Early To Bed

When Sam was a baby, he would often wake up at 4 a.m. and we would spend the early morning watching the MacNeil/Lehrer report and Teletubbies until he fell back asleep somewhere around 6:30, just in time for me to get in the shower and 'start' my day.

We never really had that problem with Jake or Abby. Sure they had their share of sleep problems during the night but neither of them are what you'd call early risers. Neither of them go to bed early either. It's not unusual for them both to be awake at 9:30 and then still be in bed at 7:30 a.m. (Perhaps there's a connection? You think?)

Everything changes if it's Saturday. Last night, for example, they were both still awake at 9:30. We were all watching Star Wars in the big bed because the downstairs TV is on the fritz and Bryon and Sam are at a camp out this weekend. Abby finally fell asleep close at 10 and Jake shortly after. (When I moved him to his bed and tucked him in he smiled in his sleep. That's my boy.) Since it was only 10 I finished some work that kept me up much later than I'd planned, close to midnight. But surely, surely, they would both sleep a little later.

The first thing I remember was the overhead light coming on and Jake shoving an animal alphabet puzzle box in my face. "What's that one called? That one, Q?"

"You mean quail?"

"Yes, quailed."

This stirred the dog, who licked Abby in the face who immediately sat up and ... well, good morning Saturday.

I rubbed my eyes and said out loud to no one, "You are going to be one tired girl today."

I was actually talking about Abby, but Jake responded, "Abby too?"

Happy Fun Jake

Jake woke up in a really good mood today, which was unexpected, welcome and, well, a bit unnerving. You see keeping Jake in a good mood is as elusive as finding him in good mood. Much like Happy Fun Ball of the 90s, Jake could come with his own disclaimer. This could possibly reduce or eliminate the number of meltdowns (ours and his) experienced at our house.

Jake's disclaimer would go something like this:

Do not look directly at Jake.
Do not speak directly to Jake.
Do not force Jake to undress.
Do not force Jake to dress.
Do not change songs on the iPod.
Do not remove The Clone Wars from the DVD player.
Do not interfere with the Wii.
Do not apply lotion to his dry skin.
Do not bathe.
Do not ask Jake to carry his own backpack.
Do not let Abby carry Jake's backpack.
Keep a supply of chocolate milk and pancakes available at all times.
Do not threaten Jake with a swat.

Prolonged exposure to Jake may result in:

Diarrhea
Nausea
Sleeplessness
Alcohol abuse
Dry mouth
Loss of coordination

But, like Happy Fun Ball, there is no substitute.

Puppy Love

So I have very few complaints about the dog. The main one is all the hair. But the Swiffer Wet has become my friend so the hair is less of an issue. Since Bryon broke his ankle a couple of weeks ago, the pooper scooper duty has also fallen to me, and this is a big complaint. With all the rain and cold weather we've had, I haven't been vigilant about the scooping and today when I went to the backyard to retrieve one of the dog's toys (just like the kids, he leaves his toys in the backyard) I realized it looked like cows have been grazing back there.

I also REALLY miss my cats. They come around throughout the day for food but they will not come in the house and I think they are beginning to associate any interaction with me as a possible interaction with the dog.

Most of the time the dog lays on one of two dog beds. He doesn't bark or jump or nip at the kids. He sleeps all night and waits until 6 before sticking his cold nose in my still sleeping face to indicate he really needs to go outside. But I don't think we spend enough time with the dog. He's always giving me this sad sack look like "When are you going to slow down and rub my ears?"

I think Sam has picked up on this too. Today while we were sitting at the breakfast table, Sam said, "During the day, when you're sitting around like you do, you should really pat the dog every once in awhile. I think I would get lonely if I sat on the ottoman all day and no one played with me."

Although I don't know when he thinks I 'sit around,' I was starting to agree with him until he said, "Just imagine if you got to sit in the living room by yourself all day."

Oh but I do imagine that.

Daily Affirmation

I am always one to come up with an excuse to not go to church on Sunday. Most of the time it just seems like a hassle on a day that doesn't have to have hassles. But we usually go and I'm usually glad we do. I don't know if I'm gettin' the religion or what, but our minister has a way of preaching a sermon that feels like it was written for me.

A couple of Sundays ago he preached about affirmation, specifically affirming your kids. Not just praising them but affirming them - I love you, I think you are a great kid. And it got me thinking about Jake. Jake hears more than his share of criticism.

Last night Sam, Jake and I were reading before bedtime. Sam had picked out a book and was reading it out loud, himself. I think Jake was jealous of the attention Sam was getting, but for whatever reason he wouldn't sit still, he wouldn't be quiet and he wouldn't be polite. But I watched his little face, with his beautiful eyes and long, dark eyelashes and his little body with its broad shoulders and thought how nice it can be to hear something good from someone you love who loves you. I didn't tell him to be quiet or sit down or stop being rude. I just smiled at him and took his hand and waited for him to sit down.

I've let my 'relationship' with Jake go a little sour. Many times friends or acquaintances will comment on his blue eyes, his charm, his disposition and I think "My Jake? This kid? Him?" So I've been trying harder with him. Trying to be patient and supportive. Trying to see him through a rosier lens because I know a really sweet kid is within him and I know a better parent is within me.

Punchline

If you read this blog you know that Jake is my melodramatic child. The wrong ratio of chocolate syrup to milk causes as much anxiety as a trip to the doctor. Today wasn't any different.

We were running errands, and Jake and Abby were watching a DVD in the car. We'd started at the beginning so I had the pleasure of sitting through the multitude of "coming soon to a theater near you" and "coming soon on DVD" trailers one more time. For whatever reason, one particular trailer bugs me. It's for an old movie called Home On the Range. Maybe it's the voice of Roseanne as one of the cow heroines. Maybe it's the KD Lang soundtrack ("I know a place ... pretty as pie!!!!"). So today I chose to skip it. And, of course, Jake objected. He objected like he was being injected head to toe with jitterbugs, like someone was holding him down and dumping broccoli in his mouth.

When I was able to get the DVD back to the Home On the Range trailer, I asked him to apologize.

"Jakey, you can get just about anything if you ask nicely. I think you should tell me you're sorry and that you overreacted."

"I can't say that word, overlyacted."

"OK. How about you just say "I'm sorry" like you mean it."

"I'M SORRY LIKE I MEAN IT!!!!"

My Mom Can Beat Up Your Mom

On the nights we eat dinner as a family, we encourage conversation by playing "High/Low." Very simply each person tells the high point of his or her day and the low point. Although it can be a good way to find out things about the kids' days they wouldn't ordinarly share, many nights the boys get around the game by saying their high point was they didn't have a low, the low point, they didn't have a high. I guess that could be a realistic way to look at your life every day, but come on, one high, one low - is that too much?

Tonight I was particularly excited to share my High/Low. You see, I had a confrontation with a coworker today, something that never happens to me. And although I probably didn't present my best argument, I was right and others backed me up. While I hate conflict I was proud that I stood up for myself. Hence, my High/Low.

But, to keep the attention of a 4-year-old and a 7-year-old I had to embellish a little. My dinner table version had me on the floor - wrestling, hair pulling, groin kicking, face slapping and name calling.

"And that's why she's in the hospital tonight," I told Jake.

I swear that child has never looked at me with more pride. He laid his head on my arm and stroked my hand, "I love you Mama!"

I don't know if he suddenly realized you don't cross Mama or what, but apparently to get some respect from your kids, you need to be able to kick some butt.

Happy Birthday Abby

Deception

For Christmas I asked for and got Jessica Seinfeld's cookbook, Deceptively Delicious. The premise is that you can still feed your kids mac and cheese and nuggets and cookies and pancakes, but with her help you can make it with pureed carrots and broccoli and cauliflower. They get a meal they love, you get them to eat vegetables. Win win, right?

After flipping through the cookbook I chose spaghetti pie for the first recipe. It was basically a cooked spaghetti made with carrots and broccoli, both of which had to be steamed and pureed in order to fool your kids.

My first problem - I hate food processors. I think, in general, you need degrees in engineering and architecture to use them. They also are loud and a pain to clean. But since you can't puree vegetables by hand, you need a food processor.

Second problem - I stink in the kitchen. I was never a good cook but I've only gotten worse. And to prove it - I started a fire on the stove steaming the broccoli (Top Chef here I come!). After disabling the fire alarm and cleaning up the fire mess I decided to steam the carrots in the microwave.

I have to admit the rest of the recipe was easy, and after baking 25 minutes it was done. My spaghetti pie, however, looked nothing like Mrs. Seinfeld's spaghetti pie. It looked like I had dumped a can of SpaghettiO's and water in a dish, covered it with mozzarella and warmed it up. I thought it sucked. The kids ate it, several helpings in fact, which should be the point. But in the end, all it did was make me dislike Jessica Seinfeld. Her and her stupid cookbook.

As I was cleaning up that night I was flipping through the prologue, written of course by the Jessica, the homemaker. It contained tips on how to stave off your kids' hunger (set out a plate of crudites promptly at 5:30) and how to make them behave at the table (serve dinner promptly at 6 and no toys!). It also offered some oh-so-helpful tips for when you absolutely have to dine out with your kids (try eating at a diner with booths; the atmosphere and other diners will be more forgiving).

The next time I run into Jessica Seinfeld eating with her brood at a diner I have a few things I'd like to say to her.

Budding Artist

When Sam and Jake were little we did no baby proofing. We did put up baby gates, but we didn't lock cabinets, latch down toilet seats, put bumpers on coffee tables or plug up outlets. They simply didn't get into 'things.'

Now Abby may be a different story. She hasn't stuck her fingers or toys into outlets yet, but she loves putting things into the toilet. (Did you know a roll of toilet paper will swell to the size of a basketball when soaked?)

And, in her first real instance of defiance, today she took crayons in each hand and scribbled her way from the bedroom to the bathroom. On one hand I know she's too young to know she shouldn't do it. But on the other hand, I think she knows, and doesn't care.

"Who did this?"

"ABBAH did it!"

It's somewhat hard to get mad at this face. That and the fact that the Magic Eraser is truly magic and scribbles like these can be gone in a second.

All that said, I have a feeling this face will get her into a lot of trouble.

And out of it too.