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Sunday, July 29, 2007

I won't be offended. I promise.

Have you seen TLC’s What Not to Wear? I love that show and was wondering, will someone just please nominate me and get it over with? I won’t be offended. I promise.

Every morning starts the same way. I open my closet and ponder the same question. Should I wear the white tee-shirt or the black tee-shirt? I buy a couple of new tee-shirts each spring and add them to my existing collection of white and black tee-shirts. I just can’t help myself. I’m not sure what my problem is but even when I do decide to add a little splash of color to my wardrobe it’s always with a tee-shirt. I often wonder why I can’t dress a little cuter or a little trendier like some of my friends from M.O.P.S. (Mothers of Preschoolers). You know who you are ladies so I won’t mention any names.



Okay so I guess I lied about not mentioning any names but I couldn’t help myself. These girls always look so nice.

I used to have a much nicer wardrobe but ever since I’ve become a stay-at-home mom I have gotten into this horrible rut. Maybe I’ve just gotten lazy. Or perhaps it’s called having a 3 year old and a 4 year old and who has the time or money to grab anything other than a couple of tee-shirts when I am out shopping. For myself. Which is rare.

I do have a couple of nice things that aren’t tee-shirts and if I need to I will buy something new for a particular occasion but I guess I just don’t see the point in dressing up to schlep the kids to school or to go to Wal-Mart to get groceries. Heck. When I’m at Wal-mart as long as I’m just wearing a shirt I look better than half of the people I see there.

Anyway, after watching quiet a few episodes of What Not to Wear, I know that Clinton and Stacy would have a field day with all of my white and black tee shirts. (I just got up and went to my closet. I counted 6 white tee-shirts and 8 black shirts. I think I have a problem.) They have done episodes with stay-at-home moms before and they always suggest getting some cute jogging suits for errands and a really nice little dress for date night with hubby. The prices that these moms end up paying in New York City for some cute jogging suits really make my jaw drop. I could send both of my kids to preschool for one month for they price they are paying for one jogging suit!

And don’t even get me started with how much they will spend on one really nice dress to wear to dinner with their husbands. Let’s face it. Where am I going to go around here that I would need to wear a dress to dinner? Unless it was prom night, I would be laughed right out of Carrabba’s! And I think I would feel ridiculous running errands in a $300 jogging outfit. But seriously folks, I could probably get used to it.

So if you do nominate me and they pick me for the $5000 shopping spree, I promise to look surprised. I will even pretend to be upset that my friends thought I needed a makeover.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

What about all the lasts?

All of the baby books go on and on about when to expect the first smile, the first step, the first word. They go on in great detail about what milestones your baby should be reaching and when they should be reaching them. We made sure to get as many of these firsts as we could on film. We got Sarah rolling over for the first time and Peter taking his first step. I have journal entries about their first words, where we were, how we felt, how they looked. All of this care was taken so that I would be able to look back and fondly recall all of the important firsts in my babies’ lives. So that I could remember everything exactly as it was.

But no one warned me to be on the look out for the lasts. No one told me to pay attention so that I would notice and remember the last time my son twirled his hair the way he had done a thousand times before. I used to think it was an adorable little nervous habit and at the same time I worried that he might be sitting in his very first job interview nervously twirling his hair between his right thumb and forefinger trying to figure out the best way to answer the question “Which piece of fruit would you be in the fruit bowl?” He used to do it all the time but he doesn't do it any more. I wish I could see him do it again. How did I miss the very last time?

No one told me to pay attention so that I would recall the last night, the exact last moment my little girl would fall asleep with her pacifier plunged firmly between her lips sucking like she was Maggie Simpson. She always looked so calm and peaceful sleeping with her paci but I was too busy worrying that she would be the only kid in kindergarten toting a pacifier, an assortment of blankets, doll babies and other lovies with her on her first day that I forgot to notice the last time she used it.

And what about all the other lasts I have missed. When exactly was the last time Peter said “oh-goo” when he meant yogurt or “nambies” when he meant bananas? When exactly was the last time I carried a sleepy Sarah to her room and whispered “lay your head on my shoulder” and she did? How did my babies look as they drifted off to sleep the very last time I held them after giving them their very last bottle? Why don’t I have a picture of that sweet sleepy expression? How did they look the very last time they splashed happily around in their little baby bathtub? How did it look the very last time they scooted across the floor on all fours before they learned how to walk? How did they look the very last time they threw Cheerios off their high chair table? How could I have missed all these lasts? Why didn’t I know to be looking for them, recording them, capturing them?

There are many days over the last 4 and a half years when I have thought things like "when will he be potty trained?", “will she ever learn to walk?", “if only they were older we could…” and now I look back and in my quest to hurry and grow them up I’ve missed too many of the lasts.

I don’t want to miss any more. I want to remember the very last time Peter is small enough to be picked up or the last time Sarah gives me her hand as we are walking across the backyard. I want to remember the last time they call me “Mommy” because it won’t be long until I am just plain old Mom. I want to remember and enjoy it all. I don’t want to hurry things up because unfortunately things are moving way too fast on their own.

Monday, July 23, 2007

He's less Jerry Seinfeld, more Chris Rock...

Up to this point Peter’s attempts at comedy have gone a little like this:

Peter: Knock. Knock.
Me: Who’s there?
Peter: Orange.
Me: Orange who?
Peter: Orange in that bowl over there! Hahahahahahahahaha!
Me: (weakly) Ha ha!

Luckily he passed quickly out of the knock knock phase after a couple of weeks of doing these lame jokes at the dinner table. But yesterday he entered into a whole new realm of funny. It was so funny I’m not even sure he knew he was making a joke. In fact, I’m quite certain he didn’t.

The weather around here has been so beautiful the last couple of days that we decided to eat dinner on the patio. After dinner we sat on the front porch with my parents to enjoy the breeze and the mild summer weather we have been having. Peter was playing in the yard while the adults were sitting on rocking chairs chatting. He came running up to me with his hands behind him on his bottom. My first thought was, “He’s got to poop.” He was running oddly with a strange gait and he had a peculiar look on his face. The look was part grin and part mischief so my second thought was, “Has he already pooped?” He stood in front of me and said, “Mommy, I need to go poop!” I said, “All right. Let’s go.” Before I could stand up to head into the house he made a farting noise with his mouth and from behind his back threw down a stick that was about 6 inches long, two inches in circumference and curved a bit in the center. He started to giggle and I laughed until I cried.

Sarah decided she wanted to get into the act so she ran up and said, “Mommy! I’ve got to poop.” So I said, “O.k. let’s poop.” And then she just stood there and started laughing. So we all laughed at the fact that she didn’t have any idea what was going on.

Peter was so proud that he had made us all laugh that he did it again and again and again and again until finally I had to tell him to stop and stop and stop and stop. Finally he stopped but not until he tried the gag with every stick, rock and twig he could find.

Even though the joke was a little crude, okay maybe a lot crude, I was so proud of him! I took his joke as a sign of his grand intelligence and brilliant sense of humor. Okay maybe that's taking it a bit far but I can't wait to see what other jokes our little comedian has up his sleeves in the future!