Zoey has been obsessed with hopping lately. Hopping everywhere. Off of everything. Makes me thankful we never did decide to rent out our downstairs--any renter would pack their shit and run after a day or two of what sounds like a small earthquake overhead. And no matter how many times we tell her to please, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP LEAPING OFF THINGS, she just can't. It's in her blood.
Recently, perhaps as an explanation for her obsessive new habit, she has been telling us she is now a kangaroo. Or, kangawoo. She wishes to be a kangaroo in that sweet way of small children, who think if they practice enough, they can actually become the bird or the airplane so they can really fly.
We've even gone so far as to tuck small stuffed animals in the waistband of our underpants to complete the kangawoo persona. Yes. I said WE.
The other night, after a 3 a.m. potty run, Zoey crawled in to bed between Bryan and I.
Bryan: Who is that in my bed? Is it my Zo-bug?
Zoey: (sleepily, already half-dreaming) No, Daddy...I a kangawoo.
Be the kangaroo, Zoey. BE THE KANGAROO.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Gimme an M! For Mommy!
Another example of the sheer awe and adoration a nearly-three-year-old will bestow upon her wise and all-knowing Mommy:
We bought Cheez-It crackers shaped like Scrabble playing pieces. Each cracker has a letter on it, and Zoey loves to sit at the table with me, a bowl of these crackers in hand, and hold them up one by one and say "R! What does R mean, Mommy?!?...E! What does E mean, Mommy??" I then proceed to name off as many "R" words or "E" words or "P" words or "A" words I can possibly think of. Trust me, it's a fun way to pass a 20 minute chunk of time. Or a 40 minute chunk of time.
The other day, as the bowl was nearing empty, Zoey suddenly stopped short and asked "Mommy? Do you know all the letters?" Like this thought had just dawned on her and holy crap, she was in the midst of GENIUS. I told her that yes, I was pretty sure I knew all the letters in the alphabet.
And there they were again--those adoring brown eyes, looking damn near reverent as she whispered "Wow...."
When they say that children are easy to please, I think this is what they're talking about. How long will I pass as the smartest person ever to walk this earth, based solely on my alphabet-mastery merits? Probably not long.
We bought Cheez-It crackers shaped like Scrabble playing pieces. Each cracker has a letter on it, and Zoey loves to sit at the table with me, a bowl of these crackers in hand, and hold them up one by one and say "R! What does R mean, Mommy?!?...E! What does E mean, Mommy??" I then proceed to name off as many "R" words or "E" words or "P" words or "A" words I can possibly think of. Trust me, it's a fun way to pass a 20 minute chunk of time. Or a 40 minute chunk of time.
The other day, as the bowl was nearing empty, Zoey suddenly stopped short and asked "Mommy? Do you know all the letters?" Like this thought had just dawned on her and holy crap, she was in the midst of GENIUS. I told her that yes, I was pretty sure I knew all the letters in the alphabet.
And there they were again--those adoring brown eyes, looking damn near reverent as she whispered "Wow...."
When they say that children are easy to please, I think this is what they're talking about. How long will I pass as the smartest person ever to walk this earth, based solely on my alphabet-mastery merits? Probably not long.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
No rest for the weary
Last night, Zoey was putting up her typical bedtime-battle. Typical kid stuff, the going to the bathroom three times, the I-want-one-more-story routine, the please-turn-on-the-hall-light battle cry, etc. The problem, lately, is that Bryan gets home from work somewhere between 8:00 and 8:30 most nights. This is problematic because it makes every day in my life seem like a crazed go-to-the-gym-go-to-work-pick-up-Zoey-fix-dinner-bath-time-fight-with-bedtime-lapse-in-to-coma-get-up-repeat cycle. Most nights I am pretty okay with this routine, but last night I was just so. freaking. tired.
And by 10:00 she was still awake.
Bryan was home, but downstairs watching TV. I was finally dozing off, because I had finally quit caring that I was going to be asleep while my child was still wide awake and had the potential to be out dancing on the dining room table while I snoozed away in my warm, comfy bed. So I rolled over to find...Zoey standing at the side of the bed.
Me: What, Zoey? Why are you NOT IN BED?
Zoey: Because, Mommy! Because....I just yike you so much! I just want to sweep wiss you!
Score: Zoey 1, Mommy 0.
And by 10:00 she was still awake.
Bryan was home, but downstairs watching TV. I was finally dozing off, because I had finally quit caring that I was going to be asleep while my child was still wide awake and had the potential to be out dancing on the dining room table while I snoozed away in my warm, comfy bed. So I rolled over to find...Zoey standing at the side of the bed.
Me: What, Zoey? Why are you NOT IN BED?
Zoey: Because, Mommy! Because....I just yike you so much! I just want to sweep wiss you!
Score: Zoey 1, Mommy 0.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Little Bruiser
This shot was taken in our bathroom, shortly after returning home from Urgent Care last week. Note the blood-stained t-shirt. I am happy to report that Zout spray will, in fact, remove blood stains. I'd like to have the information on file here as I'm quite certain I'll need it again in the not-so-distant future. I spent equal amounts of time that day scrubbing blood from, oh, everything, and blue marker from every square surface of skin NOT covered in blood. Because that is just life with Zoey.
I managed to get the stitch out myself last night with the aid of tweezers, fingernail clippers, and my grandmother holding her in a headlock. Never underestimate the power of a 72 year old woman on a mission.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Major malfunction
So, yesterday, after returning from yet another trip to Convenience Care (because Zoey woke up Thursday night with a fever and by Friday was complaining that her ear hurt, and because I just can't get enough of that germ-ridden waiting room), I had her sitting on the counter getting ready to warm up her milk, while Bryan was downstairs in the garage trying to fix a fuse that had blown, cutting out power to our refrigerator and the laptop sitting on the desk in the eat-in area. I have my back to the stove as I'm half-rocking my sicky child against my chest, when I hear:
BBBFFFTTT!!!! ffffffttt! ffffftt!
I turn towards the stove and see sparks literally arcing and raining down from the fan above the stove top. It sounds like we've employed a welder to come in and start a fire in our kitchen. And it just...doesn't LOOK right, you know what I mean?
Bryan!!
As I'm yelling for my husband, we experience another rain shower of sparks and Zoey points out that she doesn't yike this at all.
I grab Zoey and run for the garage. Bryan! What the hell are you doing?!?
After explaining what just went down in the kitchen, we all trek back upstairs and are greeted by the lovely scent of electrical fire emanating from the stove area. Bryan proceeds to pull the fan apart and locate the frayed and fried wire that had tripped the fuse in the first place. He explains a lesson in Electricity 101--the reason we have fuse boxes is to detect old, decrepid wiring such as this, and shut down power to the area to prevent things like, you know, HOUSE FIRES.
Because doesn't that seem like the next logical step in 2009? Having our house burn down?
So, with a newfound appreciation for things like fuse boxes, I cleaned up the mess after Bryan removed the smoldering remnants of kitchen fan to the back porch. And, after several hours of Yankee Candle burning, the smell was mostly gone. And now we have to go shopping for something to replace the fan...ironically, Bryan said months ago that he'd love to buy a microwave/fan combo to put over the stovetop with his first "real" paycheck. And since his first "real" paycheck is due this week, I'd say a trip to Home Depot is in order.
BBBFFFTTT!!!! ffffffttt! ffffftt!
I turn towards the stove and see sparks literally arcing and raining down from the fan above the stove top. It sounds like we've employed a welder to come in and start a fire in our kitchen. And it just...doesn't LOOK right, you know what I mean?
Bryan!!
As I'm yelling for my husband, we experience another rain shower of sparks and Zoey points out that she doesn't yike this at all.
I grab Zoey and run for the garage. Bryan! What the hell are you doing?!?
After explaining what just went down in the kitchen, we all trek back upstairs and are greeted by the lovely scent of electrical fire emanating from the stove area. Bryan proceeds to pull the fan apart and locate the frayed and fried wire that had tripped the fuse in the first place. He explains a lesson in Electricity 101--the reason we have fuse boxes is to detect old, decrepid wiring such as this, and shut down power to the area to prevent things like, you know, HOUSE FIRES.
Because doesn't that seem like the next logical step in 2009? Having our house burn down?
So, with a newfound appreciation for things like fuse boxes, I cleaned up the mess after Bryan removed the smoldering remnants of kitchen fan to the back porch. And, after several hours of Yankee Candle burning, the smell was mostly gone. And now we have to go shopping for something to replace the fan...ironically, Bryan said months ago that he'd love to buy a microwave/fan combo to put over the stovetop with his first "real" paycheck. And since his first "real" paycheck is due this week, I'd say a trip to Home Depot is in order.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Here's my recommendation for ways to build your child's library.
This whole not-necessarily-bad-but-pretty-spendy habit started about a month ago, when I had to pick up Zoey from daycare and take her in to the Convenience Care clinic for an ear infection. They wanted to make sure she didn't have the flu, so they did a nasal swab--and as she was sobbing after having her "nose tickled", I promised her if she could be brave, we'd go to the bookstore and she'd get a new book when we were done at the doctor's office.
Which turned in to two new Little Critter books.
Then, the next day, she still wasn't feeling great, so I bought a new Dora book at Target so we could read something new. Because Little Critter is entertaining and all, but when read over and over and over, he loses some of his appeal.
Then she had a flu shot a couple weeks later. Another new book.
And there was the trip to the dentist last week. Yet another Dora book to add to our collection.
So just as I'm starting to think I am the sole person keeping the kids section at Borders alive, we happened to be at lunch at "Old McDonalds" today with my grandma, stationed at a booth next to the window, which was just toooo much temptation for my active daughter who makes it seem like sitting still through one meal is the greatest torture of her life. I warned her not to stand on the sill between the window and the table. I made her sit back down. She slithered back to her precarious position. I had to remind her yet again to sit on her bottom while eating. And then I gave up. Which is precisely when she slipped and fell, slamming her little mouth in to the table top, and came up screaming the silent-scream while drooling blood EVERYWHERE.
Once we got the bleeding to stop (a very helpful McDonalds employee was suddenly our own personal servant, running to grab napkins and ice and a bag to stuff all the bloody napkins in so it "wouldn't look so gruesome in the trash!") I was able to determine that all teeth were intact and still attached to the gums...and that Zoey had bitten clean through her bottom lip.
It took awhile to assure the hovering employee that we were fine, or rather, that we weren't thinking LAWSUIT, and before we left, Zoey was devouring an ice cream cone. Not so bad, right? I mean really, how are they going to stitch up a lip?
Are you laughing yet?
The more I thought about it, and the more I watched the gash on the outside of her lip ooze each time she dragged her teeth across it (a nasty habit she's picked up to replace the near-constant use of the binky), the more I wondered how well it would heal on it's own. Oma thought I should call the pediatrician. After 20 minutes of waiting on hold for someone (anyone, really) to answer my question, I gave up. And called my work to talk to one of my doctors (you know, the ones who specialize in colons and guts) to get their opinion. I was told "sounds like stitches to me!"
Awesome. Just. Freaking. Awesome.
I'll spare you all the gory details. If you've ever had to tether your child to an exam table for stitches, you know what I'm talking about, and if you haven't, you don't want to know. It will make you not want to ever have children and/or trade in your non-stitched children on house cats.
After nearly two hours, we left the clinic with a fat lip, one stitch, and a tearful request to go to the bookstore.
And now we are the proud owners of Dora's Spooky Halloween and some random Baby Einstein farm animal book.
I remind myself that if I were rewarding her bravery with candy, she'd be close to 100 pounds by now. Because that makes me feel better.
Which turned in to two new Little Critter books.
Then, the next day, she still wasn't feeling great, so I bought a new Dora book at Target so we could read something new. Because Little Critter is entertaining and all, but when read over and over and over, he loses some of his appeal.
Then she had a flu shot a couple weeks later. Another new book.
And there was the trip to the dentist last week. Yet another Dora book to add to our collection.
So just as I'm starting to think I am the sole person keeping the kids section at Borders alive, we happened to be at lunch at "Old McDonalds" today with my grandma, stationed at a booth next to the window, which was just toooo much temptation for my active daughter who makes it seem like sitting still through one meal is the greatest torture of her life. I warned her not to stand on the sill between the window and the table. I made her sit back down. She slithered back to her precarious position. I had to remind her yet again to sit on her bottom while eating. And then I gave up. Which is precisely when she slipped and fell, slamming her little mouth in to the table top, and came up screaming the silent-scream while drooling blood EVERYWHERE.
Once we got the bleeding to stop (a very helpful McDonalds employee was suddenly our own personal servant, running to grab napkins and ice and a bag to stuff all the bloody napkins in so it "wouldn't look so gruesome in the trash!") I was able to determine that all teeth were intact and still attached to the gums...and that Zoey had bitten clean through her bottom lip.
It took awhile to assure the hovering employee that we were fine, or rather, that we weren't thinking LAWSUIT, and before we left, Zoey was devouring an ice cream cone. Not so bad, right? I mean really, how are they going to stitch up a lip?
Are you laughing yet?
The more I thought about it, and the more I watched the gash on the outside of her lip ooze each time she dragged her teeth across it (a nasty habit she's picked up to replace the near-constant use of the binky), the more I wondered how well it would heal on it's own. Oma thought I should call the pediatrician. After 20 minutes of waiting on hold for someone (anyone, really) to answer my question, I gave up. And called my work to talk to one of my doctors (you know, the ones who specialize in colons and guts) to get their opinion. I was told "sounds like stitches to me!"
Awesome. Just. Freaking. Awesome.
I'll spare you all the gory details. If you've ever had to tether your child to an exam table for stitches, you know what I'm talking about, and if you haven't, you don't want to know. It will make you not want to ever have children and/or trade in your non-stitched children on house cats.
After nearly two hours, we left the clinic with a fat lip, one stitch, and a tearful request to go to the bookstore.
And now we are the proud owners of Dora's Spooky Halloween and some random Baby Einstein farm animal book.
I remind myself that if I were rewarding her bravery with candy, she'd be close to 100 pounds by now. Because that makes me feel better.
True yuv
Just when you start to think you can understand how some forms of species eat their young, your child will inevitably run up to you, arms flung wide, dive-bomb your knees and look up at you with an angelic glow to her face as she proclaims "I yuv you SOOOO much, Mommy!".
And then you will understand how it is that the human race continues to thrive.
And then you will understand how it is that the human race continues to thrive.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
The Law Of Diminishing Returns...
...is the only concept I remember learning from my high school Economics class. And only because Mr. Carlson explained it using pizza as an example. The gist, if I'm remembering correctly, is that the first slice of pizza is going to taste infinitely better than your third, or fourth, or seventh. Nothing will be more satisfying than the first hunk of saucy, cheesy dough melting in your mouth.
And so it is with coffee.
Try as I might, that third cup is never near as satisfying as the first. Maybe because, by the third cup, my heart is starting to feel like it might beat out of my chest and my brain is starting to whirl around at anxiety-producing speeds. Maybe because nothing motivates me to get out of bed more in the morning than the thought of that first warm cup of coffee-with-hazelnut-creamer.
Anyway, I'm happy to know that at least one concept from my junior year of high school seems to have stuck with me.
Happy Sunday!
And so it is with coffee.
Try as I might, that third cup is never near as satisfying as the first. Maybe because, by the third cup, my heart is starting to feel like it might beat out of my chest and my brain is starting to whirl around at anxiety-producing speeds. Maybe because nothing motivates me to get out of bed more in the morning than the thought of that first warm cup of coffee-with-hazelnut-creamer.
Anyway, I'm happy to know that at least one concept from my junior year of high school seems to have stuck with me.
Happy Sunday!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
De-flea-ing
So yeah. Let's talk for a minute about bugs.
Namely fleas.
I think I may be in love with Ed at Whitworth Pest Solutions because he has, definitively (I'm banking on definitively), finally rid my house of those wretched little beasts. As Zoey napped, I swept my floors and counted seven--SEVEN, PEOPLE--dead fleas in my dust pan. One of them still writhing in near-death misery. If I hadn't been so grossed out and on my way to grab my mop bucket full of scalding hot water, I would have paused to whisper "that's what you get for moving in to my house, buster".
And then there's the fruit flies.
That's right. On my way back through the kitchen to empty the scalding hot, now dirty mop water, I detected a buzzing flock of movement on the counter near the fruit bowl. Further inspection revealed a herd of fruit flies trying to do away with the (still gigantic) pile of tomatoes left over from my mother-in-law last weekend. Okay, so "stew remaining tomatoes and freeze for future spaghetti sauce" wasn't on the to-do list for the day, but in no time I had a bubbling pot of tomatoes, onions and garlic on the stove. And more soap and hot water applied to the counter tops.
I believe that should do it for bug infestations for the year. Or the rest of my life. RIGHT, GOD?
Namely fleas.
I think I may be in love with Ed at Whitworth Pest Solutions because he has, definitively (I'm banking on definitively), finally rid my house of those wretched little beasts. As Zoey napped, I swept my floors and counted seven--SEVEN, PEOPLE--dead fleas in my dust pan. One of them still writhing in near-death misery. If I hadn't been so grossed out and on my way to grab my mop bucket full of scalding hot water, I would have paused to whisper "that's what you get for moving in to my house, buster".
And then there's the fruit flies.
That's right. On my way back through the kitchen to empty the scalding hot, now dirty mop water, I detected a buzzing flock of movement on the counter near the fruit bowl. Further inspection revealed a herd of fruit flies trying to do away with the (still gigantic) pile of tomatoes left over from my mother-in-law last weekend. Okay, so "stew remaining tomatoes and freeze for future spaghetti sauce" wasn't on the to-do list for the day, but in no time I had a bubbling pot of tomatoes, onions and garlic on the stove. And more soap and hot water applied to the counter tops.
I believe that should do it for bug infestations for the year. Or the rest of my life. RIGHT, GOD?
Bug removal and a trip to the dentist
Today's to-do list is seeming particularly long. A bulk of the items need to be accomplished before 9:45 a.m. Let's hope that blue marker stationed right next to the list can keep both Zoey and I motivated to zip through all we need to do. Because...wow. Was I high when I made this list last night?? Or just standard-issue delusional?
Two big ticket items on the agenda today:
1. Exterminators are coming at 9:45 to spray the house for fleas. Because my child is getting eaten alive, and I can only run so many loads of laundry. Seriously. I almost died when I opened our Puget Sound Energy bill last month. So I have scraped together enough money to bring me peace of mind and an end to my daughter's scabby little legs. Just writing about these vile little bugs makes me scratch.
2. Zoey goes to the dentist. Which should be, you know, LOTS of fun. We've been reading The Berenstain Bears Visit the Dentist and Mercer Mayer's Little Critter book about visiting the dentist, to no avail. Any mention of the dentist trip today brings on the quivery lip and tears to the big brown eyes. However, she HAS informed me that she will be a "very brave girl" so she can go to the bookstore and pick out a new book afterwards. If the whole flu-shot incident of several weeks ago is any indicator, then we will be defining "very brave girl" quite loosely and I may have created a monster by always linking trips to the doctor with trips to the bookstore in her wee little mind.
Ahhh, the quiet. I am sitting back just now to enjoy it. Soon the entire household will be up and hustling around...Bryan to get out the door for work (and let me tell you how happy and relieved I am to be saying that), me to get showered and somehow corral our two cats in the garage, Zoey to slowly make her way through the morning routine while weilding her big, fat blue marker...always ready to cross something off the list.
Coffee, give me strength to get through the day. Amen.
Two big ticket items on the agenda today:
1. Exterminators are coming at 9:45 to spray the house for fleas. Because my child is getting eaten alive, and I can only run so many loads of laundry. Seriously. I almost died when I opened our Puget Sound Energy bill last month. So I have scraped together enough money to bring me peace of mind and an end to my daughter's scabby little legs. Just writing about these vile little bugs makes me scratch.
2. Zoey goes to the dentist. Which should be, you know, LOTS of fun. We've been reading The Berenstain Bears Visit the Dentist and Mercer Mayer's Little Critter book about visiting the dentist, to no avail. Any mention of the dentist trip today brings on the quivery lip and tears to the big brown eyes. However, she HAS informed me that she will be a "very brave girl" so she can go to the bookstore and pick out a new book afterwards. If the whole flu-shot incident of several weeks ago is any indicator, then we will be defining "very brave girl" quite loosely and I may have created a monster by always linking trips to the doctor with trips to the bookstore in her wee little mind.
Ahhh, the quiet. I am sitting back just now to enjoy it. Soon the entire household will be up and hustling around...Bryan to get out the door for work (and let me tell you how happy and relieved I am to be saying that), me to get showered and somehow corral our two cats in the garage, Zoey to slowly make her way through the morning routine while weilding her big, fat blue marker...always ready to cross something off the list.
Coffee, give me strength to get through the day. Amen.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Why yes I am ready to go back to work tomorrow. Thanks for asking.
Today was not all sunshine and list making. (See post below, which could also be titled 'Traits I am most proud of passing on to the future generation'.)
We did make it to the park with my sister and her kids. All was good. It was one of those really beautiful fall days where the sky is clear blue and the air is just this side of nippy.
And then we walked across the street to mail something at the post office. Which is where It All Fell Apart.
After Zoey's action-packed weekend, a semi-late bedtime last night, and her burning desire to get up with me at 6:30 this morning, I could smell a meltdown coming long before it happened. Despite the fact that she had been warned there would be no walking to the bakery for donuts after the post office if she couldn't mind her manners and listen to me, she proceeded to wander off repeatedly, causing me to dart back and forth in the long long line and drag her back to my side. When asked to get up off the floor, she pulled the Limp Noodle Maneuver that only a kid can perfect. And she did it all with the trademark naughty look in her big brown eyes that always sets my teeth on edge.
So. I probably could have let it all slide and still walked to the bakery...because I wanted a donut too...but she's been pushing her luck more often than not in these past few weeks, and I decided it was time to pull the Mean Mommy card even though I knew this would mean my own life would not be worth living for the next hour or so.
Her veeeeeery long temper tantrum after learning there would be no donuts in her near future earned her one time-out in front of the coffee shop across the street from the post office, and another in front of the library, 10 feet away from our car.
Her continued wailing/slapping/screaming spectacle bought her a one-way ticket to bed once we got home with NO STORIES and (brace yourselves) NO HOT MILK.
I've never pulled out all the stops like that and I have to say it was highly effective.
The kid has never gone down for bed without hot milk and stories. Ever. And finally, at that point where I was holding her sobbing body and telling her how very sorry I was that she had chosen to behave so badly, and that when we behave badly, we can't have the things we want...the look in her (now un-naughty) brown eyes was just heart-breaking. She knew Mommy wasn't backing down and she was so incredibly sad. It made me realize how hard it must be to be two years old.
And then she slept for three hours and woke up a completely different person. Polite. Funny. Cooperative.
Please tell me all nearly-three-year-olds are this challenging. And borderline bipolar.
We did make it to the park with my sister and her kids. All was good. It was one of those really beautiful fall days where the sky is clear blue and the air is just this side of nippy.
And then we walked across the street to mail something at the post office. Which is where It All Fell Apart.
After Zoey's action-packed weekend, a semi-late bedtime last night, and her burning desire to get up with me at 6:30 this morning, I could smell a meltdown coming long before it happened. Despite the fact that she had been warned there would be no walking to the bakery for donuts after the post office if she couldn't mind her manners and listen to me, she proceeded to wander off repeatedly, causing me to dart back and forth in the long long line and drag her back to my side. When asked to get up off the floor, she pulled the Limp Noodle Maneuver that only a kid can perfect. And she did it all with the trademark naughty look in her big brown eyes that always sets my teeth on edge.
So. I probably could have let it all slide and still walked to the bakery...because I wanted a donut too...but she's been pushing her luck more often than not in these past few weeks, and I decided it was time to pull the Mean Mommy card even though I knew this would mean my own life would not be worth living for the next hour or so.
Her veeeeeery long temper tantrum after learning there would be no donuts in her near future earned her one time-out in front of the coffee shop across the street from the post office, and another in front of the library, 10 feet away from our car.
Her continued wailing/slapping/screaming spectacle bought her a one-way ticket to bed once we got home with NO STORIES and (brace yourselves) NO HOT MILK.
I've never pulled out all the stops like that and I have to say it was highly effective.
The kid has never gone down for bed without hot milk and stories. Ever. And finally, at that point where I was holding her sobbing body and telling her how very sorry I was that she had chosen to behave so badly, and that when we behave badly, we can't have the things we want...the look in her (now un-naughty) brown eyes was just heart-breaking. She knew Mommy wasn't backing down and she was so incredibly sad. It made me realize how hard it must be to be two years old.
And then she slept for three hours and woke up a completely different person. Polite. Funny. Cooperative.
Please tell me all nearly-three-year-olds are this challenging. And borderline bipolar.
Future List Makers of America
Today I made a "Mommy and Zoey To-Do List". You know, with things like "play at the park" and "make leaf shaped crackers" on it.
And then I had her cross each item off the list as soon as it was accomplished.
And you know I made it in to a big, fun game.
And then she asked if we could make a list for 'amommow' (tomorrow).
And my heart swelled with pride.
And then I had her cross each item off the list as soon as it was accomplished.
And you know I made it in to a big, fun game.
And then she asked if we could make a list for 'amommow' (tomorrow).
And my heart swelled with pride.
Best news I've heard in a long time
Bryan has a job!
That's right. After that whole experience with not getting paid at his last job, having to quit, spending months and months interviewing, hearing nothing, then generally getting jerked around by a couple chiropractors who didn't know what they wanted, BRYAN. GOT. HIRED.
Not only did he get hired, he got hired by a guy who seems to have a clear plan for the future of his business, and a chiropractic style that isn't too far off from the way Bryan would like to practice. Two major bonuses when it comes to finding your first job as a chiropractor.
The job is in Silverdale, which is about 40 minutes from where we live. Not ideal, but not terrible, either. Now that Bryan is sporting his new 1992 Toyota Camry, at least we know he's in a vehicle that will save on gas money! The salary is decent and the hours aren't bad either--he'll start out at five days a week, with the possibility of some weekend work, but then go down to four days a week, which is just...wow. Perfect.
He starts tomorrow and I just know he's going to rock this clinic with his sheer awesomeness.
That's right. After that whole experience with not getting paid at his last job, having to quit, spending months and months interviewing, hearing nothing, then generally getting jerked around by a couple chiropractors who didn't know what they wanted, BRYAN. GOT. HIRED.
Not only did he get hired, he got hired by a guy who seems to have a clear plan for the future of his business, and a chiropractic style that isn't too far off from the way Bryan would like to practice. Two major bonuses when it comes to finding your first job as a chiropractor.
The job is in Silverdale, which is about 40 minutes from where we live. Not ideal, but not terrible, either. Now that Bryan is sporting his new 1992 Toyota Camry, at least we know he's in a vehicle that will save on gas money! The salary is decent and the hours aren't bad either--he'll start out at five days a week, with the possibility of some weekend work, but then go down to four days a week, which is just...wow. Perfect.
He starts tomorrow and I just know he's going to rock this clinic with his sheer awesomeness.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Good thing we didn't worry about her at all this weekend
Um, if you all thought my weekend was fabulous, wait until you hear about ZOEY'S weekend. She has assured me (many times already) that my weekend was total crap compared to hers. BECAUSE EATING IN A GROWN-UP RESTAURANT DOES NOT COMPARE TO SEEING A SNOW OWL LIVE AND IN PERSON AT THE ZOO. Sorry, Mommy.
As mentioned previously, Zoey was whisked away by my MIL early in the morning. Heather took both Zoey and Finley to Northwest Trek, which, if I remember correctly from my one field trip there in the third grade, is a zoo-ish setting complete with tram ride and wandering amongst animals native to the Northwest. I figured, with the gray, drippy weather hanging around yesterday morning, they might spend a couple hours there at the most. From what I gather, they didn't return home until nearly 4 p.m. The trip has rekindled Zoey's love of owls, and she has spoken of few things other than the snow owl she got to see while she was at the zoo.
I take that back. If you ask her what animals she saw yesterday at the zoo, her first response will be "A SHWUG." (Slug.) Followed by an appropriately long 'eewwwww' accompanied by a grossed-out face. And after she reviews with you in infinite detail the shortcomings of the slug species, she will move on to more dignified and less slimey Snow Owl. But please be prepared for a rather lengthy slime monologue.
But I digress. Zoey and Finley both made paper cut-outs of owls (Zoey made three, actually, and added hair to one of them), picked out 'special rocks' at the gift shop (because only a grandmother will spend MONEY on ROCKS), and rode the tram and walked around the park to their hearts content. There was no napping. There was a lot of snacking. Because that's how Grandma Heather rolls.
Then they were off to Grandma Heather's house where Grandpa "Aggix" (Alex) was waiting. Apparently my child scarfed down a dinner of roasted pork loin and swiss chard. I think this part of the story might be a lie.
Even bedtime was relatively stress-free BECAUSE OH MY GOD GRANDMA HEATHER LET ME SLEEP IN A CASTLE, MOMMY! A castle! Like the one I used to love and adore in our dining room that you so heartlessly dismantled weeks ago!
That's right, Zoey. Your mother loves you but both your grandmothers love you way more.
This morning, after chatting with Zoey on the phone and getting the low-down on the slugs and rocks and castle-sleeping, the whole team headed to the swimming pool where Grandma Heather didn't even make her wash her hair after getting out of the pool. See! The love!
Bryan went to retrieve our blissed-out child late this afternoon and apparently had to pry her (complete with kicking and screaming) away from Grandma and Grandpa's house.
We'll be dropping her off again on the 23rd, for Bryan's birthday, and picking her up sometime in January.
As mentioned previously, Zoey was whisked away by my MIL early in the morning. Heather took both Zoey and Finley to Northwest Trek, which, if I remember correctly from my one field trip there in the third grade, is a zoo-ish setting complete with tram ride and wandering amongst animals native to the Northwest. I figured, with the gray, drippy weather hanging around yesterday morning, they might spend a couple hours there at the most. From what I gather, they didn't return home until nearly 4 p.m. The trip has rekindled Zoey's love of owls, and she has spoken of few things other than the snow owl she got to see while she was at the zoo.
I take that back. If you ask her what animals she saw yesterday at the zoo, her first response will be "A SHWUG." (Slug.) Followed by an appropriately long 'eewwwww' accompanied by a grossed-out face. And after she reviews with you in infinite detail the shortcomings of the slug species, she will move on to more dignified and less slimey Snow Owl. But please be prepared for a rather lengthy slime monologue.
But I digress. Zoey and Finley both made paper cut-outs of owls (Zoey made three, actually, and added hair to one of them), picked out 'special rocks' at the gift shop (because only a grandmother will spend MONEY on ROCKS), and rode the tram and walked around the park to their hearts content. There was no napping. There was a lot of snacking. Because that's how Grandma Heather rolls.
Then they were off to Grandma Heather's house where Grandpa "Aggix" (Alex) was waiting. Apparently my child scarfed down a dinner of roasted pork loin and swiss chard. I think this part of the story might be a lie.
Even bedtime was relatively stress-free BECAUSE OH MY GOD GRANDMA HEATHER LET ME SLEEP IN A CASTLE, MOMMY! A castle! Like the one I used to love and adore in our dining room that you so heartlessly dismantled weeks ago!
That's right, Zoey. Your mother loves you but both your grandmothers love you way more.
This morning, after chatting with Zoey on the phone and getting the low-down on the slugs and rocks and castle-sleeping, the whole team headed to the swimming pool where Grandma Heather didn't even make her wash her hair after getting out of the pool. See! The love!
Bryan went to retrieve our blissed-out child late this afternoon and apparently had to pry her (complete with kicking and screaming) away from Grandma and Grandpa's house.
We'll be dropping her off again on the 23rd, for Bryan's birthday, and picking her up sometime in January.
Sleep. Uninterrupted.
Let me tell you about my fabulous birthday.
My mother-in-law picked up Zoey at 9:30 yesterday morning and I have not seen her since. I then shopped with my sister (at the Goodwill, very budget-friendly), worked out at the gym with Bryan (something we never do together...but so nice to have the company...), napped at home (again...NEVER...), and ate dinner at a restaurant that was not kid-friendly. And then...then...are you sitting down, people? I slept. All night. No interruptions. No cries of "my bed is wet!" or "Mommy! I need you!". Seven hours straight. And it was heaven.
And now I am propped up in bed most likely driving Bryan crazy as he tries to continue the loveliness of sleep next to me while I, ever the morning person as I get older, bang away on the laptop keyboard next to him. But it's my birthday and I can do whatever I want.
(I love birthdays and personally think they should last for weeks, not just one day.)
(His birthday is the 23rd and I'm guessing he'll kick me out of our room at sunrise and demand to be left alone until noon. Whatever. But this morning...I think I may not get out of my bed at all. Until I need more coffee, anyway.)
My mother-in-law picked up Zoey at 9:30 yesterday morning and I have not seen her since. I then shopped with my sister (at the Goodwill, very budget-friendly), worked out at the gym with Bryan (something we never do together...but so nice to have the company...), napped at home (again...NEVER...), and ate dinner at a restaurant that was not kid-friendly. And then...then...are you sitting down, people? I slept. All night. No interruptions. No cries of "my bed is wet!" or "Mommy! I need you!". Seven hours straight. And it was heaven.
And now I am propped up in bed most likely driving Bryan crazy as he tries to continue the loveliness of sleep next to me while I, ever the morning person as I get older, bang away on the laptop keyboard next to him. But it's my birthday and I can do whatever I want.
(I love birthdays and personally think they should last for weeks, not just one day.)
(His birthday is the 23rd and I'm guessing he'll kick me out of our room at sunrise and demand to be left alone until noon. Whatever. But this morning...I think I may not get out of my bed at all. Until I need more coffee, anyway.)
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