Sunday, January 20, 2008

"Mommy, I can't move..."

Aaah, winter. The bulky, big, can't scratch-my-nose-'cause-my-arms-are-stuffed-into-sheep's-wool clothing season. Is there anything worse than bundling up your baby in all their winter gear (even if it is girly and pretty), putting them into the car to be further restrained by the five-point harness and then listening to them cry all the way to the store because they can't reach the toys hanging in front of them in their car seat? Is there any wonder that my little girl HATES the car right now?

I would too, if I were her.
Everything is big in the winter. Big boots, hats, mittens, scarves...then we become big after putting it all on. It takes 'big' time to take it all off, too. Big heating costs, the biggest colds/flu occur around this time of the year and for me, my bum is the biggest in winter due to the recent holidays and lack of outdoor exercise.

It occurred to me the other day as I was shopping with my children at the local supermarket how much longer it takes me to shop in the winter as opposed to the summer. During the summer, I'm in and I'm out. No one to bundle up and no snow or ice to manuever around. This makes for a more pleasant time in the store because my children are in a much better mood when we get there.

Let me explain.

You see, I usually have a half-hour window with my kids. After about a half hour, the supermarket is no longer 'super' to my children and they want OUT. I try to bring things to keep them busy, but nothing can deter an 18 month old and a 10 month old from expressing their displeasure at being bound in their stroller and forced to wade down aisles upon aisles of boxes and bags and things they can't touch. By the time we get to the check-out, my little angels have undergone a metamorphasis and have now become little banshees. People, (without children) look at me like, "Are you going to just let them scream?", while some Moms look at me like, "I know, mine were doing that just five minutes ago...I feel your pain..." and some others look like they're rushing to get their stuff purchased, packed and out of the store before my children spread their 'bansheeness' to theirs.

Then there's the dreaded 'redressing'. You have to stop before you leave the store to put all winter-wear back on. Hats, gloves and bulky coats go on with much difficulty due to arching backs, flailing hands and kicking feet. It's like trying to catch a fish out of water. You begin to breathe heavy and sweat from the extra exertion and the inability to express your loss of patience by screaming your own head off and pounding it against the coinstar machine (which would be rather inappropriate behavior to indulge in). In your haste your hands start to move rather jerkily and you zipper your son's jacket up past where he's comfortable. Now you've done it. You try to correct your mistake but the zipper is now stuck. Desperate now, you try to force the zipper down while mumbling a few choice words that would make a sailor blush and you hope your child doesn't repeat. You manage to move it down a bit, but it doesn't matter. Your son's highly insulted now. You brace yourself for the audible onslaught as his mouth drops open and you wait while he sucks in enough air to scream from now until Christmas. You abandon trying to calm him down and begin to zip up your little girl who is now reaching pitches only dogs can hear. You almost have her completely zippered up when you realize that your little boy is STILL sucking in air and when THAT scream starts it's going to be at a decible unknown to man.

His scream is released while you are leaving and has a siren-like affect as the crowd of people leaving the supermarket part and pull their carts over so you can pass.
You shove the groceries into the car (not knowing why you bothered making sure the bread was separate since you've no idea where the bread is now), shivering the whole while because in your haste you forgot to put your own coat on. You stuff the kids into their seats (which becomes another monumental feat due to the afore-mentioned arching backs, flailing hands, kicking feet etc...), clip their seatbelts on, belt yourself in and peel out for home.

As I pull into the driveway I realize that the screaming stopped five minutes ago. I look in my kid-view mirror and see that they're both asleep.

Then, I sneeze.

I think to myself as my children wake-up and start screaming again, that somebody somewhere has to start a chain of drive-thru supermarkets. Drive-up, order your stuff, pay for it and two young kids come out and place it in your car. No screaming, no coats on - coats off, no kicking feet and flailing hands. Just pay, get 'n' go. I'm sure there would be a Nobel Peace Prize for the person that comes up with it.

I sigh.

That person would be my hero.

- The Mamasaurus

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Throwasaurus


WARNING! A LETHAL CHARMER!!

Throwasaurus is a highly intelligent creature. He uses squinty-eyed half smiles (that are way too adorable to be resisted), serious pouty looks (like the one in the photo above), and the double knee, looking-up-at-you-with-my-cute-face hug.

But Beware!! Throwasaurus throws everything. Toys, books, bottles, cups, sister's shoes, diapers (yes, sometimes used ones if you don't catch him in time on the changing table), car keys and Mommy's cell phone into the toilet...no, he didn't succeed, but he got it on the rim. Why does he throw? Well, he got the idea from a beach ball. One of our neighbors gave him a beach ball globe and we taught Throwasaurus how to throw it. We were elated as our eager little learner began to toss it out of his play pen and giggled as we tossed it back, only to have him toss it out again for another pass back. Well, you can figure out the rest, I guess. He started to throw everything. We tried to ignore it hoping he'd stop if we didn't pass things back to him. Wrong! He discovered it was much more fun to let things hit the floor and make that loud CRASH sound. 

We are currently looking to curb Throwasaurus' throwing habit. It's tough though, because he loves the sound things make as they crash to the floor. I think he also likes the way sister and Mommy jump when he succeeds. He's getting it, though. Now he takes the object he wishes to launch, squats down and bangs it on the floor.

Ah, well. Half-way is better than nothing.

- The Mamasaurus

Clingasaurus


WARNING! SHAMELESS FLIRT!!

Clingasaurus is a sly creature. She gives the outward appearance that she is timid and shy all while wrapping you around her dainty little finger. She can give lethal smiles that melt the observer into a pool of goo (observe photo above), stares you down with her soulful eyes all while touching your face gently with her little hands as if she's trying to memorize it (she isn't, it's just another one of her wiles...) and has the eye sight of an eagle to spot bling-bling from a distance of twenty feet and upon getting the bling-bling in her fist will not let go until the owner gives it up or becomes choked (since chains and pendants seem to be her favorite).

Clingasaurus is so named for her need to cling to her Mommy all day long. Her number one goal in life is to become surgically attached to Mommy's hip. Until she achieves her goal however, she will get what she wants by any means necessary. Clingasaurus has sobbed for Mommy (while Mommy is within five feet of her) because she was being held by someone other than Mommy, quivered her chin (which got an immediate reaction) and has even resorted to telling Mommy off in her baby language, "Eh, eh-ma gaa baa! Eh gaa baa daa baa GAA! BAA GAA!!". Which, loosely translated means, "I want my Mommy! Get me outta this stinkin' chair NOW! RIGHT NOW!"

We are trying to ease Clingsaurus out of her clinginess. This of course, is not something Clingsaurus is happy about. But we're making strides. The other day Clingasaurus was heard yelling to her brother, "Eh, Brah-brah baa daa GAA!", while holding out her little arms to him.
Apparently her brother has lost his ability to speak baby since he started walking. I'm sure if he understood Clingasaurus he would've taken exception to the fact that she demanded he pick her up out of the exersaucer and play with her.

Ah, well. At least she wasn't yelling at Mommy.

- The Mamasaurus

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Winter blues...


"Baby, it's cold outside!"


Wow!  I can't believe the holidays are over and we're already well into 2008! Now it's the winter blues we have to deal with...

Not my favorite time of year.

They say that when we enter a season we dislike, we should try to find some beauty in it to get us through it. I guess that makes sense but it's rather hard for me to find the beauty in a season that generally keeps me and my restless kiddos indoors suffering from 'cabin fever'. But I suppose if I must, I must. After all, seasons depict perfectly the ebb and flow of life.

Well, this is what I've come up with:

Signs of winter:

1. Going to the doctor more often, sitting in the waiting room and wondering why I even got the flu shot because I'm so sick my hair hurts.

2. Taking my children to the pediatrician so much that I think we are personally financing her new porsche.

3. The barren, leafless, lifeless trees in our yard that now expose the perfect view of my neighbor's backyard with his wonderful pole barn, blue-tarp covered boat, camper, six cars and a rusted out pick-up truck. Apparently, each square foot of grass in your backyard is an opportunity for yet another parking space. Time to plant those fast growth evergreens at the back of our property...

4. The train is louder now because of the leafless trees not providing enough of a buffer...but this doesn't really bother me. I actually like the sound of the train, though I didn't when we first moved here.

5. The lack of energy from the lack of sunlight. Although, this January has been pretty tame, with mild weather here and there. We have enjoyed it but, I don't like tame January's. Tame January's usually mean that winter is going to make a late comeback and most likely whip our butts clear into April, when the flowers should be blooming. We'll see what that groundhog says this year...

But wait a minute...I was supposed to find the beauty in the winter season...

Well, it is kinda cute the way my son's mucus-covered face resembles a glazed donut when he's sick during the winter...does that count?

Oh well. I tried.

I am doing some things to combat the winter blues. Planning my daughter's 'birthtism' is one thing that keeps me busy. Her birthday and baptism will be occuring around the same time so instead of having two parties, we're combining them and having one. Our theme is 'angels' because the theme is great for both. I am currently looking for angel wings to fasten to her outfit for her pictures.
The hubbasaurus hasn't been working such horrid hours lately, thank the good Lord! He still works overtime hours but he doesn't walk through the door at 9:30pm anymore (for now, it will pick up again in time). The kids love seeing their Dad at dinnertime. Especially Marcus. Daddy teaches Marcus everything. How to push buttons, how to help get dressed (he puts his arms up for the sleeves now), how to do a high-five, how to burp at the dinner table (whoops!) and hopefully sometime this year, how to use the potty...we'll see about that one!
Little Annaliese has been growing in leaps and bounds! She wants so much to pull up, stand and walk around because that's what she sees her brother doing. She's getting there and when she does.....LOOK OUT! I'll be running after two then, (Lord, help me!). She feeds herself now and wants no part of anything other than her cheerios, banana pieces, sweet potato puree and her bottle. Try to give her something more adventurous like apple sauce and you're gonna get it on your face. She spits it right back out, powerfully!

Something interesting that happened the other day on one of my many trips to the pediatrician's office:
When I was leaving a young woman with pretty blonde hair was cleaning the foyer of the building. Upon seeing me, she immediately went to the door and held it open (so nice!). People tend to do this when they see the double stroller and it actually has amazed me how many times it has happened. Anyway, this is the conversation that followed:

Her: "Oh no, I hope the little ones aren't sick..."


Me: "Actually yes, they both are."


Her: "My son is nine and he's sick, too. I gave him his medicine the other day but I think he's allergic and when I took him to the doctor the doctor said no so when I went home I gave hom another dose and he still seemed sick and then I read the side of the bottle and it said take with food and I thought, wow! That's why he's getting a stomachache from it so I called the doctor back to tell him..."


Me: Trying very hard not to be rude as I am standing half in, half out of the door in freezing cold weather with my children in their stroller screaming... "Well, I hope your son feels better..."


Her: "Oh he does, now, I think... I mean I hope...that was last week anyway! Hey, how old are your little ones?"

Me: Despereate to leave now... "18 months and 10 months."


Her: "Oh how nice...are they twins?"


It was all I could do to remain poker-faced.

Someone FINALLY came in the other way and the conversation was interrupted. I slipped out as Miss Nicebuttalksalot started chatting with them.

The hubbasaurus and I had a good laugh about it when he got home that night.

Me: "Twins! Can you believe it?"


Him: "Yeah, we just decided to put the second one back in for a while...we wanted a few months between them..."


Of all the comments I've gotten about my kids, that had to be the most interesting one. However I'd have to say that someone telling my husband that his son looks just like him runs a close second.

Blessings, laughter and peace to all in this new year...

-The Mamasaurus