Oh, the squalor

There is a fly that has taken up residence in my kitchen for the past four days. It's not a big fly, or even particularly bothersome, as far as flies go. The trouble is, I can't find the fly swatter, and any fly in my kitchen AT ALL makes me feel as though I'm living in total squalor. Somehow, the very fact of the fly highlights the sticky spots on the table, the crumbs on the counter, the week-old spaghetti sauce Rorschach pattern on the stove. Without the fly, these things seem tolerable. With the fly, total trailer trash. Can't explain it, really, but there it is.
I've really been dragging the past couple of days...I don't know if it's the muggy rainy weather, PMS, or some kind of bug, (perhaps some kind of intestinal kitchen fly!) but it's been making me feel like a squeezed out sponge. I'm going to try to get out and run (or at least walk with enthusiasm) tomorrow morning, and maybe that will help. It's supposed to be at least partly sunny tomorrow, and that may help too.

Overheard today in the car - a song by Cinderella:
"Oh, I'm luv marshmallows, and goldfish,
Oh, I'm luv marshmallows and goldfish, and fishies,
and I'm have toenails,
Oh, the sun and the moon, Oh yeah,
I'm going peepee.....on the potty,
And I'm luv marshmallows, and cups, and signs,
Oh nanooo, ooo, nah....the sun...."

Is this how Bob Dylan started?

Happy Birthday, Scooby!

It's still birthday season here. We had another party on Monday, and the weather cleared up in time for a hot, sunny, raucous little boy birthday party. We celebrated with a baseball theme this year, in honor of Scooby's newfound passion for the game (although not for the Pirates, unfortunately, as they are very difficult to root for!!)
We made baseball picture frames, played pin the hat on the ballplayer, had a relay race with spoons and balls, and lots of yummy treats to eat. I think he had a really nice time and it was especially nice to have Grandma and Grandpa AND Granny all here to celebrate with us.
So Scooby, you're a big seven year old now...big front teeth, goofy grin, and all. You are my creative thinker, my storyteller, my craft-maker. You have definite visions for how you want your world to be, and plans for how to get there. You have great ideas for stories, games, projects, contraptions...you love to see how things work and try to replicate it yourself. You're a thinker - you're big question has always been "Why?" (Just as Tarzan's has been "What if....?" and Cinderella's has been "What are you doing?") You're a cuddly snuggler, and capable of being extremely silly and goofy - all good qualities to have! You are my firstborn, my long awaited beloved son, and I'm so grateful to have you in my life. Happy Birthday, big boy!

I have a preference!

Okay, I definitely prefer the noisy non-napper to the stealth bomber. Yesterday, Cinderella managed to cross a threshold that I thought I had escaped...and had, so far, with the boys. Yes, she finger-painted her new big-girl bed with poop. The mesh side rails, the white comforter, the pillow. And did she feel bad about it? Was she afraid to tell me? No. (Her) "Mama, my hand poopy." (Me) "What? WHY is your hand poopy? What ELSE is poopy?" (Her) "Oh. My bed." As if to say, oh, that old thing? Funny you should ask. And today, I find out that she has peeled off all the decorative flowers, sequins, etc. that were on the letter "E" that Grandpa had made for her and hid them under the bed. Um, E for Cinder-ELLA, of course. She is by far the most destructive of the three, and so freakin' quiet about it.
When she's not weeping loudly for absolutely no reason, of course. (Me) "Why are you crying?" (Her) "I (sob) don't (sob, sob, wail) know!!!!"
Looking forward to Grandma and Grandpa coming to visit this weekend...unless of course they change their minds after reading this!!!

Happy Birthday Tarzan!

Well, you're 4 years old today. You woke up with a smile and said, "Today I'm lucky!" Of course the big party was yesterday, so you're a little bleary eyed, and wanting to play with all the new toys at once - for 3 seconds at a time. Favorite gifts so far - a scooter, and a spiderman chair that folds out into a futon. Last night when you went to bed, I said, "Tomorrow when you wake up, you'll be four!" And you said, "Really? How will I change?" "You probably won't feel any different," I said, "But you'll really be four." And this morning, after feeling lucky, you said, "You're right, Mom. I don't feel any different. But I think my laugh grew." Which is probably very true. Your laugh gets bigger every year. And so does the rest of you!. You're starting to leave toddler-hood behind, and entering the world of a fully developed PERSON. Of course, you've always been strong of personality. You entered the world with feistiness and determination, cried through your first 12 weeks, and emerged...fiesty and determined. Some might say stubborn. But with a huge sense of humor, a highly contagious giggle, and a definate cuddly streak. You are my clown, my performer, my acrobat. Although a middle child, there's no danger of you being left out or not getting enough attention! You are an action hero come to life - last year you had a Spiderman birthday, this year a Batman one. Running, jumping, tumbling, swimming, wrestling - you only stop when sleep overtakes you, and that's always a fight too. I'm so proud of you, my little man. Keep on fighting for your place in the sun. Keep on making everyone around you smile with you. Keep on enjoying your life. Happy Birthday!

Girls are sneaky

Tarzan was never a good sleeper from day one. He fought sleep loudly, voraciously, and firmly. He often still does, although he's gotten a little better at it...I like to think we've worn him down with our firm, consistent parenting, but more likely, he's just more tired since he usually doesn't nap anymore.
Cinderella, however, was always a good sleeper...until we removed the pacifier.
Since then she has napped...twice.
And now that we've moved her into the big-girl bed, she can be mobile while she's not sleeping.
Unlike Tarzan, however, she doesn't stand at the top of the stairs and yell, "MOM!!!!!MOM!!!!MOM!!!" for 15 straight minutes. No, she is a girl, so she is sneaky.
Yesterday I went into my room after "naptime" and found a row of clean washclothes lined up on the floor, like some kind of bath-themed firing squad. Had I heard her in my room? No. Did I ever find out the reason for the elegant procession of washcloths? no.
Just now I went up to check on her, opened her bedroom door, and lo! She was not there. Again, she was in my room, looking very suspiciously innocent. No washcloths lined up this time. Perhaps she was just beginning to plot the demise of another laundry item, or maybe she was doing something completely different that I haven't yet discovered.
Which is better? I kind of like the quiet of the sneaky non-napper, but it was nice to know exactly what was going on with the noisy one. I guess time will tell.