I thought this would be more like having a cat.

Did I stutter or did your ears flap?

Sophie might be going down for her nap. I'm afraid she's about to give it up, which will be tricky for me. As I've mentioned before, that short reprieve in the afternoon is always so welcome. My sweet step-son, Janzen is here for the weekend. He'll be turning 11 on Monday, so we're having a little party for him tomorrow. His clever aunt Katy is creating a Jaba the Hut cake for him. She's going to use one of those princess-cake molds, so the cake will actually be Jaba's body. She's even purchased a little Princess Leah doll to chain to him, and is going to try to fill his insides with pudding or something so that he oozes when cut into. I can't imagine a cooler cake for an 11 year old boy.

He and Soph and I went and bought party stuff this morning--balloons, streamers, and the like. Of course, Sophie can't imagine why we're not busting in to the party stuff NOW. In her mind, if you have a bag full of party hats, why not wear them?

Being two must be really frustrating. I mean, you know what you want to do. You can pretty much figure out how to make it happen, but some kill-joy big-person keeps getting in the way. Sophie can open the fridge and take out the pickles. She'd like to sit in the middle of the kitchen table with them, dump them out, splash around in pickle juice for a while, and take a bite out of each one. And she's capable of making this happen--but mean old mommy just plucks her up and says NO. She can walk on her own in the grocery store, and scale the shelves, and pull all the shit down that her little heart desires; but that old stick-in-the-mud mommy makes her ride in the cart. In her mind, painting windows with lipstick and dumping baby powder all over the couch an licking cool whip directly from the container are totally feasible. The only thing getting in the way is me. She must think I'm some bitch.

I find myself using phrases my parents used the whole time I was growing up. "Did I stutter or did your ears flap? Shit in one hand and want in the other and see which gets full faster. Because I said so! You're crusin' for a brusin'." Every time I say something like that, I cringe and tell myself I'm never going to say anything like that again, and then when she tries to pick up one of the neighbor's mangy ass cats, after I just told her not to, I bellow, "Are your ears painted on?"

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Balloons are pretty fun to play with--even if you're almost 30.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
At the risk being completely cliche, I have to say turning into your parents. (If you're reading this Dad or Mom, you did a great job, still do. I could just live without "Don't make me come over there!" and "Once is funny, twice is silly, three times is a spanking.")

Big mistake. Big. Huge

Ok--that might be a bit of hyperbole, but not much. This morning, when I told Sophie that she was going to school she completely came to bits. So much so, that I decided to take her to work with me for half the day. That wasn't a complete catastrophe, but it didn't go great either. So at lunch time, when I took her to day care, kicking and screaming, I was met with two huge problems. One--the director informed me that I hadn't included today's date in the list I gave her of when Soph would be in. Two, her old teacher, Tara, had left and been replaced by this bratty little bitch Kim who would hardly give me the time of day. I honestly don't know if I can take her back. That Kim reminds me of a sulky mean teenager.

So I couldn't leave her at school, and after the whole melt down/reprival, Sophie was completely exhausted and begging for her bottle and "big girl bed." I took her home with 15 minutes of my lunch break left, put her to bed, and began frantically calling people to come stay with her for a few hours. No luck. My husband had to come home which was very sweet, but he was very inconvenienced and just a little impatient with me. After all the stress of the day, I had no option but to break into tears and have a complete melt down. Apparently, calling people while in tears gets more results, because when I called my sweet friend Kelli, she agreed to come in an hour, getting Erik off the hook for most of the day.

I arrived at school still crying, and started my usually rowdy third period after apologizing for being a mess. They were absolute angels. Completely quiet. Asking what they could do to help. Completing their assignments without coercion. Maybe I've discovered the key to classroom management.

Everytime I think of that Kim person, I feel my heart sink. Really, I don't think I can take Soph back there. I don't like that girl. Not one bit.

Oh--for some reason the spell check is not working. Yes, I am the world's only English teacher who can't spell. So sue me.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
I guess knowing that Sophie would rather be with me than anyone is pretty cool. An inconvenient pain in the ass at times, but also pretty cool.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Daycare nightmare. (Could be a Top 40 hit. I can hear it now... "I've got a daycare...Nightmare! Don't want to go there. They always make me share!" I'm thinking maybe something along the lines of AC/DC Thunderstruck.)

Code Red

Sophie is currently in her room, in the middle of a full scale melt down. I was trying to be super-mommy today. We had a lovely breakfast with fresh fruit, cottage cheese, pancakes. Then we went and did a little gardening. She's been wanting to plant some seeds, so I went and bought some pea seeds, since they can be planted when it's still cool out. I let her pull weeds, put the seeds in the holes, and get completely filthy. We came inside, and decided to have some hot chocolate. Sophie has this thing about dumping any and all liquids on the floor, or into other containers. I thought she'd be past this at almost three, but, alas, no. So I've been insisting on the sippy cups.

Apparently, drinking hot chocolate out of a sippy cup is totally humiliating. She threw the cup at me, threw herself on the floor, and went totally to bits. So, I sent her to her room. I'm trying to find some way to discipline my crazy, willful, smart, two year old. I tried spanking--but that's pretty hard when I'm also trying to teach her not to hit. When I'd smack her butt, she'd either laugh and say, "Good job mommy!" or say, "No hitting!" Either way, I was at a total loss. So, I've been trying the "go to your room until you can be nice thing." We'll see.

Hope you enjoy the picture of Brad and me. We were on our way to some awards thing or another. I thought my yearbook class did a pretty good job with the photo editing. I consider myself lucky. The other teachers ended up on such attractive icons as Shrek, Cartman (South Park), and Shaggy 2 Dope. (For those of you who are totally unhip, he's one half of ICP--the Insane Clown Posse.)

p.s. Friends without blogs--you should be able to comment on my postings now.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
The gardening was actually pretty fun. Kids are a great excuse to play in the dirt.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Two year old temper tantrums.

Me and Brad

Me and Brad 

Ain't no cure

I know that, supposedly, their ain't no cure for the summertime blues, but what about the spring ones? I remember when I was in college during this time of year, whenever someone would complain about the manic weather, some douche bag would intone, "April is the cruelest month." (OK, OK, I even said it myself once or twice.) Now that Sophie has had a taste or two of sunshine days--you know, rolley-polley bug hunts, fun with sticks, sidewalk chalk, big wheels, (Did anyone else turn their big wheel upside down when they were little and turn it into an ice cream machine? You know-- cranking the, well, big wheel around by hand, and yelling, "Ice Cream! Come get your ice cream!" I showed Sophie this, and my husband thought I was deranged.) and yes, the tire swing, these gray and windy days drive her nuts. They drive me nuts too.

Neither of us slept well last night, and this morning, we just sat, cranky and tired, looking out the window at the grey grey sky. Then I read my novel (Geek Love. Not a bad choice for a pewter toned day.) and let Sophie watch WAY too many cartoons. We tried to do a little water colors, but even that didn't seem fun. So now, she's napping, and I'm struggling with this vaguely dissatisfied feeling. I think I'll go eat some cheese.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Well, I never kept Easy Mac or Fruit Loops in the house before Soph. Having kid food around can be nice when you're giving in to the gloomy day munchies.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
The Wiggles, Blue's Clues, Little Bear, Dora the Explorer, Oobi (very weird), Teletubbies, and the list goes on.

Good neighbors make good fences

When I first moved into my current house, I decided that I pretty much hated all of my neighbors. The people on one side, the Sorensens, are an old couple--basically ok--except for the fact that they have a freaking herd of cats. Filthy cats. Mangy cats. Cats that are neither spayed nor neutered and multiply exponentially every few months. Cats that live outside, have no litter box, and shit all over my yard and flower beds.

The people on the other side don't have pets--they have kids. Kids I don't generally mind--in small batches--but these people have like a half dozen. Boys and one little girl. The parents let them ride dirt bikes and four wheelers IN THE BACK YARD. Right next to my bedroom window. They put a trampoline right on the other side of the fence from my lovely covered patio, and jump on it, while shrieking, and bickering at all hours of the day and night. In the summer, they set up an above ground swimming pool and every rug rat in the neighborhood comes to their house to scream "Marco Polo" for hours and hours.

Basically, I would sit in my house, silently seething about the cat shit and noise pollution, plotting ways to get even.

But recently, something has changed. The Sorensens have this great tire swing in their front yard. Sophie has been very curious about it, and has been nagging me to swing on it. So we knocked on the door and I asked Mr. Sorensen if Sophie could swing. He was so nice. He said, "Sure. You Bet. Any time. There's also a swing set in the back for the grand kids. She can use that whenever she wants, too." I stammered my thanks, and Sophie and I set off to swing. She loved the tire, but it was just a bit to high for her to get into by herself. I guess Mr. Sorensen noticed, because he lowered the tire, just for Sophie, without even being asked--like I'd ask that of him anyway. !!?? A couple of days later, Sophie wanted to watch her Hello Kitty DVD. Now, because on the front of the DVD Hello Kitty is eating popcorn, Sophie feels like when one watches Hello Kitty, eating popcorn is a requirement. We were out. She was MAD. The side door was open, and Mrs. Sorensen, who was sitting outside, heard the whole exchange. So she brought over this giant canister of popcorn--the kind you buy for like $2.50 at Christmas time, and asked if Sophie would like some. Obviously, as I am ungrateful and psycho, I was a bit hesitant to accept food from the cat lady, but I sucked it up, and said thanks, and Soph got her popcorn to eat with Hello Kitty, and a new friend, and was completely thrilled.

Guess what? I love the Sorensens now. I think they're super great! We've even named a couple of their cats, and really, what's a little cat shit here and there? In fact, as neighbors, I can't imagine anyone else I'd rather have.

As for the trampoline people, last week, their little girl, a 4 year old, asked Sophie if she'd like to come jump on the tramp. God was she thrilled. She went walking off with this little Christiana absolutely beaming. She had so much fun, you would have thought she'd been to Disney Land!

Now, honestly, the trampoline doesn't seem quite as annoying. I hear the kids playing on it and kind of smile, thinking how much fun they're probably having. Of course, I still think that letting your kids ride freaking dirt bikes in the back yard is insanely inconsiderate.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Something about having a kid makes you feel more like you're part of the community and the neighborhood. I'm glad that I am getting to know my neighbors (after 5 years).

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Last night some old friends came into town, and we stayed up WAY to late and had WAY to much to drink. Sophie, on the other hand, did not, and was up at the ass crack of dawn. Mothering on 3 hours of sleep with a hangover definitely sucks.

It's a sista thing

I've been thinking today about this cult of womanhood. Mothers, daughter, sisters. It's been so cool to start introducing Sophie into it. I love watching her interact with my mom and my sisters; I love knowing how much they love her, and knowing that they are her examples as she grows to be whatever kind of woman she wants to be.

Yesterday at my mom's, Sophie happened to get into my dad's gas fire pit. (Don't worry. It wasn't turned on.) Really, she was only out of my sight for like 30 seconds, but in that time she managed to completely cover herself in black soot. I, of course, was ready to freak out, but my mom took me by the shoulders, turned me toward the door, (I was on my way to the movie--Sahara--Nice eye candy, but overly unlikely in many places. Didn't they get thirsty?) and said, "You go--I'll handle this." From what I hear, Soph fell to pieces when she saw herself in the mirror. She had rubbed her sooty hands on her face, and her skin was totally covered. I guess my mom took her in her arms, thus ruining her clothes and becoming herself covered in soot, and carried her to the tub, sang to her, cleaned her up, washed her clothes, and made everying "all better." Grandmas are THE BOMB!

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Grandmas and aunties

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
One mess after another

Just Silkin'

Tuesday afternoon, the spring wind is blowing, and Sophie is taking a nap. I love naptime. I love Sophie too, of course, but having this little block of time during the day when I don't have "mien fuer" (sp) asking/demanding, "Can we make somfing? I want a pickle. No! a big one! Can I have a drink? Not milk! Juice! In my green cup! Let's watch Hello Kitty. Not that one! Can I have a cookie? etc." When she was tiny, I used to say that I couldn't wait until she could talk, because then I would know what she wanted. Now it seems like all I hear is what she wants or doesn't want.

An addendum to Sophie's first day at day care:
I can't believe I forgot to mention the "silky" episode in regards to her first day at day care. Unlike normal children, Sophie does not have a blanket. Instead, she has bonded to several different nightgowns belonging to me, and one she found at my mom's. She calls these her "silkies." I mean, they are silky, and I can understand in a kind of Of Mice and Men/Lenny kind of way why she likes to drag them around and "silk" with them. (Silk, as a verb, means to rub something soft or silky against your cheek.) So anyway, the school asks that the kids not bring any toys, but they can bring a blanket. I tried to talk Soph into taking a very nice, clean, normal yellow blanket with her. No. She wanted to take a silky. In this case, one of the more sexy, though not pornoish, nightgowns that she's grown attached to. We fought. She won, and trotted off to day care with Mommy's blue nightie clutched in her little fist. When I picked her up, her teacher was nice enough, but gave me a really strange look when she had to say, "Oh! Don't forget your nightgown."

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Today it has to be nap time. There are many hours in the day, but this particular one is so appreciated when compared with the rest of them.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Finding the line between always giving in to the demands of a two year old, and fighting with her about everything, on top of teaching her to ask nicely, and that there is a difference between "need" and "want."

Mommy to the rescue

Yesterday was the big day. Sophie's first day at day care. As I've mentioned earlier, she had visited the facility, and was very excited to go. (Forgive me for not being snappy or witty today. This will just be a recording of events. I'm not unhappy or anything today. Just not feeling clever.) Anyway, Erik (dad) took her to "school" and I went to work and spent my first class (I teach English at an alternative high school; I've thought about blogging my experiences there, but I'm not sure about legal privacy type issues.) feeling very worried and distracted. Finally, I called right before 2nd period to see how she was doing. The teacher informed me that she had been crying for me for about an hour. Guilt. Tragedy. Heartbreak. So, I told the teacher I'd come pick Soph up on my lunch break and sweated through another class.

At lunch, I speed all the way to day care, barely keeping the tears back. I rushed into the office prepared to sweep Sophie into my arms and apologize and comfort her and take her back to work with me. The secretary said, "You're Sophie's mom?" "Yes. Is she OK?" "Why don't you have a peek." Again hurrying, I headed for her room. I peeked through the window, and saw her laughing her ass off, playing some kind of jumping game with the other kids. So--she stayed the rest of the day. When I picked her up later she was glad to see me, but not freaked out.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Watching your baby grow into a big girl.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Watching your baby grow into a big girl.

Sweet Sophie Gene

Sweet Sophie Gene 

A new vehicle for ketchup

So Sophie and I were having a French fry picnic in front of the TV tonight. I had to pee, and when I came back, she was dipping her toes in the ketchup and licking it off!

That's all for today. Tomorrow, a full report on her first day at daycare.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
I got my first dandelion bouquet today. It doesn't get any better than that.

Today's worst think about being a mom:
French fry guilt?

Day Care

As a working mom, so far I've been lucky and enough relatives and friends have been willing to help out that Sophie hasn't had to go to day care. Until now. I am absolutely scared to death, although I think I found a really good one. In fact, after our first visit a month or so ago, Sophie would come into my room at 6:00 am with her little back pack on and demand, "Get out of bed and take me to school!" I've been putting off actually enrolling her for several weeks by having a friend or two help out, but that's getting ridiculous. Day care it must be.

So I found one in my small town that isn't a giant kid holding pen/warehouse. In fact, it's a day care and preschool and private school. Yea. It's expensive as hell. But even so, I'm scared shitless. There are many reasons for this. While out of my sight she could be stolen, molested, hurt, or worse. In addition, she probably will have her feelings hurt or be ignored.

Because these things are just too painful to even consider, I'm falling back on selfishness, and worrying about what people will think about me. You see, because I'm the worst mother in the world, I let my two year old daughter have a bottle at nap time. This is like the biggest no no of all pediactrics. No bottles in bed. Ever. No bottles for two almost three year olds. So--will they let her have her bottle? And think I'm a terrible mother? Or will they say--no bottles for two year olds here, and break her little heart.

Also, Sophie is in the middle of a huge kitty obsession, and is LICKING everyone! I bet she's going to lick some poor kid right in the face, and his mom will call me and demand an explanation and I'll have to explain that actually, Sophie only licks people she really likes. Oh man. I hope hope hope hope hope hope the other kids will be nice to her and that she'll have fun and not think I abandoned her or freak out too much!

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Today I just love looking and Sophie and thinking that she's the most beautiful little girl in all of creation.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Entrusting your child's physical and emotional well being to near strangers is super awful. They don't know her like I do. They don't love her. They better be good to her or this mama is going on a rampage!

Glory be and the Saints be praised!

Glory be and the saints be praised! Sophie is well, and I am a whole new woman! She had really come a long way yesterday, but was still pretty pokey, and then this morning she woke up and (knock wood) seems to be almost 100%. You know, most of the anger I was having was pretty much fear. It's so scary when your little one just lays there with a fever and it's like your hyper little monkey has been possessed or something.

So as I said, this morning things were back to normal. For the past few weeks (pre infection), the phrase I have been most afraid to hear from Sophie is, "How do I look?" Usually, it means that she has smeared an entire lipstick on her face, or colored her stomach green with a permanent marker or something similar. I gave her her breakfast and started straightening up the hovel we've been living in, and heard her chirp, "Mommy! How do I look?" Today instead of groaning, I smiled and went over to investigate. "Look! I'm washing my hair!" Instead of yelling, I kissed her nose, and said, "Well baby, most people use shampoo instead of strawberry yogurt."

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Today I'm going with the funny way kids pronounce things. A brief Sophie to English lexicon follows.
jungeling=juggling
nakwan=popcorn (??)
noshclaff=washcloth
bemana=banana
poxipo=popsicle

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Realizing you've been a raging crazy bitch for days because of sick child and apologizing to said child, husband, mother, co-workers, etc.

Are you shitting me?

So, the second trip to the doctor was about as smooth as my legs currently are. (I haven't had the time or energy for a shower in 3 days.) Of course, Sophie knew what was going on the moment we pulled into the parking lot and began loosing it immediately. Of course, we sat in the waiting room for 45 minutes. As bad as that was, at least Sophie had the toys and movie and fake jungle shit to keep her quasi-occupied. Then we were called into the exam room where we sat for another 40 minutes. I hope some doctor or nurse will respond and tell me why the fuck they move you from the waiting room which they've obviously tried to make bearable, into the exam room which is completely unbearable and make you wait some more. No toys. No movie. Tons of scary looking doctor shit all around.

Sophie was completely uninterested in the books and snacks I brought along, and once we were in the exam room, began informing me that she was scared, repeatedly, at higher and higher decibels. Because she was scared, she wanted to hide. In my shirt. With me. So, we sat there, her upper body stuck under my shirt, and my head pulled in turtle style with her. We were both pretty disheveled when the doctor came in and found a very lumpy, not to mention headless, patient waiting for him.

So--we did the razor blade finger slash blood test again, then waited, in my shirt, for another 20 minutes for the doctor to come in with the results. Good news, bad news, bad news. The good news--her white blood cell count was down quite a bit. She was responding to the antibiotics. Bad news 1--she needed another cement mix shot. Bad news 2--the infection had spread to/landed on her eyes, and Soph now has PINK EYE. IN BOTH EYES. So I held her down, again, for a shot, and left the doctor's office with one screaming two year old, one prescription for antibiotic eye drops, and one prescription for an oral antibiotic. Dude.

Today totally sucked. The eye drops must sting, because Sophie acts like I'm putting battery acid in her eyes when ever I put them in. She just cries and cries because her eyes are so sore, and crying just makes it worse. I wouldn't be surprised if by the end of this, I'm the one who ends up in the hospital. Hopefully by next week things will be back to normal, and I'll quit being such a whiney cry baby.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
What? There are good things about being a mom? Maybe this doesn't really count, but today I'm going to go with bedtime.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
I guess I'll force myself to limit this to one. How about the shower thing. When you're too busy taking care of your kid to take care of yourself, and don't get time to shower, things feel kind of dire. I seriously think I'm attracting flies.

Lordy. My husband and I

Lordy. My husband and I took Sophie to the doctor yesterday. If you've never taken a two year old to the doctor, count yourself lucky. For a while, Sophe kind of liked the doctor's office. The waiting room is pretty cool--a fake kind of jungle in the "well-child" waiting room, and a castle in the "sick child." Also, like most doctor's offices, our pediatrician has that big weird toy that has beads on a track that the kids kind of chase around. The waiting room also usually has a Disney video going, and kid sized chairs. This is all pretty cool for a two year old. It stays cool for about 20 minutes. Then the waiting part of the waiting room starts to kick in, along with whining and bawling. If we make it into the exam room before the whining kicks in, sometimes the examination bed is sitting on a big elephant or hippo or something. Soph likes the elephant room, but I don't know what mental monolith decided to put the examination table on a giant bear. If she's not scared enough all ready, a giant bear in the middle of the doctor's office certainly is helpful. So as I said, Sophie liked the doctor's office ok until the first shot that she was old enough to remember. Now the second we walk in the door, she begins a shreeking mantra of "No shot! No shot!'

So yesterday, the doc checked her out, and agreed that she probably had a kind of tenacious flu virus. Soph kept it together fairly well, but had that kind of wild eyed/accusatory "Why are you doing this to me Mommy" look in her eyes. After the exam, she asked "All done Mommy?" I gave her a cuddle, and reassured her, "Yes baby. We're all done." She asked "No shot?" I said, "No baby. No shot. I promise." Then, the doc decided to do that little prick your finger blood test to make sure. When that little bitch of a nurses assistant grabbed Sophie's sweet little finger and slashed it with that nasty little razor we both almost came to bits. Being the mommy at the doctor's office totally sucks. You sit there holding the fruits of your loins while some stranger makes them bleed or pokes them or gags them with a stick. Anyway, when the doctor came back in with the results, he didn't look glad. Her white blood cell count was three times what it should be. All arrows pointed to an infection--a nasty one--and not a virus. In addition, it looked like the infection might be in her blood. His exact words were, "It's pretty scarry because it could land anywhere--her heart or her lungs even." Dude. So, after promising Sophie "No shot" I had to hold her down while that same little bitch stuck a needle in her and slowly pushed some kind of cement mix with antibiotics in it into her sweet baby leg. And we have to go back for another one. Today. In like an hour. Dude.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Gosh. I just don't know. I guess all I can think of is how sweet she looks in the new pajamas my mom bought her. So--yes--today's best thing about being a mom is putting a clean two year old into clean pajamas.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
That's easy. Holding your child while she gets an awful shot that you promised her she wouldn't have to get, and knowing that another one is right around the corner.