Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Naps- Josiah and Gabrielle

J- So, this will be our first time trying to write a post together, we'll see how this goes. Gabby's thoughts will be in intalics from here on out, right Gabby?

G- It's my turn, I'm really mad at you. This was my idea for a blogging topic and you just stole it from me. Like you always do. Like you take away everything that's ever brought me joy. Just like those little toys you call Legos. I don't know what they are for, and I don't actually enjoy them at all except to put them in my mouth, but you always, ALWAYS, take them from me. And does Mom do anything about that at all? NO! NEVER! It's always, "Thank you, Josiah, those pieces aren't safe for Gabby, let's go put them somewhere so she doesn't get hurt." Yes, thank you, evil queen of ruining all things even remotely fun or interesting. Act like it's for MY benefit. You know you wouldn't even care at all except you think someone else will find out you let me play with them. Just like how I used to get to climb on the couch...

J- Okay, Okay, Gabs? I think we got it. I'm sorry you feel I've stolen your idea. Would you like to type first, then? We're talking about naps...?

G- Yeah, Dummy, I KNOW we're talking about naps, it was my idea, remember? Just because you're 16 months older than me and I'm still in diapers doesn't mean I'm stupid. Girls develop before boys, REMEMBER? Sheesh, am I going to have to put up with this my whole life? "Josiah, help your sister, show her how, she doesn't understand..." Oh I understand, crazy lady who talks in that pretend sweet voice when she really wants to scream until her eyeballs pop out. I get it. You're trying to hold me back. You know that I will be the better woman some day and you are just determined that I never can be. It's YOUR fault I have to put up with this, why didn't you just have me first. You get nothing right...

J- Um, Gabby? I'm really, uh, enjoying what you have to say, and it's very well written. But, well, um, were you going to talk about naps? Because, uh, it's no big deal, I'll just change the title...

G- Oh, so now my title's not good enough either? What are you, some sort of expert? What exactly do you know about titles? HMMM?!?!? Stop looking at me with those obnoxiously big blue eyes that everyone always raves about while completely ignoring my much more interesting eyes that change colors. ANSWER ME?

J- Um, I don't remember the question...?

G- I. SAID. WHAT. DO. YOU. KNOW. ABOUT. TITLES.

J- Nothing, really. We'll name this whatever you want. I'm sorry.

G- Okay, thanks.

J- Okay, good. So now, do you want to talk about naps now? I mean, you actually skipped yours today in preparation for talking about this. So I think it would be a good time to dig in. Gabby? Gabs? Hey, Gabrielle?

G- ZZZZZZZZZZZZ.....

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Shoes- by Gabrielle

I LOVE SHOES!

Have you seen them? Do you know what I'm talking about? Yeah, shoes, that's it! They go on your feet and they make it so you can climb things and not get stuff in your toes. How wonderful! You can have many different pairs, and can get some to match about every outfit you own. (Trust me, I know, Mom tries...) But, more importantly, it's one of the best ways to pick a fight with adults. I'm here to share with you the various fights you can pick, and the most effective way to exasperate the adults in your life. Because that's what we almost-2-years olds are all about.

First it starts with not wanting them on at all. This can be a minor argument, used when you first get dressed in the morning. I like to keep this battle short, but loud. It works best with the throwing of socks, and, if you're lucky, anything else someone left in your reach. This morning I got a really good launch on a tube of diaper cream Mom had left on the table. Dinged her right in the forehead, I'm sure it left a mark. Fabulous. But I keep this fight short and sweet, because I like Mom to feel like she's won. This lulls her into a sense of serenity and a belief of control, and makes the later battles that much more delicious. Awesome.

The next fight is most effective with girls, but I do admit I learned it from my brother. It's the "Keep changing your mind about what shoe you want to wear" fight, which looks a lot like the "Beg to wear sandles in the rain/snow," fight and the "Try to wear shoes you outgrew a year ago" fight. The beauty of this fight is that it can happen any time and any place. Have had your shoes on for hours, and are happily coloring? What better time to randomly thrash about, grabbing at your shoes, and throwing a total fit? Mom getting you ready to go out to eat? This is the BEST time to declare you want a different set of more fashionable foot protectors. Who is Mom to complain, she changes her shoes two or three times before we leave the house. The beauty of this fight is it's versatility- there are no shortages for reasons to want to change your shoes. And you can't beat how long you can use it- I think Mom and I will be fighting about this for YEARS to come... AWESOME.

Another effective shoe fight- laces. Okay, if your Mom is smarter than my Mom, you might not have as much luck with this one, because very savvy moms only buy velcro. Some moms, like mine, are seduced by the cuteness of lace up shoes, but are able to resist the temptation, knowing what we are capable of. But if you ARE velcro-trapped, like I once was, you can figure a way out of it. See, my Mom always kept me in Velcro, whose only good use is to snag tights making Mom sigh with irritation all winter long. She thought, because I've never been a shoe-fighter, that for this winter she could get me some shoes with laces. (Remember what I said about lulling her... this was a long-played lull, and one I'm quite proud of...) Now that I have two pairs of shoes with laces, I'm in hog-heaven. I untie those things every chance I get. Double knots? PSHAH! Nothing to me. And every time she tries to tie them, another total fight comes out. It's wonderful. Pair this with the previous fight, and you can demand to always wear your laced shoes, that you always unlace... oh, the joy! Just thinking about it makes me so happy, I can barely type straight...

So, in thinking of shoes, don't forget these wonderful tantrum opportunities. And I'm sure, with some creativity, you can come up with some of your own. As suggestions, consider the "I WANT to wear my shoes to bed" fight, the "Why can't I put my dirty shoes on Grandma's sofa" fight, and the "But I LIKE my shoes on the wrong feet" fights... These should be a good start, and bring you many strife-filled days ahead. Happy screaming!

Welcome to our new BlogHome

As requested, I am working on moving our family blog to a new home. I know, I know, it's about time. I hope to get our old posts moved from our old home to this new fancy-schmancy one, but please be patient. I do, after all, have a few other things to do during my days. I can't miss my Oprah and Dr. Phil. (If you are new to me and our blogging, you will realize that that is a joke in reference to the idea that many people think stay at home moms watch a lot of daytime TV. See, I used sarcasm. Please be prepared for much sarcasm. If you do not like or enjoy or understand sarcasm, this is not the place for you...) Thanks for your patience as we make this move. See, I can be polite, too...

Oh, and please note- not all blogs are written by Elizabeth (and none are by Rob...) Yes, we are raising our children in the Internet age, and Josiah and Gabrielle contribute to our family blog as well. We try to make sure they we include their names in the subject title. Otherwise, it's written by Elizabeth. And for Elizabeth.

We look forward to pretending like any of you care what we have to say! And celebrating our delusions of grandeur in believing that anyone reads any of this...

Friday, September 12, 2008

Yes, my kids are loud...

Since when do grumpy old men think they rule the world? No, not Congress. No, not Jack Lemon and Walter Mathau (or whoever those two geezers were that made that movie...) No, I mean the nasty just plain crotchety old farts that give my kids the evil eye for no reason other than, oh, BEING KIDS. For example...

As most people who know me know, I LOVE books. I read an inordinate amount of STUFF every week. Rob has put me on book suspension- I have to "get rid" of some books before I'm allowed to buy any more. It's either that or get a job paying six figures to try to help pay for the books I want to own. That wouldn't even make a dent... SO- hello Jefferson County Library...

The tricky thing is that I have to bring my kids to the library with me. Wait, I mean, I GET to bring my kids to the library with me. Yeah, that's what I meant. And although the libraries here are super kid-friendly- lots of story times, reading contests, separate rooms for just the kids that keep them away from the people doing "serious reading" of their stupid magazines- there are still times when *gasp* little children can be seen and heard in the library. We all still have to check out our books and, oh, walk through doors, too. We go to the library about twice a week, so JoJo and Gabs sort of think they own the place. Unfortunately, so do the age- and personality- impaired old men.

Without fail, every time we are at the library, we get what I now refer to as "The Elderly Sigh." You know the one I'm talking about. It's usually accompanied by the "Intentionally not-so-subtle Eye-roll" and the "Pretending-to-whisper-but-really-yelling Criticism." Some man actually asked the front desk where he could check out his books where there weren't "All these brats running around." Oh, yes. (Please refer to my previous post, "Do you really want to anger four mothers of preschoolers at once?" because we were not really the people this comment was directed at...)

Let me back up for a minute- I'm not anti-old men. Grandpas, and Santa Claus inspired jolly old men, are essential. The world needs more of them. I just get so irritated by these GROUCHES who think because they have been around longer, they're entitled to be jerks.

SO, here it is, listen up you old poopers, you know who you are: LET IT GO. You will cross the paths of my children for 2-3 minutes, tops. They don't stand still so well, they like to hang on things, they want to pick things up. But, believe it or not, I see them, they are supervised, I can reach them easily, oh, and the library belongs to them, too. They may get excited and run, scandalously, 5 feet in front of their mother. They may want to try to open the door for you, or help you put your books in the book return. They do not do this just to make your afternoon icky. They want to be a part of society and they are trying to figure out where they fit. I apologize profusely that you believe humankind should have died off once you passed toddlerhood. But, guess what, it didn't. They are at the flipping library, learning to read and love books, which, in my opinion, should warm your heart and make you feel a bond with them. But, if that's not possible, then just take a deep breath. In just a few moments, we will be out of your way, and out of your life. And, well, your loss. Because you will miss an opportunity for friendliness, admiration and pure love that only exists in the toddler. You miss the chance to see two of the most beautiful smiles, and the sweetest laughs, to grace your presence. Too bad. My kids rock, and you, sir, are no Jack Kennedy.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Dinosaurs- by Josiah

This month, I have discovered dinosaurs. I am so excited, I can barely contain myself...

See, dinosaurs are perfect for little 3-year old boys like me. They are loud. They are big. They break things. They make messes, and then they can say, "Hey, it was an accident, I'm a big awkward dinosaur, sometimes I can't help myself." This, in my world, is perfect. Just today I knocked over the tower Gabby was building. She cried, but I said, "Sorry Gabby, it was an accident, I was being a dinosaur." Mom thought that was "so cute" so she soothed Gabby rather than making me apologize again and give her a hug. That was pretty cool. So I tried it again. Just so you know, that really only works a few times- after try number 7 Mom said it was time to sit and do something quiet. But, hey, I still get away with it at least once a day.

I have been working really hard on my dinosaur growl. Without sounding like a braggart- it's quite good. Granted, I've never actually heard a dinosaur. But I'm thinking that if there were two things a dinosaur growl could do it would be 1) to make a little sister cry and 2) to give moms headaches. Judging by the responses in our house, I have those two criteria down pat. I can't tell you how many times a day Mom says, "Josiah, please, can we try to only be a dinosaur when we are outside?" or "Josiah, Gabby is using her words and saying 'no,' I don't think she wants to be chased by a growling dinosaur right now." If those aren't ringing indorsements of my skills, I don't know what is.

Oh, and I found this great book at the library about dinosaurs. Because they are featuring dinosaurs this month, there weren't many. But I found this wonderful 50 page reference manual with words and ideas WAY over my head. I begged Mom to get it and checked it out myself. I have NO idea what it's talking about, and I barely listen when she reads it. But it takes her, like, 30 minutes to get through it, especially because I interrupt her and describe all the pictures. Wrongly. And I use "why?" a whole lot, which seems to frustrate Mom because, well, I don't think she knows. THIS has got to be my best nap-stalling coup yet...

Overall, I'm enjoying this new phase. I've asked Mom to make me a dinosaur for Halloween. I've also asked to be a giant excavator, a back-hoe loader and a tiger. It's fun to keep her guessing...