A squirrel stole my Mcnuggets...

    Sandra and I decided to hit a playground after car pool for a lunch/play date for the kiddos.  Being the fabulously prepared mother that I am, I fixed a well balanced picnic lunch for the entire family...or I might have just pulled though the drive thru at the McDonalds near the playground.  Ok, let's just admit it.  I definitely hit the drive thru for some nuggets and fries, and a Coke Zero for myself.  Sandra had to take her son Jack for a hair cut, so we were on our own for a few at the park.  I sat on a bench, and ate my craptastic lunch.  Well, part of my lunch.  Molly had a few of her nuggets, a couple of fries, and hit the swings as usual.  Mommy reporting for swing duty...I put her into one of the swings, and started to push.

    After Molly swings back and forth a few times, I hear her say, "Hey, No, no squirrel.  That is my lunch."  I look over, and sure enough, there is a huge squirrel eyeing our bag of fast food.  I walk over, and shoe away two squirrels from our stuff.  They quickly return, and I chase them off yet again.  The big one...He has a bad eye.  Pink, gross, looks infected.  Icky.  I think of a line from Sex in the City when Carrie says that squirrels are just rats with better accessories.  He may have a bad eye, but something tells me this guy is used to Mcdonalds leftovers.  I mean, every animal at this park is well fed, but this guy is particularly fat and slow.  I roll the bag up, move our drinks a little closer to us.  Now back to pushing my daughter and helping my son pretend to be a Ninja Warrior.

    I managed to keep our food clear for the first 15 minutes or so.  Then, I dropped a fry on the ground when I went over to sneak a little snack.  Our little one eyed friend was waiting for it to hit the ground.  He might not have perfect vision, but he knew when the goods were within reach.  He snatched up the fry and looked at me with triumph.  I shook my head, and figured he earned that one.

    I don't know if they were working as a team, but next thing I knew, Colin was playing "Chase the Squirrels."  I was mildly amused by the fact that they were all fat and slow enough that Colin had a decent chance of catching one.  While his friends were busy distracting us, One Eyed Willy had snuck over to the remains of our lunch.  By the time I had noticed, the little sneak thief had taken a fry and a nugget.  He ran by, stopped right in front of me, and waved them both in the air.  It was as if he was rubbing it in.  Damn Squirrel...Well, at least he spared me from remaining fatty calories in the bag.  Try to think positive Heidi...So I go over to grab my Coke Zero.  And then I see it.  Insult to injury.  There is a squirrel running across the playground with my straw in his mouth.  He stopped, and used his little arms to wave it at me.  Now that ticked me off.  I can live without cold chicken nuggets and fries, but dude stole my caffeine refreshment, and he totally did it out of spite.  And I thought the geese were annoying at this park.  Don't ever piss off the squirrels...

Privacy Please...

   Many, many moons ago, when I was a child living in my parent's house, I can remember interrupting my mother during "bathroom time," frequently.  It sticks in my brain that most questions and problems seemed to arise while she was "occupied," shall we say.  I don't know if it was Murphy's Law at work, or if it was simply a lack of respect for my mother's personal space.  Either way, I would like to take this chance to apologize to my mother.  I would like to say I am sorry for barging into the one room where we should all be guaranteed a little quiet, alone time.  Even though I have fond memories of sitting next to the tub, giving my mother the "post game wrap up" from my day at school.  I am sure that she would have preferred to hear about my day...about ten minutes later in the living room, once she was dressed.
   
    Some things are difficult to appreciate until you realize it has been almost 5 years since you have been to the bathroom by yourself.  Not only do the little people accompany you to the bathroom for #1 and #2.  They frequently provide commentaries and state opinions about the current bathroom trip.  They let you know if it stinks, if you are taking too long, and will even ask you to let them see the product of the bathroom trip.  They watch your every move in the shower or the tub.  They ask why you are shaving and ask questions about body parts you simply aren't prepared to answer.

    So nothing surprised me more than when my daughter started kicking me out of the bathroom.  She requested I leave, and I was caught off guard.  I clarified, and she confirmed she wanted me to "go!"  She said "Mommy, I need privacy please."  She shut and locked the stall door.  As I stood staring at the locked door, I couldn't help but state what I was feeling.  "Seriously kid...I haven't pooped alone in five years, and now you are kicking me out."

   I can only hope that if I respect this new rule of her's, perhaps the favor will be returned.  Maybe, one day in the near future, I will be able to use the bathroom alone.  And then I remember my long chats with my mother, sitting on the edge of the tub.  As odd as it sounds, we did some of our best talking over those bubbles.  Maybe, one day, Molly will bring me a glass of wine to the side of the tub, sit down, and open up about some teen girly problem.  Maybe we can plan the perfect science project or perfect term paper? Until then, I suppose I will have to deal with my mini stalkers that not only watch the activity at hand in great detail, but feel free to comment about the results.  Because, if my memory serves me right, this is not going away anytime soon....

I am "that" mom...

   Yep, that's me.  I am "that" mom.  For the last two weeks, Molly has turned me into the crazy woman saying her child's name repetitively, while the child continues on her way, with very little response.  I feel like I am trapped in that Bill Cosby sketch.  You know the one, where he is on the plane, and by the end of the trip, everyone knows little "Jeffrey's" name.  By the time we have left anywhere over the last two weeks, I am positive everyone knows Molly's name...well, with the exception of Molly of course.
 
     This morning, while I was following her around the mall, calling out her name, I came to a possible explanation.  I walked up to Molly, picked her up, and I asked her, "Molly, did you change your name, and not tell Mommy?"  I mean, what else could possibly explain the complete and total lack of response that I have been receiving?  Her response, "No, Mommy...My name is Molly. M-O-L-L-Y..."  I put her down, and within seconds, she was right back in "Molly World."  There really is nothing more infuriating than talking to someone who has become selectively deaf to the sound of your voice.  Well, unless it is multiple people that have become seemingly deaf to the sound of your voice.  Husbands and partners are also excellent examples of this behavior.  You begin to doubt your sanity at times.  Well, actually I frequently doubt my sanity.  I think I was sane before the children...pretty close to crazy, but sane prior to bringing children into this world.

   I have decided that she is convincing Colin to join her in this behavior.  They are conspiring against me while I am not looking.  I think they have agreed to ignore me until I reach the full "mommy is having a temper tantrum in the corner," point.  They love to wait until Mommy starts twitching and screaming their names at the top of my lungs.  Why do I get louder? I am not sure.  I can tell it doesn't seem to help in the slightest.  In fact, I am almost positive it is the equivalent of talking louder to someone who doesn't speak English.  I recognized the "look" from both of them this past weekend as I attempted to herd them through a pumpkin patch.  It is that glazed over, confused, with their heads tilted to the side like a puppy dog, look that they give me.  Like I have four heads.  Like they can't imagine why I am so frustrated with them, even though I have been saying their names for 5 solid minutes, and they have yet to acknowledge me.  By the end of our trip to the pumpkin patch, I was ready to sit down and cry.  I had two 40 pound toddlers, who were not listening to me, a 20 pound pumpkin that we had picked out to carve, a back pack full of stuff, and I had no idea how I was going to make it to my car with everything intact, including my sanity.  I rarely get flustered, but I did on Sunday.  It is not often you realize you are completely at their mercy, and that there really is nothing you can do to make them follow you to the car.  Luckily, I have awesome friends who circled the wagons, threw my pumpkin in their stroller, and helped me herd my uncooperative children out to my car.  I hate feeling like an incompetent mother.  I know we have all been "there," but you still want to tuck your tail and hide when it is your children.

    Hopefully this phase with Molly will end soon.  I would love to enjoy a few years before she hits puberty, and starts to ignore everything I say all over again.  Sometimes, I wish I could spend a day inside her brain.  Molly takes her time.  She  enjoys life.  She checks out everything along the way.  I wonder what it would be like to be that free.  I also wonder how she could be so oblivious to the crazy lady saying her name 5,000 times in a row...Just acknowledge me kid...at least a little nod in my general direction.  I am beginning to wonder if I am even talking out loud at all.

A car pool moment...

   Here I was, minding my own business, when God decided to hit me with a realization.  I was waiting to drop Colin off in car pool.  I watched him hop out of the car, explain where his sister was, and wave as he headed off to his class.  And right then, for some odd reason, I realized my babies are getting so big.  I started to tear up.  I literally cried on my way home.  I started to mourn the fact that my sweet constant companions of the last 4.5 years are going to leave me.  My sidekicks are growing up.  My Robins are going to leave their Batman.  In just a few short months, I register Colin Bear for Kindergarten.  Molly will be close behind.  They are becoming tiny little people right before my very eyes, full of personality, incredibly intelligent, and almost always funny.  I'm not ready...

     I'm not ready for them to go to school full time.  The car is too quiet when I drop them both off.  Yes, don't get me wrong, I enjoy some moments of silence, but the noise and chaos has become my norm.  These small people love me, and I love them so much.  Yes, they make me crazy, and occasionally drive me to drink, but imagining my life with no one around in a few years makes me sad.  I am not ready for this phase to end.  So get ready sweet babies...I am going to treasure every hug, every play date, every morning drop off, every preschool party, and every simple afternoon snuggle while watching Nick Jr.  Our days together are numbered, and I am not ready to let go.  I see why people just keep having babies, or at least space them out a little more.  My nest is going to be empty all too soon.

   I know I have years of fun and hugs ahead of us as a family, but this baby phase ending has caught me by surprise.  The big kid beds, the lack of diapers, the actual questions and conversations.  When did it all happen??  The cliches are all true parents.  Enjoy it while it lasts.  Hug your babies and treasure the moments.  Even the difficult ones.  Because all too soon, these babies become kids, and then teens, and then adults.  I may need another cup of coffee...Now, to pack a picnic lunch for a playdate after preschool, and to stop crying...

I not pretty, mommy....

  "I not pretty Mommy"...Words you never want to hear come out of your daughter's mouth, but that they did yesterday morning.  A horrible sense of panic set over me.  Where have I gone wrong?  What did I do?  What can I do to fix it?  She already has self esteem issues??  How does she not know she is the most beautiful girl in the world?  Well, let me set the stage for this conversation with my 3 y/o daughter.  I am standing at the sink in the bathroom, attempting to tame my hair into something that can be seen in public.

Molly "What are you doing Mommy?"
Me "Just trying to brush my hair so that Mommy looks pretty.  Now I need to brush your hair, so that you look pretty."
Molly  "No Mommy, I not pretty."
(Audible sound of my heart breaking while I simultaneously gasp)
Me "Yes you are sweet girl.  You are a very pretty girl."
Molly  "No, I not a pretty girl."
(I may have been near tears at this point while hugging my daughter)
Me "Yes, you are the most beautiful girl in the world."
Molly  "No, I not a pretty girl..." (Cue silly Molly grin from ear to ear) "I am a Pretty Princess, not a pretty girl..."
Me  (laughing, and hugging my sweet girl in relief) "OK, You are officially the prettiest princess of this house."

   You can't imagine how relieved I was to discover that this was far from a self esteem issue.  Of course, now I may need to work on taming her ego down just a notch...I mean, I know she is my princess, but she may become quite distressed when the rest of the world doesn't treat her this way.