alone alone alone

While my husband was at home dealing with bodily fluids of all kinds, I was in my hometown, staying in my childhood home. I had no responsibilities and no obligations other than my sister's wedding on Friday, which, because they just went to the courthouse, was not really any big deal. I mean, momentous for her, of course, but from my end, no big thing. I stayed in my jammies til noon that day, drank coffee with my grandparents, watched a movie with my mom and, while Mom fixed me a BLT for lunch, picked Lexi a bouquet from the flower beds. (I will always be a pushy older sister.) There were no butts to wipe and no fights to referee, no plates to fix and no bedtime stories to be told. There was nothing to clean and no errands to be run.

I missed my family. The first night, I just stood in the kitchen while my sister fixed her boys' supper plates.

"You don't know what to do with yourself, do you?" she said.

I didn't.

The trip was lovely, despite gloomy weather. My sister is so obviously in love with her new husband, their happiness is infectious. And visiting with my parents, grandparents and other family without having to worry about rushing off to see in-laws or making my children behave was relaxing. I read a couple books and ate all the foods I can't get outside my hometown and generally was a bum. But I missed my boys, all of them.

The feeling was mutual. On Sunday afternoon, while I was en route back home, the husband asked the boys -- both feeling better and coming home from a baseball game -- who had missed Momma. "MEEEEEEEEEEEE!" they yelled. The Beastie spent most of his waking hours for the next day on my lap and was angry Monday when he heard me shutting the dryer door, thinking I was getting in the car to leave again. The Boy showed his feelings in a slightly different way: He spent 36 hours being a cranky-pants, finally admitting Monday to being angry that I had left. Being so missed made me all warm and fuzzy, despite the sassiness.

I haven't taken a trip by myself since The Boy was eight months old. Getting away, allowing myself to miss my family, made me appreciate them more. It made me even more glad -- and erased any lingering guilt I had -- about booking a trip to The Blathering.

When was the last time you got out of town alone?

5 months and 2 days

Baby girl is another month older.

Obligatory shot with the duck, which is getting more difficult the more wiggly Gizmo gets.

She had her first bite of cereal last week. Let's just say, she loved it. For about a week, she opened, closed, opened, closed her mouth as she intensely watched us eat. So one morning I broke down and mixed up some cereal. While her sister repeatedly spit it out when we first tried, Gizmo gobbled it up only pushing it back out once.

"You guys have been holding back on me."

"Listen, woman, I'm going to hold on to your hand and make sure you get all of that in my mouth because it is mmm-mmm good."

She has found her toes to be fairly delicious and is proving to be very flexible. She's still content just hanging out on a blanket some place but she knows as soon as we walk away, which does not make her happy.

What does make her happy? Mommy, daddy and sissy. She's a smiley baby but the moment she sees one of us, her smile takes on a different quality, lighting up even more. It's the best.

Bowling

The photos aren't the greatest but you can still see the joy Peanut got from her first bowling class.

She is actually airborne with excitement.

I don't know if the ball or Peanut weighs more.

Thanks to our fabulous friend S, who found this class for her daughter and flagged us to it. It's a 10 week course that includes bumper pads and some sort of ramp that allows little ones to roll the ball easier.

The husband wasn't so sure how this was going to go down so he decided to tell our little fashionista that she would get to wear new shoes. Who knew they had such small shoes? This kid is still in size 7 toddler shoes.

He said she and her friend tried to kick the balls down the lane but then the ramp helped. They also guarded their ball from the little boys next to them, standing with arms open, waiting for the ball to return and snatching it up the moment it did. She even almost got a strike once, knocking all but one pin down.

She told me it was fun and that she was happy that her prize at the end of the class was a frog.

She also said bowling is about sharing and taking turns. Who knew she would learn life lessons from a game associated with old guys smoking and drinking?

Poor husband

If you can, send some kind thoughts and good vibes in the general direction of my husband.

He's single-parenting until Sunday, because I'm in my hometown for my sister's wedding. Less than 24 hours in, he's having a rough go of it through no fault of his own.

I left at 5 a.m., before the kids were even up. When I landed in Charlotte for my layover, I had a message on my phone saying The Boy had thrown a fit about going to school because "it's JUST US, Daddy!" and school days are not days when it's JUST US boys. I chuckled and got on my next flight.

After landing again, while I waited for my sister to pick me up, my phone rang around 2 p.m. It was daycare. The Lad had thrown up; could I please come get him? I called the husband, who was having a very busy day at work.

"What do you suggest?" he asked.

"Uh, get him. I guess you could take him into your office. If he's sick, he might not cause too much trouble."

So, that's what the husband tried to do. Carrying The Lad, he stopped by his boss's office on the way to his own to let him know what was going on. The Lad decided they needed a visual; he vomited. A lot. All over himself and the husband.

I've said before we work at a very family-friendly corporation. The husband said our boss's only response after all of it was to say to the coworker who'd come to Mike's rescue with paper towels and wipes (he's a very nice father of three boys), "Ed, did you get that on video?"

Needless to say, the husband went home with The Lad. Things were mostly quiet til dinner when poor little Beastie puked again and The Boy announced that his stomach hurt, too. Plus, the husband realized that in his haste to get his vomit-covered trousers in the wash, he'd forgotten to remove the work notes he'd stuffed in the pockets. Everyone is staying home tomorrow.

My kids have never thrown up -- spit up, of course, but vomit, no -- until this week, and so far, I've managed to avoid dealing with it. I feel bad for the husband, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't pleased to be 1,000 miles away from the sick. I have such a good husband. The boys have such a good Daddyman.

Advice: Sibling jealousy

So I was looking for inspiration on this post and asked over on the Facebook page what people are curious about. Our lovely college friend Julie who just added a little one to their family asked about sibling jealousy and juggling two kids.

The best advice someone gave me is to think about it this way: The baby won't know the difference so tend to the older kid first when you can. As the younger sibling, I call shenanigans. As a parent, it seems to work most of the time.

That said, I also make Peanut wait sometimes while I deal with Gizmo because a) I don't want Peanut becoming spoiled and b) Gizmo has needs too.

I also talk to the baby if she is crying while I tend to Peanut's needs. While the talking sometimes soothes her, the words are meant more for Peanut. I say something like, "I know, Gizmo you need (a diaper change/fed/to go to sleep/put on your back because you refuse to roll from you stomach to your back even though you are perfectly capable of doing so). But right now your big sister needs me. It's her turn now and then it will be your turn." This way Peanut knows that it's not all about the baby but it's all not all about her either.

Now for juggling two kids.

First I will say that the husband and I have tried to set aside one-on-one time with each of the girls. Trying to take on two kids by yourself can be hard but one makes it much easier and enjoyable for everyone.

We also try to make sure the adults get a break every once in awhile too. For him, that means golf. For me, that means some quiet time reading alone or going shopping by myself.

Because Peanut is Daddy's Girl, he tried to take her out on special trips to breakfast, to Target even to the grocery store by herself especially right after the baby was born. We made a big deal about this telling her it was her special time and it was only for big girls. We told her the same thing when she started going back to the sitter's and when she spent some time with her grandparents.

We also tried to include Peanut in things that we did with Gizmo. We let her "help" us change her diaper and give her a bath. I let her snuggle up next to me while I fed Gizmo. I asked her to sing to the baby. If Gizmo gets fussy while I'm getting ready for work, I send Peanut to talk to her, which usually accomplishes two things: it calms the baby and keeps Peanut occupied.

It's not so much the kids part that is difficult but juggling everything else like laundry and cooking and yard work and grocery shopping and, and, and...

We are doing fine but I don't feel as organized as I would like to be. But I've also accepted that and tried to cut us some slack. We are two working parents with two kids under the age of three. There is only so much vacuuming that can be done. It will get done. Just maybe not today (or tomorrow).

What's your best advice for parents dealing with new siblings?

Mine! and other things

The Lad is all about asserting his rights these days. His favorite new word is "mine!" He always says this with authority and an exclamation point practically hovers in the air. When he's really serious about something, he says, "Mine-nuh!" as if to say, "You're either hard of hearing or stupid and I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt by repeating myself with precise enunciation."

---

The Boy mostly is bullied by The Lad's newly acquired sense of possession. When his little brother takes something from The Boy, he collapses under the injustice of the world.

"But that's mi-i-i-i-ine."

This weekend, however, he finally seemed to realize, "Hey, I'm bigger than he is, and faster." Snatching a toy The Lad obviously wanted, The Boy ran away laughing and literally saying, "Nanner-nanner-boo-boo," his brother on his heels.

I would have intervened but seconds later, I heard The Lad giggling and The Boy whining, "Hey! You can't have them aaaaalllllllllll."

Sibling justice is swift.

---

The Lad has had a bad diaper rash this last week, so Sunday found him in our driveway wearing nothing but his jammie shirt and sandals as he helped the husband wash our car. (We're nothing but class, let me tell you.) The airing out was going well until I saw something that looked like cat poo on our drive.

Need I say more?

---

The husband was explaining to The Boy about triathlons the other day.

"Hey Daddy. I know about a triathlon where you swim and ride a bike and ride a donkey."

---

We had quesadillas for dinner tonight. My boys -- including the husband -- love quesadillas. I fixed the entire eight-pack of tortillas; I fold each tortilla in half over queso fresco and bean dip to make one quesadilla. There was one left. The Lad double-fisted his way through dinner, demanding "mine-nuh!" whenever he finished a slice. Seriously. I shudder to think what my grocery bill is going to look like as these boys get bigger.

---

Because the boys ate so good, we let them have dessert.

"Who wants M&M?" I said as the husband went to get them.

"MEEEEE!"

The Lad shouted it so loudly and forcefully, the husband thought it was The Boy. He's never before said "me." Kid after my own heart.

---

I'm flying home this weekend because my sister is getting married (Yay! Lexi and Ben!). I was planning to bring The Boy with me, but because it's the holiday weekend, tickets were crazy, so I'm flying solo. I'm kind of looking forward to the quiet of the plane. I got a Kindle for Mother's Day (yay! for good husbands); what should I put on it? Cheap suggestions, though, people. I'm used to getting books free from the library -- well, except for the fines I always seem to rack up.

Moments

There are special moments as a mother. Moments that you want to put away in a safe box so that when the kids are grown up you can pull them back out and remember their soft sweetness and know that, yes, they were babies once. Yes, they could fit into your arms. Yes, they loved just the sight of you and the sound of your voice.

I have a couple memories like that. One time Peanut, her father and I were playing on the floor with her new sleeping bag. She was about 18 months old and insisted we all pretend to sleep. The three of us fake snored along with two of her dolls. We just felt like a family in the moment.

I also love the first time Peanut sang "You are my sunshine" to me. It was my grandparents' song (they even had a toilet paper dispenser that played it. I know, right?) so it was very special.

I will never forget the feeling of relief and love when Gizmo was born. It was overwhelming to hear her tiny cry and see her mop of dark hair and chipmunk cheeks knowing that she completed our family of four. And then later seeing her big sister hold her for the first time declaring her squirming baby sister "beautiful."

I had another moment this weekend that I will tuck away although at the time it wasn't so sweet.

We travelled to see the husband's dad on Friday, an almost 3 hour trip. We had to travel back about 2 hours to my parents' house the same day because the husband had a conference this weekend. That's a lot of car time for two kids in one day.

They were both great on the way up and we made great time. On the way back, however, Gizmo started crying hardcore about an hour into our trip. Thinking she might by hungry, the husband got off the highway so I could feed her. She seemed satisfied so off we went.

She was satisfied for all of 90 seconds and started screaming again. And then we hit traffic. Standstill traffic for as far as we could see and no exit for at least five miles. Gizmo kept crying. Peanut started fussing and the husband and I contemplated our options, which weren't many.

Finally, I decided to crawl into the back seat with them. The husband told me there was no way I would fit between the carseats. I was doubtful myself but after 15 minutes of double tears, I was willing to try anything and since we weren't moving, I figured it couldn't hurt.

I climbed over and wedged myself in between the seats. It was not graceful and I'm sure the people behind us were scratching their heads. As soon as I got back there, Gizmo stopped crying and gave me a big open mouth grin. The little booger just wanted to see mommy.

Once traffic started moving again (adding 40 minutes to our drive) I climbed back into my seat and Gizmo cried some more until she cried herself to sleep.

It wasn't much but it made me realize that even though she can't say it with words yet, Gizmo loves us so much that the sight of us makes her happy, making me risk getting stuck between two carseats just to make her smile.

What's one of your best moments?

First haircut

My sister is a hairdresser. She gave The Boy his first haircut when he was 11 months old. I didn't think she would be able to do the same for The Lad because we weren't going to be in the same state around his first birthday. But, as the genes worked out, The Lad's hair grew in at a much slower rate and mostly in the back, which meant I could let it grow without blocking his vision. He had the most adorable little rat's nest of curls at the back of his head. I almost hated to cut it, however, it was verging on mullet territory and we were seeing my sister so:

First haircut at 16 months.

The Lad was less than pleased about the process.

Lexi did the deed the day we arrived in Tybee Island. (Great beach for kids, by the way, provided you have a place to stay on the beach or within walking distance. Parking is horrendous, but the beach is flat and wide and the water is shallow.) We saved his curls, but it's only just now occurred to me, I'm not sure where they went. I thought I put them in my bag, but don't remember unpacking them. Hmmmm, this is what happens with the second child.**

And here are a few more vacation pictures while I'm at it:

The Boy and his cousin, 4-year-old Little Man. They're nine months apart exactly.

The Lad snagging a sand toy.

This is what vacation with four boys looks like. The Oldest, who is 5, is in front. You'll notice The Beastie looks positively thrilled with himself for keeping up with the older boys.

**EDITED TO ADD: I found The Lad's curls! They were in my wallet, wrapped in a tissue, and they're now safely stashed in the baby book. Also, I would like to note that, like The Boy's first haircut, this one bothered me not so much because of the change in looks, but because of the change in the feel of my baby's head. Instead of rubbing impossibly soft baby hair, I was rubbing the rough, sweaty head of a little boy.

Love/hate

I am stealing this format from the wonderful k.

Love: How much better I feel since I have been working out the past month. I am so much less stressed and I'm starting to feel stronger.
Hate: I haven't lost a pound and I did something to my foot to make it all achey. I think I need new shoes so yeah! for shopping.

Love: Gizmo is growing like a champ. She is the 50th percentile for height, 75th for head size and off the chart for length. The doctor declared her very healthy.
Hate: She has been Cranky McCrankerson since getting her shots on Thursday.

Love: I am taking Friday off from work.
Hate: I will spend about 5 hours in the car traveling to see family making it yet another weekend where we won't be home together. I am a homebody. I like my house and the ability to get things done. Driving all over the state does not get my laundry or grocery shopping done.

Love: Pretzel nuggets filled with (fake) peanut butter.
Hate: I can't stop eating them.

Love: My Nook.
Hate: The amount of time I have spent trying to borrow books from the library. The software for the computer to do this stinks. Some days it works. Some days it doesn't. I've uninstalled, reinstalled, deauthorized, authorized more times than I would like to count. Judging from the searches for help on forums, I am not the only one. I think it is a plot from Barnes and Noble to keep my book-buying habits up.

Love: When Peanut comes up, grabs my face and whispers "Momma, I love you so much." For no reason, no prompting, just total sweetness.
Hate: She has a new irk about being "stuck" in her car seat. She cried all the way to the sitter's today about being stuck. I tried to explain to her that she needed to be stuck so she would be safe. She really didn't care about my explanation.

Love: Gizmo has been sleeping almost 8 hours straight at night the past few nights.

Hate: Peanut has been getting up earlier and earlier, crawling into bed with us, falling asleep and doing the toddler bed dance that involves lots of kicking and smacking momma and daddy while talking in her sleep.

What are you loving/hating?

PSA: Toddlers and vacations

Lest you think the beach was all sunshine and lollipops, let me send out this public service announcement: Toddlers on vacation will, at some point, decide they just want to go the hell home.

They want their toys and their bed, their highchair and their schedule. They don't want to eat foreign dirt off strange floors; they want to poke their little fingers into familiar corners and find the cruddy, stale Os they saved from three snack-times ago.

Or at least my toddlers do.

We took a vacation with my family when The Boy was 15 months old. About four or five days into that trip, he hit a wall. In hindsight, the crankiness didn't seem so bad and it was easy to blame on a case of roseola he came down with then. Surely, the vacation wall was a one-time thing.

But sometime late last Wednesday afternoon, The Lad -- age 16 months -- hit his own vacation wall. Nothing could console him. He didn't want me. He didn't want the husband. We tried to blame teething and a little cough and maybe those things contributed -- he was a little warm -- but mostly, I think he just wanted to be home. The husband and I had planned that night to take our boys to a minor league baseball game -- the Savannah Sand Gnats, how great is that name? -- but I ended up staying home with The Beastie. He finally cried himself to sleep and when he woke the next morning, you could see him looking around like, "What the fuck? I'm still here."

And then the crying started again. Eventually, we found things to make him happy, usually food-related, but for the rest of the trip, The Lad was volatile. Any little thing could set him off and then the crying fit would last for the better part of an hour.

The bonus of this kind of vacationing: By the time vacation is over, everyone wants to come home. The end of the trip isn't awful, but it's clearly not home sweet home, so you're left with no regrets about not being able to stay longer. I kind of like that.

What my boobs have done for me lately

**Disclaimer. This post is about the benefits of breastfeeding, at least the ones that I have encountered. This is by no means a condemnation or judgment of you lovely ladies who don’t breastfeed. I’ve said it before and I will say it again: Do what works for you. Breastfeeding works for me. Please don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m just trying to be funny.**

Here are some unforeseen benefits of breastfeeing:

Breaks at work. Nursing and subsequently pumping forces me to take a couple breaks during the day. For someone who typically eats two meals a day at my desk, this is a welcome change. I don’t leave the police scanners, my phone or my email unless I have to. If a meeting goes more than an hour, I get twitchy. This behavior is not healthy.

But pumping makes me away from my desk and allows me some quiet time twice a day. It’s like a tiny vacation.

The trump card (also known as playing the martyr). The husband wants to compare who does what around the house? Sure, go ahead and list everything. Now my turn. I created our children in my body enduring months of morning sickness, sacrificing and forgoing AND then gave them nutrition from my body. Can your body make food for our children? No? Move along.

I haven’t had to do this often. Maybe once or twice but the threat looms and it is always there if I need it.

The perfect jury duty excuse. I got my summons about three weeks ago. I huffed and puffed and thought of all the ways I really wouldn’t make a good juror. And then it hit me: breastfeeding.

I called today. I approached the conversation as a person not trying to get out of jury duty but just trying make sure I would have a place to pump. Without hesitation, the woman told me I qualify as a caregiver and that I was off the hook. She was so nice and told me that with a baby at home, I didn’t need to worry about jury duty.

I did a happy dance and once again was thankful for my boobs and their ability to produce milk.

What about you? What have your boobs done for you lately?

Things I learned on vacation

Taking a nap was the only thing on my vacation to-do list. I learned that when traveling with four boys ages 5, 4, 3 and 1, the likelihood of anyone taking a nap is slim. Beastie, the baby, crashed at some point every day, but I had to purposely schedule time to lie down on our last day there in order to fulfill my goal -- and wouldn't you know it? I couldn't fall asleep. SIGH. Maybe next vacation.

Other lessons learned:

1. Boys are violent. The three oldest played remarkably well together; however, they all three declared a wrestling match where everyone's arms were twisted (one of many wrestling matches) their favorite moment of the trip.

2. Women should worry less about what they look like in their bathing suits. Someone on the beach always looks worse. That sounds nasty, but seriously.

3. There are a lot of cute bathing suits out there. I need to go shopping.

4. Best beach toy for 3-5 year old boys: $5 kick/boogie board. They mostly just tried to jump on top of them or caught them in the waves -- or, in the case of my youngest nephew, stood on them in the water as if he were surfing -- but they loved them.

5. Forts are always fun. You'd think they'd be boring, however, the boys found the weapons and "bunkbeds" and secret rooms fascinating, and the open spaces are great for running off energy.

6. Watching your sister have a panic attack is fun, too. We climbed a lighthouse -- 178 steps. My sister is afraid of heights. Halfway up, she practically melted against the wall, laughing/crying and fanning herself. "Are the steps moving? Oh my GOD! The steps are moving!" Brave girl, though. She stuck her arm out the door at the top and still managed to get a picture.

7. If you're ever in Savannah, eat at Wiley's Championship BBQ. A friend recommended it, saying it had the best everything. He did not lie.

8. My mother, who has proudly called herself the meanest mother in the world, has turned into Good Time Grammy. She jokes that she's like the Cat in the Hat -- just out to deliver a good time. After a play time where all three older boys were attacking Mom, The Boy yelling, "Take her down!" as he tried to tackle her leg, my sister joked that if we ever did leave all three boys with Grammy, we'd return to find her tied to the chair saying, "It's OK. They're just playing ...."

9. The Lad is not to be trusted with the iPhone. The Boy used the husband's just fine to watch cartoons. The Lad had mine for two minutes and managed to hide icons that took me twice as long to uncover.

10. Vacation never is long enough, but it's lovely to return home -- especially after a seven-hour drive with a 3- and 1-year-old.

How was your week?

What's going on

On Sunday, Peanut was being sassy. I told her she needed to knock off her attitude. She looked at me and said, “You need to knock off your attitude.”

There was a collective gasp from my in-laws as they witnessed Lippy Lipperson in rare form.

I silently picked her up and took her into another room so we could have a discussion about how we talk to mommy.

I don’t even want to think about her teen years.

*****

While getting Peanut out of the car to go into the babysitter’s she stopped and pointed to my green shoes, “Momma. I like your shoes.”

She looked up at me and then pointed to my green shirt. “Momma. They match your shirt.”

“Yes they do,” I said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said.

I’m glad she approves of my wardrobe.

*****

I have jury duty coming up. I don’t think I will get seated on a jury for a variety of reasons (daughter of a police officer, work at the newspaper, etc.) but I am all Nervous Nelly about how I will handle pumping if I do.

My milk supply isn’t what it used to be. It’s fine but I think we are using more than I am putting away each day. I’m going to bust out the Fenugreek soon.

I spent my drive home from work recently calculating how long our freezer supply will last if we use one more milk bag than what I am putting away each day. I think we should be OK for about six months.

But my math could be fuzzy. I didn’t have a calculator.

*****

I don’t have much to say about Gizmo. She’s lovely and pleasant and still wakes up cooing and smiling. There have been days when I don’t think she’s cried at all.

She hangs in her swing. She loves her jumper. She loves when her sister holds her. She loves hanging out on the floor while we talk to her. She’s sleeping well.

If I wanted to tempt fate I would say, “Easiest. Baby. Ever.”

But I don’t want to tempt fate or jinx us or stir up the Interwebz curse so I’ll just go with “I’m happy to have such a lovely baby.”

*****

The husband and I are still debating a no-kid weekend getaway. His original suggestion was Vegas. No, thank you. Then we talked about Nashville or Chicago. I’ve never been to Nashville but have spent many weekends in Chicago.

Now I’m considering Louisville.

I have to plan this trip since I don’t think I have planned a trip in the 8 years we have been together. Any suggestions? We live in Ohio and I would prefer to drive anywhere we go in six hours or less.

More books

I'm still trucking along to my goal of 100 books in a year. I'm a couple books behind pace but I think I can catch up. Here's my latest list compiled for your use.

Should read

Soft Apocalypse by Will McIntosh I was not expecting to like this book at all but it was a Free Friday offering on Nook, so I got it (I rarely pass up a free book). This book was riveting. The writing isn’t fancy and the descriptions of the events showing the world slowly collapsing are gruesome and brutal but riveting.

Between, Georgia by Joshilyn Jackson Another good book by Jackson. I’ve enjoyed all of her books that I’ve read so far.

Shake the Devil Off by Ethan Brown I read this on the recommendation from Hillary. Really enjoyed it. It’s a true story of a brutal murder-suicide in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, starting with the actual crime and then going back to the beginning to show why it might have happened, all the way back to the war in Kosovo. Fascinating.

The Giver by Lois Lowry This is a wonderful quick read. Just a little more than 100 pages and I have no idea why I never read this before.

The Horse Boy by Rupert Isaacson True story of a father’s quest to “heal” his son’s autism using horses and spiritual healers. It was an amazing story of what parents will do to help their children.

Cinderella Ate my Daughter by Peggy Orenstein Already discussed this in previous posts. Interesting take and a must-read for parents with girls.

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood My SIL lent this to me and I really enjoyed it. I don’t know what it is but I’ve read a lot of books this year about what could happen when our way of life collapses.

Read if you can get it for free

Dead Reckoning by Charlaine Harris This is the 11th book in the Sookie Stackhouse series. It's good but I'm starting to wonder how and when this is all going to wrap up. Plus $14.99 for a ebook is ridiculous. I might have liked it more had it been cheaper.

If you were here by Jen Lancaster I really wanted to like this more than I did. It was good but "I wish I would have borrowed it from the library instead of dropping money on it" good. I've loved all her other books, which were memoirs and laugh out loud funny, but this just didn't live up to the others.

13 Little Blue Envelopes by Maureen Johnson Cute, but not great. I read it because it was a Free Friday offering. Unfortunately, it is the first of a two-part series (I think). It didn’t make me want to pick up the second book.

Dispatches from a Not-So-Perfect Life by Faulkner Fox I wanted to really like this book and parts of it I did. Other parts made me judge a bit, which I’m not really proud to say. I didn’t always agree with her style of parenting (or how she shared it with her husband) but I did understand the sentiment behind it.

Trylle Trilogy by Amanda Hocking Decent young adult fiction but not great. Looking for a mindless quick read? These are it.

Don’t bother

Abandon by Meg Cabot This really disappointed me because I’ve enjoyed all of her books. Reading this, I kept feeling like I had missed something, like I was jumping in the middle of a series. And then it just ended, because it is the beginning of a series. PS Can books not just be contained to one book anymore?

I hope they serve beer in Hell by Tucker Max I should say I didn't really read this. I got about three chapters in and couldn't take it anymore. This might have been more amusing to me 10 years ago but as a 30-something mother of two, it was obnoxious.

Wicked Lovely by Melissa Marr Blah.

Wings by Aprilynn Pike Blah.

What are your book recommendations?

Popped in the nose

The Boy was in his spare clothes when I picked him up from school today.

"Did you have an accident?"

"NO!" (There is no html code to illustrate the scorn and teenage-like disgust the kiddo packed into that one little word. He couldn't believe I would ask him, such a big boy, if he'd had a potty accident. Jeez.)

Before he could say anything else, the teacher explained. The Boy was punched in the nose.

Punched might be too strong a word. Another little 3-year-old wanted a ball The Boy had and slapped him right on the nose and, in the words of The Boy, "it bleeded all over." Enough blood got on his shirt and pants that he need to change. The kid went into timeout, The Boy cried for a minute and then, while the teachers still were comforting him, he was off and running. Gotta love the resilience of kids. By the time I picked him up, The Boy was totally over it though one nostril still was rimmed in dried blood. I think the only reason he told me what happened was because I asked.

The incident clearly shows the difference in my and the husband's parenting styles -- or really, just our upbringings.

I was not happy, but I wasn't angry either. Kids fight. Boys are rough. Who knows what actually was happening between the kids. He seemed fine with it all. I was proud of him for being so tough. I made sure The Boy hadn't started it and wasn't traumatized, then shrugged it off. That right there is totally my mom and dad.

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When I was in sixth grade, I smacked a classmate and pinned another, my cousin, against the bus seat by his neck. They were harassing my little sister and had been for weeks. I had enough, so I hit the kid hard enough that 30 minutes after the smacking my handprint showed on his cheek. The guidance counselor called me into the office and asked me what was going on; I told him about the harassment and how intervention from the bus driver didn't stop it. Well, he said, why didn't you tell our parents?

I did. They said to take care of myself and my sister, if necessary. It was.

My dad once told my sister and me that he didn't care if we fought -- but we were not going to "sissy fight." No hair pulling, biting, whining or screaming.

The first thing my mom usually said to me when I complained about classmates being mean was: What did you do to them?

In summary: My parents were supportive, but expected us to take care of ourselves and did not assume their kids were always right.

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The husband's response to the nose-popping was to wonder if the kid was going to get kicked out for the day, a la The Lad's expulsions for biting. He was upset, not terribly so, but definitely more than me.

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I can't speak to the husband's childhood in as much detail, obviously, but I can tell you that my in-laws literally built a skatepark in their town after their youngest took up skateboarding. They saved the first dollars the husband ever earned writing at a newspaper, as well as his articles.

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I think it's good The Boy and The Lad get both kinds of parents.

Technology hates me

My iPhone is holding a post (with pictures! of a cute Beast!) hostage. Damn BlogPress.

In other news, The Boy came home from baseball last night sweaty headed, dirty faced and absolutely thrilled to tell me that he and his friend were the best hitters in the class, Coach said so. They are all-stars.

Please don't take this as bragging about my amazing kid. The only confirmation I have of this statement is his father, who is ridiculously proud and thrilled to have a son who loves baseball as much as he does. He declared The Boy also the strongest thrower in the class. In short: he is too biased to be trusted. No, I tell you this only because seeing The Boy's eyes spark and his face split into grins as he told me all about something he feels he does well and is proud about was one of the best moments ever.

While I wrestle with my phone, here are some things I want to know from you:

1. What's your favorite parenting moment lately?
2. What's your most effective long-car-trip-with-kids treat or activity? (ASIDE from the DVD player)
3. What book should I buy for vacation?

Updates and Mother's Day

Gizmo's sleep

Remember how I bragged that Gizmo was such a great sleeper? Remember that? And you probably thought to yourself one of two things a) She needs to shut up because my kid doesn't sleep like that or b) She needs to shut up because she is going to jinx herself.

Well, I should have shut up. Since she started rolling, Gizmo has stopped sleeping. Actually it started a little before the rolling. She wakes up for her midnight feeding and is ready to partaaaaay, ya'll! She's all smiles and squeals of delight. It takes anywhere from 45 minutes to two hours to get her back to sleep. And then she's a roly-poly baby, flip-flopping around, waking up.

The husband was up with her from 11:30 p.m. to 1:45 a.m. Sunday/Monday. She just would not go to sleep. It's like she thinks she's going to miss out on the ponies and jugglers. Let me tell you, kiddo, not much is happening. Mommy and daddy are too tired.

I know experts say that babies tend not to sleep well when reaching developmental milestones. Well she's reached it and now she needs to go back to sleep.

Peanut's tantrums

Well, these are getting better. Kind of. We've instituted a tantrum-rule. If she has two tantrums in a day, she's not allowed to watch part of a movie before bedtime. And if she keeps it up, I think we are going to say if she has any tantrums, no movie.

It sometimes gets her attention when she is ramping up into a fit. And then, sometimes she doesn't care and goes into full-on banshee screams until I am sure the neighbors have their fingers poised over the last 1 of 911.

My illness

I finally gave in and took Friday off. I took the girls over to the babysitter's house, rented a movie and went home to crash. I slept for almost three hours. It was fabulous. Being sick is not fabulous but having an excuse to rest was great.

It was a good thing I got some rest since Saturday night/Sunday morning I got about 4 hours of sleep, not consecutively (see above re: Gizmo's sleep, or lack there of.)

Mother's Day

The husband gave me my Mother's Day gift early this weekend (we are Horrible with this. I'm not sure there has ever been a gift given on the actual day it was supposed to be.)

He gave me a ring with Gizmo's birth stone, a blue topaz. I love it. For the Mother's Day after Peanut was born, he gave me a ring with a ruby stone, Peanut's birth stone.

I've decided that both girls will get their respective rings for a special birthday like when they turn 16 or 18.

My mother and mother-in-law keep asking what else I want for Mother's Day but I can't think of anything (besides for my child to sleep through the night for the rest of her life, or at least for when she is living with us). I told my mom she could get me a gift card to Barnes and Noble since I always put those to good use but she poo-pooed the idea saying she wanted to get me something I would keep.

I haaaaate coming up with gift ideas for people to give me (especially when they poo-poo the one idea I give them.)

What do you want for Mother's Day?

Too soon for death and doom?

I was in bed by 9:30 Sunday night, trying to stave off a cold before our vacation next week. The husband finished watching a movie and came right to bed, so we didn't hear the big news until this morning.

"Bin Laden's dead!" my husband shouted from the breakfast table. We were in our usual morning spots: I in my chair in the living room, he at the table with the laptop and the boys.

"Who's Bin Laden?" the boy wanted to know.

The husband gave him a simple answer: a bad man. The subject was changed.

On the way to school and work, I kept noticing American flags out where they never had been before. This is a big deal. I remember what 9-11 felt like, and I was just in a small town in Ohio, watching the horror on television. I wondered if I should try to explain to The Boy. But it seems like so much, too much to expose him to at 3. So I kept my mouth shut.

Almost to school, The Boy asked, "What are all those flags for?"

I nearly blurted out some blabberings about patriotism and evil and I don't know what else. But first, I asked, "What flags?"

"The orange ones."

He wanted to know about the tiny little flags marking utility lines in a construction site on our route. I was happy to preserve his innocence.

But then, I think about his hero worship for super heroes. Maybe he should know about real soldiers ... and what about all the little kids whose parents are fighting? They don't get to not know about war.

I don't know. What do you think? Will you let your kids watch any of the news coverage? Will you tell them what happened?