Because I Know You Love a Good Arden Moment

Today at (where else?) Wal-Mart, Arden was mad because I wouldn't let her buy (1) Star Magazine (2) a Dr. Pepper (3) a bleach pen (seriously. Who stocks those shelves near the check-out? Do they hate all parents, or is it just me? Are they TRYING to set my kid up for failure? Could they not fill those shelves with broccoli or cantaloupe or toilet paper?). Not recognizing Arden's bad mood, the sweet checker made the mistake of telling Arden her dress was pretty. This innocuous comment set off a string of rude remarks from AK, most of which were (thankfully) unintelligible thanks to the combination of her southern accent and inability to pronounce the letter r. I think the checker got the general idea, though, what with all the forceful finger pointing and furrowed eye brows going on.

In the car, I asked Arden why she was so rude to the checker.

"Because she said my dress was pity. It's not pity. You're pity, Mommy."

Well. What are you supposed to say to that?

Apparently, not "It doesn't matter if you think I'm pretty (which, by the way, thanks) you're still going to Time Out as soon as we get home. And you can forget about that ice cream cone you wanted."

Because, if you say that, all of a sudden you're not so pretty anymore. At least according to your three year old.

Claire goes to Kindergarten

Interview with a Kindergartner....

Did you have a good day?
It was gooooood times.

What was your favorite part?
Well, the most funnest part was lunch and recess. But you didn't let me eat in the cafeteria today.

You didn't eat in the cafeteria? Where did you eat?
I ate IN the cafeteria but I didn't get a tray. I want to get a tray tomorrow.

You actually want to eat school food?
Yes. I want to get a tray.

Well, tomorrow's lunch is hamburgers. You hate hamburgers. You throw an enormous fit every time your dad grills hamburgers and demanded a hot dog instead. Last time I didn't have any hot dogs and there was weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Well. Now I like hamburgers. And I want to get a tray.

Ooookaaaay...Besides lunch, what else did you like?
I liked recess. But it was only, like, five minutes.

I think it's a little longer than five minutes--
You also didn't let me ride the bus.

Trust me, Claire. You don't want to ride the bus.
Yes, I do. The big kids ride the bus and I'm not a little kid.

So you're saying you wish I hadn't made your lunch or picked you up from school?
Yes.

Awesome....What did you learn about today?
Ohhhh stuff like how not to spread germs and have good manners. We didn't learn to read yet.

I'm sure you'll get to that soon. Did you meet some new friends?
Yeah! There's this boy Oliver from the purple room last year he's in my class but he likes to be called Ollie just like I like to be called Claire Bear.

Did you tell your friends to call you Claire Bear?
Noooo....that's my FAMILY nickname, Mom.

Got it. Sounds like you had a good day. Are you excited about tomorrow?
I have to go back tomorrow?

Yes, sweet girl. Tomorrow and the next day and the next day and the next day....So many days that will fly by until the next thing I know, I'm taking your picture walking into your first day of college instead of kindergarten.
What are you talking about?

Proofs (not the mathematical kind)

Proof that I use bribery as a parenting technique far too often:

Me: Claire, please go clean up the toys in the playroom.
Claire, eyes locked on the TV: I'll give you 15 bucks if you do it.

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Proof that you never know what Arden will do next:

She got sent to time out during dinner tonight for putting green peas down Claire's shirt.

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Proof that having a baby who wears a contact has an upside:

When I ran out of saline solution yesterday, I borrowed Amelia's.

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Proof that I am entirely too sleep deprived:

When Jason asked me how many times I got up with Amelia last night, I couldn't remember.

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Proof that I'm not as cool as I think I am:

I got mad--really, really mad--that my DVR didn't record So You Think You Can Dance for the THIRD WEEK IN A ROW.

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Proof that there is no substitute for life-long friendships:

Friends who haven't seen each other in weeks (love you, Ash!) or even months (love you, Gretch!), pick right back up where they left off last time they saw each other.

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Proof that my first baby is growing up too fast:

Claire starts kindergarten in two weeks. Two weeks! I feel sick just thinking about it.

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Proof that my last baby is growing up too fast:

Amelia is doing that "get up on all fours and rock back and forth a few times before face planting into the carpet" thing. I fear this means crawling is coming sooner than I'd like.

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Proof that I am a glutton for punishment--and also probably delusional:

I'm contemplating another half marathon--and have only run once since Amelia was born. Quick, someone talk me out of this--please!

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Proof that I DO get paid for this stay-at-home gig:

Arden: Mommy, I like you.

Claire: Mommy, you look so pretty today. Can I have all your clothes when I'm old?

Amelia: Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

In Which I Regale You With Tales of My Awesome Parenting

At least two nights a week, Claire loses her blankie. She hasn't had it all day, has no memory of when she last saw it and is so distraught at the idea of actually sleeping without it that she can't help look for it. She must remain in bed (which is where she always is, tucked in and bedtimes stories already told, when she discovers the blankie is gone), crying and whining and lamenting the unfairness of her blankie-less existence. Jason and I begin frantically searching for the lost lovey, knowing that as soon as it's found, Claire will go to sleep and we can finally sit on the couch and watch So You Think You Can Dance.

But the other night when Claire discovered her blankie was missing, I had had enough. Instead of looking for the blankie, I began to lecture her about keeping up with her things and how it wasn't MY responsibility to find HER lost objects and if it was really THAT special to her then SHE should get out of bed and look for it HERSELF. I told her that she couldn't expect me to drop everything to look for her blankie and I may have even thrown in something about kindergarteners taking care of their own things. I gave her another kiss and told her she could help me find the blankie tomorrow. Sniffling, she agreed and said good night.

I went downstairs to watch TV, congratulating myself on teaching Claire a lesson in responsibility. Next time, I thought to myself, she'll remember to leave her blankie on her bed so it won't get lost.

An hour later, I remembered I had left wet clothes in the washing machine. As I began transferring the towels to the dryer, I noticed something pink and silky at the bottom of the machine. I reached in and pulled out Claire's beloved blankie.

Here's where I would like to tell you that I went up to Claire's room right then and there and apologized. But I didn't. I tossed the blankie in the dryer and finished watching Anderson Cooper (yeah I'm old, so?). Before I went to bed, I tiptoed into Claire's room and laid her freshly laundered blankie by her pillow.

The next morning she came downstairs, holding her blankie triumphantly over her head. "Mom! You found it!"

"Oh, yeah. I knew that thing would turn up somewhere..."

B--Double O-- T--Y, Oh My!

At her three year check up, Arden's pediatrician thought we should go ahead and do a vision screening on her. After covering Arden's eye, the nurse walked over to the vision chart and pointed to one of the shapes, "What is this shape, Arden?"

Arden, who was doing a little dance this whole time, paused for a minute. "Bootie."

The nurse pointed to the next shape. "What's this one?"

"Bootie."

"And this one?"

"Bootie."

By this time, Dr. P was laughing really hard. Never one to let an opportunity to be the center of attention pass, Arden seized the moment. "Bootie! Bootie! They're all bootie!"

I finally intervened. "Maybe we should just wait until her four year check up for the vision screening."

Total killjoy, I know.

After that day, Arden has put the word "bootie" in her daily vocabulary rotation. She works it in whenever she can--even when it makes no sense. Oh, wait, it NEVER makes sense. I'll give you some examples...

"Arden, would you like peanut butter or turkey for lunch?"
"Bootie."

"Arden, go put your swimsuit on so we can go to the pool."
"Bootie."

"Arden, what should we get Ashley for her birthday?"
"Bootie."

The other day I even caught her singing "Bootie, bootie, bootie, bootie," to the tune of "Jesus loves me." Frankly, I'm not really sure what to say about that.

The Patch

We started patching Amelia's good eye last week. I have been dreading this particular part of her treatment since the day she got diagnosed. I know it's for the best. I know it's her only shot to gain some vision in that eye. I know she'll be fine. I know that, eventually, this will be just a small blip on the radar for her. I know.

But for now, it's agonizing. When she wakes up all smiley and bright-eyed, it feels wrong to patch her one good eye, knowing that I'm essentially making her blind by doing it. It's frustrating for her, not being able to see. She lasts about an hour with the patch on, then goes to sleep. I understand this fight or flight response. Sometimes I wish I could just go to sleep too.

There have been some glimmers of hope though. When her good eye is patched, she reaches for toys held up in front of her. She smiles at me and laughs at her sisters. She seems to see something, although her doctor doesn't seem quite as impressed by this as Jason and I are.

Claire and Arden don't like it when Amelia's eye is patched. They want to be able to see all of her sweet face, as do I. I think it bothers them to see her having to do something that is difficult for her. Claire told me not to take Amelia's picture when she's wearing the patch. She said people would laugh at her. I told her they wouldn't. She asked what if they did. I said I would punch them in the face.

And I wonder where Arden gets her aggressive streak from.

I've had several kids ask about the patch. The first, a precious preschooler with pigtails that looked like pom poms, was fascinated with Amelia's pink and green camo patch. She wanted to know what was wrong with Amelia's ear. Claire, with the authority that only comes with being five years old, rolled her eyes and said, "it's not her EAR. It's her EYE. And there's nothing WRONG with it. It's learning how to SEE."

Not quite right, but I appreciated her enthusiasm. At least I won't have to worry about Amelia's sisters taking up for her.

Free

My second baby is three, or in her words, "free". I know it's cliche to ask this, but seriously, how have three years gone by already? Someone please tell me why my babies keep growing up on me.

Arden has been anxiously awaiting this birfday (her words) for weeks. It's as if she knows that "three" graduates her from the toddler category and places her firmly in the preschooler category. She is eager to get older, desperately trying to catch up to Claire, not understanding that she'll always be on a two and a half year delay.

She choose her potty (party) location herself. Chuck E Cheese--a location I agreed to only because Claire also celebrated her third birthday there. She was clear about wanting Tinker Bay-yell (Tinker Bell) on her cake and a new bike as her present. She decided on these details weeks ago and never once waivered from them.

That's one thing about my Arden--once she's made up her mind, she's made up her mind. This isn't always a good thing, as it makes for one very stubborn kid, but it does mean that she's not going to waste 30 minutes in the toy aisle at Target trying to decide what to buy with the $5 she got last week and then change her mind in the checkout line (claire).



She enjoyed every minute of her party--playing with her friends, meeting Chuck E Cheese, blowing out her candles three times, opening her presents (especially opening her presents) and having a day that was all about her.




Free years old. Can you believe it? I guess this means it's time to give up the paci. Also the biting. And, probably the hitting and pinching. Hmmm...Looks like we have a big year ahead of us.