Toddlers Are Funner Than Tweens

Today we were running an errand that required being in the car for awhile, and we were short on time. Being a mother of nutritious integrity I made a hasty lunchtime stop at the Bad Place of Poison Burgers.



Somewhere along the line, James decided that throwing his entire hamburger across the minivan and calling me a b*tch was an age-appropriate and prudent way to communicate his displeasure with my particular choice of eatery (point taken). His reason for the insult--which was technically not swearing since he spelled the word out instead of saying it--? The burger smelled "like chemicals" and was giving him a headache.

"Fine," I said. "Starve." And sentenced him to clean out the whole minivan by himself. Because, like Tina Fey, I Will Not Have That Sh*t.

Anyway, the commotion of all this prompted Zachy to start chucking McNuggets at my windshield from his carseat. But hey, at least that made me laugh a little bit and marvel at his hand-eye coordination. Things took a turn for the worse when, shortly after that, I peed my pants for good measure a few times while sneezing and driving. This was also the same day I discovered that one of my favorite bloggers, The Coquette, has been DELETED by Tumblr for what is sure to be a very, very foolish reason (she completes me! Well, she and Julie Robichaux).

....Just in case you're ever wondering what that smell is when you're driving my van.

Man in the Mirror

Some stuff that came home in Elise's backpack this week:






“They chew the babies [sic] food and barf it back up…”

I'm imagining the lesson: "and that's what's known as 'parental regurgitation behavior', kids. Okay, class dismissed for lunch."



Not sure what to think about this, entitled The Mirror.

Why I'm A Little Bit Scared

Top 10 Reasons I'm A Teensy Bit Scared To Have Another Son (Yes, these are all sexist)

10. My downstairs bathroom already smells like the reptile house at the zoo; more boys in our family = more packs of neighborhood boys coming over and missing the bowl.

9. Potty training and the accompanying public urination phase. (My big boys used to do it from the top of play structures in public parks.)

8. Even more broken bones and trips to the orthopedist. (James just got his cast off after he'd climbed the fence for a "shortcut" and fell onto the concrete fountain in our backyard.)

7. More trips to Wal-mart to buy cheap shoes. And socks. (Will wears out a pair of sneakers every two weeks, then the hole(s) in his shoe creates the same problem in his sock.)

6. The noise, oh the noise! It's just gonna get louder up in here. (Zach is entering the screaming two-year-old phase.)

5. The punching, oh the punching!

4. More years of accidentally stepping on legos with bare feet and gingerly putting away lego creations for safe keeping.

3. Energy requirement: I'm tired just thinking about chasing another little boy through toddlerhood.

2. Needing to remember all the Thomas The Tank Engine characters' names, personality traits, and political orientations for that much longer.

1. It's a little bit scary how sweet a son can be.

Toddlerspeak: A Few Definitions

Big Tom (n.)- See Also: Grandpa Tom.

Big Truck (n.)- (1) Any large vehicle; (2) alias of Uncle Chuck.

Elmote (n.)- A device that, when pointed at the TV, summons Elmo to the screen.

Gramma Kiss (n.)- See Also: Grandma Kris.

Nack (n.)- a fruit snack.

You've Got Male: Part Two

Boy #4 is a go! (And thank you, higher powers that be, for an apparently healthy baby!)

Elise was a little sad that it's not a baby sister, yes. But she is okay now.

OMG, what am I going to do with FOUR BOYS running around my house?!?!

Acronyms

"Take me to church, I'll whistle like a dog on a Saturday night..." -Elise, singing her interpretation of Hozier

"ELISE is an acronym. It means Eggfart Leprosy Idiotic Stupid Elephantitis." -Will, apparently unaware of wet-lab immunoassay ELISA

"Oh yeah? 'WILL' stands for Whalepoop Idiotic Lame Loser!" -Elise, without missing a beat

You've Got Male

I have no idea whether we're having a boy or girl this time.

Might be finding out the baby's sex in a week, when I have my regular doctor visit, if they can squeeze me in between regularly scheduled ultrasounds. But if they can't, and I'm still in suspense, I am not waiting until 20 weeks, y'all. I'm gonna go blow $100-150 on an elective 3D u/s because this is my last time doing this whole pregnancy thing and I refuse to be reasonable.

Besides, I need a way to mark the passage of time other than puking.

My dad is here visiting, and yesterday Elise asked him what he was going to dream about that night. He said, "I think I'm going to dream about your [baby] sister!" I promptly reprimanded him; she is already putting on a brave face and saying she's cool if the baby ends up being another brother, but dude. That is gonna be, like, too much to bear if she is hearing that "sister" ish and the baby ends up being brother #4 for the poor girl.

Oh well. Elise's teacher (wonderful lady) has been busy telling her about how she grew up with FIVE brothers and everything turned out okay. Thanks, Mrs. DeChellis. We love you!

Ish My Kids Say, Tween Edition

Some of my kids are getting kind of mean-ish and tween-ish.

Examples:

Will called Elise a "can of butt juice" yesterday, inciting me to gag (stupid pregnancy-related nausea).

Less benignly, James called a fellow fourth-grader at school an "ugly lesbian" and chased him off the playground. When I heard about this incident from my good momfriend, I gave him a stern, for-ten-year-olds version of a lecture on hate speech and took away the computer (travesty). Then, today, he informed me that all I do is "drink Coke and nap all day." Oh, how I wish that were true, mine-angry tween-ish child.

And to top it off, Elise is really fond of making catty comments about James' birthmark within his earshot. That's all I need, for him to develop a massive complex about your standard-issue hyperpigmentation, because we aren't all neurotic enough around here.

That's pretty much it. Zach hasn't hit the mean comment phase yet, just the literal one where he says, "hit!" and hits you (hard). New baby is being a little bit mean, making me a little bit sick still, but that I can abide.

Dear Baby #5

Dear Baby #5,

I can vividly remember writing this letter to your next-oldest sibling, who is now a toddler. I was in dire straits in the days I was expecting him--off my antidepressants, ill with hyperparathyroidism, guilt-laden, catastrophically stressed, supplicating to the pregnancy gods that things would work out. All is much better now (knock on wood). Nevertheless, there are some things I would like to ask of you.

1. Could you please stop making me vomit so much. I know that sentence is supposed to have a question mark, but it is a firmer request than that. We are coming up on 12 weeks. The broken blood vessels in my eyes tell me that this much heaving (in addition to this much Zofran) can't be good for either of us.

2. Could you please try to avoid making your grand entrance to the world on Will's birthday (September 19th)? Will shares so much with everyone; I don't think he will want to share his day. Any other day is preferable, even the anniversary day of the 9/11 tragedy. I assume you will stay put through James' (8/5) and Zach's (8/22) since you aren't technically due 'till 10/8.

3. Could you please, please allow me to have some energy this weekend, when your dad will be out of town, sailing to Catalina the Channel Islands with his buddies (cue ominous Gilligan's Island theme music: "a three-hour tour")? It'll be just me plus your four sibs, until Meryl and Aunt Kay and Uncle Chuck and get here to visit and help. Have mercy, little plum-sized fetus.

4. It would be awesome if I didn't pee my pants when I cough, sneeze, or puke (see #1). I know this is outside of your control, but it can't hurt to ask.

5. Please don't develop complications or give me delivery surprises of the unpleasant kind. I'll try to keep my liver and other organs happy as best I may.

Thanks. I love you.

Mom

Interlude

I feel better today, all of a sudden.

The puking has momentarily ceased. "Puh-raise God for vittory!" exclaimed Granma Joad.

I think I may actually put on non-bathrobe clothing, emerge from the house for the first time in weeks, and do the thing that we Californians love best: purchase something.

There's a fairly long list of "crucial" items to buy (with apologies to the Joads)--

For Will: t-shirts "that aren't crappy"; new football cleats
For Zach: toddler motorcycle, and toddler potty (He's been telling me when he's pooped in his diaper; I'm SO not ready for this, but here goes.)
For James: non-fiction book "that isn't crappy"; new football cleats
For Elise: I can't even remember but I know she needs something.

Poem of the Day

Or, In Defense of Naming a Baby Before She is Born

My Baby Has No Name Yet
by Kim Nam-Jo (1927-)

My baby has no name yet;
like a new-born chick or puppy,
my baby is not named yet.

What numberless texts I examined
at dawn and night and evening over again!
But not one character did I find
which is as lovely as the child.

Starry field of the sky,
or heap of pearls in the depth.
Where can the name be found, how can I?

My baby has no name yet;
like an unnamed bluebird or white flowers
from the farthest land for the first,
I have no name for this baby of ours.

Sorely Needed Meme

Zach's First Sentence, & More

"Mama sick!" [makes barfing noises] -Zach

"Mom, I've been right about things before. And I think you might be having a baby." -Elise, ever-observant

"Mom, if you decide to have another baby, and I'm not saying you are, I'll help change diapers!" -James, making me cry the other day

"Mom, I'm sorry you don't feel good. I love you." -Will

My Day

Today has sucked a little bit.

First, I felt like sh*t. Had to cancel the kids' eye doctor appointments because I was too nauseous to function.

Second, I threw up repeatedly in my car (I made it into the trash can, though). This was while Zach and I were in the line at the Taco Bell drive-thru, because, you know, sometimes you NEED nachos and nothing else will suffice. Sometimes, you just NEED NACHOS or your body will punish you severely (mine did because I was about three minutes too late in getting said-nachos). Anyway, since the trash can is between the front seats, I twisted and writhed violently while puking and may have seriously pulled a muscle between my shoulder blades.

And you know how, sometimes when you puke, you puke so hard that tears come out? And pee? Yeah. So that was happening right as it was my turn to order. I rolled down the window; the dude working there asked me how my day was going.

"Good!" I said.

I was still puking when I pulled up to the window, and he handed me my food between pukes.

Then, I felt bad for Zach because he kept saying, "Side!" and wanted to go outside and play. So we went to the park, despite my intense back pain. He ended up having a massive toddler tantrum and intentionally banged his forehead on the cement while we were waiting for the big kids to be dismissed from school. There was screaming and rolling and kicking. He was p!ssed because I'd had to make him leave the park to go pick up the kids. He has a huge gash on his forehead now. A few minutes later, my friend asked me if that was dried blood in Zach's hair; it was actually dried chocolate pudding, which he'd refused to let me comb out. Way to pull it all together to make me look like a good mommy, Son.

Now, Zach is eating more pudding because that's one of the only foods he will currently eat beside fruit snacks and popcorn. The big boys are watching TMNT, and Elise is out playing, and all is generally peaceful. But Zach is smearing pudding on his forearms.

At least Joe is coming home soon to make it all better. Sucks to be him, but I'm going back to bed ASAP.

More Celebrity Babies: Renamed

I just heard that the Lively-Reynolds baby isn't named Violet, after all. She's not even named a girl's name, d@mmit.

She's named James.

And I don't have a lot of nice things to say about that, having a son named James and believing fervently that neither James nor Maxwell nor Thomas nor Wyatt Earp nor anything else with a strong tradition as a male name is suddenly appropriate for a female child just because a celebrity thought it would be cute.

So! Let us commence with the renaming!

James Violet Viola! Or Violin. Or pretty much anything other than James.

(Rule for naming daughters: "traditional feminine name" > "random noun name" > "name with a strong male connotation")

--

In other news, Elise is eight years old!!!!!

Black Magic Woman

Awkwardly-executed picture of a picture of the day (above).

Yes, my kitchen counter is dirty. But no, that...that thing in the bottom of the frame is not what it looks like (get yo' mind out the gutter!) It's my jacket.

Anyway, I'm posting this in the spirit of 1) how blessed I'm feeling lately, and 2) how amazing this one photographer was who took our portrait last Friday. She frickin' ruled. The chaos that she managed to contain when she got that shot--James being his sarcastic tween self, Zach trying feverishly to get away, neither Will nor Elise even looking in this lady's general direction until the last second, etc, etc, etc--I just...wow. It's almost like she used some kind of black magic to crop out the various eyerolling, squirming, and tears.

This is my family, guys, and against many odds it's still growing. I am so lucky.

First World Problems

Joe: So what should I wear to the father-daughter dance?
Elise: A tuxedo. A pink tuxedo!
Will: [Laughs]
James: Is that like "Dumb & Dumber"?

(5 min later)
Me: When did you see "Dumb & Dumber"???

--

Our dishwasher died. I got to wash a sh*tload of dishes today. And I'm all...


And then I'm like,




And I'm waiting by the phone (okay, holding my cell in my hand) to hear my 2nd beta results. Fingers crossed that they're okay...



Wish me luck on this harrowing journey.

Update: all is well!

Pretty Sure...

Bueller, Bueller, Anyone?

Evap line??  Like, 2 hours later.

Top test is false positive from Friday 1/16, first thing in the morning.  Bottom one is today.  I know, probably nothing, but it looks like something here in person.  And yeah, my bathroom is kind of dirty.

Memes of the Day