Who’s the Leader of the Club That’s Made for You and Me…

A co-worker sent home some pull-ups that her daughter had outgrown for Miss Alivia a few weeks ago.   Miss A wears big girl panties for the most part, but still partakes in a pull up for nap and bed time.  Our current theme has been Dora the Explorer for some time, mainly because mommy has deemed them to be absorbent enough to withstand an evening with that wondrous thing known as the never ending toddler bladder.  (How the hell can someone so small pee enough to fill half dozen lakes is beyond me).

At any rate, the new pull-ups are Disney themed.  Each one has the face of Minnie Mouse, Ariel (The Little Mermaid) and Sully (from Monster’s Inc. – go figure that one out).  Since I had just opened a new box of Dora, I figured I would put these back until we had gone through the current run.

I suppose I should mention that Alivia had been going through a Princess stage….if it had ANYTHING to do with Princesses, then she was all about it.  We had gone through the basics, Cinderella, Belle, Aurora, and had recently become interested in the newest princes, Sophia the First.  I should also mention that Davian had recently become enamored with the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse so a Minnie Mouse attachment was on the rise as well.  I had failed to notice just how much so….

The other evening, it was getting late, so I hurried the kids into the bathtub, scrubbed them down and then set them loose while I went to gather the requisite pj’s and pull ups.

Davian was quick to toss on his Diego pull up and Superman pajama’s…complete with detachable cape.  After the required ‘you can’t get me’ chase, I managed to snag Alivia and begin the pajama routine.

First thing she spotted was the Minnie Mouse on the pull up. 

“Minnie Mouse?” she squealed.

“Minnie Mouse” I replied.

There was a long discussion about Minnie Mouse on her pull up between Alivia and Davian.  I should have taken note….

The kids fell asleep on the couches in the living room while I was straightening things up and getting stuff ready for morning.  Finally I carried Davian to his bed, and was headed back for Alivia when the dogs decided they REALLY needed to go out one last time.  As I hooked up leashes, I noticed that a tiny pair of eyes were peering at me from the couch. 

“I’ll be right back – stay put” I told her as I took the dogs into the front yard for a quick potty break.  Back inside, I told Alivia to stay put again while I put on my own pajamas.  When I returned she said she wanted to go potty.  I went and grabbed a new pull up, just in case, while she headed off to the bathroom.  Sure enough, Minnie was wet.

“No wanna take my Minnie off” she muttered when I moved to remove the wet pull up.

“Minnie is wet honey.  Here’s a dry pull up” I said, foolishly thinking that this was a reasonable request.

“No want pull up – want Minnie.”  She set her little jaw in that ‘don’t mess with me woman’ look.

“Look – it has a princess on it – it has Ariel” I tried to reason with her.

Even half asleep, she refused to budge.  “No want princess…want Minnie!”

As it was late, I decided to give in and went off to sort through the pull ups, locating another Minnie.  After inspecting it carefully, she agreed to the new pull up. Pajama bottoms were put on, Ninnie the blanket was procured, and we settled back in on the couch again. 

Normally she will go right back to sleep but as luck would have it the hubby came home 15 minutes later.  This prompted an ‘it must be time to get up’ mode of action.  After some convincing, we hauled her off to our bed to see if she would fall asleep.  Nope….after some scrunching around, she announced she had to go potty again.  By now Minnie was wet again.

This time I managed to sneak the Ariel pull up on her, as the bathroom was dark and she didn’t have time to inspect the new pull up.  Still awake, I left her to the hubby’s tender care while I crawled back to bed. 

Morning came.  Davian wandered out and we began the morning ritual of ‘get out of your jammies, go potty, let’s get dressed, etc.’ routine.  While I was finishing up getting ready myself, Alivia wandered out and announced she was wet…

I stripped her down and presented the day’s outfit for inspection.  Note – I very carefully made sure that her big girl panties had Minnie Mouse on them.  Note – I very carefully made sure that she did not get a chance to see that the pull up did NOT have Minnie Mouse on them.

“Let’s get dressed” I chirped.

Frown.

“Want Minnie Mouse.”

“Look” cried an over cheerful mommy.  “Minnie Mouse is on your panties!”

Frown.

“No want panties.  Want Minnie Mouse.”

“But Minnie is on your panties.” Tried an overly cheerful daddy.

Frown.

In the end she wore yet another Minnie Mouse pull up.

At work I reported that the pull ups had caused issues.  I then explained what had happened.

“You will have to get her some Minnie Mouse panties” my co-worker said.

“Uh - she has Minnie Mouse undies. I tried for 15 min to get her to put them on.” I explained.

I then went on to list exactly what she HAD in the way of Minnie Mouse….Minnie undies, Minnie tennies, Minnie t shirt - Minnie pajamas…a large stuffed Minnie, a small stuffed Minnie, Minnie books, and a Minnie dvd…not to mention a Minnie beach towel (with her name on it) and a couple Minnie cups…oh and some Minnie flip flops.

Gee….I guess I should have probably noticed the Minnie Mouse obsession that was building.  Of course now that I am aware of it, she will probably switch to something else….like Mythbusters…

(Note - there is a pair of Minnie Mouse panties on the floor next to her)

Double Your Something….

Two kids means double your fun, double your pleasure, and double your consumption of aspirin/Tylenol/Advil/Prozac…whatever your choice (or whatever you have on hand at the time). 

Case in point:

Exhibit 1:  The other day the now 4 year old asks to take his ‘futer’ to bed with him.  Mommy says “no-you stayed up too late last night with it so no futer tonight.”
This apparently does not sit well with the now 4 year old so when mommy is occupied elsewhere, he turns to daddy and asks to take his ‘futer’ to bed with him.  Daddy, who mistakenly thinks he is being clever, asks “what did mommy say?”  To which the now 4 year old says “Mommy said yes!” and flashes that oh-so-innocent smile.  (luckily mommy overheard the conversation and the result was that the now 4 year old did NOT go to bed with his ‘futer’ AND had to listen to a lecture on the evils of trying to outsmart mommy and daddy by saying one said Yes.)

Exhibit 2:  The now 4 year old, who has endured the lecture of trying to outsmart mommy and daddy, now tells the almost 3 year old to “go get my futer off the desk”, when he knows he is not supposed to get things off the desk.  The almost 3 year old complies with the now 4 year old’s request, carefully absconding with the treasured futer and handing it over to the now 4 year old.  Mommy sees the now 4 year old with the futer.  “Did you get that off the desk?”  she asks.  “No” says the now 4 year old.  “Wibia did…Wibia is bad.  I am good.” 

Exhibit 3:  The almost 3 year old behaves like an angel for teach #1.  When teacher #1 leaves for the day, the almost 3 year old sniffs the air, smelling for fresh blood.  Sensing the inexperience of teachers #2 and #3, she plots her attack carefully, waiting for just the right moment, then she pounces.  Mommy comes to pick up the kiddos and receives reports of the almost 3 year olds evil acts upon humanity (as far as day care humanity goes).  Lectures are given, reassurances are made, and through it all, the almost 3 year old looks demurely around, the picture of innocence and sweetness.    On the way home mommy asks “are you going to be good?”  The almost 3 year old smiles a gorgeous smile and says “No.”  (At least she is honest…)

Exhibt 4:  The now 4 year old is playing quietly with his tractors, lining them up and making random tractor noises.  The almost 3 year old heads over and joins in on the play.  Happiness all around. 
Next thing you know – the now 4 year old appears in the kitchen wailing at full volume, followed by the almost 3 year old.  “What’s wrong?” asks mommy – who by now senses that nothing life threatening has occurred, at least not by her standards.  “Wibia threw my tractor down the stairs” the boy cries.  The almost 3 year old stands next to the now 4 year old, smiling proudly.  “Why?” asks mommy – who immediately regrets the question.  “I ate her cookie” responds the now 4 year old.  “Day-dee at my kook-iee” echoes the almost 3 year old.  “Go play nice” says mommy – who is just relieved that she won’t have to clean up the puke of a dog who has been fed multiple cookies by various small people.  The two troop off into the other room.  Moments later a wailing almost 3 year old appears.  “Day-dee threw ninnie (aka blanket) in the fuzzy’s room.”  The now 4 year old appears – “No I didn’t.”  A small smack-fest between the almost 3 year old and the now 4 year old ensues, followed by mommy bellowing “GO TO YOUR ROOMS NOW!!!”  Small people scatter, snuffling loudly.  For a brief moment there is quiet.  Then the sounds of doors opening and closing as small people sneak in and out of their rooms can be heard.

I swear they hold secret meetings to plan this stuff out.

I also swear they secretly own stock in Advil and Tylenol.

Faces...

Faces are unique things.  They are our ‘calling card’ so to speak.  Everyone has their own face, and no matter how much we try, each face has a difference.  Even identical twins, whose features may be exact will still have some slight difference, even if it is only the way they hold their mouth, wrinkle their nose….just something that separates them from everyone else.

For the most part, I have a knack for remembering faces of people I encounter, even briefly.  Like most people, I know the faces of those I love better than those met briefly.  I know the faces of my parents and my husband very well.  I even know the faces of various pets we have had/have.  I remember the faces of my grandparents, various aunts and uncles, although they are frozen in time to the last time I saw them. 

With the arrival of the munchkins, I had new faces to learn.  Davian came first…with his dark brown eyes peering around him in wonder.  I remember his tentative smile when he looked at me, almost as if he was saying “Hi there, can we be friends?”  I remember the look on his face when he met the hubby, pure enchantment.  It was clear that he thought “this is someone I can like.”  I also remember his look of delight when we fed him bananas and mandarin oranges, the thrill when Lucy the dog came up to snuffle him carefully, and his outburst of giggles when Mosely the cat came up and tickled him with his whiskers. 

As the weeks went on I watched his tiny face change from one of guarded wonder to open delight and fascination of the world around him.  I saw his face scrunch up in pain; his eyes widen with fear and uncertainty, and then change into expressions of relief, reassurance, and trust.  As he grew he began to mimic expressions of the hubby as well as my own. 

Alivia’s arrival was different.  Being a newborn, I got to see her tiny face and watch it grow from the beginning.  Having seen pictures of Davian as a newborn and before he came to us, it was amazing to me how much she looked like him.  A friend commented that she was basically ‘Davian in a dress’.  I found it interesting to watch to see the changes on her face begin to echo the changes of his. 

At about two, she began to evolve in her own direction.  Although the features were still the same, her expressions were more of my own.   A co-worker commented that Alivia looks like me, even though she is not my biological child.  “It’s her expressions” she declared.  And it is. 

It is funny how closely the children watch us to see how we react to things.  If we laugh at something – they laugh.  If we cry at something – they cry.  It’s even funnier to see how they adapt these things for their own use.  Alivia was taking off my shoe then putting it back on my foot.  She was very serious about the whole thing, carefully studying both the shoe and my foot, methodically working out the placement of where the shoe should go and was it firmly on my foot.  At one point she accidentally scratched my leg, causing me to say “ouch”.  She immediately stopped, placed a look of what she clearly thought was concern on her face.  “You ok mommy?” she asked, patting my leg.  A smile of relief lit up her little face when I replied that yes, I was ok.  “Ok, good” she said, patting my leg again. 

As both children grow, I carefully make a mental catalogue of their faces.  I know the two tiny scars on Davian’s face, one by his eyebrow, the other on his cheek bone.  I know the tiny freckle on Alivia’s forehead and the elvish point of one of her ears.  I know their lovey smiles, their delighted smiles, their sad faces, their upset faces, and their mad faces.  I know their sleepy looks, their excited looks, and their deliriously overjoyed looks.  These are the faces I will always remember, even when their little baby faces have moved on into more adult ones.  But I think my most favorite of faces is the first time I laid eyes on both of them…for it was those faces that let me know we were meant to be together.

It’s All in the Name…

Names….a person’s name helps identify who he is, not only to others but to himself.  One of the first things people as you is “What’s your name?” It also happens to be one of the first things people will ask you when you are expecting a child.  “What names have you picked out?” rank right up there with “Is it a boy or a girl?”  This also happens to come up when someone is adopting a child, especially if it is a newborn or baby.  “What are you going to name him/her?” 

Being a foster parent, it never occurred to me that I would have to think of names.  At least not until it looked like the children were going to be a permanent fixture in our life.  When Davian came to us he had a name.  Strangely enough, people asked me “are you going to change it?” even though they knew we were foster parents.  “I can’t just change his name, he is not mine.” I would explain.  “Oh yeah” was the comment I would get.  Even stranger, when Alivia was born and we knew she was coming to us, people would ask “What are you naming her?”  I would explain that, no, I wasn’t naming her, her birth mother was.  They just couldn’t quite grasp that she didn’t belong to us officially.

Once it was known that the kids were going to stay with us and we set about getting things in order for the adoption, I was asked once again “Are you changing their names?”  This made a little more sense.  However, it brought up new issues.  By this time Davian had been with us a little over 3 years and Alivia over two.  Both kids knew themselves by their names.  We called them Davian/Davey and Alivia.  Friends called them that, the day care called them that, other family members called them that, and more importantly, the kids called themselves by those names.  So how do you go about explaining to a 3 and 2 year old that you are changing their names?  In our case it just wasn’t going to be an option.  Plus, I felt it was necessary for them to maintain something from their birth parents.  At one point I had talked to the birth mother and she explained to me how she had come about those particular names.  I felt it was important to honor that.  Then of course there was the simple fact that the names FIT the children.  So a compromise was made – we would keep Davian and Alivia, but add our own middle names.  In Davian’s case we chose to make Davian his middle name.  In time we will explain what that means, and if he wants to change his name later on then he can do it then, as can his sister.

Things moved along, the kids were finally adopted, corrections to paperwork were done and we finally reached a point of moving on with life. 

Yesterday I went to pick up the kids at day care.  As I was grabbing Alivia’s bag and jacket (the kids were all outside playing), one of the teacher stopped me.  “Can I ask you a question?” she said.  Knowing this could be a loaded question, I hesitantly said yes.

“How do you say your last name?”

Ok – for those of you who know us, you KNOW this is a very legitimate question.  It has been said numerous ways, all understandable.  Although it took me by surprise, it was not an unusual question.  I explained how it was said, and mentioned that we had never really used last names around the kids because we had suspected we would be adopting them and wanted to try to avoid confusion.

“Ah…ok.” She said.  “We weren’t sure, and when we asked Davey he would say it one way and then the other way.”

This surprised me again.  “I didn’t know he knew his last name.”

“Oh yes…we will ask him ‘what is your name?’ and he will say ‘It’s Davian B******’!”

Turns out, when they were asking him his name he would say it one way, and then when they would say it that way he would say no, it was the other way. 

On the way home I decided to see what he would say.  Sure enough, he spouted out the same to me.  I explained how it was said, and that Daddy said it that way.  (I find that if DADDY does something then Davey is more likely to want to do it as well).  I think he finally got it, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find him saying it both ways for a while.  Names are hard enough without changing them on you, especially when you are a small person.   

We still haven’t addressed the ‘Davian is your middle name’ situation yet.  I have occasionally called him by both first and middle name in hopes that he will begin to understand that he has more than one name.  Alivia will have an easier time of it I am sure.

All I can say is at least it wasn’t my maiden name….I can just imagine what he would be saying and the notes I would be getting!

Never Piss Off a Princess…

Siblings are fascinating creatures.  Never having any myself, I only got to experience them secondhand through tales of friends who had them.  So now that we have a set of our own, I find it interesting to see things first hand. 

As I have said before, the kids have a love/hate relationship.  They are constantly showing concern about where the other one is and what the other one is doing when they are not together.  At first I think it was genuine concern but now I suspect it is more for plotting purposes.

Recently Miss A has been demanding more and more of her big brother, much to his dismay.  Her new thing is wanting to sit in his car seat.  I am partly to blame.  One afternoon I took her to the store (without her brother) and let her sit in his seat.  It was a whole new world on that side of the van and she liked it!  Depending on the day/moment, Mr. D was ok with this new “let’s switch seats” thing, allowing her to sit in his seat while he checked out the view from hers. 

This, however, started a new thing to squabble about.  Mornings are not the best time for any of us, particularly during the week.  People are cranky, tired, and generally disagreeable first thing in the morning at our house.  Perkiness is NOT ALLOWED.  As it happened, last Tuesday, we were in the process of getting it together to go to the van.  D was not cooperating, complaining about his shoes, his shirt, and his blanket…whatever he could think of to delay the process of heading to the van.  While he was moping about, I was herding A towards the garage.  “Time to go to the car” I said.  Smiling a huge smile, she scampered quickly to the door, announcing “I sit in Day-dee’s seat”.  I am not sure if he heard her, but I did hear the hubby say to him…”Alivia is going to sit in your seat.”

That was all it took…he was out of his chair, out the door, down the stairs over to the van before we could blink.  As it happened, A was in the process of climbing into his car seat.  Hell no….the boy reached up and grabbed a huge hunk of flesh, pinching hard as he used her for a step stool into his seat.  Loud wails emanated from her tiny squashed form as her big brother sat proudly in his seat, demanding that someone buckle him in NOW.  He didn’t care about the scolding he received for being mean to his sister, just sat there smiling smugly.  “Ok, just for that, Alivia is sitting in your seat on the way home tonight.”  I told him.  He frowned but soon settled back into his seat.

That evening I went to get the kids from day care.  Sure that I had forgotten my threat, D headed for his side of the van. 
“NO,” I said, “Remember, you were mean to Alivia so she gets to sit in your seat.”    This was met with many frowns and whines from D and lots of smiles from A.

To make matters worse, we stopped at the store first.  Thinking that this meant he could sit in his seat now, D was a little taken back when I explained that NO, she was going to sit in his seat until we got home….no matter how many times we stopped. 

Now during all this time, Alivia was quietly enjoying her new spot.  Just about the time I figured she had forgotten about this morning’s injustice, she looked over at her big brother, smiled a huge smile, and announced with great glee “I have to go potty!”  We had just left town and were looking at another 15 minutes on the road….not much to an adult but to a small person that can be a BIG difference.

“You have to wait until we get home, sweetie.” I responded.

A few minutes passed by…..

“I have to go pee!” she squealed again.

“Wait until we get home…” I said.

“I pee in Day-dee’s chair!” She sang out.

The look on his face was priceless….

“NO WIBIA!!!” he screamed…”Mommy, Wibia wants to pee in my seat!”

“I go potty in Day-Dee’s Seat!” she sang out again, smiling the whole time.

“NO WIBIA!!!”

I am happy to say that she did NOT pee in his seat.   I am also happy to say that “Day-dee” now has a new understanding when it comes to his sister….Never piss off a princess…unless you want the princess to piss in your seat….

Yes You Are a Boy….

Ah the joys of little boys….

It was not long after he arrived that Mr D discovered he had an extra appendage, shall we say.  And like most boys (big and small) he found it to be a fascinating ‘toy’.  My first reaction was one of shock and dismay.  “He can’t be doing that yet!” I said to the hubby, who found the whole thing rather amusing.  “Sure he can, it feels nice.” Was his less than sympathetic response.  Eventually I came to grips (no pun intended)with the situation and just let him do what he was going to do.

About a year ago, he discovered that it had a name.  “What’s that?” he asked the hubby.    Without missing a beat he replied “It’s a  penis.”  “Peeenis” D whispered in awe….  Again, neither of us really paid any attention.  Then it started….

“Do you have a penis, Mommy?”   “No.”

“Does Wibia have a penis, Mommy?”  “No”

“Does Daddy have a penis, Mommy?” “Yes”

We carefully explained to him that boys had one and girls did not.  (Yeah – we were kind of vague on what girls have – I don’t think I am ready for that conversation or how he will end up saying it!)  For some reason this seemed to solidify things for him and instead of asking if everyone had a penis he would ask if they were a boy or a girl.  Periodically the penis question would pop up (again, no pun intended), but for the most part he seemed to leave it alone.

Of course that still didn’t mean that he wasn’t occasionally using the word.  One afternoon on our weekly trip to Wal-Mart, both kids piped up that they needed to use the potty.  As we like the idea of them being potty trained we both dutifully took a child and headed to the restrooms.

A and I finished quickly enough and were waiting for the boys.  Pretty soon they appear, and I notice the hubby has a strange smirk on his face, like he is trying hard not to laugh.  We head off to battle various Wal-Mart Demons, and I forgot about the whole thing until we hit the juice aisle.  At this point the hubby can no longer contain himself and begins giggling.  “What?” I asked, slightly annoyed that he was finding the juice aisle soooo amusing.

He then explains that while D was going bathroom, the hubby decided to go too.  Apparently D noticed this and piped up with “Daddy, you have a BIIIIG penis!” right about the time someone walked into the bathroom.  My husband was torn between being flattered and horrified…said he kept waiting for someone to call the cops on him.  I asked him what he said to D.  He said he did not have the heart to tell the little guy that it was pretty normal, especially since D seemed so impressed.  (I managed not to snort too much.)

Of course this gave us all a big chuckle and life went on pretty much as normal.  Last month D realized he had a birthday coming up.  For days he has mentioned “My birthday is coming” and how he wanted a Mickey Mouse cake.  Knowing full well that this would change, we just nodded and explained yes, his birthday was coming and yes, he could have a cake.  Last week he was still going on about a Mickey Mouse cake, so I dutifully borrowed a cake pan from a girl at work.  Saturday, was beautiful out so we took the kids to a park to let them run amuck.  On the way home, D started babbling on and on again about his birthday. 

“I have a birthday coming up!” 

“Yes you do,” said daddy.

“I get a cake and presents on my birthday!”

“Yes you do,” said daddy.

“What do you want for your birthday?” Daddy asked.

“I want Angry birds, Mikey Mouse, Spiderman, Superman, and a penis cake!”

Silence filled the van.  “What did he say?” whispered the hubby.  “You heard it…he wants a penis cake.” I whispered back.

Anyone got a cake pan in the shape of a penis I can borrow?

Tomorrow...

March 10, 2014

As I sit here with a cat by my side, two small people are snoozing peacefully in the bedrooms down the hall.  Over three years ago the first small person arrived, all smiles and wonder.  5 months later, the second small person arrived…so tiny that even our little cat outweighed her.

Over three years of endless moments anywhere from overwhelming joy to almost unbearable frustration.  Over three years of worry, anger, happiness, concern, laughter, and what the hell did we do?  Over three years of constant fear that somehow, these wondrous small people would suddenly leave us without warning.  Over three years of wiping little faces, holding little hands, soothing little fears, comforting little owies and snuggling little bodies.  Over three years of sitting up late nights, trips to the emergency room, making sure everyone was fed, clothed, and comfortable.

Tomorrow, this all ends…

Tomorrow we head into court to officially adopt these two small people.  After years of postponements, rescheduled hearings, new goals, second, third and fourth chances…we finally get to call them our own.

For those of you who have followed along on this journey, it comes as a relief.  For us, it comes as miracle.  For the small people, well, I don’t know what it means to them.  Probably nothing right now but one day it will mean something….hopefully something good.

I don’t have anything witty or clever to say…I don’t have any ‘words of wisdom’ or deeply meaningful fact of life to pass on to others.

All I can say, is that tomorrow, we will officially become the parents of two small people.  Tomorrow we will officially have a son.  Tomorrow we will officially have a daughter.

So, as I sit here with a cat by my side, two small people are snoozing peacefully in the bedrooms down the hall.  They have no idea what they have done to our lives.  They have no idea how much they have changed us.  They have no idea that tomorrow will change their lives and ours forever.  All they know is that they have fuzzy animals to play with, grandparents who adore them and a mommy and a daddy who love them.

I think tomorrow will turn out to be a pretty good day….

Miss Independence….

Toddlers are well known for exploring their independence.  They all seem to go through that phase of “I do it MYSELF” stage.   We are currently experiencing the “I do it” stage with little Miss Alivia.  From day one she has proven to be a funny mixture of mommy/daddy’s girl to her own kind of beastie.  She has an advantage that Mr. Davian didn’t, in that she has a living example that is close to her age, and well, her size.  She watches his every move, studying each step he makes.  I remember catching them last summer.  He was exploring his new ‘tie’ tennis shoes, fiddling with the laces.  He wasn’t actually tying them yet, but was exploring how they worked.  Alivia was right next to him – taking in every movement and filing it away in that tiny little brain of hers that never stops.

Having mastered silverware, drinking from a cup, and potty training…her royal highness decided that it was time to work on clothes.  Now she has been able to undress herself without help (for the most part) for some time.  Saturday morning everyone got up, got dressed and proceeded to go about their usual business.  About midmorning, I wandered down to her room to check to see that she wasn’t climbing the desk or swinging from the curtains (no joke – it happens).  Instead I found her standing in the middle of her room, butt naked with a small pile of cloths that she had just removed.  She was holding a little striped shirt that she had managed to wrestle from its hanger in the closet. 

“Put it on” she demanded.

“Ok” I said as I reached for the shirt.

“NO!  I put it on!” came the reply as she clutched the shirt to her tiny chest.

Since it was Saturday and we had no plans to go anywhere anytime soon, and Davian was happily occupied on the couch with is ‘futer’ and Toy Story on the television, I opted to sit down on the bed and watch.

“Ok, you put it on” I said calmly.  Alivia gave a big smile then set about what would become a 20 minute battle of wits…between her and the clothing.

First came the shirt.  I watched patiently while she struggled to figure out where the arms were, where the head was, and how her little body was supposed to work with these strange components.  It was a might struggle, but after several minutes she managed to get the shirt on….inside out.  Pleased with herself, she moved on to her underpants.  It was vanquished quickly as she had by this time learned that the Princesses went in front.  Then came the sweat pants…these were a little trickier.  After several attempts, she managed to keep from getting both legs in the same pant leg.  There was a lot of discussion about this, but she finally got it, never mind that the pants were backwards.

The socks came last.  Apparently socks are her arch enemy.  It so happens that these sock had the rubber grips on the bottom (that spell out the size) and grey on the toe and heel.  If they were adult socks I would call them ankle socks – not to high up the leg but certainly not footie.  Of course for Alivia, being on the short side, the socks probably were closer to mid-calf.  She eyed sock #1 carefully, turning it over in her little hands, studying it from every angle.  After settling on a game plan, she plopped down on the floor and began her attack.  Let me tell you, as a mommy, it was everything I could do to keep from snorting with laughter.  The poor kid was rolling around on the floor, foot in the air, trying to get that damn sock on her foot.  It threw her four times before she managed to get all her toes inside.  Finally she managed to get her pudgy little foot totally encased, only to discover the sock was upside down.  Off came the sock along with a lot of noise, wails, and grunts of frustration.

“Do you want some help?” I offered once I gained some composure.  (Hard to do when your two year old is being rolled across the floor by a sock).

“NO – I do it MYSELF!” came the almost war-cry response.

Determined not to let a sock get the best of her – she once again grasped the sock.  More rolling across the floor….more grunts of determination…more babbling incoherently….until finally….sweet success!  Please with herself, she went after sock #2 with gusto.  Finally, after what seemed like hours, she was dressed.

It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t neat, but she was covered….and she did it herself…..

The Air is Turning Blue Part Deux….

Everyone knows that small people have a tendency to repeat and expand on things they hear.  Not long ago we gained first-hand experience when Mister D picked up on one of Daddy’s rants, and spent many months dealing with colorful expletives that were randomly spouted out at day care.  A proud moment for all of us.  Naturally his darling sister also caught the momentum and in turn joined in her big brother - parroting some of the more fabulous words.  Eventually, we managed to get everyone to stop swearing (Daddy included) and the peasants rejoiced in our little kingdom.

That is until last week.  I started to notice the recurrence of the phrase “Don’t say that word” from my darling princess.   Normally, in the past, this meant ‘that word’ was going to be uttered, and soon.  However we didn’t hear anything and nothing was reported, so I stupidly assumed that it was just ‘one of those things.’  Boy was I wrong.

Yesterday I went to pick up the munchkins.  Stopping in D’s room first, he happily showed me his latest construction paper masterpiece, pointed out his cubby and proudly grabbed his new Superman backpack to carry to the car.  As we headed down the hall to gather up madam, the director caught my attention and asked me to ‘come here’.  (Having some experience I knew this was not a good sign.).  My first thought is – dear god – what has he done this time?  But noooooo.  For once my little guy was the “good” child. 

“Do you have any suggestions as to what we should do with A?”  stated the director.  “We aren’t sure what to do anymore?” 

Come to find out my little angel apparently was choking on her halo and tripping on her wings. 

“We started a log – we are trying to see if there is a common factor”

(Holy crap – I thought….they started a log!)  I asked for the list and read through it carefully.

You name it – it was on that list.  Foul language, throwing stuff, pinching, throwing food, refusing to sit in time out.  My heart sank.

“Ok, when did this start?  I know she hasn’t been doing it at home and you said she had stopped.”

“It started last Thursday/Friday.”
“What triggered it?”

Blank stare. 

“She isn’t doing this at home, only here, so something must have started it.  What happened that might have caused it?”

More blank stare….I decided to try another tactic.

“Was she doing it before?” 
“No – She had stopped.  We don’t know why she started again.”

“What do you do when that happens – I know she doesn’t like to sit in time out.”   (In truth it is a fight to get her in time out.  She will sit then just gets up and goes along as if nothing happened….you literally have to stand there with her to keep her in the chair.)

“Well she won’t stay in time out so we hold her in our lap.”

*ding ding ding*

I went through the list again.

“Ok, some of these phrases she is saying….she never heard that from us.  We also make sure they aren’t hearing stuff on the radio/television so it has to have been something she heard here.”

“Oh no, we don’t say those things.”

I stared at her, “No, I know you don’t, but I know for a fact that I was in here a while back and she was in a room with older kids.  One of the kids picked her up, carried her over to another kid and told her to say  “*&*&” – and she did.   I also know the teacher was standing right there and ignored it.   Now, let’s try again….has she been around the older kids?”

“Well there are kids in her class that are now starting to repeat what she says.”

I sighed….”Ok, I will talk to her.  You keep your log and if you come up with something I am more than happy to work with you.”  I also pointed out that she was probably doing it for attention, but refrained from stating the obvious about their sitting her on their laps.  I then headed out to gather my new problem child.

“Did you say bad words today?” I asked her as I buckled her in the van.

“Yesh”

“Are you supposed to say bad words?” I asked

“Yesh”

“No, No – do NOT say bad words – it makes Mommy and Daddy sad.”

“Yesh”

As I climbed into the van I heard a tiny voice from the back whisper “Don’t say that word”.

Yep – we are totally fucked…..

3 AM Shuffle...

As most people know, small people are notorious for waking up in the wee hours of the morning.  As they get bigger, these nocturnal awakenings occur less and less, much to the relief of the sleep deprived parental units.   As one of those sleep deprived parental units, I can assure – getting more than an hour of sleep at a time is AWESOME!

Our small people have always handled sleep in totally different ways.  Mr. D came to us at 11 months, so we missed a lot of the early hour feedings that come with newborns.  He did have issues with ear infections and sinus problems, so sleep was not one of his best friends.  Once we got him all cleared up, he settled into a very pleasant sleep routine.  He was the only child I know of personally who would come running to you and demand to go to bed.  Often we would go looking for him only to find him next to his crib, stuffed doggie in hand, letting us know he wanted in so he could go to sleep.  And sleep he did…I swear, nothing can wake that kid.

Miss A was different.  She came to us straight from the hospital.  Sleep was not kind to her either.  Hours of walking her around, cradling her, trying to sooth her tiny self into sleep became the norm for us until probably about 4 months old.  Finally she got into the routine of waking in the middle of the night once or twice and needing only someone to hold her until she fell back asleep.  In a fit of desperation and exhaustion one evening, I just gave up and took her to bed with us.  She settled right in and slept the rest of the night.  It was glorious.

Now that the kids are older, they have adjusted to bed times.    Miss A still wakes up at least once a night, but she is now to the point where she will get up, walk through the house and climb into bed with us.  Occasionally she will ask for a drink but most of the time this is just out of habit and she is asleep before we can get one for her.   Mr. D – he still sleeps as soundly as before, if not more so.  The dog was in his room, next to his bed, howling at the coyotes outside and the kid never moved. 

Last night, with a break in the gloomy cold weather, the kids got to spend a good deal of time outside playing in the snow after daycare.  Good thing too since they were both showing signs of being cooped up inside for a long period of time.  Lots of running, jumping, and scampering occurred.  This continued on into the house, where we finally settled in with dinner, bath and some quiet time.  Finally bed time came, and both kids went off to their prospective beds without too much hassle.  Mommy then spent an hour addressing various Valentine’s Day card for various small people classmates, cleaned up the house then wandered off to bed.  Daddy soon followed, and a gentle quietness settled on the house.  Everyone tucked safely away in their beds….even the animals were snoozing soundly.  Total bliss…..

Next thing I know, I hear the hubby’s muffled voice from across the bed.

“We have two of them”
Me: “Huh?”
Hubby: “We have two babies”
Me: “uh huh…two of them”

Let me just mention here I had been awakened from a sound sleep.

Hubby: “No, we have two of them…in here…now”

At this comment I opened my eyes.  I just managed to make out in the darkness a couple small forms moving about the bedroom.   The first form was dragging her ninnie (blanket).  She carefully managed to maneuver around a rather rotund sleeping dog, past her brother, up onto the trunk at the end of our bed, and then up onto the bed itself, past the other dog, over the cat, and over the tangle of blankets and parental unit legs.  Finally she reached her destination, which was the mound of pillows at the head of the bed.  Without missing a beat, she zoomed in on a pile of pillows in between us and kind of half dove/half lurched into a small soft pillow that she had apparently identified as her landing point.  Once down, she scooched about for a minute, then finally finding that ‘sweet’ spot, gave a half turn and let out a soft sigh…then totally zonked out.  I am not even sure she knew we were there.

While this careful dance was taking place, the other small person was moving past the said rotund dog to the hubby’s side of the bed.  Without a word he turned and walked back out into the kitchen, followed by the hubby.  I saw a light turn on and lay there thinking “I should probably go help”, but instead continued to lay quiet comfortably.  (I tell myself I was waiting to hear the small person next to me ask for a drink but that is total bull…I was relishing my warm  cozy bed and we all know it).  Finally the hubby came into the kitchen and turned on the light by the stove.  I realized he was making up a milk so I took pity on him and hauled myself out of my warm bed.  “There is a milk ready in the refrigerator – it just needs to be warmed up.  Where is he?”  The hubby thanked me and replied that the boy was in the bathroom.  “Is he wet?” I asked.  “Nope.  His curtains are open and the moon is shining in his room.” came the reply.

I wandered into his bedroom, thinking that maybe the bed was wet.  As I walked in said small person came in behind me, babbling about “lights” and “colors” and “monsters looking at me”.  I told him mommy was sorry she left his curtains open, and then pulled the drapes. 

“That better?” I asked.
“Yes, thanks” he said.  Then he wandered out of the room. 

I checked the bed – it was dry – then headed out to find that the hubby had made a small nest for the boy on the couch.  Confused I asked again “is he wet?”  The hubby then said he would sleep out there with the boy. 

“Want me to do it?” I asked. 
“Nope”
“ok, although the smart thing would have been to put him on the smaller couch and for you to take the bigger one.”  (I know this from experience).
“Yeah…it would have been the smart thing to do” he said as he went off for his pillow.

While he was gone I moved the boy to the other couch.  While I was getting him settled, the hubby came in, laid down on the bigger couch and promptly fell asleep.

“You ok?” I asked Mr. D.
“Yes.” 
“You need anything?” I asked Mr. D.
“No….” he seemed hesitant.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“Monsters” he whispered.
“No monsters…” I said. “Besides, daddy’s snoring would scare them off.”  (To help illustrate my point the hubby rattled off a rather long and loud snore – although I doubt he was aware of that at the time.)
“See? “ I asked.

He seemed to think this over for a minute, and then nodded solemnly.
“Good night bug…sleep well….and if you get worried about monsters come get me.”
“No monsters.” He replied happily.

They were both still asleep this morning on the couches when I got up….guess snoring really does keep the monsters at bay.

A Thank You Letter….

To the Individuals Who Created Our Children,

Thank you for creating two beautiful children, each perfect in their own way.
Thank you for being too young and too immature to handle the challenges of raising those children.
Thank you for not being there when your oldest child was frightened and hurting.
Thank you for not being there when he needed a mother or father to hold his little hand, sooth his little brow and tell him things would be alright.
Thank you for missing his first birthday…and his second…and his third.
Thank you for not seeing his excitement on Christmas...or Easter...or Halloween.
Thank you for being so selfish, that you couldn’t stop using drugs even on the day of your next child’s birth.
Thank you for not being around when her eyes began to focus.
Thank you for missing her first smile and her first laugh.
Thank you for not being there when she discovered she had fingers and toes.
Thank you for missing the first steps both children took.
Thank you for missing their first words.
Thank you for missing their first experiences at a park, at a parade, at meeting Santa.
Thank you for missing their first delighted looks when they heard music, when they danced.

Thank you for missing their first giggles when a kitty purred for them, or a puppy licked their faces.
Thank you for letting us be the ones they first called “Mommy” and “Daddy”.
Thank you for letting us be the ones that got to comfort them after nightmares.
Thank you for letting us be the ones to dry the tears from their little faces.
Thank you for letting us be the ones to hold their little hands as they led us to something they wanted to show us.
Thank you for letting us be the ones who got to introduce them to the wonders of music, art, reading, nature and life in general.
Thank you for not being able to pull it together, even for the sake of these two fabulous beings you placed on this earth.
Thank you for being too selfish and caught up in  your own lives that you couldn’t take the time to become parents.
And most importantly, Thank you for doing one smart thing in your lives and signing those children over to us, even though your reasons were purely selfish and not out of total regard to the well being of those children.

My one wish for you both is that in time, you are able to know the joy of what you have given away.
My other wish is that you truly learn to realize what you have lost, but I thank you for what you have given us.

Signed,

A Grateful Recipient

Classifieds

Where I work, they have an online Classifieds page.  Basically it is a web page where employees can list things they want to buy/sell or get information/opinions on items, kind of like an online garage sale.  You can set up alerts, where you are notified via email when new items are posted – a nice little perk.  Everything gets listed and usually for a decent price.  In the past I have managed picked up a lot of toys, clothes, furniture etc. for reasonable prices with the added bonus of not having to get up at the crack of dawn and driving aimlessly around hitting garage sales. 

Today I received an email letting me know a new item had been posted.  I should mention that due to the way my email previews are setup, I do not get the full title of the item being listed.  In this case it read “Carry Lite – Pretty Boy Junior J…”   I would also like to point out that a lot of times information is not “clear” as to what is being listed.  Usually an image or flyer is attached to help potential buyers understand what is being sold.

Anyway, as I said, I received the notification.  For some unknown reason, it popped in my head that this was some kind of toy.  I admit, I didn’t read the description very carefully – more like skimmed it – before I clicked on the link to view the attached jpeg…..it was totally not what I expected.

Now, during this time I was on a group chat…we all working on the same issue and occasionally we would ask each other questions etc.  What follows is the group conversation:

Me:  wth is that on the classifieds????
P: it would appear to be a turkey
Me: it has a spare head
J: you should get that and just set it up somewhere randomly in your house when everyone's asleep
P: preferably on someone’s nite stand
Me: not for $50
P: worth it
Me:  lol - explain why they would have a head for hunting and one for setups - wouldn't one work or are they afraid that someone would shoot the hunting head?

Here is a copy of the ad…along with the attached image I saw…try not to judge me too harshly.  

I Got Your Princes...

Somewhere along the line we hit the “Princess” stage late last year.  Everything was “Princess Princess Princess” for Miss A.  Well, not everything but she certainly latched on to the idea that anything Princess was probably meant just for her and her alone.  We of course did little to dissuade this idea, falling into that typical stereotype for little girls….princess dollies, princess trikes, princess cups, princess bedding, princess undies and even a princess potty chair.  (Guess I should mention that the Disney Fairies are included in the idea of Princess as far as Alivia is concerned.)  Even Davian jumped on the bandwagon and recognized that if it was “Princess”, then it was probably claimed by Alivia.

Dress-Up was also something that became apparent for both kids.  The day care they go to has several dress-up costumes for the kids to play with if the urge strikes.  Since it helps with learning how to dress themselves, and the question of what to get the kids for Christmas came up, I suggested a few dress up items, particularly for Alivia as she was showing more interest in dressing up than Davian, a harmless idea as far as I could see.

We have also achieved the beginnings of the “she’s touching me” that many see in the case of siblings.  We are not quite there yet, but signs are becoming stronger daily.  The kids are very close in age and have a very strong love/hate relationship going, something I expect to last for the rest of their lives.  Although they constantly want to know where the other is, how the other is doing, and show great concern if the other one is not where they are expected to be, both kids are more than willing to antagonize the other just for the hell of it.  If one has something, the other must possess it…NOW.  If one says not to do something, the other must do it…IMMEDIATELY.  This should come as no surprise….we have all at least seen it at one point or another, if not experienced it directly.

Anyway, back to Christmas….sure enough Alivia received a little Cinderella dress-up dress.  Pretty blue with lots of lace, sparkle and poof.  She also received a nifty little pink flouncy tutu, again with lots of sparkle and poof.  She seemed to approve of both before setting them aside to tearing into the next Christmas present…

It was later that evening when Davian came up to me, holding the Cinderella dress.  “Put it on” he demanded, meaning he wanted help putting it on.  So I did.  He looked lovely, flitting around the living room, so proud of his sparkly outfit.  Seeing her brother enjoying the moment, Alivia snatched up the pink tutu and the two of them ran around looking very pretty indeed.

And so went the next few weeks, both kids periodically dressing up in princess dresses, tutu’s and super hero capes with masks.  Then one evening, Davey discovered another use for the princess dress.  Alivia was playing with some toy that he desparately wanted to play with – for no other reason than she had it.  Try as he might, nothing would persuade her to give up the coveted toy.  After being put in time out a couple of times for taking it away from her, Davian decided to get clever. 

Marching up to me with a determined look on his face, he held out the Cinderella dress.  “I want dress on”  he announced.  Once he had the dress on, he stomped with more determination into the living room where Alivia was playing. 

“Wibia…” he sing songed.  “Wibia, I got your princess.”  Then he took off for the other room just as fast as his light up Superman shoes would carry him.

Alivia stopped in mid-play.  She looked around carefully, watching as Davey ran down the hall.  You could see it in her little eyes….”He has my princess on….he has my PRINCESS on….HE HAS MY PRINCESS ON!!!!”

Just about the time she was going to let it go, we heard the sing-song voice of Davian, calling from her room….”Wibia….I got your princess on….AND I am on your princess”  (translation – I am wearing your dress and I am on your bed with princess sheets so take that you little twerp…see if I want to play with that toy you are holding hostage!).

The reaction was immediate.  NO ONE puts on Alivia’s princess dress AND gets in her princess bed with HER princess sheets.   She dropped the coveted toy and with a mighty war cry ran screaming at full volume down the hall right into the bedroom door that Davian managed to get closed just as she reached it.   I am sure the ‘thud’ was heard two counties away…

While she rolled around on the floor, wailing at the injustice of it all, Davian quietly opened the door, stepped past her and happily gathered up the now abandoned toy.  He then smiled as he carried it off to his room to play.  In the meantime, I managed to scoop up the unhappy girl, sooth her little ego and put her in her tutu, along with her princess cup, her princess blanket, and her princess pillow. 

But before you express worry or concern or even outrage, rest assured that my little princess got her revenge.  Without a single word, she managed to bean her big brother right between the eyes with a little people princess.  It was a beautiful shot…

I got your princess on indeed…..

2013 in Review...

I am not usually one for recaps. I never really saw much point in recapping the year unless it was a business meeting or something.  Personal recaps seemed kind of pointless to me, but then I really didn’t have much to recap.  One big life event a year please….no need to create a list with just one item – thanks.

This past year was a little different.  With the arrival of the munchkins, we have had our ups and downs.  Many munchkin milestones have occurred, everything from taking their first steps to learning how to spell their name.  I’ve kept track of these things, but haven’t felt the need to ‘recap’ them.  Same goes for the endless court dates, visits, hearings that go along with foster children.  For every step forward, you have to take three steps back.  These things take time and that drags on at a painfully slow pace. 

This past year was a little different.  Strangely enough, the planets seemed to line up in the proper order, and things began to fall into place.   So after some thought, I figure what the hell, this year deserved a recap.  And here it is….

• January
• Davian’s toddler bed tried to eat him. 
• Kids showed fine musical taste by ‘dancing’ to Psycho Killer and Turning Japanese
• The goal was changed to Termination of Parental Rights
• March
• The return of Davian’s Moon and Stars thanks to Pillow Pets
• Ear Tube replacement for both kids
• Davian was evaluated for Preschool
• Davian released from speech and developmental therapy
• Davian turned 3 years old
• May
• Termination hearing was held (in multiple hearings).  Parents signed their rights away to both children
• June
• Last visit with the birth parents.
• July
• Kids accept that they are weird (this is a good thing)
• Alivia has her first dentist appointment (everyone survived the experience with minimal damage)
• Alivia turned 2 years old
• August
• Davian got creative with toothpaste
• Davian and Alivia show an unnatural zest for the usage of swear words (in the proper context I might add)
• September
• Davian started Preschool
• I declare that I really have no idea “how I do it” ...if anything I am totally clueless and just winging the whole “mommy” thing
• October
• Status hearing for adoption (yep – we are moving along with the process of adoption)
• Kids went to their first parade – happened to be a Halloween Parade, complete with dancing zombies
• I determined that I am living with smaller versions of Monk and Rainman
• November
• We ate turkey
• December
• Kids got to see Santa not once, not twice but THREE times (yeah, mommy is cool, she hooked them up!)
• Kids went to the Lighting of the Christmas Tree ceremony downtown.
• Kids made a HAUL at Christmas this year…Santa will find it hard to top next year
• Last but not least….Got a call on Dec 31.  Adoption was approved.  Now just waiting on verification of paperwork and a court date….Not a bad way to end the year!

And there you have it.  My 2013 recap.  Not sure if there will be another for 2014, but like I said, 2013 seemed like it deserved one.

May you all have a Happy New Year!