Carpe Diem

My grandpa is in the hospital with a destroyed hip, and my grandma is one floor below him with pneumonia.

I sent them a card that Owen colored and stickered and some of Owen's artwork from preschool.

It's about the only thing I could think of to do to make them happy, but I get the feeling that they're kind of over cutesy grandkid/great-grandkid things.

The last time I saw them, they seemed kind of removed from Owen and Stew, as if they knew that they wouldn't be alive for much of their lives and didn't want to invest much more in them than polite inquiries.

I don't say this as a criticism of them- it's more that I am sad that two people who have been so important and influential in my life are just...done. Their lives aren't over but they are over life.

When they first became grandparents, they were involved with their grandkids closely. Their own years as parents probably felt as if they were yesterday and they helped with babysitting and nursing and doled out advice to the nervous new parents.

Now it seems they are looking on their stint as parents the wrong way through a telescope with everything very far away and out of focus. They are too unhealthy to babysit and too out of touch with parenthood to give advice. Those squirming little babies must just seem very very young to them.

And that's where we will be in fifty years. Give or take a few. Enjoy 'em while you got 'em, people.

Good for me, good for you... good times.

While I was in the shower this morning, I was thinking about this time that me and Amy Thruman went to get a drink at Abraham's. Abraham's is the only "classy" place to drink in Rochelle- it's a restaurant/bar in the Holiday Inn and it's the only place in town where you can drink without being white trash. Other choices for drinking include The Sunset Lounge (full of scary alcs), The Pour House (full of scary cowboys), and Wayne's World II (full of scary drug dealers).

This was a couple of weeks before Kyle and I's wedding, so Amy Thruman and I were at Abraham's to have a drink and catch up on old times before our lives diverged. Right as we arrived, we saw a table full of girls from our graduating class. I can't remember who all they were, but Kristina Kasmar was there, and Lisa Linebaugh, Lori Meadows, and some others.

I knew Lori somewhat because I had been friends with her older sister Shawna. She stood up and gave Amy and I a hug, but the other girls just sat there and kind of waved.

Amy and I stood there awkwardly for a few minutes, trying to make conversation and wondering if they were going to invite us to sit down for a drink. They didn't and we moved on.

I forgot about the incident totally until Amy's mom, who works at the police station with Kristina Kasmar, asked us why we had been so rude to her at the bar.

She said in Kristina's version of the story we "totally blew them off." Furthermore, Amy and I "really needed to grow up and get past all this petty high school stuff."

Which is laughable because I don't know what petty high school stuff she was talking about. I don't really remember thinking much about Kristina Kasmar or any of the other girls at the table. If we were enemies, I certainly didn't know about it.

This experience made me wonder who else perceives me as an enemy. How many other people might hate me for reasons I don't even know about? For silly, stupid miscommunications that really don't mean anything?

I remember when I took piano lessons in the fourth grade, my mother used to always drop me off five minutes early, so I would hear the last five minutes of the lesson before mine.

There was a pretty junior high school girl who had the 4 'o'clock spot and I always got to listen to her play her last song.

One day, for about the third week in the row, she played a catchy, fast song that I liked. As soon as I heard the opening strains, I said "Oh, this one again," and was just settling in to tap my foot along to the music when the girl stopped playing and started BAWLING.

"She didn't mean it!" consoled my piano teacher. "Honey, she didn't mean that!"

I sat there silent and confused, wondering who had said anything to make the poor girl cry. I figured it was something that had happened before I came in.

It wasn't until she retreated to her mother's car, sobbing, that I realized I had made her cry by saying "Oh, this one again." See, music teachers STOP making you play a piece when they think you're good enough at it- so if you have a piece week after week, it's because you still need work on it. She thought that because I said the word "again" I was making some kind of comment on her playing- which I totally wasn't! But she bawled like her heart was breaking just the same.

So there's one who surely hates me.

But in a way, I kinda hate her too. I said what I said with complete innocence and good intentions. Yet every week for the next FOUR YEARS my mother would drop me off for my lesson with the words "Have fun! And don't criticize anyone else's playing!"

GGGGGRRRRRRR.

My Saviors/Insane in the Rain

I was going insane over here, thinking about what a horrible mother I am and where I went wrong that my son spits and pees all over his bedroom, when Mary Lou called and saved the day.

Emma and Sean were tired of being housebound too, so we took the kids out for a puddle stomping session.

The kids had a great time, but were coughing and hacking inside of ten minutes. Mary Lou and I realized that we've been complaining for three weeks about how our kids are always sick, yet we take them out in the rain every four days and drench them in filthy alley water. Gee, I wonder why they won't stop coughing?

So we took them in to Mary Lou's place and stripped them down to their dipes/undies. Owen and Stew borrowed some ill-fitting but dry clothing, (including a pair of hilarious frilly underpants for Owen) Mary Lou brought out the popcorn, and we all sat down to watch The Lion King.

Unbelievably, the kids were good for twenty whole minutes, sitting quietly, sharing popcorn from a common bowl with not one fit of possessiveness, and generally being adorable.

Later that afternoon, Stewart said his first complete sentence. He said "That's my juice!" loudly and proudly. However, it was not his juice but Emma's. He spent another five minutes chasing her around the house trying desperately to get hold of it.

All in all, it turned out to be a pretty good afternoon.

I'M GOING INSANE

Owen knows all the words to Gwen Stefani's Love Angel Music Baby. Well, kinda. He says "Johnny, get outta here!" at the end of Bubble Pop Electric quite well, and he has "tick tock, tick tock" down cold. However, he might be singing "working so hard every night and day and now we get the Play-Doh." Haha.

So yesterday, Owen took advantage of his 1 hour "downtime" (I've given up on actual sleep taking place) to piss all over his bed, chair and toy horse. I was speechless. Literally. I was so angry with him I wanted to tear him apart. I gave him a time-out. Seems a little anti-climactic, I have to say. I could hardly even speak to him all afternoon I was so pissed.

Then he decided to throw a kicking, screaming fit when I tried to help him pee. I grabbed him by the arms and practically screamed "CUT IT OUT!!!!" into his face. It wasn't really that loud or dramatic, but emotionally, I was at DEFCON 5 aka, I would HAPPILY KILL YOU RIGHT NOW!!!!

He must have sensed it b/c he just stared at me in shock for a second and then started bawling.

This kid has just been pushing me SO FAR lately.

So today, he spent his naptime spitting water from his sippy cup all over the bedroom. JUST BECAUSE HE KNEW IT WOULD PISS ME OFF!

I took the cup away and he had a screaming fit for ten minutes, which I totally ignored. When he was calmer, I went back to have a talk with him about spitting. He apologized and said he wouldn't anymore. I explained that if he did it again he would lose the sippy cup forever. He nodded solemnly, took his cup, and laid down with his eyes closed for fifteen minutes or so.

Next time I checked on him, he had spit water all over the bookshelf and floor. WHAT THE HELL DO I DO WITH THIS MANIAC??? I gave him a long time-out, and made him clean up every drop of water, while he blubbered and whined. I took away the sippy cup and he's not allowed to have them anymore. That'll solve the problem of spitting water I guess, but what happens when he starts spitting spit?

If it's not one thing, it's another. He's just looking for any way to rebel- and he's only 3! I don't think I will make it to the teenage years- I might kill him first.

I feel like I never talk about Stewart. He's 15 months, just entering the tempermental brat phase, but he's such an easygoing guy by nature that even when he throws a fit, it's likely to last less than twenty seconds. He actually listens already- he will pick up toys when asked, will stop what he's doing when I say no, and will stay next to me and Owen when we walk together.

It's so weird- I don't feel like I've done anything different with Stewart than I did with Owen- I picked up a few tricks to use the second time around, but basically I'm the same mom. However, Owen at 15 months would walk away from me and never look back and showed no sign that he understood any English. I know some of this is probably due to his communication difficulties/light autistic spectrum or whatever. But I'm convinced that some of it HAS to be a stubborn personality.

My friend Mary Lou said he's figuring out how to get to me before I can figure out what gets to him. An accurate assessment- but what do I do until I figure it out?

I HATE BARF!!!! (and poo)

A new chapter in the theater of Owen: barfing.

This kid has to have the most sensitive gag reflex I've ever seen. He barfs when he cries, when he coughs, when he eats something he doesn't like, when he THINKS about eating something he doesn't like, when he smells baby or dog poop, when he looks at a soggy Cheerio in the bottom of the sink, not to mention when he has the flu.

He and Stewart have both had a bad cold/cough for the last few weeks. Stewart seems to have recovered pretty well, but every time Owen brings up a loogie, he brings up anything he's eaten in the previous four hours with it.

I'm glad he's getting the mucous out, but jeez!

The thing I find the most irritating is that he knows he's going to barf- he spreads his legs wide and leans forward so that not a drop lands on him or his feet. But he will NOT go to the bathroom or sink, or get a napkin. He just yaks it on the floor.

I got irritated just now and reminded him snappily to go to the toilet. In typical, infuriating Owen fashion, he told me "I'm sorry...I barfed," in his sweet, halting, barely understandable voice, making me feel like the worst mother in the world.

ARGGGGGHHHHH.

Update

Yesterday Owen finally took a nap- I think he was just worn out from pre-school.

However, the results were mixed- he slept for two hours, until I finally woke him from a deep sleep, was cranky all night, and still wanted to go to bed at 7 (we kept him up until 7:30).

He slept until 6:30, though, without getting out of his bed once. He seemed to understand the clock thing, b/c when he got up, he enthusiastically said "Mommy, clock!" as if he knew it was okay to get up now.

Then today when I put him down for a nap, he actually asked me and Kyle what time he could get up (I told him 2:00) - but he's now telling me "Owie's awake!" at 1:30.

Ah, well, we'll see.

Thanks for all of your suggestions.

In other news, I cleaned out the medicine cabinet and found lotions, pills, and droplets dating back to 2000- meaning that some of these things actually MOVED ACROSS THE COUNTRY and then again in 2002 to our current apartment. Unbelievable.

I have to tell you that of all the things that annoy me about Kyle (and believe me, a lot of things annoy me- first of all, we've been married 5 years, second, I am inherently annoyable), the thing that annoys me most is that Kyle is the kind of guy who religiously checks expiration dates, whether they are on food or medicine. He would sooner die than drink milk that is one day past its expire date or take last year's Tylenol. Yet he NEVER THROWS ANYTHING AWAY.

This to me is about as thoughtless as you can get. I mean, what is he trying to say? That although he himself doesn't imbibe spoiled milk, far be it from him to deny others the pleasure? That while he wouldn't jeopardize his own health with old, rotten vitamins, he doesn't mind if his wife or kids partake?

I just don't get it.

He also likes to save boxes of cereal with stale crumbs in the bottom for months and months. When I ask him why he's saving them, he says they are for "the boys."

I say, "Kyle, do YOU want to eat these stale crumbs?" "Well, no." "Then why would you think anyone else would?" I mean, granted the kids have put some pretty nasty things in their mouths, but even they want the fresh cereal.

In other news, I'm actually a man.

No, just kidding, I wanted to see if you were still reading.

You probably aren't.

"He thinks the carpet pissers did this? "

How is it that kids always know exactly what to do to drive you insane?

So after 5-6 glorious months during which Owen slept in his bed when told, he suddenly was afraid of the dark and wanted us to lay with him or rub his hair while he fell asleep. Needless to say, we didn't want to open that can of worms so we refused.

We had to lock him in his room to get him to stay there (because otherwise he would just physically fight us to get out) and let him scream for a couple of nights and then he was fine- at least, he started going right to sleep without screaming. However, he slept on the floor right behind his bedroom door, the place where he had screamed himself to sleep.

We let him do that for a month or so, but have recently decided to try to get him back into the bed. I explained to him that I will put a star on the calendar for each day that he stays in bed all night, and when he has a week's worth, he can pick out a toy.

So he stayed in bed like a good boy and got a star.

The very next day, he wouldn't sleep at naptime. Now, in my house, bedtime is not an option, but naptime I am a little more lax on. So long as Owen is in his room playing quietly, I usually don't mind if he doesn't sleep. He goes to bed a little early that night, and typically starts napping again the following day.

However, this is the fourth day without a nap and he really needs them. He's practically falling over by dinnertime, and demands to take a bath and go "ni-ni" as early as 6:30. Then, he wakes up at 5:30 a.m. because he went to bed so early.

So I need this kid to nap. I tried continuously putting him back in bed, but I think it's too controlling for a nap- for nighttime it works, but the whole point of naptime is for me to get something done, not for me to stand by his door and watch to make sure he sleeps.

I make him stay in his room for at least an hour and a half, up to two hours, during which he just plays and talks to himself, and comes out red cheeked and practically falling over because he's tired.

And just as a bonus, he's added the new twist of randomly taking off his pants and peeing on the carpet, less because he has to pee than that he knows he isn't supposed to. I think he resents being stuck in his room and that's his way of taking it out.

I think I will try giving him a time out for carpet peeing, but it's difficult because I usually only find out after the fact, making it less effective.

Anyone have any suggestions? I will not lay with him or nap with him, and I will not stand by the door and watch him- it's a waste of my time.

I have spanked him for getting out of bed in the past, but it was totally ineffective (hence the door locking).

I'll take whatever suggestions you're offering!

I wonder if other parents ever feel disgusted by the little creatures they created. I mean, really, pissing on the carpet like an ANIMAL???? Come on, I know he's three, but Jesus Christ.