produce this show in America. Dude, if this ever comes to American fruition, I’m so grabbing Superha and dragging her silver laméd ass with me to TetrisTown. Nina, get your silver condom costume ready!

I’m not going to tag anyone since so many of you have done this meme already, and I know some people don’t like to be meme’d anyway. But in case Momomax feels like getting off her pregnant duff, or FingKASIL feels like sharing, I tag thee. Maybe FingKASIL will share her move-to-CA rented truck story. It’s a good one.

Hope everyone had a fantastic holiday— er, December… and, er, November too.

See you in ’08!

Overheard

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 01:45:00 +0000

I know. This is annoying and kind of a little rude — my once-a-week post asking you to go to another site to read my post. Especially considering there are so many other bloggers doing this once-a-day NaNoo-NaNooBloMe thing. But if I write everyday I might bore you to tears, so you should really be thanking me. (You’re welcome.)

Now go click on my Parenting post. Because I’m rude like that.

Today: some of the funny statements heard around here lately. They’re our kids so of course we think they are funny. Well whaddya want… We’re parents. Our entertainment has been scaled down to reality TV and the humor of a couple of 3-year-olds. Give us a break.

:::

Halloween 2007

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Thu, 01 Nov 2007 23:12:00 +0000

C0mcast and I… we are on the verge of a break-up. I’m sure my account is flagged as PAIN IN THE ASS CUSTOMER. But what am I supposed to do without a connection? READ or something?

Anyway…

Costumes. This is part of what I’ve been working on lately. Maybe I should thank Crapcast for not letting me get online so that I had time to finish this thing.

It was a little over my head, but I got it done — finally. And it’s nothing I want to ever attempt again. Let me just tell you: Bean had her own little sweatshop going on here.

To see more of the twins’ costumes (and to see past ridiculous costumes) click here to go to my Parenting post.

I’ve made their costumes in the past, but this year I only made Bean’s. I’m slowly weaning myself. Next year hopefully they will both choose to be some commercialized character that comes with its own itchy polyester manufactured costume. The most I will have to do is rip open a package.

I tried to avoid the making of the costume. I searched and searched for a Hello Kitty costume. Called our local Sanrio store. Looked everywhere online. Oh — there are Hello Kitty costumes. Weird ones:
What kind of scary Hello Kitty is that? I’m not even sure what is going on. Those pants are thick heavy fur. The headdress alone was enough to give me nightmares. That is so not a Japanese-made costume.

Then there was this one… I mentally measured Bean’s head and considered getting this for her, then contemplated sewing a similar costume, but G thought this cat looked nothing like Hello Kitty. And if a WHITE CAT can’t pull this off, well…

I could have gone this route, but C-Diddy, Air Guitar Champion of 2003, is really the only one who can rock the Hello Kitty breastplate. Okay, okay… I didn’t really consider putting a breastplate on Bean, but I went to high school with C-Diddy so I’m putting a little plug in for him and his movie.

There were plastic masks on ebay, similar to the ones we wore as kids. Remember? When Halloween costumes came in flimsy boxes with cellophane covers, and the masks had sharp edges that always scratched up your face? I couldn’t bear to put that on Bean either.

Plus, I like to make things difficult for myself. So sculpt (and sand, paint, repeat) I did.

The day before Halloween, their teacher handed me a slip of paper with instructions for the party the next day. Number three on the list? No masks or weapons please.

Perfect.

Halloween Costumes

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Thu, 25 Oct 2007 16:25:00 +0000

I knew it would happen. I knew eventually I would have to let the kids choose their own Halloween costumes. I was hoping I could get away with one more year of parental control. Alas, I had to give it up once they noticed me shopping online without them. (Damn, my window-hiding mouse finger just isn’t as quick as it used to be when I was working in an office!)

Click here to read one of our costume-choosing conversations. I say ONE because… well… it’s never that simple.

:::

P.S. I really am going to post more soon. Hopefully once Halloween is over and once some other (paying) projects are complete. There are some questions to answer! (Jenn, I will answer, I swear!)

Brave New Web

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 14:13:00 +0000

Today at Parenting: Brave New Web.

Boy I’ve been slacking on blogging lately. I figured I should write about where I’ve been lately… And in case you didn’t read it before, I’ve been Facebooking.

As much as I love Facebook and the Internet, technology scares me. I worry it will be one of the wedges in my future relationship with my kids. For example, when I have to call them and ask them how the hell to turn on whatever futuristic gadget they have gifted us and then demand to know why I need it. And start every sentence with, “You know, back when I was your age…” etc.

At what age will I be over the learning curve hill? Is it going to be apparent when they know more about technology than I do?

Click here to read more.

:::

Twins. People. Stupid.

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Thu, 11 Oct 2007 13:54:00 +0000

Over at Parenting today: Twins Make People Stupid. (I know… clever title.)

This is moi sharing with vous some of the funny (okay, stupid) things people have said to us… Like asking if our boy/girl twins are identical. If you don’t know why that is funny (or stupid), you might want to go over and read. (I’m not sure why I’m mixing French in there, except that I don’t necessarily exclude myself from this stupidity so maybe I’m trying to sound smart.)

Click here to read. Stupid is as stupid does.

:::

Scene From A Car Ride

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Tue, 09 Oct 2007 21:57:00 +0000

As the kids climb into the car after school today, Buddy spots a toy (courtesy of a Happy Meal, thank you very much) that he left in his carseat this morning.

Buddy: Hey look, there’s my toy!

Me: Okay, you can play with it for a little while, and then you have to share it with Bean.

Buddy: Um… Actually. I don’t think I can. I think actually I have to share it tomorrow.

Me: Actually, I think you can share it today. Play with it for a few minutes and then share it with Bean please.

Buddy: Okay.

After a few minutes, he hands it to Bean. Another minute passes, and a tidal wave of every compelling argument he has up his sleeve begins.

Buddy: Bean, you have to share.
…Bean, sharing is caring!
…Bean, see my hand? [extends his arm towards her] That means I’m waiting!
…Bean, just one more minute, okay? One more minute and then it’s my turn.

Bean: Um… I think ten minutes.

Buddy: No, just one minute, Bean.

Bean: Oh. Okay.

Finally, she reaches to hand it to him. I hear a piece of it fall in the box that sits between them. (Technically, it’s a diaper box — because *ahem* we are nothing but class, baby — that keeps books and toys handy.)

Buddy and Bean: Oh no!

Buddy: Where is it? [Searches all around him. Apparently inanimate objects can fly over his head and land on his other side.]

Bean: I don’t know. Where’dit go?

Buddy: There it is, Bean! [looks in the box] There it is!

Bean: Oh!

Buddy [huffing]: I. Can’t. Reach. It. Ugh… Help me, Bean! Can you help me please?

Bean: Okay. [huffing also] Buddy! Get out of the way, okay?

A few quiet seconds pass. Suddenly I hear objects crashing down. I peer in the mirror and see that Bean has lifted the box and spilled the contents all over herself and the car floor. She manages to find the missing piece amongst the rubble. Then holds it in the air.

Bean: Ta da!

Buddy starts giggling. Then laughing. Then guffawing. Big. Belly. Laughs. Which makes me laugh.

Bean [realizing Buddy is punchy, and not one to miss an opportunity with an attentive audience]: TA DA!

Buddy laughs even harder. Which makes me laugh harder.

Bean: Is that funny, guys? Guys, is that funny? …Ta da! TA DAAAA!

Being a parent to twins is so worth it when we get to eavesdrop on their conversations. I think about those months when I sat silently by myself, with no one to talk to while I changed, nursed, burped, pumped, repeat. They were all worth it. Just so I can sit silently now and listen to them carry on their own conversation. Really, there’s not a lot funnier than listening to your kids negotiate with one another.

:::

By the way, thanks to all you Mofos for delurking. And… um, hellooooo…

:::

Bean, The Teen

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Thu, 04 Oct 2007 13:55:00 +0000

Today on Parenting: Three-Going-On-Teenager:

Anyone else have a three-year-old hitting puberty?

Click here to read.

:::

Mofo Delurk Day

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Wed, 03 Oct 2007 18:09:00 +0000

I like this — probably because it uses the word Mofo in it. Schmutzie’s Milk Money, Sweetney, and JenandTonic have declared today The Great Mofo Delurk 2007. I don’t know who they are, but they sound official to me. And speaking of handles, Jen and Tonic has got to be one of the cooler ones. I wish my name sounded like booze.

So, I’m hijacking their officially-coined day. Delurk mofos! Show yourselves in the comments please.

:::

The Incredibly Boring Evolution of Halfmama

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Tue, 02 Oct 2007 16:52:00 +0000

Thank you everyone, for the kind comments from my last post. We had a very nice dinner out at a Korean restaurant that Sarah recommended (thanks again Sarah!).

One weird moment came when G and I ordered OB beers. The waitress asked what size we wanted, and we both said large. They came out with two 40s (or 20s, or whatever they were; they were large) and three glasses — odd, considering we had two little kids with us. So, I poured a glass for my mom, despite the fact that she rarely drank beer. But, it was good to share some of my 40 with her. Since she always liked to tell me that I drank too much. I guess I wasn’t fooling her when I came home hungover after spending the night at friends’ houses.

:::

A commenter asked me where I got my nickname, halfmama, from. I can’t tell if this commenter is serious or not because in my mind, it is obvious. However, one of my best friends asked me the same question when I first started my blog, so perhaps it isn’t obvious. Jenn, if you are kidding, don’t laugh at me for answering, for I am one of the most gullible people you will meet. For example, momomax and I just discovered on facebook that we went to the same school, and she joked that I had hooked up with her husband while we were all there. And I believed her. Not only because I am gullible, but also because obviously, I’m a slut and I can’t even remember the people with whom I’ve hooked up.

So… halfmama? Well, CrazyMomOfHalfKoreanHalfAmericanTwins.blogspot.com seemed a little long. Then, I tried to be halfmom but well… that was taken, sort of. That blogger had not posted to it in over a year, but apparently, that was besides the point. I wrote a very nice email asking if she was still using it and was promptly chastised for it. I won’t link here because that lady has sitemeter set up and she scares me a little. I don’t want her seeing any traffic coming from me. Apparently, being one with G*d permits this lady to be a royal, self-important bitch. My prompting also made her realize that the internet needed some more of her gospel, so she quickly resumed posting to her account.

Thus, halfmama was born.

My self-dubbed name really comes from the twins; from the fact that, quite often, I feel like half a mom to each of them, splitting my time and attention and trying desperately to be fair so they don’t grow up to be like Jeen and Sunny Han. It also comes from the attempt to navigate and embrace their ties to two different cultures.

That is it in a nutshell. I won’t go into the number two making appearances in my life in random ways because that’s an even more boring topic than this one, if you can believe it. I’ll just say that quite often, my life seems to be multiplied or divided or appointed by the number two.

There you go. Now wasn’t that the most fascinating post you’ve ever read?

Dear Uhma,

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Fri, 28 Sep 2007 14:05:00 +0000

Three years ago today, we drove to the hospital with Kun Eemoh to say goodbye to you. You couldn’t talk, and I imagined all the things you would have said to us if you were awake: Be good. Be happy. Be healthy. Live proudly. I heard your real voice a week, or a few days, or a month prior (I can’t remember, it’s all a blur) for the last time, and how I wish I could remember your last words to me.

Three years later, it’s still too painful to recall that day. So instead, I’ll just tell you about the twins.

Sometimes, they remind me so much of you. Bean… she is so feisty, and so bossy sometimes. She’s assertive when she wants something. But she also lets go when she needs to or knows better. When her feisty attitude appears — I can’t help it… I smile inside, and look at her with pride. She has your spirit, and your energy. She is strong, and she will be a strong woman. Sometimes I glance at her at a certain angle, and I catch your face for a moment. She is beautiful and adorable. She gets that from you. Oftentimes I catch her intensely focused on something. Those are the moments I really see you. I watch her concentrating so hard; your determination and will carrying on through her.

And Buddy… he has such a gentleness about him like you. And a silly sense of humor too. And he asks so many questions — too many sometimes. On some days, when our patience wears thin, we give him an answer that says Stop asking so many questions. And he gets a pensive, twitchy look on his face. I recognize that look. You had that look often, when I would try and stop the questioning or the slew of advice. Slight hesitation… pondering What if I just ask just this one last question… should I or shouldn’t I? And I smile to myself while I refrain from rushing over and hugging him in the hopes of catching your essence before it leaves, or before he lets it go too quickly.

They are both such sweet souls. They are sensitive, kind, independent, respectful. I try to raise them the way I think you tried to raise me. I teach them to say, “May I be excused please?” after meals because remember…? When you always tried to get us to say that? I do that so everyday, we can honor you in some way. It’s silly and minor but I know you would appreciate it.

A few weeks ago I showed the kids our wedding album. When we came across pictures of you, they said, “Halmoni!” and I almost cried. I was so happy they recognized you. G told me that he believed his grandmother visited him in dreams when he was younger. Do you do that? Do you visit them in their dreams? I hope so. I hope that is how they recognized you. We try and show them pictures of you so they know who you are, but I don’t think we do it enough.

I hope you are with Halmoni now. I think she was so heartbroken after losing you that she went to be with you. Maybe you are playing hwa-tu together.

I’m sorry we can’t visit you today — I know this third year is important. The four of us will go out tonight for you though. And I know you will have other visitors today. I hope you can see them all. All the Eemohs miss their Uhnee so much. When we visit with them, I catch them quietly watching the twins, a sad smile on their faces, and I know what they are thinking: I wish Uhnee could watch her grandchildren grow up.

You have a lot of beautiful grandchildren. You would be so proud of them all. I hope, wherever you are, you are proud of all of us too. I try and live the way I know you would have wanted us to. Be good. Be happy. Be healthy. Live proudly. Some days are harder than others, but I’m trying. We miss you and we love you so much.

Love,
Janet

Addicted

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 14:31:00 +0000

Me: Hello. My name is Janet. I’m a Facebook-aholic.
Other Pathetic Addicts: Hello, Janet.

Linked In, MySpace… thou art so lame in comparison (okay, LinkedIn is cool if you are actually looking for a job and trying to be all serious or something).

One of my Facebook friends has 340+ friends. Wha–? I think I’m at my max at 21 (ooh, another request just came in — 22). One of my other friends is friends with Gavin Newsom (whom, incidentally, I met at her 30th birthday party). I know this because I’m hunting down other people I may know like I’m a 17-year-old loser sitting in my parents’ basement on a Friday night.

I love seeing the groups others belong to; e.g.: I hate the Colts and Peyton Manning more than anything else in the world, and I’m a Bostonian and I’ve seen the guy on the bike who makes the siren noise, and Unlike 99.99% of the Facebook population, I was born in the 70s.

Awesome.

I want to alter how I met everyone to “We hooked up…” so that everyone thinks I’m a big slut. And, so G doesn’t know if I really did hook up with them or not. (JUST KIDDING, G!)

Are you on Facebook? If so, call me… (or poke me. As Michael Scott says: Whatevs.)

:::::

New post on Parenting up, about our decision to move to Chicago. Or move to a city. Or move out of the suburbs. Or all of the above.

Click here to read.

Gender 101: How To Raise Confused Kids

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 15:14:00 +0000

Bean: “When I grow up, I’m going to pee standing up!”

Buddy: “And when I grow up, I’m going to wear a dress!”

(Huh. Okay… that’s cool.)

:::

In the bathtub:

Buddy, pointing to Bean: “Hey, what happened to your p8nis??” Bean looks down to check.

(They take baths together every night. He just noticed? And… what is she looking for?)

:::

Going, Going… Gone (I hope).

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Mon, 24 Sep 2007 17:04:00 +0000

Hopefully I won’t jinx it, but we are a few days away from selling our house in MA.

Documents have been drawn, papers have been signed, and a closing has been scheduled. We were fortunate that (after an offer was accepted) we didn’t have to wait three months for a closing and there was no contingency on the buyers’ house selling. It has been a fairly quick turnaround… well, relative to the offer anyway.

Shit I’m happy.

If I can get rid of my mild cold, I might be drinking heavily soon to celebrate the removal of this 2000 square foot monkey off our backs.

Still. Despite the fact that it took over a year and a half to sell, I will miss the house. The kids spent two out of their three years in that house, and we have about 500 billion pictures to prove it. Even though I knew we would not be back to see it, the reality of this has made me a little sad.

Goodbye, kitchen where I spent much of my time — mostly on the floor picking up raisins and Cheerios.

However, on to other things. Hopefully, eventually, our next home.

:::

The buyers’ lawyer has been shady in his dealings, at best. He has tried to put things past us or our lawyer and then lied to cover his ass; e.g. he told our lawyer that we had agreed to a clause that we never had. In fact, we had never even discussed anything about it.

I don’t understand how people can lie so blatantly. It’s a little psychotic. Do they truly believe their own lies, or do they do it because no one ever calls them on their bullshit?

Luckily, our lawyer is f’ing awesome. This is our fourth closing with him, and he kicks ass. He also charges a one-time fee, as opposed to an hourly fee. Somehow we manage to attract buyers with overzealous lawyers who constantly cause him more work (I suspect so they can charge their own clients for more hours) — and still he charges us one set fee. If anyone is looking for a kickass real estate lawyer in the greater Boston area (he’s based in Southie), email me and I’ll be happy to send him more clients. Great guy, great lawyer. I wish he could work with us in Chicago.

Kids 101: How To Give Your Parents A Heart Attack

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Fri, 21 Sep 2007 15:08:00 +0000

Over Labor Day weekend, while away at our friend’s summer cabin, we all decided to take the kids to the pool. Buddy was in front of the group with G. He walked right up to the edge of the pool, paused for a moment, and without any notice — with his shoes and shirt still on — jumped right into the deep end.

He can’t swim.

G jumped in after him — backpack and all — swam down to a quickly sinking Buddy, grabbed him and pulled him up to the surface.

This happened so fast I don’t think I moved. I froze as if I was watching it on a movie screen and had no influence on the scene at all, except to watch it unfold. When he was lifted out of the pool, he cried and cried, scared absolutely shitless. Somehow he managed not to swallow any water, as he wasn’t choking or complaining about his nose hurting or anything, so maybe G showing the kids how to hold their breath and blow bubbles in the bathtub paid off in some way. Or, maybe it was just instinct.

When we asked him later why he jumped in the pool, he answered: “Because I jumped in the pool.”

After five minutes of holding him (okay, clutching him and practically suffocating him), cocooned in a towel, he ceased crying and said, “Mommy I want to go in the pool now.” Well, okay then.

He had a great time after that, seemingly unaffected by the FACT THAT HE HAD ALMOST JUST DROWNED.

I think G and I were still shaking at the end of the day. But, we’re thankful that we were all there (rather, I’m glad G was there as I seem to freeze during moments of pressure like I’m Cindy Brady on-air), and that Buddy was still willing to get in the pool after that and wasn’t traumatized, like I was.

Yesterday, I got the kids some down vests for the fall weather (if it ever arrives). Buddy was wearing his for awhile, looking like he couldn’t move. After several minutes, he asked me, “Mommy, this jacket is for the boat?”

First of all… no, you funny little bugger.
Second of all… what boat?

:::

A couple of weeks ago, I was parked on a busy street and needed to get the kids in the car. I had Buddy climb in first so he could get into his carseat, which was on the street side. While I was pushing his bum up, I glanced sideways and noticed Bean was no longer waiting patiently next to me, which she usually does.

I zoomed around the car door, looking for her on the sidewalk, then ran to the back of the car, and saw her about to step into oncoming traffic. I screamed at her, lunged and pulled her back, completely scaring her in the process.

She was confused that Buddy was getting in on her side, so she assumed she should go to the other side.

Before the twins were born, this was something I worried about constantly. I had read books about twins running in opposite directions in parking lots. So when they first started walking, I was a dictator about holding hands. Luckily, they usually never wander too far, and when we call them, they usually listen to us.

Just goes to show that I can’t assume anything. At all.

In the car after that, my heart was thumping.

I lectured them about running into the street, always staying close to me, never jumping into pools, etc. etc. (Actually, Buddy brought up the pool thing, since I was going down a checklist of things they should never do anyway.) I told them whenever they cross the street, they always have to hold an a-dolt’s hand. I told them they needed to hold my hand or Daddy’s hand. Then I asked them who else’s hands they thought they could hold.

Buddy offered, “We can hold Aunt FingKASIL’s hand!” (Clearly, not her real name. I thought FingKASIL would appreciate this —number three on the list of a-dolts! Awesome, considering they haven't seen her since they were 14 months old or so.)

Bean offered, ”We can hold S’s hand!” S (a friend of ours) is her crush — the one that causes her eyelashes to get all Betty Boopy.

:::

Lawd. I’m close to not bringing my kids out in public anymore.

When the kids were smaller and people said things to me like: “I don’t know how you do it, with twins,” I snorted and told them that our kids were going to grow up to be like those Flower in the Attic kids — i.e. three feet tall mutant adults from lack of sunshine or fresh air. I was too scared/tired/lazy to take them out by myself. I could usually tell if I would get along with people by their reaction to my joke.

But seriously. These kids! My heart is going to bust out of my chest soon.

Shit. With each passing day, all I learn about parenting… is that I really know jack shit about parenting.

:::

Miscellaneous Parenting

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Thu, 20 Sep 2007 18:28:00 +0000

I seem to have fooled everyone into thinking I’m some kind of rational being. Ha. Ha ha ha.

The truth is that I have quite a temper. I’ve always been pretty over-reactive and gotten into way too many unnecessary arguments. So what’s changed?

I’m too tired. Whether it’s to care or to put up a fight, I don’t even know. Okay, maybe I’ve matured a bit. Mostly, I think I just want to be someone my kids respect. I mean, who doesn’t?

However, it doesn’t mean my temper doesn’t spill out on occasion. Probably too many occasions. And then I worry that my kids do what I tell them not because they respect me, but because they are scared of me. In reality, it’s probably a little of both. It kills me to admit that, but it’s probably true.

So, I just continue to work on it. And apologize to them when it rears its ugly head. Hopefully at the very least they’ll learn that I’m trying my best, but I have many faults.

As for dealing with the teacher… it’s still early in the school year. I suspect this won’t be my last serious-issue conversation with her. I needed to start on the right foot with her.

Still, I now know why my mom would stay up worrying about us all the time. I always thought it was silly, but wow — I’ve had a few restless nights over this punching and the (seemingly) planned attack. As Mama Nabi said, That’s some fucked up kid mafia shit. Yup. Yup it is. And LMKR (and truthfully, her parents too) is still on my suspicious-as-shit list.

However. I’ll behave. For now. But if it happens again, I’ll probably go a little apeshit. Just call me Bruce Banner.

:::

Ok, to further prove that I know the Beanster is not a perfect child… I’m not sure what is going on with her but she has been having a lot of mini-breakdowns. Fake crying when she doesn’t get her way. The girl has got her acting on. And it developed before school started so as much as I would like to blame someone else, I really can’t.

I did speak with the teacher about it. She is definitely asserting this defiance at school as well. The teacher thought maybe she was trying to define herself differently from Buddy and test her boundaries. Didn’t we go through this already, at two?

I’m not sure if she’s tired, needing more attention, going through a phase, testing us, all of the above…? She seems to have a lot of pent-up emotion, so when she gets upset I try and talk to her about what she is upset about, but it seems to be about more than whatever little thing it is — something that she used to handle with no problem in the past. So I tell her to cry and let it out, and she does. Then she asks to go to bed, because this exhausts her. A little while later, she emerges with a smile on her face and tells me she feels better.

The mood swings! Holy crap. I thought I had a few more years until this girl turned exactly into me.

Fucking karma.

:::

Every night, we ask the kids how school was and what they did that day. We get a lot of shrugs and raised hands and “I don’t knows” and “Nothings.”

Hello? When did they turn into teenagers?

I need to research the Montessori materials so we can start asking them specifically about their day. Anyone have any online resources?

:::

Finally, I have a post up on Parenting. To go with my theme of the week, it’s long as shit so proceed with caution (if you choose). It’s about familial traditions. Click here to read.

Another Long Ass Crazy Post: (Or, An Update)

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Tue, 18 Sep 2007 20:17:00 +0000

Thank you all so much for your support and advice and affirmation. You all had great advice too (um, including the hitting back which, to be honest, has been on my mind and I’m SO relieved others would not find this totally unacceptable — as a last resort, obviously), and I’m so glad I have my own blog to use as a reference guide to parenting. Kick. Ass.

So, I spoke with the teacher on the phone. My basic points were the following:

1. That I realize I might be overreacting to the incident on the playground, and that I didn’t want to sound like an overzealous or ‘helicopter’ parent. I think after knowing so many teachers and hearing their stories about parents who approach them throwing accusations and not accepting any blame, I am probably paranoid about being that parent. But also, I wanted to immediately put it out there that I wasn’t blaming her. I did not want to make her feel defensive and if the conversation started out that way it would have immediately gone downhill.

2. To make sure that this has not happened before.

3. To make sure that if she sees it ever happening again, I would be notified.

4. To make sure that Bean was not being bullied by LMKR or anyone else.

5. To find out if Bean and Buddy were excluding themselves from the rest of the class.

6. To relay exactly what I saw, and the whole Closed Fist Punch part.

This is what I found out:

1. She has not witnessed this before. Of course, it’s only the second week of school and Bean and LMKR are both new students. New students need some adjustment dealing with school, and obviously with each other as well.

2. Along those same lines, she has not witnessed any bullying in the classroom or at the playground. While she can’t say that this kind of thing won’t happen again, she will definitely make it a point to keep her eye on this more now.

3. That Bean and LMKR both have strong personalities. I knew that already about Bean, and from I witnessed, I gathered as much about LMKR. Going back to Point 1, they are going to need to figure out how to deal with each other.

4. That when she had Bean and LMKR talk it out, she asked if they had anything to say to each other. They immediately both apologized. Yikes. I knew exactly what that meant, and I’ll get back to that in a second. What she tried to do was figure out why LMKR had hit Bean in the first place, and to ask Bean how she had felt about that (exactly what Rachel advised).

5. That after we left the playground, she talked to LMKR again, and then again before LMKR left school for the day. She told me that LMKR relayed that Bean had been doing something to her and Girl 1 (the swing-stealer) prior to The Punch — something about pouring dirt on some rocks they were playing with and they had asked her to stop and she hadn’t. The teacher also added, “Of COURSE that does not excuse any kind of hitting at all and any kind of aggression like that is absolutely not tolerated.” Her point was that she was trying to get to the root of the problem with LMKR so they could figure out how to handle it differently should a similar problem arise.

6. That the teacher was absolutely mortified that she had not only turned her head away for a moment and not witnessed any of it, but that my ILs were there for it all too. MOR. TI. FIED. It was actually the second time she said that to me. I may have been more cynical about that, had I not been there everyday watching her count the kids every minute. I told her I didn’t blame her at all, and she obviously cannot keep her eyes on everyone at all times. Still, she was clearly embarrassed about this.

7. It seemed to me that she was also concerned about the Closed Fist Punch, but she was trying not to let on to me that she was. She’s very calm and collected, as she should be, and I predicted she would be as much before I spoke with her. If she had gasped or acted disgusted, it only would have fed into my anger and I know that she shouldn’t do that. And I’m glad she acted as I expected her to — I have more respect for her. But, she did say in very diplomatic terms that the Closed Fist was ‘of concern’ and that in her many years of teaching, it has been a long, long, LONG time since she has seen or heard about that from a child. Maybe I was reading into it, but I think she was trying to circle around the idea that it’s a learned behavior without actually saying those words, as it obviously sounds accusatory.

8. Finally, I found out that Bean and Buddy do still stick close together, but Montessori is also based on a lot of individual play. Still, during group play, they are together. Eventually they are going to be separated into different classrooms (in a few weeks) and I’m hoping that helps more than it hurts.

I also thanked her for the background information (Bean not stopping with the dirt when they asked her to). I don’t want the teacher to think that I believe my kids are perfect or without fault. It actually made me a little relieved to know it wasn’t just a random act of bullying, and although the punch was clearly not the right solution, at least there was a reason for it (from LMKR’s POV at least).

As for Bean apologizing… I acknowledged that this was probably our fault. Apparently Bean has been apologizing a lot at school, without really knowing or explaining why. As the teacher said, “It’s very sweet, but what I’m trying to get out of her is an explanation and not an apology.” I think at home, we are teaching both kids to apologize just to apologize. (What can I say; we are passing on our guilt.). When the twins do something to upset each other, we are probably too quick to tell them to apologize to each other so we can all move on. Clearly, they know when to say it, but they don’t know why. Yikes. That has everything to do with our laziness as a parent and not taking the time to figure out how either one is feeling about it, or working out a solution. So, I told the teacher that we would work on that.

Overall, the conversation went very well. To be honest, I think we were both dreading it a little. At the end, the teacher told me several times that she was so glad I called.

My first parent-teacher serious issue conversation. What a milestone... for me.

Fifteen more years of this though? Seriously?

And despite having a better understanding of it all, I will say that LMKR is still on my shit list. I probably brought up the Closed Fist Punch a few too many times; I blame my vindictive and grudge-holding nature. She might be fine... but dude. Girl HITS WITH A CLOSED FIST. What the fuck? Just keep that shit away from my kids please.

***

This morning, G told me that Bean saw him packing some oatmeal packets in his briefcase for work. She eats oatmeal every single day for breakfast without fail. So she suddenly was very upset that he was taking her oatmeal.

When he pointed out that he was taking the oatmeal flavors that she doesn’t like (we buy the variety pack boxes), she went from CRYING to huge smile in half a second.

In the meantime, my MIL was asking Bean, “Can you tell us why you are upset? Can you say, ‘I feel…?’”

Bean slowly said, “I feel… MUCH BETTER!”

*sigh*

Small steps.

***

Again: crazy if you read this far. Maybe I’ll get better at the parenting thing and the blogging thing. Right now I feel like I’m only making right turns. With every milestone... I start at Step One again. Phew.

There’s Nothing To See Here Folks, But A Long Ass Post

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Mon, 17 Sep 2007 01:55:00 +0000

I have been dried up from blogging. Because I’m a visual person, I always think of a friend of mine when I think of the words dried up. She used to be a pharmaceutical rep for v*ginal cream. She always liked to tell us how our vags dried up after age 30.

Yes, I’m one dried up vag.

I’ve been busy — with work and trips and dragging the kids around the city before school started, visiting museums and conservatories and landmarks. I honestly don’t know how people blog everyday.

Blogging is so weird. How do we get so involved in each other’s lives? I know more about some bloggers than I do about my family and friends. I honestly have strong feelings for some of my fellow bloggers (to sound utterly creepy and weird) but I feel like I need to reconnect to real life again. I’m trying to reconcile the two because I seem to be getting sucked in by one or the other and not properly balancing the two.

Anyway, this is the latest.

***

The kids absolutely love school so far. I have to crouch down before we reach the door just so I can get my arms around them for a second before they wriggle free and run inside while I wave like a loser and yell, “Bye! I’ll see you later!”

My ILs are in town, and on Friday they came with me to pick the kids up from school. I’ve been meeting the teachers and the class at the playground this past week. For various long-story-that-isn’t-relevant reasons, I am the only parent who picks up at that time.

Usually when I pick up the kids, the teacher will barely look at me when I talk to her. She listens and responds, but obviously (and thankfully) doesn’t want to keep her eyes off the kids. Every minute or so she takes count of all the kids.

On Friday she actually stopped for a moment and turned to talk to my ILs while I watched Bean, who was pushing an empty swing. A girl came over on the opposite side of Bean — a taller, slightly older girl — and suddenly grabbed the swing from Bean. Bean immediately yelled, “No, that’s mine! That’s mine!” Another girl — a bigger, slightly older girl — grabbed Bean by her arms and pushed her several feet aside. I watched from afar, not wanting to helicopter, wanting to let her resolve it on her own, but holding my breath nonetheless.

Girl 2 (let’s call her Little Miss Kid Rock, or LMKR) now had Bean several feet away from the swing. She talked quietly to Bean with her hands still on Bean’s shoulders while Bean watched Girl 1 with the swing she had just been playing with. I couldn’t hear what LMKR was saying to Bean, but she was serious. Bean finally looked back at LMKR. Suddenly, LMKR lifted her right hand off Bean’s shoulder, closed her fist and PUNCHED MY LITTLE GIRL IN THE FACE.

I gasped. I heard my MIL gasp behind me. And I started running towards Bean, turning around only to tell the teacher, “That girl just punched Bean!”

Bean, stunned, had walked to an empty swing and sat down on it. She was facing the other side of the playground. I swung around to face her and said, “Bean, are you okay?” (I realize this may have caused more harm by bringing attention to it but I don’t care. It was my gut reaction and personally, I don’t think pretending something didn’t happen is wise either.) She had a large red mark on her cheek. She reached for me and whimpered, “LMKR hit me.” I picked her up and started to carry her over to the ILs.

Halfway there, the teacher called LMKR over, and asked Bean to come over too. I let Bean down so she could go talk to them, and walked back to the ILs. We watched and waited as that big bully LMKR made some kind of forced, half-ass apology to Bean.

We left to go home after that. When we got in the car, Bean waved out the window and cheerily yelled, “Bye LMKR!” Which broke my heart even more. Because, you know, I like to hold serious grudges. And what am I if I don’t pass on my messed-up philosophies to my kids.

I am probably making too big of a deal of this, but I’m honestly beside myself. I think I must be repressing some kind of past history where I myself dealt with this, because I keep replaying the scene in my head and feel absolutely sick to my stomach.

However, I like to think I’m not an overreactive parent. I try not to be anyway. Of course, trying and being are not always the same in my life. I’ve seen other kids push my kids over. I use all my energy to wait and see what their reaction will be first before I run over and drown them in motherly concern. But punching? With closed fist? That is fucking learned behavior.

The whole thing plays out like a fucked up, ganged up, aggressive playground attack in my head. What the fuck? It all bugs me: from LMKR pushing Bean out of the way, then (seemingly) intimidating her verbally while grasping Bean by the shoulders, then PUNCHING HER. Did I mention with a closed fist?

Holy shit I’m pissed. That LMKR is on my shit list.

This weekend one of the school’s parents hosted a cocktail party for the parents. It’s a small school, and I think most of the parents attended. I waited wearily to meet LMKR’s parents, not really wanting to, trying to will myself not to interrogate them and ask them what the fuck was wrong with their fucked up bully daughter. We all wore name tags with our names and our kids’ names; dorky but helpful as we made our way around the room. I was speaking to a parent in one corner while G chatted it up with another on the opposite side of the room when I saw a familiar face; someone I had met when we had both volunteered to help paint the new school. He walked towards me and I smiled and waved hello. My heart sank when I saw his nametag.

Dad to LMKR. Dammit.

I met his wife. Made niceties. Smiled pleasantly. Laughed at their jokes. Laughed at my own attempts. Told them It was good to see you again, It was nice to meet you, I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.

And I judged judged judged. Silently I judged.

Before we left, we made final rounds around the house, thanking the gracious hosts. Then found the teacher to say good-bye. We made small talk; discussed the kids. Before we parted, I told her, as calmly as I could, that I wanted to speak to her about something when she had a chance. I’m sure I made her night. Because isn’t that what every teacher wants to hear when she has a cocktail in her hand on a Saturday night? That a parent wants to talk to her/him? Awesome.

Whatever. At least G told me that I had a smile on my face when I said it.

I don’t want to be overzealous. I don’t want to helicopter, but what concerns me is 1. Bean is being bullied 2. I have noticed that Bean and Buddy stick close together at the playground. The first few days it seemed none of the kids were playing with each other. Several days later, some of them seemed to be playing together, while B&B still stuck together. The last few days, the twins seem to have branched out and played with the other kids as well. I figured, they have that twin thing going on, but they’ll eventually branch out and make friends with everyone. But are they excluding themselves? At the cocktail party, a parent of one of the older students (it’s Montessori, so they are all in the same class), told us her daughter comes home everyday and tells her all about the other students. She said to us, “Oh, Bean and Buddy. Yup. I’ve heard about them.” That’s it. What the fuck does that mean? Isn’t that weird to say? When I met a parent of a child I had met or seen or heard about, I said, “Oh W! He’s adorable.” (Everyone, of course, except LMKR’s parents)

Also, 3. the closed fist. Punching. And the fact that the teacher didn’t see it. I don’t blame her for not seeing it — you can’t catch everything, I understand that — but I only told her once, That girl just punched Bean. Did she think it was a slap, or a shove, and that I was overreacting? I need her to know it was a Closed-Fist Punch. I think LMKR’s parents should know it was a Punch. And I want to be assured that if it happens again, that I will know about it.

Maybe this sinking feeling in my stomach is just knowing I have to let go. My first instinct was to go and shove LMKR to the ground and get all Fight Club on her kid ogre ass. Of course, my mind is the only place where that plays out as morally correct. Maybe this sinking feeling is just knowing that my kids will have to face these things. Maybe this sinking feeling is not knowing at all how to advise them on how to handle them.

Weren’t we all taught to walk away? Not to fight?

This is a tangent (and I know, already way too long) but reading what I have read about racism, it seems a lot of us were taught to walk away by our parents when other kids exhibited racism, whether physically or verbally. It seems to me that many of us now have some issues with that. We were told we were better than them; that they were ignorant and stupid and didn’t know any better. But, did it make any of us feel better? It doesn’t seem like it now, but maybe I’m talking out of my own ass. Personally I don’t feel any better than them. I feel weak and a little lost about how to deal with it.

Do I tell my kids, if they are being bullied, to just walk away? I mean, hell yeah, I think Bean is ‘better’ than LMKR, but would she believe that? From my own experience, probably not.

And Bean saying goodbye to LMKR from the car? It kills me because if Bean was being bullied, does she not realize it? Does she consider LMKR her friend? And maybe she is, I don’t know. I hope so, and I hope this was an isolated incident.

I’m overanalyzing. Shit I need to go to sleep.

I’m fucking not ready for this next step in their lives.

I’m sure I’ll feel better after talking to the teacher. And then I’ll learn some mantra and meditate about letting go of some of the control in my kids’ lives. And my heart will break a little with each chant. You might hear it. *Crack. Crack crack.*

But all I really want to do is show up at school tomorrow with a shirt that says, Don’t fuck with my daughter. And hope that LMKR can read.

***

[You people are crazy if you made it to the end of this.]

Questions

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Thu, 06 Sep 2007 12:53:00 +0000

Today on Parenting: Questions/Quiz.

Life has been crazy lately. A trip, then work, then more work… I’m hoping to catch up to my Google Reader later this week. Anyway, my weekly post is up on Parenting with some questions:

:::::

1. If, while in a restaurant, your child has snot blockage setting up house in their nose, causing them to nasal-whistle and speak like Elmer Fudd despite not having a cold, do you:

a) Leave it and let said blockage catch flies and have a party until it leaves on its own?

b) Let child pick it out on his own?

c) Lean child back, perform remedial surgery with any available tools, and ignore surrounding public/waitstaff/poor customers just trying to enjoy their food as you pull Titanic-sized carnage from child’s nostril?

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Click here to read more.

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ESPN Guide To Parenting

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Thu, 30 Aug 2007 12:32:00 +0000

Today on Parenting: My ESPN Guide To Parenting.

Don’t let this fool you. I’m not a sports person. But I guess I’ve managed to retain some of it over the years, trying to date nerds but somehow ending up with athletes. Give me a whistle and a scoreboard and our house could be an ESPN reality show.

:::::

Assign Numbers To Each Child. Their ‘lucky number’ may come in more useful than you think, especially in moments of indecisiveness. In our case, Bean has claimed 5, while Buddy has claimed 6. This is directly related to their pull-up sizes, which in essence kills two birds with one stone, since they now have pre-printed uniforms.

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Click here to read more.

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Mini Architects

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 19:09:00 +0000

The kids and I have been taking in the city during their time off between camp and school. So far we’ve hit Garfield Conservatory, The Notebaert Nature Museum, the Chicago History Museum, the Come In And Play Center, various commercial stores where they will play for hours, and walks up and down Michigan Ave. It’s great to act like a tourist in this city.

If you’re in Chicago and have kids, take them to the Come In And Play Center at the Chicago Cultural Center (open until September 30th). It’s like being in someone else’s rec room — someone WITH ALL THE GAMES IN THE WORLD, that is. Best of all, it’s free!

The kids built buildings out of Legos. Their final products perfectly capture their personalities.

Bean, channeling Howard Roark/Frank Lloyd Wright:

She does things her way and you can be sure there’s a reason for it. But if you don’t get it, it’s your problem. She shouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone.

Buddy, channeling Louis Kahn:

Our philosophizing, deliberate, little architect. And apparently a door was a waste of time and space.

(Momomax, don’t be laughing at my remedial architectural comparisons…)

I love how absolutely different they are. I love how they have their own styles. I love how they nod in respect at each other’s masterpieces, and then go back to doing their own thing, not influenced by the other.

I’m boiling it down to Legos, I know, but these really do capture them perfectly.

Just one more week before school begins. I’m looking forward to it, but having a lot of fun with them on our mini-expeditions.

:::::

The other day, Buddy woke up from a nap and, groggy, stumbled over to me. I asked him if he slept well, and he nodded. Then I said, “Hey, we’re gonna go pick up Daddy from work soon. Is that okay? You up for it?”

He nodded, still groggy, squinting from the light. After rubbing his eyes and yawning, he started to wake up a little and then stood there, watching me as I brushed my hair.

Suddenly he looked confused. And concerned. He held up his hands in a half-shrug.

“Mom. We can’t pick up Daddy. He’s too heavy!”

:::::

Updated Résumé

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Thu, 23 Aug 2007 12:58:00 +0000

Today on Parenting: My updated résumé.

…
2004-Present
MOM/MOMMY, Mother to Bean & Buddy and Co-President of Our Household Inc.
• Played key role in conception of twins.
• Incubated for 36 weeks while effectively combating nausea and nonstop hiccups and fights in utero.
• Strategically gained 45 lbs. by eating while sitting on swollen buttocks.
…

Read the rest here.

:::::

By the way, in regards to POWN from the biz meeting video:

pown
A misspelling of the word “PWN” which is a misspelling of “own”.
The act of Power-Owning someone.
• “You got pOWNED little kitty”

[Courtesy of Urban Dictionary]

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And I Thought The Most Direct Route From China to NY Was A Dug Hole

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Wed, 22 Aug 2007 20:59:00 +0000

I stand next to the slide, watching Bean and Buddy in the faux treetop above. A girl (eight? nine?) makes her way down the slide slowly. As she nears me, she says, “You’re very pretty.”

Assuming she is either talking to someone behind me, or is suffering the early onslaught of cataracts — poor thing — I ignore her.

She halts in the middle of the slide, her eyes now level with mine and no more than a foot away, and shouts, “YOU’RE VERY PRETTY!”

I blink a few times because I’m unsure why this is directed at me; not even out of modesty but from the sheer randomness of this statement. One thing is clear though: She now not only thinks I’m pretty, but also dumb and/or audio challenged.

I frown out of concern for her own visual challenges. “Um. Thanks.”

She continues down the slide. Then stops at the bottom and looks back at me.

“ARE YOU FROM CHINA?”

I sigh.

“No, I’m not from China.” I search for B&B. I’m too tired for this conversation. It’s meant innocently enough, but it can be a loaded question, even from a nine-year-old.

“OH.” She gets off the slide. Stands up. “OH! ARE YOU FROM NEW YORK?”

I frown again, now out of concern for her geographical challenges and also, her train of thought which seems to have derailed somewhere IN THE PACIFIC OCEAN.

“Um. Actually, yes, I am from New York.” I respond, finally spotting the twins.

“OH!” It all makes sense to her now.

I call out to B&B that they have a few minutes before we need to leave.

Suddenly she is IN MY FACE, my new friend. She has squeeeezed herself between me and the slide. My space is officially invaded and I. no. like.

“Guys, one more minute!” I warn.

“I KNEW YOU WERE FROM NEW YORK. I KNEW IT!”

I am… bewildered? …flattered? …biting my tongue from reminding her that her first guess was China?

Actually, I am too distracted by the twins climbing down a net; not by the possibility of them falling, but of their Crocs dislodging and falling into what seems like an enclosed (and inaccessible) abyss.

Finally. They make it down. Come down the slide. Before they manage to sneak under my nose and head back up the tree, I herd us over to the gate. My friend, after disappearing for a minute, is suddenly back in my face. (Who is this girl and where may I also obtain these super stealthy powers?)

“I KNEW YOU WERE FROM NEW YORK.” She is proud and she wants me to be aware of her hypernatural instinct.

“How did you know—?” But before I can finish asking, she has run off.

:::::

So, any clues as to what a New Yorker looks like? Other than Chinese, obviously.

Overheard Lately

noreply@blogger.com (halfmama) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 22:35:00 +0000

Buddy, angry because he didn’t want to stop playing and take a bath: “I’m so SICK OF THIS!” I think he swiped at a wall.

Whoops. Wonder where he learned this from?
[Note to self: Learn to channel frustration another way. *ahem* I don’t swipe at the wall, or anything else for that matter, though.]

:::::

At 6am today, both kids:
“Daaa-aaad — I have a pooo-ooop! It’s your lu-cky daaaay!” Followed by much giggling.

:::::

At camp, the kids learned that ‘Sharing is Caring.’ Now when they fight over something, it goes something like this: “But Mom, Iwantthis and Buddywon’tshare but sharingiscaring and Iwantthisplease, Ineedit.”

The other day Bean brought home a beaded necklace for me. Buddy tried to snatch it from me and I said, “Hey, this one is mine! And we don’t grab from each other.”

He looked up at me with those huge eyes and a coy smile and said, “But Mom… Sharing is caring.”

Oh Lawd.

:::::

G (while we were being stupid one day) asked, “Hey Buddy, can you say: ‘To be, or not to be?’”

Buddy thought for a moment, then answered hopefully, “Um… not to be?”

Well… that was the question.

:::::

One evening, I stood behind G and threaded my arms around him to pretend he had four arms. We did a stupid routine — the kind only very little kids would find funny — and the kids were laughing huge belly laughs.

Finally, Buddy said breathlessly, “I can’t… stop… LAUGHING!” and then, “You are CRACKING ME UP!”

So silly, those phrases. But when you hear your kids saying them for the first time, it is the cutest thing ever. EV. ER.

:::::

Another viral video that made me laugh (especially the meeting interrupters): If Internet commenters held a business meeting.

Courtesy of CollegeHumor.