I recently bought myself a new winter coat at Target and wore it this morning at kindergarten drop off.
In front of all the other parents, Domino asked:
"Mom, why are you wearing your bathrobe?" "I'm not, I'm wearing a coat." "Yes you are. That's your bathrobe." "No, it's not. This is my new coat." Rascal chimed in "It looks just like your bathrobe." A couple of chuckles from the moms nearby... "It's not my bathrobe! It's a new coat! If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all!!" "I like your bathrobe."
How in the world could they confuse my beautiful new wool winter coat with a bathrobe?!
I rented a movie yesterday that featured my youngest son's slightly unusual name as the main antagonist in the movie. About 4 months ago I saw another movie with a character with the same name, this time the "jerky boyfriend" in the movie. It got me thinking about the name and wondering what other movies it might have been used in, so I hit my laptop and consulted with my dear friend Google.
I had a moment of "mommy panic" when I googled my youngest child's name and found links to my blog for all the world to see. Of course, I knew everyone could see my blog when I created it. That's the point of a blog. Duh. However, I didn't think anyone but my mother would be interested in my ramblings.
And then I looked up my blog stats and I have visitors from Taiwan, Canada, Argentina (hello!!) and I realized.... uh.... yikes.
I'm making some small safety changes to my blog. My kids and husband have new names and I'll be watermarking my photos. I've read and seen other blogs (Joy Unexpected, Sweet Juniper, Rockstar Mommy) where photos of their kids have been stolen and used by different websites for their own purposes - and since I have such beautiful kids - who wouldn't want to steal their photos?! :-)
So there you have it.
Meet "Domino", my "it's black or white kid", and his little brother "Rascal" who's name says it all. I'm open to suggestions for names for the hubby! Send them my way!
Of my 2 boys, Rascal is the easiest to read.Maybe he’s just the one that gets himself into more trouble.When Rascal is up to no good it’s written all over his face.I can walk into a room and immediately see the “I’m busted” look in his eyes.Of course, it’s usually seen in connection with a sheepishly unsolicited “I love you Mom” blurted out the moment he sees me.He knows he shouldn’t do something, does it anyway, and then can’t contain the guilt.
Until yesterday.
The boys had been playing with Lego Mosaics at the kitchen table.Lego Mosaics consist of just those tiny one dot Legos that scatter everywhere and I end up sucking them up in my vacuum.
After about an hour busily and studiously making Lego masterpieces, they decided to take a break and wanted to watch TV for a bit. We decided to leave their works of art on the table so we could continue them later.
While on the couch watching TV, I noticed that Rascal was chewing on 2 little Legos.I immediately (and harshly) told him to get them out of his mouth and put them back on the table.He (harshly) told me he was “wasn't going to chew them, just going to hold them”.Not wanting to find tiny Legos in my couch a week from now (or poking my butt later that night) I demanded he put them back on the table RIGHT NOW.A screaming match between the two of us ensued.Finally, he stomped into the kitchen, hollering a 4 year old’s version of obscenities at me the entire way, and then stomped back to the couch where Dom and I were waiting.He continued to mutter at me and said his version of “There, they’re in the kitchen now, you happy woman??”I thanked him for (finally) cooperating and we all cozied up to watch the rest of the Backyardigans.
Half way into the show I noticed Rascal had his hands in his pockets.He seemed to be fidgeting with something.What’s he got?Oh yes, he’s got the Legos in his pocket.The ones that I had asked him to put away.The ones he screamed and yelled about and marched into the kitchen in dramatic fashion to put away.The ones he bold face lied to me and said he did put away.Those Legos.
And I didn’t even pick up on it.
This was the first time he really lied to me.It’s one thing for him to say “I love you Mom” when I walk in to his room, see he’s completely naked and ask him what he’s up to - and discover that he's peed in his toy box (true story).It’s another thing to be told to do something, pretend you did it, say you did it, and then continue on knowing you’re doing something wrong.
My heart hurt. I feel like I am raising a “14 year old 4 year old”.
Where's this great commercial from the 80's when I need it?!
My kids are picky eaters. It's something that I have created/nurtured/encouraged/allowed for years. When Domino was a baby he would eat anything as long as it came from a jar. Anything with texture was rejected completely. When we finally got him into "real food" it was just bland convenience foods that we knew he would accept - dinosaur nuggets, pizza (he takes the cheese off), fish sticks and the like. Rascal started off as a pretty good eater - and that just means he ate whatever processed food we fed Domino without fussing - but is taking more and more cues from Domino and becoming increasingly picky.
I’m trying to get us all eating healthier and heard mixed reviews about the “sneaky chef” methods of cooking, specifically pureeing and hiding veggies in everyday food. Many detractors of this method argue that you shouldn't hide veggies from kids but teach them to eat them. I argue that I put veggies on my kids plates every day and with the exception of frozen peas (still frozen!) all veggies basically end up in my garbage disposal.
I bought myself the Jessica Seinfeld book Deceptively Delicious for Christmas and went to work yesterday steaming and pureeing cauliflower, carrots and blueberries. I’ve got a batch of sweet potatoes in the oven as I type and plan on attacking a butternut squash later today. My freezer is now filled with about 2 dozen little baggies of what appears to be baby food for grown ups.
I attempted to smuggle out my first recipe of sneaky food this morning – scrambled eggs with cauliflower. I modified the recipe slightly because I could already tell there would be issues. The recipe called for 2 eggs and 4 egg whites, ½ cup of cauliflower puree, ¼ sour cream, 2 tablespoons parmesan cheese, pinch of salt and 1 teaspoon olive oil in the pan. Knowing that Rascal refuses any white part of an egg I used 5 whole eggs, reduced the cauliflower in half to ¼ cup, a big blob of sour cream and a sprinkling of shredded Mexican cheese.
Uhhh…. The eggs never really solidified. Even after cooking and cooking they had the texture of thick lumpy oatmeal. Not exactly a selling point. I cooked the hell out them some more and finally got them to a texture I could put on a plate without them spreading. Rascal took one look at the eggs and said “no thanks”. I cheerily said “Eggs! Your favorite! We haven’t had these in a long time!”. He hesitantly put a spoonful in his mouth and said “these taste funny”. I volunteered up MORE CHEESE ON TOP! And he said “No, no, I don’t like these”. GARLIC PEPPER! YOUR FAV! MORE ON TOP!! “Mom, I don’t want any eggs”.
So, I managed to spoon feed Rascal like a baby about 5 bites while singing “Eggs! Oh soooo- delici-oooo-so!” before he said “Can I be done now?”.
I ate the rest. Squishy, a slightly different flavor than I’m used to, but really not too bad. I can’t imagine what it would have been like had I used all the cauliflower the recipe called for.
I didn’t attempt any with Domino. I know better.
I hope I haven’t completely ruined scrambled eggs for Rascal.
Domino: "Mom, you should really vacuum in here today."
Rascal (while sitting on my lap on the couch looking at photos on the wall): "That one is a baby Rascal, and a baby Domino, and Mommy. That one is me when I got bigger and that one is when Domino got bigger. And that one is when you and Daddy got married. Then you got bigger but Daddy stayed the same."
In the blink of an eye, Christmas and New Years have blown through our house.Both were lovely.
Christmas Eve we took the kids to see Alvin & the Chipmunks and then out to dinner, followed by an extended driving tour through our neighborhood to check out the lights.By the time we got home and got the kids in bed it was well after 10PM.Tony and I immediately set to work getting everything ready for the morning, determining what would be “Santa gifts” and what would be from us.After 2+ showings of “A Christmas Story” we had everything wrapped and assembled.
Christmas morning was wonderful.We actually had to wake the kids up so we’d have time to open presents and enjoy our morning together before heading down to “The Robinsons”.The boys were great and my favorite moment was watching them open the gifts they made and wrapped for each other – iron on t-shirts of their favorite characters - and the spontaneous hug that followed.I loved that they each got so invested in whatever present they had just opened, they were in no hurry to move on to the next.
Christmas down the street was also wonderful.The boys were super excited about everything they got – and everything everyone got.They were just as thrilled to see their cousin open a present of a 49er shirt as they were to open a Playstation game for themselves (ok, maybe not as excited, but you get the picture). Grandma and Grandpa Robinson seemed relaxed and happy, and certainly in their favorite place with their favorite people.
After the Robinsons, we came back home for dinner with MY family. I finally made it happen and had my brother, sister, their families and my mother over for Christmas dinner.Even with all the superficial imperfections, the day was perfect.A missing cloth napkin, late guests, my lost camera (the horror!) cold food and insanely strong coffee all could have sent me into hostess insanity – but instead I will cherish the memories of seeing my mom with her 5 grandsons and one granddaughter hanging out together, playing Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots, pulling apart Christmas crackers and enjoying each other….
I had a nice moment watching my brother with his daughter. He'll always be my brother, the guy who used to steal all my french fries and shove sweaty socks in my face, but there he was with his daughter sitting on his lap and I had a new appreciation for him as a father. My sister had worked a graveyard shift Christmas Eve into Christmas Day and still managed to celebrate with her family, squeeze in a few hours of sleep and come to Christmas at my house. Sometimes I get so caught up in my own world, my own life, that I forget when they are at their homes, they’re “living it” too and doing the best they can.
We enjoyed our time together as a family, enjoyed each other as people, and marveled at our kids and how much they’ve grown - and maybe how much we've grown too.
