Friday, July 31, 2009
After a morning of shopping and semi-ok behavior, I told Cason he could pick out somewhere for us to eat lunch. He picked Taco Bueno. Of course. Like he ALWAYS does (seriously, I offer this kid Panera Bread, Applebees, pizza, but it's always Bueno).
I felt seriously sorry for the nice young man in scrubs eating next to us. My kids were covered in bean and cheese goodness. It was quite the nasty sight to behold.
When we got up to leave, Cason said he wanted to take his drink with him. So, fine, if you want to take it, you have to carry it out to the car yourself. For the love of all things holy, you would have thought I asked him to walk across hot coals. The kid threw a knock down drag out fit right there in the middle of Taco Stinkin Bueno. I told him I wasn't going to carry his drink and he could either carry it or throw it away. So he runs to the trash can and covers it with his body while screaming, "YOU NOT THROW MY DRINK AWAY!!!!!" over and over again while going into some kind of convulsing body throwing thing. Then he resorted to rolling on the floor (at Taco Bueno...ew) while kicking and screaming, "I WANT MY DRINK!! YOU NOT THROW MY DRINK AWAY!!!"
Please keep in mind that I told him he could keep his drink if he would carry it.
I gave in. I carried his drink out to the car. I was done. Really, really done. And I had a very tired Kendall with me, too. So we get out to the car, after the temper tantrum to end all temper tantrums, I put Cason in the car seat and I said, "Here is your drink."
He looked at me and said, "I don't want it."
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Is there anything in this world that gives a three year old child more joy than playing with a simple balloon? I think not.
That's why it made me real sad to have to cut Cason's balloon today with scissors. Well, it didn't make me REAL sad. I got over it. He may not. But that's what happens when you hit your sister and mom with said balloon.
Goodbye faithful friend.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
# of times we went to portrait innovations: 2
minutes spent driving to and from: 80
# of photographers who tried to get my daughter to smile: 3
# of times I said, "Kendall!" in a sweet melodic voice: 1, 753
# of times Colin and I got in a fight while trying to get kids to smile: 56
% of photo session (1 and 2) Kendall spent screaming hysterically like she was being beat: 100
% of photo session (1 and 2) Cason spent looking cute and smiling adorably: 95
Not getting a decent picture of my kids so we didn't have to spend $823 on pictures?
Well, my friends, that's priceless.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
I know this is a long post but please read if you have a minute as your thoughts on the matter are coveted.
I had a post all prepared about Kendall's 18 month check up that was to have happened this morning, complete with jokes about how she's 19 months and you know, she's the second child so just be glad that I realized she needed a check up before shes' 3 and blah blah. HOWEVER the doctor had a different plan in mind. The plan involved me waiting in the waiting room for over an hour and asking the receptionist when we were up and she told me there were still two people in front of me and because of some emergency, Dr. was running way behind. I rescheduled appt. and now she will be 20 months when we go. I love our kids pediatrician, I really do. And I get that waiting is part of the deal. But can someone in the medical field please explain to me why a doctor would continue to take on new patients, when, clearly, they are over worked!
Enough about that.
I've been thinking a lot about something lately (well, I've been thinking about a lot of things like The Loser Jon Gosselin, and why in the world Jessica Simpson would want to have a Barbie birthday party but that's not what this post is about). I've been thinking about how much we (and by "we" I mean "I" because I really struggle with this) compare our children. We compare them to other children their age. We compare them to their siblings. I don't know what it is that compels parents to do this. Perhaps it's our own insecurities we project onto our babies. Maybe we just want to make sure our kids are growing and developing like they should.
But it's hard.
I remember when Kendall was two months old, I compared her to a picture of Cason at the same age. In the picture, Cason had a huge grin on his face. Kendall rarely smiled. I told the pediatrician that I just didn't get why Kendall wouldn't smile at us like Cason did. Well, she had horrible reflux and I guess that if you had a belly full of spicy milk that at any second was likely to come shooting out your nose, making it feel like you were drowning, you might not smile either. Kendall has since become very smiley and laughs a lot but she does have a serious side.
It's also hard when there are parents who brag about their kids. A LOT. Now, should we be proud of our kids and what they do and accomplish? YES. Of course! But, for some people, it's just another rung on the "mommy ladder." And if you are neurotic, like me, you hear things like that and think, "Well, my kid is nowhere close to that! Is there something wrong with them? is there something wrong with me?!"
Recently, someone that has a child Kendall's age, was saying that, apparently, their daughter speaks only in paragraphs and makes up songs about other children and is fully potty trained, and is also reading Dante's Inferno. In Spanish. Well, guess what, that ain't Kendall. (SIDENOTE: I'm not sure she wouldn't use the potty, I just don't really care at this point. TANGENT ALERT: I think "potty" is the stupidest word in the human language. It makes otherwise intelligent adults sound idiotic. I've been trying to get Cason to say "bathroom" instead. The other day, at church, he told an elderly lady he had to go poop in the bathroom. Not quite what I was going for. TANGENT OVER.)
And I've had a parent with a child Cason's age go on and on about their child's mathematical ability (apparently their child woke up one morning able to multiply square roots!) to which I just said, "Oh, Cason still eats dirt." That pretty much shut down that conversation.
I guess what my point is (YES! I have one!) is that last night, I had a light bulb moment of sorts. By comparing my kids to others, I'm really shortchanging their OWN abilities and strengths. Cason may not be the best artist out there. He still scribbles and doesn't color things realistic colors. But you know what? He's a REALLY good athlete for a three year old. And he can hear a song one or two times and know almost all the words. Kendall doesn't say a whole lot for her age yet, but she is VERY observant. And she can climb anywhere and on anything. And she is really, really funny for a one and half year old.
Every kid has his or her own abilities and strengths. What are your thoughts on this? Am I the only one here who struggles in this area? Is is part of parenthood? Hello, anyone? ANYONE? BUELLER?
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Hey, guess what?
I haven't washed my hair in, like, over two days.
Oh, what? You thought I was going to say something cool after, "Hey, guess what?" Like, "Hey, guess what? I had my tubes tied!" or "Hey, guess what? Michael Jackson isn't really dead!" Which wouldn't be so much cool as creepy.
Back to my hair.
Don't worry, I've showered. But I just have not had a reason to mess with the coif. I'm playing bunco tonight so I plan to wash my hair before then. Actually, Colin took one look at me earlier today and said, "You ARE planning on doing something to yourself before you go out tonight, right?" Hands off, girls. He's mine.
But it gets worse. I went to the store today in the same thing I slept in last night. Granted, it was yoga capris and a t-shirt. Still, I have a feeling my mom is reading this somewhere in south Texas in full make up and beauty queen hair saying, "Oh my gawsh. I taught her better than that!" Seriously, the women in my family do hair and make up to sit by the pool.
The funny thing was, that when I went to the store I was embarrassed that I wasn't wearing eye makeup so I shopped with my sunglasses on. Apparently pajamas and hair so oily you could season a skillet with it is ok but lack of mascara causes concern.
If you're nice, I may even shower again before church tomorrow.
In other random news, today a melted a cutco knife.
I also continued to be barraged by examples of why I should be a life coach. This has nothing to do with anything I've said today, I know. But would you trust a life coach who had dirty hair?