Size Matters, but Not in a Good Way

Sorry for leaving you. I haven't blogged lately because, honestly, I haven't had many funny things to say. Things here are, well, what can I say, not so hot. Among working equal hours as I did in Madison for half the money, and unable to find a different, better-paying job, Dana working much longer hours and, thus, rarely seeing each other, Kyler's refusal to take a normal nap (I'm sorry, but an hour of screaming and 45 min. of sleeping does not count as napping, even if he is in his crib for almost 2 hours) for more than a week, Kyler's insistence to now awake at 5:15 am, Beckett's unwillingness to do anything I ask him without demands that things be done his way, his stock answer "It wasn't me!" whenever he pushes Kyler down or steals his toys, and the breaking of numerous Christmas ornaments (not to mention tree branches), I've taken to locking myself in the bathroom. Literally. It's the only break I get these days, if you can call having one child banging incessantly at each bathroom door chanting "Mama, Mama" a break. I take what I can get.



So, to top things off, we're looking for a new pediatrician. I thought our pediatrician in Dallas was fine the first time we saw her at Kyler's 1 yr. appt. Each subsequent visit, there have been things that have bothered me. We were in love with our pediatrician in Madison, so warming up to a new one is hard. But, I've felt this new doc isn't very nurturing or thorough, and she has an odd way of complimenting your parenting while simultaneously insulting "other parents" of kids in her practice. It leaves me wondering what things she criticizes about us to her other patients. 'You know, I have some moms who refuse to keep their toddler on Zyrtec even though it's working, and I keep telling them to give it to him regardless of symptoms, because you just never know when he'll need it.' (yeah, we're of the mind that if Kyler shows no environmental allergy symptoms, he doesn't need allergy meds. crazy, heh? but I keep getting reprimanded for it) At Kyler's 18 month appt. last week, the doctor actually scolded him for ripping a photo (a very tiny rip) that was part of a patient photo collage attached to a bulletin board. I'm sorry, but if your job requires you to have young children in a room where the only interesting thing to look at is a bunch of kids on the wall and you expect them not to touch it, then perhaps you need some education on child behavior. I'm just sayin'.



At this same appointment, Beckett had to get a Hepatitis A shot (his second this year, as WI doesn't require them). After the appointment, I was told we didn't owe anything because it was a well-visit. Then yesterday, I receive a bill for a $20 copay for Beckett's office visit. Yep, they filed a claim with our insurance company for a nurse walking into a room and sticking a needle in Beckett's thigh for a vaccine that's fully covered by the insurance company. It just didn't seem right to me. Just like I'd been miffed that I had to pay two copays last month when both boys were seen at one appointment that lasted less than 15 minutes. I decided I should call the dr.'s office to see if this was some crazy TX law established to get more money out of consumers, which wouldn't really be all that unlikely. Afterall, in Madison, we always doubled up the boys' appointments, on advice of the clinic, to save a copay. The billing department lady, after explaining to her my question three times, finally says it is a TX regulation. I mentioned that our last doctor didn't charge us this way (not mentioning this was in WI) just to see what she said, so I didn't understand the difference. She then asked, how then I could guarantee my sons' vaccination records were accurate if the office didn't file insurance claims on each one? Well, let's see, they recorded the vaccination information on their medical charts. You know, some people don't have insurance, and, yet, they still get vaccines. Amazing, yes! Plus, our last dr.'s office did file vaccination claims, because those were always covered in full. What they didn't do is file two office visit claims for a single appointment. After a lengthy discussion with much backtracking by the billing lady, I was finally told that's the way their office does things but to disregard the bill. TX law my arse!



So, I embarked on a search for a new pediatrician. There's a local magazine that has a yearly article on Dallas' top docs. I went down the list and started calling. So far, every doc on the list either doesn't accept our insurance or isn't accepting new patients. I have three more to call that are affiliated with the hospital we like. The other docs might be great docs, but they only have privileges with one of the worst hospitals in town. Too many people I know have almost died while being treated there. No, thank you! If those 3 docs turn up cold, I don't know what to do. I've been unable to get referrals. There are just too many doctors in the area to know which one to choose without some whittling down. Afterall, we blindly picked our current pediatrician out of the insurance provider book based on location, and look where that got us.


You would think in a metroplex the size of Dallas-Fort Worth, I'd be able to find a good pediatrician and a decent-paying job. Well, you would be wrong. As much as I love the endless possibilities of a large city, I'm starting to realize the advantages of a smaller one.

What Kind of Dr. is This?!

Yesterday Dana went to the doctor for a ruptured ear drum. Upon her return, Beckett and she had the following conversation:

"Mommy, did you get a lollipop?"

"No, I just had to pee in a cup."

"They didn't have a bathroom?"

I still laugh just thinking about!

Defensive Driving

This morning, Beckett saw a car accident on the news.

He said, "Look at that bad car crash! Is it John McCain?"

"No, it's not John McCain," I answered.

"Oh. Is it because John McCain's a great driver?"

This made me laugh hysterically! I have no idea why Beckett though McCain was driving that car that crashed into two other cars. It seemed awfully metaphoric.

Election Day!

Wow, what a cool night! I have to say, I did not expect the race to be called at 10:30. I thought we were in for a long haul, especially since the networks were shaking in their boots to even say whether either candidate won a state, in fear of a 2000 repeat. It was really quite exciting to watch and actually feel good about the world in the morning! Dana got a bit teary-eyed. I stayed stoic; I don't cry happy tears, not even when my children were born. Don't know why.


I must say, I am very disappointed in the CA Prop. 8 vote (as it's the first time in U.S. history that a right has been taken away by majority vote), though expected, and that Noriega lost the Senate seat to that corrupt bigot, John Cornyn. (It was a close race here in TX) . I was excited to see Obama carried Dallas county by 61%. It made me feel like my vote didn't get lost in the red tsunami that is Texas. He also carried the counties where Houston, San Antonio, and Austin are, which means he carried all the major metropolitan areas.

Beckett's teacher held an election in class today. Apparently, he first voted for McCain. His teacher said she didn't question him, but was surprised given the Obama sticker on my car (his teacher's also an Obama supporter, and we often talk politics when I pick Beckett up). But, she said he then decided to change his vote to "Myrock" Obama. Obama won the 3yr old vote, 7-1! At home, when I'd ask Beckett who he liked, he'd say "John McCain. Wait, is he the blue one?" Then I'd say, "No, that's Obama." "Oh, I mean 'Myrock' Obama," he'd say. This went on most of the night. The next morning, when I told him Obama won, he looked so sad and said, "But my friend will be sad. He likes John McCain." Beckett is blessed with a level of empathy about this I do not possess. I responded, "Well, Mama and Mommy have been sad for 8 years. He'll get used to it."

Boo!

Happy Halloween!!

This was our best Halloween, yet. The first Halloween that we took Beckett trick-or-treating, I spent the entire day sewing his costume with him sitting on my lap and feeling horribly nauseous with a throbbing migraine. (I was pregnant with Kyler.) I finished the costume about 15 minutes before nightfall. Then we proceeded to walk the neighborhood in freezing temperatures. I had to explain to several suspicious candy-givers that when I rang their doorbell with pumpkin in hand that, yes, I did have a child with me, only he was too cold and tired to climb the 24 steps to their house to ring their doorbell. The next year, Kyler was the cutest little ear-infected pea pod. Again, it was freezing. Kyler was so bundled in his stroller no one got to see how cute he was. Since we lived in an apartment, we decided to walk to a nearby neighborhood. It seemed like a good idea, but the walk was about 20 minutes each way and uphill (each way). Oh, and, it was freezing. This year, no one was sick and it was 70 degrees!! Though, I was still sewing Beckett's costume the morning of Halloween. Oh well. One of these years I'll be prepared!



Beckett was upset Kyler wasn't going as an ant. He had a bug theme in mind, I guess. But, we had the scarecrow costume leftover from Beckett. I tried to tell him it was scarecrow's job to keep the ladybugs out of the garden, but he didn't buy it. I guess he's informed that ladybugs are actually beneficial to agriculture. Interestingly, the scarecrow got tons more compliments this time around. We were told by several houses it was the best scarecrow costume of the night. Maybe folks in Wisconsin are just too used to seeing real scarecrows to be impressed with my costume-making skills!


Ladybug, Ladybug fly away home! My mom says I've ruined the nursery rhyme since I informed her that male "ladybugs" have spots and the female ones don't. This is absolutely true and was my best attempt to masculinize Beckett's costume in the eyes of my mom. (Dana and I, of course, did not care. He begged to be a ladybug). My mom's response, "Then how do you know how many children the ladybug has?" Seriously?

The kids had SO MUCH FUN trick-or-treating. Beckett raced to each door while Kyler trekked behind, carrying his pumpkin all by himself. After EVERY house, Beckett would exclaim, "They gave me MORE candy!" with utter astonishment. At one house, there was an odd lady whom I overheard tell the mom in front of us, "No candy for babies" as she reached into the toddler's bag and actually took the candy back. Then she shooed away the mom. I was shocked! The baby looked just slightly younger than Kyler. When it was our turn, the woman asked how old Kyler was. I exaggerated and said he's almost 2 hoping she'd let him have the candy. He did afterall walk up the walkway carrying his pumpkin all by himself. How can you deny a kid candy?! And just because you "own" the candy, is it really right to discriminate who can receive it? Kyler came home with a full pumpkin of candy, but it's not like we're allowing him to eat it all (the same goes for Beckett). But, even if we were, it's really no business to the person who gave us the candy freely. That woman really irritated me. If I hadn't been in such a darn good mood and had the boys there as witnesses, I probalby would have given her a piece of my mind. Or, maybe I wouldn't have. I did warn the families behind us, though. I felt a little better after that. Oh, and Kyler did get the candy!

Since we live in the neighborhood where my mom grew up, we trick-or-treated at her old house. The current owner let us come inside for a quick tour. It was very cool! It seemed so much smaller than I remember (my mom said the same thing). They had done some odd things to the kitchen, like turned the breakfast nook into a home office with built in cabinets, so there was no kitchen table. But the rest of the kitchen looked identical. It still had the tile floor my grandma had installed in the '80s, and the backsplash, counters, and cabinets were original from 1959 (except the cabinets had been painted white). My mom and I hadn't been in that house since '87 when my grandpa died. I'm really glad we got to see it again. Now, I'm on a mission to tour all my old houses. There were a lot of them. I wonder how the current owners would take that?

As upset as the mean candy lady made me, my good mood was preserved by the Obama pumpkins in the neighborhood. We have some talented and political neighbors. I would have never thought to carve Obama's face or "O" symbol onto a pumpkin (nor do I possess the skills), but I'm sure glad people did. In hindsight, we should have carved a big "W" on our pumpkin instead of a toothy smily face. But, that might have been too scary!

Mad Memory Skills

One of Beckett's favorite pasttimes of late is flipping through the many, many toy catalogs we get in the mail this time of year. Each page has at least one really, really cool toy that he really, really wants for Christmas. And, isn't Christmas in the morning, yet?

This morning he was looking at a Fisher Price catalog, ooing and aahing at all the cars, trucks, and trains he wants to add to his Christmas list (oh, yeah. he's keeping a list). Then I hear him say to Kyler, "Only from Fisher Price. Play, Laugh, Learn.", in near-perfect pitch. Should I be concerned he's watching too much TV?

Cute Kids Have Problems, Too

This afternoon, the boys and I were at CVS (buying, incidentally, 4 Soy Joy bars, 1 mascara, 1 foundation, 3 razors, and a Crest spin brush refill for $.80! yep, that's cents.), when one of the employees began smiling and waving at Kyler and Beckett. This happens everywhere we go. People are suckers for little kids. And in Texas, as opposed to Wisconsin, where approaching strangers and making silly faces at other people's children is not just common practice but a sign of politeness and friendliness (after all, you can't just see kids in a shopping cart and NOT say anything. that would be downright RUDE!), our shopping excursions are typically delayed at least 5 min. to stop and chat with a new acquaintance about these two adorable boys. I am fortunate that my boys are typically well-behaved in public. They relish in others' attention and will flirt, smile, and say silly things to get it. So, this particular CVS incident was nothing unusual and pretty much expected. Except, when the woman said, "Your boys are just too adorable!", and Beckett responded with equal parts exasperation and annoyance, "Why are people ALWAYS saying that?!" The woman just stopped and laughed. Bellowed is more accurate. Then she replied, "Because it's so true." See, Beckett's old enough to remember the days in Wisconsin not so long ago when we could shop uninterrupted, without the joyous gushing over his and his brother's cuteness that's now, at least to Beckett, so painfully predictable and confusing. Now, here in Texas, life is just full of problems. It's hard being cute.

Too Cool for School

Since Beckett started attending school, I've received many comments on what a "neat kid" he is (not picking up the toys from every bucket in the playroom that he's thrown on the floor "neat," but 80s middle school "neat.") His teacher has been impressed with his knowledge of letters, memory, matching skills, and his uncanny ability to connect animals to their primary food source while tracing a winding dotted line. (Apparently, this last skill was quite impressive and can take all school year to master. Yes, my son is a genius at tracing and feeding hungry animals their proper diet). She's often impressed with the connections he makes and astute observations. But he's not just intellectual. Oh, no, Beckett apparently is quite nurturing and empathic. Just ask the little Italian boy in his class who speaks very little English and was so distraught over his mother's leaving him at school that he cried almost the entire 3 hours of class. Beckett was, reportedly, very helpful and assured him his mother would indeed return, and, in the meantime, he could play with Thomas the Tank Engine. And then, there's his conversation skills. The mere fact that he never stops talking means that at some point he will say something truly remarkable. The director says, "we just love having Beckett here," and has remarked on how self-sufficient he is. Now, I acknowledge, she might say that to every parent. But I have to think I was singled out simply because of Beckett's awesomeness.

Is it possible to get an inflated ego because of your offspring? Maybe. But just as you start to pride yourself on wonderful parenting skills and remarkable genes, you watch your son painstakingly attempt to hang his lunch box from his penis, trying again each time it falls (the lunch box, not the penis) crashing to the floor. When you ask him, "Why? Why are you doing that?" he responds both emphatically and casually, "Because my penis is a good hanger." Well there you have it. He is a genius!

I scream. You Scream. We All Scream for Ice Cream!

Last night Beckett's preschool held its annual Ice Cream Social. If you heard Beckett talk about it, you'd think hotwheels made of gold were going to be falling from the sky into tubs of ice cream and sprinkles. He was THAT excited. When he called Grandma to invite her, he was so overwhelmed with anticipatory joy that he shouted the entire conversation while literally bouncing around the coffee table. (this leads me into a question or future blog about why kids contain all the energy but have the least to do. i'm pretty convinced we could solve our energy crisis and global warming by simply harvesting the energy of preschoolers. maybe they could run on a 3 1/2 ft equivalent of a gerbil wheel. we could market it as entertainment to avoid those pesky child labor regulations.) But, back to the party. For a week and a half Beckett asked me how many times he had to go to sleep before his "ice cream party." It actually doubled as a good math lesson. Even his teacher told me how excited he was. Apparently, ice cream and grandparents dominated his conversations at school the past few days.

When Beckett arrived at his party last night, the first things he saw were Nana and Grandpa standing in the playground (they were early; clearly not from my side of the family!). I'm told the smile on Beckett's face was big enough to drive a truck through (and, quite seriously, that act would have made his smile even bigger!) I was not there to witness this raw emotion because I had volunteered to help set up the party. I was assigned the task of cutting strawberries, or, rather, crushing and ripping apart strawberries with some blunt implement I was told was a knife, resembled a knife, but failed to perform the sole function for which a knife is intended. . . cutting. But, the kids seemed happy to load heaping piles of strawberry mush on top of their ice cream sundaes!

There was one (and almost two) casualty at the ice cream party. Beckett's red balloon escaped from the firm grip of his hand (or was voluntarily released) and floated into a ceiling fan where it's string became entangled in the blades, creating a spinning torture chamber. There was nothing for the poor balloon to do but concede to the will and strength of the fan and allow itself to pop. The look of horror on Beckett's face as this tragic accident unfolded and the frantic, concerned pleas to "save the balloon" was enough to make you cry. He was so noticeably distraught that he drew in an audience of sympathizers (other parents and kids). I think prayers might have been uttered, though I can't be sure. We almost had the misfortune to repeat this tragedy when Kyler's yellow balloon (which had been a gift to Nana from Beckett, making it doubly painful) freed itself from its string and floated into yet another ceiling fan. But this balloon learned from his sad, red friend to leave its string behind. That way, it couldn't get tangled in the fan blades. Rather, it floated on the ceiling directly above the fan, where it probably still is this morning. Tragedy averted.

Even with the untimely parting of our trusted red, round friend, the evening was a success.. Ice cream was enjoyed by all (or most; Kyler had jello). Beckett and Kyler got to spend a fun-filled evening with their his grandparents, and Beckett got to show off his sweet little school. Nights like this are why we moved to Texas.

Diaper Update

Sorry for the delay. I realize y'all have been frantically checking my blog for the latest Huggies drama. I sincerely apologize.

I emailed the company complaining about the hike in diaper price and the reduced quantity. They sent me a stack of $1 off coupons. Yippee!! They also sent me an email that attempted to school me on price-setting of merchandise and alerted me to how increased oil costs have impacted diaper production. You see, manufacturers do not "dictate price;" stores set their own price (oh, and diapers are made from petroleum). Really? How stupid do you think I am, Kimberly-Clark? I realize they don't mandate prices, but if they institute an increase in their wholesale price, you bet your pretty pennies the store is going to offset its increased cost by passing it on to the consumer. Come on. We know how the game's played. It doesn't have to be a written rule. But, I do have a handy stack of shiny coupons to use! (seriously, they're holograms)

Home Sweet Home?

Okay, so this post was written last Monday. Only, I needed the picture to make it complete, and I couldn't find the USB cable for the camera. I found it yesterday under the guest bed next to my nephew's Barney doll. Such is life. BTW, it's 90 degrees again.


I'm wondering where I am this week. The past 3 days the high has been barely 80 degrees. It's sunny with a slight breeze. I'm keeping the windows open and have turned off the A/C. On Sunday, I saw a woman wearing jeans and a turtle neck sweater. Last night, with our bedroom window ajar, I actually had to turn off the ceiling fan because Dana and I were too cold. I dressed Kyler in jeans, and he kept tugging at the pants muttering, "uh, uh" as if to say, "what is this strange fabric on my legs, and where'd my knees go?" This morning on the local news, the weather-woman suggested some people in a northern suburb might turn their heat on, as it was just 49 degrees at 6am. I must be in a parallel universe.

Then, I went outside and saw this hanging from my neighbor's house:

Seriously, though. For the first time since we moved back to Texas, I've really been missing our old stomping grounds of Madison. Of course, I've missed my friends since I backed out of Jen's driveway in sub-degree weather at the end of February (though I had a huge smile on my face as I rolled into Dallas the next day into 75 degree sunshine!). But I haven't really missed the city. Now that things have finally started settling down, I've had some time to reflect on what we've left behind. Late summer/early fall is my favorite time of year in WI. The weather's so lovely. Our recent "cold" front (brought on by Hurricane Ike) is reminding me what I loved so much.

That, and the fact that our electricity bill was "only" $219 this month. (Who gets excited about a $200 electric bill you might ask? I do, when last month's bill was $340 and the A/C never went below 80.) My goal is to get below $200 for September. Root me on!

In other news, preschool seems to have sparked a new-found independence in Beckett. Not that he could ever be described as a follower. He's not exactly a maverick (much like McCain), but he certainly has always had his own idea of how things should be done, like pottying requires a full strip-down, not just pulling down his pants.. This goes hand-in-hand with his insistence on how things shouldn't be done, like refusing to dress himself b/c he's "a baby, not a big boy" even though he's fully capable of doing it. Well, here is a list of things Beckett suddenly can/wants to do by himself since starting school:

1) Cut up his own food

2) Put his pajamas on

3) Buckle himself into his carseat

4) Put his shoes away

5) Hang up his backpack

6) Wipe his own butt (how excited am I about this?!! I just might throw myself a party!)

7) Zip his pants up/down

8) Put his underwear back on after pottying

9) Cook his own food

10) Make his bed

Now, the majority of these tasks are not a product of watching other kids at school because most are things not done at school, except maybe for the butt wiping. But just attending school has clearly given him a sense of accomplishment and maturity that's sparking a desire for increased independence. Since I think this newfound desire to do necessary tasks on his own may very well be short-lived, I'm racking my brain for additions to the list so that I can maximize my own rewards. The possibilities are endless! I'm open to suggestions. . .

The boys also have new stats:

Beckett - 40 1/4 in. tall; 36 pounds

Kyler - 32 in. tall (75%); 23 lbs. 6 oz. (49%) (he's grown a foot since birth!); head size, 45% (though, this one's a little iffy. the first time the nurse measured his head, she was concerned that his head had actually shrunk since his 12 mos. appt., which is very, very bad for reasons undisclosed to me, but still, very, very bad. she measured it again, and he was fine. not sure how much I can trust these #s!)

Soggy Deals

This post will be a little different than usual, but I felt I must share my dismay with my shopping trip today.

I went to Target today to buy diapers and got quite a shock. The diapers I've been buying for 3 1/2 years have suddenly shrunk in package size AND increased in price! Two months ago, I bought a box of Huggies Supremes that came with 76 diapers (I think) for $19.99. This is actually $1.50 more than I could buy them for in Wisconsin (plus a 3% sales tax increase), so I was already in an adjustment period to my increased diaper cost. Today, the largest size box only contained 64 diapers, and it was ON SALE for $21 (reg. price: $21.99. HUGE sale. Thanks, Target, for the help.) I saw no sign or empty shelf space for the larger sized box. Nope. My diapers had been downsized and their cost upsized. Darn this economy that may or may not be a recession!

Since we primarily use cloth diapers, a box of 76 diapers lasts us close to 2 months, so our diaper expense has been relatively low. This is how I've been able to afford the Supremes, which seem to be cut a little more baby-butt-friendly, instead of the regular Huggies. I may soon be rethinking this. Man, this irks me! Fundamentally, I know why Huggies would do this. But, gosh, I hate being screwed by companies who essentially have your hands tied to their products. I realize there are other diaper brands out there, but I really like my Huggies. A few months back, I veered off-track and bought a close-out special of Pampers Baby-Dry (136 diapers for $17.99!), which should be renamed Pampers "Sheets-Wet" b/c almost every morning Kyler awoke in pee-soaked sheets. The diapers actually leaked through the absorbant "fabric" or whatever it is diapers are made of, not out of the sides where all other diapers seem to leak. This not only created wet sheets and pjs but also a soggy diaper inside and out. It was like he was wearing a wet sponge. Weird.

So, what did I do? I'm sure the suspense is killing you. . . I bought the diapers. Actually, I bought 2 boxes. No, I haven't gone crazy or fallen into some money-wasting parallel universe. By buying 2 boxes of these riduculously priced diapers, Target gave me a $5 gift card. Plus, I used a $1.50 coupon. So, instead of $42, I essentially got 128 diapers for $35.50, which, if your math skills are wicked sharp, is more than twice what I paid for the Pampers, per diaper. But, the Supremes never leak, so I'm saving in laundry costs, and I go through the diapers more slowly (b/c they're more absorbant). This price gouging; however, will shift my diapering habits. Kyler will now only be wearing disposables to bed and on long trips.

The Sounds of Silence

Today was Beckett's first day of preschool. He had been talking about it since Tuesday, when he visited the school for the first time and met his teacher and classmates. He had fun, and it left an impression on him, and he couldn't wait to go back. He actually woke up early today, eager to make his bed, eat breakfast, brush his teeth, and get dressed. We could be on to something here!

He managed to sneak my camera into his bag and snapped photos all the way to preschool. I'll be sure to post some soon.

I dropped him off without incident. He quickly found Thomas the train to play with, so he didn't need me anymore. He told me he'd see me later.

When Kyler and I got home, I decided I'd use the time to clean the kitchen and family room, which somehow looked like the storms from Gustav actually had hit Dallas like the weather reports (incorrectly) predicted. I gave Kyler some toys that he never gets to play with (mostly cars and trucks that Beckett keeps to himself) and went to work. Kyler bored with the toys quickly and chose, rather, to run laps through the kitchen, dining/living room and family room. So, about every minute and a half I'd see him waddle by muttering "ball" or "mama." And then, I realized, that was the only sound in the house. I stopped for a second to relish the quiet. Kyler, who talks a lot for 15 mos., isn't really a loud child. I never knew this! I know Beckett makes a lot of noise, but I never understood how much he contributes to the air waves until today. And it's not just talking, though he talks A LOT. It's noise. . . running footsteps, hands slapping, cars racing and crashing. Just lots of noise.

About a month ago, some friends stayed the night with their 3 yr. old daughter. She (the mom, not the daughter) remarked on how much energy Beckett has (which, by default, contributes to his noisiness). I remember thinking to myself, "really? don't all 3 yr. olds run and jump endlessly around the house?" I remember back to our playgroup in WI, and Beckett seemed to have no more or less energy than the other boys so, despite the trappings of my sociological background, maybe it's a boy thing. Nevertheless, I discovered today energy does not equal mc-squared (okay, i can't figure out how to type exponents!), it equals NOISE.

When I picked Beckett up from preschool, his teacher commented that he did "very well." She also said he's "very gregarious" and talked "the entire 3 hours!" She said "he just had a lot to say." Like his Mama, Beckett talks non-stop. Only, I'm not so sure I fully understood what that meant until I didn't have it. Funny thing is, I missed our conversations, even if they are about flat tires and broken headlights. They say "silence is golden," which, quite honestly, I never have understood. There's just too much to learn from noise. (To be clear, I didn't miss the screams that come from not getting his way. I'm not that sentimental! Or crazy!).

Next Tueday, his class is taking a field trip to the library. Please, oh please, let him learn to whisper!

All Things Kyler

I've noticed all my blogs have been about Beckett. I mean no disrespect to my baby, Kyler. It's just that Beckett, by virtue of his age, has a lot more to say. But, that doesn't mean he holds the title to silliness. So, here's a list of Kyler-isms:

1) He likes shoes. No, he LOVES shoes. He got his first pair a real sandals about 6 weeks ago, and he's been enthralled with them ever since. He brings them to me throughout the day so he can wear them around the house. His attire is often a diaper and sandals. I think he prefers shoes to bare feet. If he hears one of us say we're going outside or getting in the car, the first thing he does is bring us his shoes. He also likes to bring shoes to the rest of the family, though sometimes they don't match. He's very helpful.

2) He's a monkey, quite literally. Except for the "hoo-hoo-hee-hee-ha-ha" and the tail I'm not sure we could tell the difference. He climbs everything. EVERYTHING. I once found him sitting in the middle of the kitchen table trying to eat an apple I keep in a bowl there. I swear, I only turned my back for 5 minutes!

3) He's always happy, except when he's not. He laughs and smiles constantly. The littlest thing brings him to hysterics, like when Beckett swirls a dish towel around. This is serious amusement for Kyler! His mouth knows two positions: agape in awe and laughter or stretched in a huge smile. He does throw tantrums, though, which are pretty funny. He throws himself on the floor face down and screams. In 45 sec. he'll be smiling and laughing again.

4) He loves food. My kid with the allergies loves to eat everything. He wants to eat scrambled eggs so bad it hurts. And pizza. He'd get so upset when the family would eat pizza and he was served some cheeseless concoction that he'd reach as far as he could to get to the cheesy goodness. He'd even try to climb out of his booster chair, onto the table of course! I finally decided making pizza from scratch couldn't be that hard, and, you know, it really isn't. I made him his very first pizza with no milk in the crust and no cheese on top. He was in HEAVEN!.

5) He loves giving hugs and kisses. He'll walk all the way across the room just to give me, Beckett, or Mommy a big hug. He'll grab our faces and turn them towards him so he can give us kisses. And not just one kiss will do, kisses come in packages of 10-20 at a time. Sometimes they're mouth open, sometimes a full pucker. Bliss!

6) He's a fish. If nature was ever to perfect the fish-monkey combination, it was manifested in Kyler. If I don't keep the bathroom door shut, I'll find he's turned on the tub faucet just so he can run his hands under the water. Bathtime is his favorite part of the day. When we say "it's time for a bath," he runs to the tub in glee. Poor Zoe (our dog) is in constant competition with Kyler for her water bowl. Kyler loves to step in it and pour it over his head. Going to our community pool has been the highlight of his summer. He'd stay in there until he turned into a raisin if I let him.

7) He looks cute in a headband. Really, really cute. I have a good idea what my daughter would look like. He loves to grab Mommy's headbands from the drawer and put them on his head. He gets such a kick out of putting them on and off. Yesterday at the shoe store, there was a wall display of headbands. Kyler picked out a black and white polka-dotted one with long ribbons that went all the way down to the floor (no idea what those were for). He proudly wore the headband and swung the ribbons around. A store with shoes and headbands, what more could a little boy want?!

Well, this list could go on and on with Kyler's cuteness. I'll have to add more later!

Road Trip, Beckett Style

This is how my lunch conversation with Beckett went today:

Beckett: "Mama, I'm gonna get a big, big van like yours with big sparkly wheels, and I'm gonna get in front and drive it all by myself."

Me: "Big sparkly wheels, huh?"

B: "Yeah, cuz it's really, really clean. Your van is dirty."

Me: Yep. It's been raining.

B: "And rain makes your tires flat. My tires won't be flat. (yesterday I put air in my tires and it's been raining, so I guess that's the connection). My friend Joseph's gonna sit in the back by the window and then Kyler in the center."

Me: "What about your other friends? Where will they sit?"

B: "Mama, there's only 3 windows."

Me: "yeah, but there are lots of seats. You said it was a really big van."

B: "Oh. Then Ryan, and Avery, and Alex can sit by windows, too."

Me: "What about Ashley?"

B: "No, there are no more windows."

Me: "Okay. Is it going to be a short trip or a long trip?"

B: "A really, really long trip. Joseph, and Kyler and Avery can watch my dvd player. But not Ryan."

Me: "Why can't Ryan watch a movie?"

B: "Silly, Mama! Ryan's in the front. You can't see the dvd player in the front!"

Me: "Oh, I didn't realize. Where are you going to go on this really long trip?"

B: "To the grocery store. I'm gonna buy lots of food. Yeah. Like pea-ut butter jelly and mac-roni and cheese. And I'll buy you little trees, cuz you like little trees (aka, broccoli)."

Me: "Thanks, Beckett. I do like little trees. Why are you going to the grocery store."

B: "Well, cuz baby lizards need their mamas to get them food. I'm gonna get my own food and my friends' food. I don't need you to do it."

Me: "You don't?"

B: "No. I can do it myself."

I think the conversation speaks for itself!

School Daze

Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. I'd love to say it's been an unusually busy week, but it's really been just normal busy.

Even though just a few days ago it was still in the 100s, summer is winding down. (for those keeping track, it's rained since Saturday and been in the 80s since. though, it's been so muggy you'd never know it). This means Beckett will be starting preschool in 2 weeks. I never thought I'd be one of those moms who would get sad and sappy when her kids started school. Rather, I thought I'd relish the new-found free time where I could get mani/pedis and massages. Or, I could mop the kitchen floor without little feet running across it and comments about how cool the wet footprints are. A girl can dream, right?! Well, as the first day of school approaches, I find myself a little sad at the transition our lives are taking. It's not just that Beckett is going to preschool this year, he's going to school for the next 15 yrs. I realize it's not exactly rational to look at it like that, but that's me, Miss Irrationality (if only I could draw Sandra Bullock's salary!) Beckett's school is just 2 days a week, and he'll go 3 hours one day and 4 hours the other. If you think about it, this is approximately the amount of time most 3 yr. olds nap in a day, so I guess I can look at it as Beckett's nap (since he hasn't taken a nap since last summer). Nonetheless, I can't help but get choked up when I think of him not being here with me every second of the day. Even those knock-down tantrums when he can't have ice cream for breakfast!

What's in a Name?

Recently "some people" have inquired what my children's names mean. Quite honestly, we didn't put any thought into the meaning of our sons' names. Not an ounce. Their names could mean stinky barf bag, and I would not like them any less. I do not understand why it matters what a name means. Who is ever going to know the actual meaning? Do you introduce yourself as "Abira" and mention that it means "strong and brave?" (And, frankly, you'd better hope you are strong and brave with a name like that to defend) Now, I realize some religions put a lot of emphasis on name meaning, but since we really have no religion, this wasn't an issue for us. And, if you choose a name whose meaning is obvious, like Hope or Faith, I totally get that. If your name is Sunday (ala Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban) it makes me wonder if you were conceived or born on a Sunday. It's the supposed importance of the underlying, cryptic meanings that baffle me. For us, it was more important that our boys' names, while uncommon, sounded strong and wouldn't get them beaten up on the playground. We also wanted names with an element of prestige because statistically that matters in adulthood, even though fundamentally it shouldn't. And, we didn't want our kids to carry anyone else's names, like family members or close friends, because we want our kids to be unadorned with expectations of "living up to" their names. And, because, most of the names in our families are not really all that jazzy! They have our surnames, and that's enough.

But, I felt I should research the meaning of their names, nonetheless. What I found is there's little consistency on a given name's meaning. Here are the results:

Beckett Reese: winding stream/small body of water; enthusiastic beekeeper (perhaps this explains his love of bugs!)

Kyler Slade: church in the valley; church in the child of the valley; combination of kyle and tyler in the valley

I also researched Dana's and my names:
Chelssya Mariah: bitter chalk landing place (anyone know what a chalk landing place is?); bitter seaport; seaport mount/peak

Dana Marie: bitter aribiter (doesn't that sound lovely?!)

Now, personally, I think our family has quite nice names. I also think those names have bizarre if not awful meanings. Knowing these meanings, does it change the way I perceive any of us? Nope, and I'm not bitter about it a bit!

Gates Can be Such Nuisances

I have nothing really new to write about today, so I thought I'd dip into the archives of my brain and tell and cute (?!)

Beckett story. A few months back, Beckett and I were sitting on the couch pontificating on the meaning of life and existence in general. Okay, we were watching Diego, but that's really the same thing, isn't it? I look over, and Beckett has pulled his penis out of his shorts, and is flicking it with his finger. Now, I consider myself a hip parent who doesn't want to impose Puritanical strictures on appropriateness and wants her kids to feel comfortable with and unashamed of their bodies. I also don't want my boys to play penis jockey in the family room when the neighbors come over for dinner. Ah, the tight ropes we walk! So, I calmly, without judgment, tell Beckett that's it's fine to play with his penis, but it's something he should do in his bedroom, not on the couch. And not with me sitting next to him. (If the house fires and tornadoes weren't enough, just imagine what this will do to the kid!). He stops and looks over at me. "Mama," he asks, "can you open the gate so I can go to my room and play with my penis?" I'll just leave it at that.

I'm not sure if I adequately hid my hysterics that came from that question. (oh, and if you're wondering, his room isn't shielded by some gitmo-style security gate. there's just a baby gate in the hallway to keep Kyler in the living spaces and out of the bedrooms.)

Iron Irony

Yesterday, I was putting away my 37,654th basket of laundry for the day when Beckett reminded me my 37,655th basket was still in the family room. He's helpful that way. I told him that was the ironing pile. Because he's so helpful, he said he wanted to iron for me. Except he doesn't say "iron," he says "i-ron." I have no idea why he says it this way. Dana and I pronounce it "i-yearn," but we say it fast, not like in a slow, longing, yearning way. Beckett pronounces it like it's written. Only, I'm pretty sure he's never seen the actual word. Oh, and, he can't read, anyway. So, why he says "i-ron" like some caveman declaring his name to be "Ron" totally baffles me.

Nevertheless, he still wanted to "i-ron." When I explained the potential burning hazards of ironing, he became concerned that our house was on fire, you know, with the burning and all. He's been a bit obsessed with our house catching on fire ever since he saw a house fire on the local news. This is concerning to say the least. We've now managed to make the kid scared of birthday candles and pressed clothing. I can just picture the therapy bills. I finally was able to convince him that our house would not burn down because I was ironing clothes. So, that solved the fire concern, but now the yearning for ironing has been resurrected. And, honestly, I'm not sure why the boy wants to iron so much. It's not like he's learning from example, because I iron maybe once a month, begrudgingly. Mainly, I just have a basket of clothes to-be-ironed that's taken on a life of it's own. But, for whatever reason, ironing is the wanted pasttime of the moment. I could start using this to my advantage. Maybe tomorrow he'll ask me if he can clean toilets!

The Great Utensil Debate

Yesterday at breakfast, Beckett was eating what he's eaten for breakfast pretty much every day for the past 2 years, eggs and yogurt. I've tried varying it. Sometimes there'll be fruit, sometimes the eggs are poached, other times scrambled. Occasionally there's toast. Every now and then on the weekends we'll have pancakes, waffles, or French toast. On a cold day, we'll have oatmeal, but not the instant kind. At times, he'll request cereal, but I'm vehemently (some might say ridiculously) opposed to cereal for breakfast, or any time, really. (I begrudgingly buy it for Dana, but even then I put my foot down on the sugary sweetness of Fruity Pebbles and get her something she likes much less with nuts and whole grains, and very little sugar.) But Beckett always reverts to the standard fare of eggs and yogurt when given the choice.

That morning in particular, Beckett was having difficulty getting his eggs to stay on the fork, in part because of the quirky animal shaped fork he insisted on using and in part because the eggs were ever-so-slightly undercooked. As I watched him persistently try to stab his eggs with his fork, he finally allowed the defeat and asked, "Mama, can you help me 'fork' these eggs?" "Sure," I replied, "but you don't 'fork' food, you put food on your fork." He looks at me, perplexed, and I can tell something thoughtful is about to come out of his mouth. Something I probably can't answer. Here it comes. . . "But, Mama, you can 'spoon' yogurt." Gotcha!

You can indeed 'spoon' yogurt and other foods. Why, then, can't you 'fork' eggs? How come 'spoon' gets the privilege of noun and verb status and 'fork' only gets to be a noun? The English language is often non-sensical. And how on earth do you explain this to a 3 yr. old who knows nothing of nouns and verbs, only associations and parallel applications? It seems completely logical that if you can spoon something you should also be able to fork something. And maybe if I looked in the dictionary, fork can also be a verb, it's just not used in practice.

So, my answer was pathetically, "Yes, you can 'spoon' food. But people just don't say you can 'fork' food." Lame? Yes. Satisfactory? No.

Now, I have a hunch most 3 yr. olds would do one of two things after receiving this answer from their all-knowing parent: 1) get distracted with something much more interesting and forget altogether about the fork/spoon/verb conundrum, or 2) take the answer for what it is and call it a day. Not Beckett. Persistence is his middle name. The kid does not quit until he gets the answer he thinks is right (or gets to do something the way he wants to do it.) Some people say it's because he's smart. I say it's because he wants to cause me tremendous annoyance. For example, on more occasions than I can count, he's thrown a tantrum in the car because I put him in his car seat instead of letting him climb in himself (it only happens this way when he refuses to actually get into his car seat, opting instead to run around the back of the van. I know. I'm cruel.). The tantrums consist of screaming broken record requests to "do it myself" until he falls asleep. Silence for awhile. But if you think that's the end of it, you would be very, very wrong. When we pull into the driveway and he wakes up, the tantrum starts all over again. He will only be satisfied, he tells me, if we go back to the parking lot from whence we came and let him climb into the car seat on his own. That never happens, and yet every car seat tantrum is the same. See what I mean. . . PERSISTENCE!

So, of course, the fork/spoon question lasted most of the day. We revisited them at lunch and dinner, and even while playing "parking lot." By the end of the day, I felt I had engaged in a game of brain Olympics, with my 3 yr. old. I've determined two things from all this: I must either get smarter or learn how to BS better. Either way, there's a lot of work to be done!

That'll Be $261.27, Please

Yesterday I went looking for a shirt for Beckett to wear for his 3 yr. picture. (Yes, he turned 3 way back in March, but we were moving then, and time got the best of us, and now it's July, so I figure we should get this kid a photo shoot before we forget he was ever 3.) He has plenty of cute t-shirts, but not any picture-worthy shirts, at least not any without strawberry stains, and absolutley nothing he owns coordinated with Kyler's outfit. So, I loaded up the kids and headed to the mall. We went to the really nice mall, the one with Neiman's and Barney's, in part because it's the closest to our house and in part because it's my favorite place to window shop. Because it's an upper-class mall, it doesn't have stores like The Children's Place or even Gymboree. It has kids' stores with fancy French names that carry clothes so pretty I'd be afraid to let my children leave the house in them. Check that, I'd be afraid to let my children come in 50 feet of them.

So, why, on our modest budget did I choose this mall to find Beckett a shirt? Good question! Because it's 102 degrees in late August, so logically all the stores have summer clothes on clearance to make room for the back-to-school sweaters the kids in Dallas can wear on the one cold day this coming winter.

I venture into Crewcuts, the kids' version of J.Crew and glance at the new fall fashions up front. You know, just to see. I mean, how bad could it be? Everything in this store's in English. That's gotta make it cheaper, right? Well, how about a cashmere sweater for your 3 year old for $199? That way, he can look trendy and sophisticated and feel oh so cozy as he's gluing popsicle sticks to construction paper in preschool. After all, Clinton and Stacy on What Not to Wear swear you haven't lived until you've worn cashmere, and I want my son to live! Those other kids in their sensible discount store cottyn/poly knock-offs will be sooo envious!

I put down the sweater and head to the clearance racks at the back of the store. Of course, like in all kids' clothing stores, there are racks upon racks of adorable girls' clothes waiting to be swept up at discounted rates, while there's one pathetic, half-rack of boys' clothes. I guess boys get the message young, "clothes are not important for you. just cover yourself and be done," leaving us women to pick up the pieces of this industry-driven sabotage years down the road so men don't look like, well, men. Okay, but I'm off-track. Back to the high-priced shopping. I find a great pair of Madras plaid shorts. I know, I went looking for a shirt, but the shorts are fantastic and would look great with the wellies I got on clearance at Target last week (3 bucks!). (Did I mention we're having his picture taken in a creek? Seriously, he's going to be romping around in a creek.) I pick up the shorts, which were originally priced at $58 (I don't even have $58 shorts), but are marked down to $19.99. Still a little pricey, but I can make it work. And, come on, he's going to be wearing shorts into November, so he'll get wear out of them. I find a great coordinating polo shirt marked down to $9.99 from $36, and I go to the register.

There's a lady in front of me buying, by what I can tell from peering obviously over her shoulder, one outfit for her son. Looks like some pants, a t-shirt of some kind and a zippered hoodie. If you're quick, you can tell by my title above what her total was. If not, I'll spell it out for you: $261.27. Yep, that's one outfit. Okay, okay, the hoodie could technically be considered a winter jacket (it is Texas, after all) and, therefore, increase it's versatility. So, yeah, now that I think about, that was totally worth the $261.27. I'm rethinking things. Where'd I put that cashmere sweater?!

Insect Rights Now!

Well, as you can see, I'm up to whopping entry #2 on my blog. So, naturally, you'd think I've taken the past 5 months to prepare something really hilarious, thought-provoking or informative to write about. You'd be disastrously wrong. My good intentions of blogging often were just that. Many a day have passed where I've written blog entries entirely in my head, saving them there for that free moment I need to transfer them to the computer. Problem is, by the time that free moment arrives, I've forgotten what I wanted to write about. Such is life.

With concentrated effort, I'm propelling this blog forward and committing to blogging at least once a week. This should be a doable feat, even for me. Not that I have delusions that y'all are awaiting my entries with eager anticipation, checking my blog a few times a day to see the latest antics of my life. But, if you're interested on the daily happenings and misadventures of my kids, you won't be disappointed.

My daily offering:
Today, Beckett told me (he's 3) sometimes he doesn't like me because I make him angry. Now, Beckett is fickle with his feelings, so when he says stuff like this it doesn't bother me. He doesn't like Mommy (not me, remember, I'm Mama) every few days because "she's mean" (like when she makes him sit down in the bathtub or because he doesn't like her car. I'm not sure how that makes her "mean," but, whatever, he's 3). But, typically, the "I don't like you" declaration manages to pass me by, even if I do deserve it. So, I knew it must be something really big, really horrible that I'd done to receive such a sentiment. So, with a heavy heart, I asked him why. He replied, "You pick ants and throw them." I guess to Beckett, this is a very, very bad thing. Maybe he'll grow up to be an insects' rights activist. After all, who is going to protect those stinging fire ants in their backyard mounds from all the invading parents who frantically try to remove them from their child's limbs only to find that not only does your child now have 25 fire ant bites, but you've gotten a few yourself. Really, who's standing up for the ants? I've got to say, Beckett's good at finding a niche. Did I mention he wants to be a ladybug for Halloween?

Welcome!

So, what's the deal with the title of my newly-formed blog? It's certainly not a claim that I'm a mom with good ideas about how to raise children, or get them to do what you want, or clean up their toys, or stop spreading vapor rub on the carpet because "it's not feeling well." No, I make no claims of knowing what's "right" or good (other than vapor rub on the carpet is definitely NOT good). Nope, my blog was named by my oldest son (he's almost 3) who's constantly telling me, "Mama, that's a good idea." Again, it's not because I'm overflowing with novel thoughts or creative activities (even to a 3 year old); but, rather it's his way of persuading me to let him do something he wants. Like, putting a step ladder by the toilet so his 9 month old brother can climb inside it. Good ideas like that. Lest you think he doesn't fully understand the difference between good and bad, he's the first to point out a misguided thought, "Mama, I DON'T LIKE that good idea!" (Like when I told him his baby brother does not belong in the toilet.)

So, as you can probably deduce from my title, this blog is about kids (my kids specifically) and motherhood. I'm an almost-32 yr. old at-home mom of two boys who was a sociologist in her former life. I live in South-Central Wisconsin right now, but next week I'll be living in North Texas where the snow isn't 8 ft. high and leaving the house doesn't require a half hour of bundling little ones' delicate skin in layers of fabric too thick to fit into a car seat. Yippee! Oh, and I'm also gay. Yep, our sons have two mommies. That's just a part of who I am, though, mostly I'm a mom and *gasp!* a homemaker. I'm rolling over in my own grave and loving it! Happy reading! -chels