The Mommy Diaries

I am awesome

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 21:17:00 +0000

I think I might be back from my self imposed exile from the blogosphere. Why, you might ask? Because I'm a glutton for punishment.

Anyway, here goes nothing.

Recently, we had a stretch of several beautiful days. On the first of said beautiful days, I spent the entire day playing outside with the kids, which, I'm learning, is the worst thing you can do. Apparently, when it's nice outside, especially after a long winter, the best thing you should do for your kids is to lock them in the house and deny them that taste of glorious freedom. If you do what I did, you're only going to create a situation that will undoubtedly end badly for either you or your children.

Case in point:

After hours and hours of basking in the sun, riding bikes and playing teacher, it was time to go inside because Mommy had wash to fold. Everyone went inside, still smiling. We had a snack and I turned on the TV so the kids would leave me alone for 20 minutes so I could fold one single load of wash.

This was not to be.

Within the first 5 minutes, the Little Monsters broke out of the house, and I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THEY LEFT THE HOUSE. Yes, I locked the front door and went upstairs and they bolted. I found out they were outside when the biggest Monster came to ask me if she could cross the street to go to the park.

Bad Mommy, thinking you could leave Monsters alone to their own devices.

After a stern talking to I, once again, try and fold some clothes. This is when the Monster 1 smacks Monster 2 right across the face. This is a cardinal sin and is is an automatic trip to the bedroom.

After 3 minutes, I go upstairs to have a chat about hitting, when these words come out of the 3 year old's mouth,

"You're not awesome anymore. I hate you."

Out of the mouths of babes …

This did not upset me as much as I thought the first time one of my kids said they hated me would. In fact, it made me laugh a little. She said I wasn't awesome anymore? This would imply that at some point I actually was AWESOME, and, frankly, THAT is pretty cool.

This gave her another time out, during which she screamed that she did, in fact, love me.

Not that I ever doubted it.

Welcome to Paradise

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 17:42:00 +0000

It's Monday and I'm back to work after spending a week in paradise, or at least that's what it seemed like to me. The reality of going to work every day can be depressing, especially after the beautiful week I just had.

First, I have to tell you, I was no less than completely impressed with Cancun. All the travel advisories, I'm sure weren't for nothing, but I saw nothing that would make me concerned. I felt completely safe and totally welcomed by every single person I encountered. I mean everyone.

The week started a little rough, and I suppose had the potential of creating a terrible situation, but it didn't last long. After getting off the plane and going through customs in Cancun, Jon and I waited for our luggage. Jon's suitcase was the first to arrive. I sat at the conveyer belt for a half hour watching and waiting for my suitcase to show up. After all the bags but one were picked up by passengers anxious to start their vacation, I realized my bag was not coming off that plane. I filed my lost baggage claim and we took our transport to the resort. I was crying, Jon was upset and the taxi driver was all about karma. We shared the cab with a man who also lost his luggage and his girlfriend. Apparently they were supposed to meet in Atlanta, but her flight was delayed and he had to board the plane without her.

The taxi driver, in his best English, spent the 20 minute ride telling us our luggage would be returned and we could be miserable and then we'll have a miserable time, or we can be happy and have a good time because the worst thing that could happen is that we'd have to buy new clothes.

The guy we shared the cab with, Frank, was on board with what the driver was talking about; I, on the other hand, only got more upset with every word that came from his mouth. I had been packed for this trip for a full week. I had a suitcase full of clean, warm-weather clothes, while the clothes on my back were too heavy for the weather and, as every girl can attest to, the thought of having to go swimsuit shopping while on vacation, seemed daunting at best.

At the hotel, we were greeted by a man handing us each a glass of Champaign. It was delicious and exactly what I needed, but, above all, I'm a girl, and once a girl starts crying, sometimes it takes more than a glass of Champaign to stop the tears from flowing and that grabs the attention of every hotel employee, who came up to me and made sure I was OK. Everyone assured me my luggage would arrive tomorrow. We checked in, went to our room and I took a hot shower, put my dirty clothes back on and we went to dinner.

One bottle of wine later, I was feeling better.

After the second bottle of wine, I was also sure my luggage would show up at the hotel in the morning. I fell asleep sure things would get better. But I woke up 2 hours later and stayed awake worrying about my luggage until 5:30. At 6:30 Jon woke up and we got dressed and went to the front desk to see if my luggage arrived overnight. As we were standing at the desk, a man rolled my bag in the front doors and I gave the delivery man a hug and knew the rest of the week would be just fine.

And it was.

As was Frank's luggage and girlfriend, who arrived at the hotel at about 1 a.m.

Mexico is beautiful inside and out. I can't tell you about underbelly of the country, but what is on the surface is nothing short of spectacular. Seriously, I've never in my life seen such natural beauty. The water is crystal clear and the most amazing shades of blue you have ever seen. People are friendly and so happy when you just try to speak Spanish, even if you fail miserably, they are thrilled if you try.

Jon and I took three snorkeling trips to three different reefs. Our first trip was to a reef in a lagoon. We, well, Jon, drove a speed boat to the area. A man assigned us a boat, gave us some simple directions and we and three other couples followed him for about 20 minutes until we reached our snorkeling spot. The water was a little chilly, but what we saw made up for the chilly water. Floating along the top of the water, looking at fish through perfectly clear water is something I will never forget. The screaming 8 year old girl who was terrified of being in the water is something I will try very hard to forget. That aside, we swam for about a half an hour looking a fish and the reef and just spent the time being completely amazed. After the swim, we got back into the boat, which I thought it would be a good idea if I tried to drive it (it was not). Five minutes into our trip back, I stalled the boat and Jon and I were left drifting in the water, waiting for someone to come and rescue us, which they did. But that was as long as I got to drive the speedboat.

The next day I made up for it during a 30 minute wave runner ride on the open ocean. I am not very good at driving watercraft, I accept that, but I did it and I'm proud of myself for doing so. I'm even more proud of the fact that during that 30 minute ride, we were actually going to our third (Yes, I skipped over the second. I'll get to it) snorkeling spot. We were heading to a reef area where there was a 30 foot hole in which we could swim. We jumped off the wave runners and swam in the open ocean with no life jacket and tried to get up the nerve to swim into the hole.

Back onto the wave runner, it was Jon's turn to drive, and in less than one minute Jon threw us off the machine and right back into the water.

The second snorkeling trip, which happened right before the third one, I'm talking a matter of minutes here, was totally amazing. We took a bus to Playa Del Carman, then got on a catamaran to a protected reef in the middle of the ocean. We were between Playa Del Carman and Cuba. We were in open water and the tour guides made sure we understood if we touch any coral and we get cut, it would attract sharks. This time, the guides brought fish food.

Before jumping in the water, everyone was given a life jacket. Sitting on the catamaran, I noticed Jon's was torn practically in half.

"Go get yourself a new jacket," I told him. So he went to the nearest guide and showed him the jacked.

"Can you swim," the guide asked.

"Yeah," Jon said.

"This is Mexico. No problemo," the guide said.

Jon shrugged his shoulders and laughed and came back.

"I guess I'll be fine," Jon said.

He was. It was no problemo at all.

Once in the water, thousands of fish swarm our group searching for food. We could touch the fish, just not the reef. Swimming in the ocean is hard. The water isn't still and you have to fight a current, but it's not impossible and the guides were vigilant about keeping us all together.

Again, I'm sure you're tired of hearing this by now, the water was so clear. You can see straight through to the bottom. There's no odor, but it's extremely salty.

After the trip, we went back to the hotel and indulged in a couples massage. It was so relaxing and extremely professional. Honestly, this was the very first time I had a real massage and it was great. Fifty minutes went by in a flash.

Thursday morning, my birthday, Jon and I checked out of the resort and I boarded a transport headed to Cancun airport and he took a taxi to his next hotel. It was sad. Having spent 5 glorious days in paradise, leaving alone is, well, very lonely.

All in all, this trip was spectacular. We will be going back. The kids didn't come with us and, despite my initial concerns about leaving them, it was great that they weren't there. This trip gave Jon and I much-needed adult time. Everything we needed or wanted was handed to us with a smile. Anything and everything we wanted to do, we did. It was like a second honeymoon and I wouldn't have changed a single thing.

No sleep til Brooklyn ... I mean Mexico

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 20:39:00 +0000

In exactly 3 days, I'm going to be sitting on a beach in Mexico, sipping fruity drinks and basking (a.k.a. trying not to get sunburn!) in the warm sun. It's a trip I've been looking forward to for months. Four days in the warm sun with no kids. But as the trip gets closer, I find myself more and more worried about leaving the kids.

I'm not worried about their safety. I'm confident that they will be safe and well cared for while we are away, I'm mostly worried about them thinking we've abandoned them.

Sophia's been having some trouble sleeping these last couple of weeks. It's part of the reason I haven't written in a while. She's not sleeping means I am not sleeping, which means Mommy and Daddy have not been happy campers.

Not happy at all.

It's night terrors and anxiety and with each passing night of no sleep, she gets worse and worse. I swear she's running on pure adrenaline right now. At our whit's end, we decided she needed to sleep last night, even if it meant one of us slept on her bedroom floor.

That's exactly what we did and for the first night in nearly a week, she didn't scream or jump out of bed screaming. Jon put her to bed and sat in her room until she fell asleep. It took her about an hour for her to fall completely asleep, but she did fall asleep and Jon was able to sneak out of her room. She didn't wake up once screaming in terror, instead, at about 2 a.m. she quietly crawled into bed with us and fell asleep until about 7 a.m.

It's a small victory, I know. It's not perfect in the least, but it did give everyone some much-needed sleep. But it makes me worried about how she's going to sleep while we are away. The last thing I want is for the babysitter to not sleep the whole week because Sophia refuses to sleep.

I'm going to leave keeping all my faith on the wise words of my own mother: "Kids are only bad for their parents." I expect they will be perfect little angels for the babysitter and when I come back, she will be wondering why I was freaking out.

Saturday morning dance party

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 02:32:00 +0000

While many of you were snoozing comfortably in your bed, we here at The Mommy Diaries were having a raging dance party this past Saturday morning. Granted it was a party with no music, only "Cinderella" on the television to provide the beats, but that didn't stop Ryan from bustin' a move.

Watch out "So You Think You Can Dance," Ryan is your next star.

** If you watched this video before, you may have noticed the sound cut out at the end. It's fixed now.

A change in character, or is it?

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 17:09:00 +0000

Last night at about 10:15 I found myself standing in front of the oven waiting for it to pre heat so I could bake cookies for Sophia's Valentine's Day party today. This might seem mundane to you, but as I stood there waiting for the oven to beep, it struck me as completely out of character for me.

I've always been the type of person who if I needed to bring a dessert or any kind of food to any function I'd stop at the grocery store on my way there and pick it up. I can probably count on one hand how many times I've used my oven to bake anything but chicken fingers and French fries, but here I was, on a Wednesday night at 10:15, baking cookies for Sophia to bring to daycare.

The oddest feeling was that I really wanted to do it for her. I wanted to make those cookies. Tuesday night I spent about 45 minutes filling out Valentine's Day cards and putting candy in little bags for Sophia to give to her friends for Valentine's Day. Lots of thought and love went into preparing for this silly party and I'm shocked at myself.

What is going on with me? When did I become slightly domestic… um, well, that might be an overstatement considering the three laundry baskets sitting on the kitchen floor filled with clean clothes that need to be folded and put away, but go along with me.

For a full year, I've been reading blogs by moms and dads talking about their children and how it's affected them. For the most part, I think many parents (me included) are simply crazy. Almost daily we find ourselves doing things completely out of character because of our children. But that's when it hit me that those things that were once out of character are now becoming part of our character. There was bound to be a time when I got the hang of this parenting thing enough that I'd have a little free time to do things I want to do, which more and more is becoming about things for my kids rather than with me, like baking cookies.

So, with all this weird character changing things going on in my life, I guess it's timely that my blog buddy DC Dad awarded me this:

This award shows the values that every blogger shows in his or her effort to transmit cultural, literal, ethical and personal values every day.

And, as with every award, here are the rules:
1) Accept the award and post it on your blog along with the name of the person who gave you the award.
2) Pass it on to (15) bloggers that you know who deserve it.

Like any good anarchist, I'm not passing this along to 15 bloggers, because, frankly, I don't know 15 bloggers I can send this to. So, if you read my blog and you have one yourself, give yourself this award. You deserve it because you've stuck with me even after I said I was done blogging.

Playing catch up

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 00:40:00 +0000

How long can you go in between posts and still call yourself a blogger? I think I'm going to find out.

I've noticed during the last couple of weeks that the less I blog the better I feel about my parenting skills. Maybe it's because I'm not analyzing every move I make, or maybe it's because when my kids are bad, I forget about it instead of writing about it.

Yeah, that's the ticket. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Having said all that, so much has gone on that I'm not even sure where to start, so I'll start on the toilet. Quite literally, Sophia has decided she wants to use the potty. She still isn't telling us when she has to go, but she's using the potty when we ask her if she has to go. To be fair, she did tell us one time on Saturday that she had to use the potty, but it hasn't happened since.

Regardless, I am thrilled at her enthusiasm for the potty and I'm feeding into it as best I can, so much so that Ryan has decided he should sit on the potty whenever Sophia does. It's actually very cute, he just plops his little butt down on her little potty after she's done and claps. Maybe, if I'm lucky, Ryan will be potty trained by the time Sophia is and I'll have both kids out of diapers by the summer.

Good luck, right.

The other major thing happening at home is Sophia (again) has decided she can't stay in her bed. Bedtime stretches for hours (if both parents are home, of course). Supernanny would be appalled at how long it takes us to put Sophia to bed. We've tried everything, from Supernanny techniques to sleeping on the floor next to her bed. Nothing works … except ignoring her. I hope I'm not jinxing myself, but what has been working is when she gets out of bed after we tuck her in, we go upstairs and put her back into bed without saying a word to her. She's an attention grabber, so she doesn’t enjoy this one bit. Some days she screams louder, other days she goes back to sleep.

It's a crap shoot, really. One day she'll go to sleep.

Sigh

When she does go to sleep, we've noticed at about 11 p.m. every night, Sophia wakes up screaming. I think she's having a nightmare, but I can't confirm that since she doesn't really understand what a dream is. I've resorted to comforting her and giving her whatever she wants to calm her and get her to go back to bed.

My kids aren't spoiled one bit, are they?

Enough about the kids, you want to know about me too, right? Yes, I know, I'm used to playing second fiddle when my kids are around, but, damn it, you're going to hear about me too. This weekend beautiful weather crept in and we took advantage of the 60 degree weather to go for our first bike ride of 2009. It felt so great to get back on the bike and out of the gym, it better have, because this year we have quite a few miles to train for and I'm so nervous and looking forward to it at the same time.

This year, in addition to the MS 150 City to Shore ride we did last year, Jon and I are going to do the Dutch Country ride in July, which is two 100 mile days (ugh!) and we are hoping to do the Livestrong Challenge ride when it comes to the area, which is another 150 miles. All together that's 500 miles for 2009.

I hope my legs make it.

In exactly three weeks, my husband and I will be boarding a plane and flying to Cancun. I am so excited about this trip because 1) it's a warm vacation spot in the middle of crappy weather season, and 2) THE KIDS ARE NOT COMING! I love my kids to death, but is it really a vacation if the kids go? Hmmm, you can decide that for yourself.

Another Saturday night…

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 20:56:00 +0000

Ryan has a cold. It's one of those colds where snot just pours out of his nose. My poor little guy hates having his nose wiped and I've been inflicting this torture on him all weekend. So much, in fact, that his nose is red and chapped and I feel awful.

All Ryan wants to do is have Mommy carry him around and whimper. I feel for him, if I was feeling half as bad as he is, that's all I'd want to do too.

Which brings us to Saturday night… Ryan went to bed at about 7:30 p.m., just like every night. He slept through until 8 a.m. when I heard him crying.

It was a sad little cry. I peeked in his door and saw him still laying down, so I closed the door and let him sleep. About 15 minutes later, he started crying again. This time, when I went to check on him, he was sitting up, still crying.

"Good morning, buddy," I said to him as I walked in his room, and at about the same time, I saw that he was sitting in the middle of a pile of puke.

This would be the third time in his life that I have gone in his room and found him surrounded by vomit. I have no idea how fresh it was or anything. All I know is sometime between 7:30 p.m. and 8 a.m. Ryan puked.

He sleeps through just about anything and almost never wakes up during the night. I'm hoping he didn't get sick in the middle of the night, but one can never really tell. And I probably would be able to tell if I was one of those moms who checked on their kids at night before going to bed.
I went out to lunch on Friday with a friend of mine. During our conversation she talked about watching her kids sleep and how peaceful they are while sleeping.

That was when I started laughing so hard I almost chocked on my food.

After I put the kids to bed, there is no way I enter their rooms. They sleep in a fortress I wouldn't go in if you paid me because it possibly would wake them up. I will gladly live the rest of my life without seeing my kids asleep in their bed if it means they both will sleep peacefully through the night.

We have to take our clothes off ... to have a good time

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 15:40:00 +0000

Over and over I have read how important it is for parents to work and act as a team, but what happens when the kids don't respond to the team method?

That's the conundrum we're having now at home. When it's just one of us with both the kids, they are much more behaved than when we are both with them.
Explain that one.

Breakfast is a disaster every morning because Mom and Dad try to eat with the kids. After work, the kids will sit quietly and eat if it's just me giving them dinner. At bedtime, Sophia will only stay in bed if she thinks I'm at work.

It's madness.

Oh, and to top it off, we've hit the naked phase.

So many bloggers have mentioned how their kids hit this stage where they want to be naked, and I never believed them. I thought, how is it that the kids will simply take off their clothes for no reason. Well, once again, I am astounded by my kids.

Every day it's the same routine. I bring Sophia and Ryan home from school, go in the kitchen and start dinner while the kids play in the living room. Without fail, every day this week Sophia is naked within 5 minutes of walking in the door. Thank goodness she at least keeps her diaper on since she is still refusing to use the potty.

If she wants to be naked, fine, go to it, but I'd like it if she at least waited until after dinner. That's my only request, that she keep her clothes on during dinner.

Is that too much to ask?

Apparently so.

Ryan's first "official" haircut

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 00:47:00 +0000

I'm back ... sort of.

On Jan. 10, I closed this blog. A week after the announcement, I made the blog private and that ended my relationship with Blogher. Now, two weeks later, I'm back, but this time without the help of Blogher. My intention was to keep this blog private and just invite friends and family to read, but after some thought I felt that it would be easier to make the blog public, but make it public on my own terms. I'm a little sad about not being part of Blogher any longer, but I feel like the pressure to write will be gone and, therefore, maybe I'll have less writer's block.

So, on with the show...

Today Ryan had his first "official" haircut. His last cut was done covertly by Daddy and I was not too pleased by it at all. This time, we took him to the "Princess Hair Salon" and had both Sophia and Ryan's hair cut.

Sophia before haircut

Sophia went first, she was a little more timid this time than she was the last time I took her. I think her shyness had more to do with both me and Jon being there with her than the fact that she was being shy at all. She wouldn't sit on the chair by herself, like she did last time. so she sat on my lap. Besides that, she was very well behaved and her hair looks adorable.

Sophia after her haircut!!

Ryan went second. We were hoping he'd see his big sister get her hair cut and feel a little more comfortable with the whole process, but he hardly looked at her at all while she was getting her hair cut. But, he sat on my lap and was pretty still the entire time. Jon fed him a steady supply of fruit snacks and that kept him relatively still.

Ryan before his hair cut.

During his haircut ... look how good he is!

After his haircut. What a handsome little guy!

I was very proud of both Sophia and Ryan.

And now the time has come to say good-bye

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 13:00:00 +0000

Today is my blogaversary. One year ago today I started this journey and invited all of you to join me. In the last year, I have shared many details of my life, from birthdays and anniversaries to first teeth, daycare troubles, potty training ups and downs and every other child-rearing topic that came up in my life. During this last year, so much has happened and I've had so much to think about, one of the things I've had to contend with is how much time this blog needs from me in order to survive.

During the last several months, I've been a little lax in my attention here. I've been reading your blogs, sometimes commenting, most times not. My own posting has become sporadic at best, going from almost every day to maybe once a week. The truth is that I just don't have the time needed to keep this blog going. So, it is with a heavy heart that on my blogaversary, I am shutting this blog down.

I want to thank each and every one of you for every comment and every word you've shared with me. Your advice has been invaluable. Many of your words have lifted my spirits when I was down and made me laugh when it was needed most.

I will still be reading your blogs and commenting when I can. I've come to know many of you very well and will continue our bloggy friendship, but I just don't have the time to keep up my own blog. Feel free to e-mail me (I will be forwarding all e-mail to The Mommy Diaries to my own personal e-mail so when I respond, it will be from a different address) or join me on Facebook (click on the badge below to join me) and follow me on Twitter. I'll be there, just not here. This site will remain up for one week, than I will shut it down.

The Christmas 5

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 18:31:00 +0000

Ahh, the holidays are finally over and life can get back to normal … or whatever we consider normal these days. But, like almost every other person on the planet, I'm suffering from the Christmas 5, those five pounds you are almost guaranteed to gain during the holidays. What is it about all the beautiful cookies and cakes and special treats? Why is it OK for us to devour every last treat that passes us because it's the holidays?

But never fear … the other wonderful -- I'm using that word loosely -- thing that happens this time of year is the stomach bug. Yup, the inability to eat or keep anything down will surely help you shed the pesky Christmas 5. My husband woke up in the wee hours of Sunday morning and I'm pretty sure shed his Christmas 5 in one trip to the bathroom. This morning, I woke up feeling like I would lose anything I tried to put into my stomach.

Yes, happy Monday!

The stomach bug is a funny thing. It swoops in quickly, does its damage and leaves as fast as it appeared. It picks off family members one by one, taking them unexpectedly, usually in the middle of the night so those who don't have it are sure to get it from cleaning up vomit while half asleep.

Two down, two to go. It's a tie game right now and I'm determined to wipe out the bug before it hits the kids. Sick husband is bad enough, sick kids would be worse ... especially since they don't suffer from the Christmas 5.

I am that mother

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 21:08:00 +0000

Every parenting book you pick up talks about how both parents need to act as a single unit. This is foolish. Before everyone gets up in arms, let me explain. My theory is that if two parents start acting like one, you are outnumbered. Even if you have only one child, two parents acting as one gives one child the upper hand because kids always rule. At my house, the one child for each adult tactic is not working and we are entirely overwhelmed.

This Christmas, it became pretty clear to me that my children are spoiled rotten. I don't know how to parent any other way. If they are crying and want something, I can't do anything but give them what they want. I know this will backfire on me and my kids will grow up to be brats, but I can't help it.

Christmas turned Sophia into an evil princess!

It's beginning to feel like every day starts and ends with crying children. Both want to be held all the time and both will turn from sweet, innocent children to demons from hell at a moments notice if they aren't getting what they want. But here's the thing, they are wonderful, well-behaved children for everyone else but us. They eat, play nicely and listen to anyone watching them, but once we show up to pick them up, all hell will break loose and one, if not both, will immediately start acting up. There are days when the teachers at daycare will tell me they had a great day and while I'm walking the kids to the car one will have a tempertantrum because they won't want to leave.

Really.

So, how do you combat screaming, crying, whining and spoiled children? What is your secret to a quiet, fully functioning household?

By the way, the behavior chart is working nicely. Sophia is improving at daycare, but I still can't shake her out of the tempertantrum habit. Ryan, being a good student, is following in her footsteps and throwing his very own tantrums. Yes, I am that woman with the screaming kids in Target and I am very sorry about it.

The best Santa photo ever

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 01:29:00 +0000

My kids don't like Santa ... let me rephrase that, my kids are scared to death of Santa. Sophia gets the whole Santa thing. She understands he is going to bring her presents on Christmas, but that doesn't make her want to be near him. Ryan is also feeling the excitement of the upcoming holiday, but honestly, he has no idea what is going on, he's just excited.

Santa came to daycare today. He gave every student a present and everyone had their pictures taken with him. This would be the second attempt this year at getting my kids' pictures taken with Santa. The first time Sophia got close enough to Santa to tell him she wanted a princess for Christmas, but as soon as the words left her little mouth, she bolted across the room. This time Sophia knew what was coming and this time she didn't even get close enough to tell Santa she wanted anything for Christmas. She got her present and walked away relatively unscathed.

Ryan wasn't so lucky. Still carry-able, Ryan was taken to see Santa. Despite his protests, he was plopped down on Santa's lap.

This is the result:

I nearly peed myself laughing when I saw this picture. There it is, Ryan taken hostage by Santa. Can you hear Santa's evil laugh as he points at the camera and says, "I'm coming to get you."

Ryan managed to come home with a present from Santa, although I'm pretty sure he never actually handed it to Ryan. One year, maybe before they are 10, I will get a picture of my kids on Santa's lap. Maybe. If not, that's fine because for all eternity, I will have this fantastic picture to remind me why I don't spend hours in line waiting to have my kids sit on Santa's lap.

What did I do to deserve THIS?

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Sun, 21 Dec 2008 18:17:00 +0000

The super-fabulous Kat from Sassy Irish Lassie tagged me for an impromtu game of "GOTTCHA." So, this is me right now. It's Sunday afternoon, about 1:30 p.m. Jon and Sophia are out last-minute Christmas shopping, Ryan is taking a nap and I'm in between loads of laundry. It's also about an hour and a half before I have to go to work.

What? You're still reading? OK, here are the rules:

1) Take a picture of yourself right NOW!

2) DON'T change your clothes, DON'T fix your hair... Just take a picture.

3) Post that picture with NO editing.

4) Post these instruction with your picture.

5)Tag 10 people to do this..

Here are my nominees. Sorry guys

4. Scary Mommy

6. Jody

7. Sonia

8. Celtic Buffy

9. Sondra

10. Rob

I have everything I could ever want for Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 15:33:00 +0000

It's not that nothing is going on, it's that there is too much happening for me to even think about posting. Honestly, between work, (not) Christmas shopping, two sick kids, behavior charts, Big Hairy Holiday Fitness Challenge and dealing with my own nagging cough, there isn't much time left at the end of the day to do much more than collapse and drag the puddle of goo that was once my body right into bed.

When Sophia was an only child, I don't think I fully appreciated how much less difficult things were. It isn't until you, as a parent, are wiping the poop off two asses and trying to brush your teeth while two children pull at your pant leg that you realize how easy you had it with one child. I recommend any parent out there with one child to wait, my god, please wait, more than 5 months to get pregnant with your second because it is hard.

I always knew I wanted to have a child. I always knew I wanted to be a mother and I am grateful every single day that I have been blessed with my children, but never in a million years would I have ever thought I would be responsible for two little babes.

Never.

That being said, I wouldn't change it for the world.

Every day I look at the faces of my children and cannot believe how beautiful and amazing they are. Even in the midst of a temper tantrum, rolling on the floor kicking and screaming or crawling on the kitchen table or playing in the trash, they amaze me. The have turned me into a woman I never imagined I could be. A woman who remains unshakably calm in the face of an emergency, a woman who can magically make boo-boos better with a kiss, a woman who will go to the bathroom while holding a child because it would be a tragedy if I let them go, a woman who would sacrifice her life for the sake of her children. Those two children have made me a woman I am proud to be and I couldn’t be more thankful for it.

Parenting pop quiz

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 18:57:00 +0000

Parenting is just one test after another. It really isn't fair. Once you feel like you finally figured it all out, something happens and you realize you know nothing.

This week's test? How to get a 2-year-old to stop hanging out with the wrong crowd.

It sounds a lot funnier than it is.

It seems that at the tender age of 2, Sophia has fallen in with the wrong crowd at school. She’s picked an extremely strong-willed counterpart to spend her days with at daycare. This little girl and Sophia are trouble together. Sophia has started pushing the other kids, ripping apart books and hiding the pieces and talking back to the teachers. In a matter of one week, Sophia has gone from a bright shining bundle of joy to a screaming bundle of something that is definitely not joy.

Yikes. I guess the terrible 2's have hit full force.

So, we are starting behavior modification training. Yes, that’s right, on a 2-year-old. I don’t know what else to do. She’s hitting, screaming and now getting in trouble at school, I have to do something because, you know, doing something is better than doing nothing.

We have a chart that looks a little like this …

Once it’s properly filled out, it will have a list of goals for her to do each day. They way it’s supposed to work is for every goal she completes, she gets a token and at the end of the day she can use the tokens to purchase a reward from a “treasure box.” At the end of the week, if she does so much, she will get a reward. Being that she’s 2, we had to modified the program a little to make it (hopefully) easier for her to understand. Her not having a real concept of time kind of makes this a little unfair, so our modifications started with making it a daily reward system and removing the token-purchasing power.

Sophia’s goals include staying in her own bed all night, eating all her breakfast, keeping her shoes and socks on in the car (don’t ask) and getting fishes (rewards for good behavior) at daycare. She will put a sticker next to each goal she accomplished every day. At the end of the day, if she has more stickers than not (we have yet to determine the exact number needed), she will get a special treat from her own “treasure box.”

In keeping with the spirit of fairness, Ryan will have his own chart so he can feel like he’s part of the process. Of course, his goals will be tailored to what he can actually do at 15 months. By including him, we’re also hoping to encourage a little competition in Sophia so she wants to do meet her goals every day.

Honestly, I have no idea if it will work or not, but it’s worth a shot, right?

I hope so.

When a haircut isn't really a haircut

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 15:15:00 +0000

Remember when I wrote this? I was struggling about whether or not to get Ryan's haircut. I didn't want for my little baby boy to get his hair cut and start looking like a little boy instead of a baby. Well, Saturday night, while I was at work, that decision was taken out of my hands.

Sunday morning Jon let me sleep in. When I got up, he brought me coffee and I went downstairs to say good morning to the kids. Sitting, drinking my coffee, I looked at Ryan playing on the floor. Looking closer, I noticed he looks a little different.

Me: Jon, you cut Ryan's hair, didn't you?!

Jon: I just trimmed the front. It's not a real hair cut.

Me: You gave him his first haircut after I specifically asked you not to do it!

Jon: Diane, It's not a real haircut. It's not a big deal.

Me: If it wasn't a big deal, then why didn't you tell me?

Jon: The hair was in his eyes.

Me: So. Did you save any of the hair?

Jon: No.

Me: I am so upset about this.

Yes, I did make him feel guilty enough that he dug in the trash and found some hair clippings. All has been forgiven (shh! Don't tell Jon, Ryan does look really cute), but Ryan will now have to get his "real" first hair very soon.

Here is Ryan's "not really" very first haircut …

Dude, nice shoes

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 13:00:00 +0000

Wordless Wednesday ...

Let's go play

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 19:44:00 +0000

My daughter is a television addict. I'm not sure when it became a full-blown addiction. It started with a little "Sesame Street" in the morning, progressing into "Blues Clues" and "Dora the Explorer" until it blossomed into watching full-length Disney princess movies.

I think she even has a crush on "Diego," who she affectionately calls Eggo.

Yeah, she's got it bad.

In the morning, I hear, "I watch TV!"

In the evening, it's "I WATCH TV!"

Saturday morning I had a plan. A plan to re-introduce play to our television addicted daughter. After breakfast, the "I watch TV!" began as it usually does. But this cold Saturday, much to Sophia's dismay, did not begin with an episode of "Blues Clues." My refusal to turn on the TV was a power struggle I needed to win.

I told her we were going to the museum and she needed to get dressed so we could go. My plan was avoidance. If I could get everyone out the door before they got bored, I could succeed.

Philadelphia has a treasure I never had to really utilize before this weekend, it's called the Please Touch Museum. That was our destination.

The museum was everything I had hoped for and more.

We arrived at the museum shortly before 11 a.m. and didn't leave until almost 4 p.m. During our short lunch break, Sophia devoured her food. She ate like I've never seen her eat. When she was finished, she turned to me and said, "Let's go play!"

Yes, indeed. Let's go play.

Sophia cried when we left, but we promised to return. As soon as we started the car, both kids promptly fell asleep.

When we got home, we got ready for dinner and guess what …

Sophia asked to watch TV.

sigh

A princess for Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 14:00:00 +0000

Since it's become tradition for many for the start of the Christmas season to begin Thanksgiving …

Sophia: Christmas is my favorite.
Me: Sophia, do even know what Christmas is?
Sophia: It's my favorite.
Me: Sophia, Christmas is the holiday when we celebrate our family and how much we love each other.
Sophia: I wanna be a Princess for Christmas.
Me: Oh yeah? Christmas isn't really a costume holiday.
Sophia: But I need to.
Me: OK, you can be a princess for Christmas if you want.
Sophia: I love Ariel.

It's the innocents of being 2 that I love. She doesn't care about presents and she's deathly afraid of Santa Claus, all she knows is that something special is going to happen and she wants to be a princess during it. I wish I could keep my children this innocent forever.

Happy Thanksgiving!

A hairy mess

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 20:31:00 +0000

I have a problem. Ryan needs a hair cut. It will be his first hair cut and I'm afraid to get it cut. Every single day someone reminds me that his hair is getting long. Yes, it's in his eyes, and yes, it is crazy-looking, but I love it. I love every part of it. I love the way it smells. I love how soft it feels. I love that it's a little shaggy. It is pure baby and once it's gone, it's gone for good.

Jon has threatened to cut it himself if I didn't get it cut. It's not an empty threat either, he will cut it. He once cut Sophia's hair and I freaked out about it. But he's not afraid of my wrath. I know he'll cut Ryan's hair if I don't do something about it soon.

But I don't want to cut it. After it's cut he's going to start looking like a little boy instead of my little baby.

I'm not ready for that.

I'm not ready for my little baby boy to become a big boy. I love his hair, in fact, I might never cut it.

Nothing is ever easy

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 00:38:00 +0000

No matter what you are prepared for, it’s never enough. Ryan’s hydrocele operation was Thursday morning. I had no doubt the surgery would go well. I was anxious about my little guy getting anesthesia, but we were at one of the best children’s hospital in the country, so I was pretty confident nothing would go wrong during surgery.

And nothing went wrong.

Ryan in recovery after surgery.

We left the hospital around 11:30 a.m. and spend the day with my parents.

Ryan went into the surgery with a little cold. By Thursday night, his little cough was getting worse. It was a hoarse cough that seemed to get deeper as the night went on.

Friday morning Ryan slept in. He woke a little before 8 a.m. and he could hardly breathe. His chest collapsed as he took each breath.

By 9 a.m. we were at the pediatrician. Over the course of the next hour, she administered two breathing treatments and gave him an oral steroid. Nothing was working.

“I think he should go to the hospital,” she said calmly. “I can call an ambulance … but I it might be best if you just take him. I’ll call and let then know you’re on the way. If he has an attack on the way to the hospital, call 911.”

As fast as I could, I was on the way to the hospital. The same one I was at the day before, but this time I was going in through the emergency room.

Within seconds of walking in the door, a doctor took his vital signs. A few minutes after that, we were in a room.

Ryan and Daddy in the emergency room.

They took neck X-rays to make sure his airway wasn’t damaged when they incubated him during surgery.

His airway was not damaged.

He sounds like he has croup, maybe exacerbated by him being incubated the day before, they said, but it’s hard to say.

“We’d like him to stay overnight for observation,” the ER doctor said.

Of course, anything you need, we will do.

Soon after being admitted to the hospital room for overnight observation.

Ryan was given an oral steroid used to help keep his airway open and he was monitored all night. Every four hours a nurse came in, checked him, took his vitals and updated us. Ryan slept through the night. I did not.

Saturday morning at 10 a.m. the doctor told us Ryan could go home. We left with what seemed like hundreds of pages of instructions.

I just put him to bed. His breathing is still labored, but it’s 100 times better than it was Friday morning. Through this entire ordeal, Ryan has been a trooper.

After his surgery, my intention was to write a post about how appreciative I was of the hospital, how every aspect of my child’s well-being was cared for exactly as I would expect it to be. While Ryan was in surgery, Jon and I were updated every hour, on the hour, by volunteers given information from the operating room. Ryan’s progress was monitored on a computer screen in the waiting room. As soon as the surgery was over, the surgeon came to see us and gave us a detailed account of what happened and how we should care for him for the next several days. As soon as Ryan was in recovery, we were escorted to him where we held him as nurses talked to us and took care of Ryan’s needs.

I wanted to write about how thankful I was that we were there for such a minor surgery when so many other families were there for so much more.

But that post didn’t happen. This one did.

Yes, I am upset Ryan is sick, but it wasn’t the hospital’s fault. In fact, this experience has made me even more appreciative of the hospital.

I could never say thank you enough to every one at the hospital.

I am tired. Jon is tired. Ryan is tired. All I want to do is rest, physically and emotionally. But that won’t happen until Ryan is feeling 100 percent.

Bah humbug!

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 15:51:00 +0000

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I would like to take this opportunity to plead a case, a case that is very to my sanity. The case is against pre-mature holiday celebrations.

Come on, people. Hear me out. I love Christmas just as much as the next person, but I can only take so much of it. Christmas should not be even thought of until Dec. 1. Screw Black Friday. Holiday shopping should not start the day after Thanksgiving. Christmas music? Listen, whoever you are who plan the music selections for radio stations, stop the Christmas music.

Now.

I'm serious.

Mommy is not playing.

Last but not least, to the community, do not decorate for Christmas yet. There is no reason to be wasting all that electricity on decorative lights and ornaments before at least Dec. 1. Hell, a real Christmas tree will be dry and falling apart by Christmas if you put it up now. If you have a fake Christmas tree, it will be covered in dust by Christmas morning. Dusting a Christmas tree does not sound like fun to me.

I would like to propose a ban all holiday celebrations to the month they are scheduled. So, Halloween decorations and costume and candy sales would be contained only in the month of October. Thanksgiving would occupy November. Valentine's Day would stay in February. It makes sense, right?

Imagine how nice that would be. I think everyone's stress level would drop significantly. Please, think about it. Don't we all have enough to worry about? Don't we deserve a break?

A little help for a friend

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 16:35:00 +0000

What do you do when you see a friend in need? What do you do when that friend has a history of not being able to do simple things to take care of himself? These are the questions Jon and I have been pondering all weekend. A friend of ours needs help. In fact, we believe, it's a matter of life or death.

Our friend, "Joe," is very sick. We saw him on Saturday and he looks like a walking skeleton. He is a grown man who weighs 113 pounds. He is skin and bones, literally.

He is not anorexic or bulimic. He's eating, he's not purging, but his body is not processing food correctly. He is a diabetic with no health insurance, no job and no means of transportation. We think his diabetes has changed and the medication that he's on is no longer effective and it's killing him. His body is so sick that he recently got a staph infection from a paper cut.

This guy is down on his luck and has been for quite some time. I think a lot of his bad luck is self-inflicted, but at this point there is no use in arguing the details of how he got where he is. The simple fact is that he looks terrible and he is not healthy and I'm pretty sure he's going to be dead in a matter of months if he doesn't get help.

We have a plan. Joe found a free clinic who will take him, but he needs transportation and the desire to get help. Jon is going to call him tonight and see if he's taken any steps to get himself to the clinic. We're giving him one week to get himself there, if by Friday he has not admitted himself, Jon is going to pick him up and take him there.

But we're struggling with how deeply we should get involved. Joe should really be taking care of himself. He knows he is sick. He knows he needs help, but for some reason it's just not a top priority. I almost feel like we need to stage an intervention or something. Maybe, like a drug addict, he needs help to get help. Unfortunately, I do not think we could muster the help from his family and it would fall on us.

***

On another hospital-related note, we took Ryan to the urologist on Friday and his surgery is scheduled for this Thursday.

At least there was no blood

noreply@blogger.com (Diane) — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 17:07:00 +0000

Last week, Sophia and I had a scuffle. I didn't write about it for a number of reasons but after a conversation with Laural from Laural Out Loud (formerly Mamasphere), she convinced me to share the story.

After dinner last Wednesday, Sophia asked to watch Cinderella. We had dinner early, so I said OK and put in the movie. At 7 p.m., I brought Ryan upstairs for his bath and put him to bed while Sophia watched her movie. At 7:20 p.m., I walked down stairs to get Sophia and bring her upstairs for her bath. Cinderella was at the ball dancing with the prince and Sophia wanted to finish the movie. Thinking there wasn't that much movie left, I sat with her and we finished watching Cinderella together.

By the time the movie was over it was 7:45 p.m. It was way passed her bedtime and she was cranky. I did her no favors by letting her finish the movie.

The crying started as I tried to get her undressed. It escalated when I put her in the bathtub. It got worse when I washed her hair and by the end of her bath she was inconsolable. As I put her pajamas on, I decided we'd skip brushing her teeth and put her right to bed. The crying had turned into an ugly mixture of moaning, crying and whining.

"No, I don't want to go to bed," she screamed. "I want you!"

I placed her in bed, but as I was tucking her in, she jumped up and the back of her head hit my face. It took every ounce of will power I had not to freak out. Sophia started screaming even louder, so I took the opportunity to leave her room and shut the door behind me. I needed a couple of seconds to recompose myself and check to see if my teeth were bleeding.

No blood, but my lip was sore. Her screaming intensified while I took a couple of deep breathes and calmed myself. With every ounce of courage and resolve I could muster, I walked back into her room and got her to bed. As I sat next to her bed lulling her to sleep, I put my hand on my lip and actually felt it swelling.

Laural begged me to tell her I took a picture of my swollen lip, but I didn't. I thought about taking a picture of what it looks like today, but sadly (or not) there is little evidence left of the incident, except my bruised ego. There is little worse than getting into a fight with a 2-year-old and losing.

On a different note, Jody Donnelly nominated me for a Butterfly Award.

Thank you, Jody. Now, I'm supposed to nominate at least 7 other blogs, so here you go:

Autumn's Mom

DC Urban Dad

Laural Out Loud

Everybody Has A Story to Tell. This Is Ours

Sassy Irish Lassie

The McMommy Chronicles

Bicycle Coalition of Philadelphia - It's crazy, but I'm addicted to this blog.