The Fish Pond

What Really Happened to My Kitchen

Okay, before I begin, I have to tell you all I LOVED reading your comments about what you think happened in my kitchen. They were all wonderful, but Jen's comment made me laugh out loud the first, second, and third time I read it, so she wins. Thanks everyone for playing, because I really needed it.

So BigDaddyFish and I had had kind of a late night. We were blowing off steam after a couple of trying weeks, during which Nemo has started getting up in the middle of the night or particularly early in the morning, we think because he misses nursing. We went to bed at 5 am, and Nemo got up at 7:20 because he wanted to go down and get a bowl of cheerios, and since he's 2 he needs supervision to do that, so I grumpily got up and helped him. After all the other kids got up, I went back to sleep at about 8:30, and the kids got us up again about 10:30. The kids felt bad about the hard week we'd had, and wanted to do something nice for us: make us breakfast in bed.

Now, that in and of itself isn't a big deal. They've done it before, usually just a plate with cookies, cereal, and/or fruit bars arranged in the shape of a smiley face. We don't mind that, though usually they go through an entire box of cheerios by the time they get done spilling it all over the floor. But a quick dance with a broom fixes that up, so no problem. This time, they decided to use a recipe from this cookbook:
Never mind that the instructions at the beginning of the book clearly state that it's meant to be used with ADULT SUPERVISION. My kids have selective memory for such things. So they set out to make this recipe:
And they did. Then they let Sunny and Nemo loose in the kitchen, and they did whatever they did with the food coloring, and, well, my hardwood floors will never be the same. Good thing we were planning on refinishing them when we move out, because it needs to be done now.

Which is why (to quote Lewis Black) BDF and I went out on Sunday and bought a locking cabinet for all craft supplies and forbidden food items. We're still not done fixing the kitchen up, that'll probably take a week, but this is what it looks like now:

Thanks for playing, everyone.

What the H E Double Hockey Sticks Happened Here? Contest

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pertinent information: the table and floor were clear and clean when BigDaddyFish and I went to bed at 5 am. So answer the question: What the hell happened here? Get creative. Make me laugh. Post your answers as comments to this post. The answer I like best gets a $25 gift card to Starbucks (yes, it's totally subjective). Contest open until Midnight EDT March 24 (Monday night).

Five, Whether You Like it or Not

You turned 5 on Sunday, Sunny. Yes, I know your party isn't until next month, but I'd like to remind you that was your choice, you wanted to have your party at the craft store, and they stopped doing parties for a while. I wanted to pick something else, but you wanted to have a family day on your birthday, with a party next month for your friends. So next month we'll go decorate totebags with 15 of your closest little friends, then mainline some cake and juiceboxes and call it a day. But you're still five, no matter how much you try to deny it. Grandpa says you're afraid you won't get to have your party if you admit you're five. But you will - how could we not celebrate that our baby girl is five?

You talk incessantly. Seriously. You talk in your sleep. You talk all day, you talk all night. Your Nana wanted to get you a doll that talked all the time in hopes that it would teach you what it was like to be around someone who talks all the time, thinking it would annoy you like we sometimes get annoyed with you. But I asked Nana why she would do that to me, because I know you, my dear. You'd find it delightful. I already need to get a babysitter just so I can sit in the car and read a book and be able to hear myself think. But you ask good questions. You have a bright intellect. You are funny and inquisitive and love to show us how much you know. Your little brain is like the proverbial sponge, sucking up any and everything around you.

Your Nana and Poppy took you out shopping for your birthday, to lunch at the diner and then Gymboree and JCPenney to let you pick out some clothes. Nana said you went in to Gymboree and you remembered everyone who works there, even though you haven't been there in more than a year, and you talked to them as if you just saw them last week. I told her that you talk to everyone like that, even if you haven't yet been formally introduced. Everyone is your oldest and bestest friend. I hope you never lose that. Anyway, your Nana said you picked out the dresses at Penneys, the non-girly girly dresses with swirly skirts that aren't pink, which is funny because pink is your favorite color. Then you picked a jeans skirt and top and ladybug hair clips and a yellow dress with ladybugs on it, and they are quintessentially you. Nana said you looked at her and said "Let's go home. You've spent enough of your money now, you don't want to spend too much." Amazing perspective from a 5 year old. And also funny.

Your smile makes it hard to stay mad at you, even when you're being pesky and tormenting your brother. That lovely, amazing smile that is so much like your grandmother that it physically hurts to look at you sometimes. You seem to be in a weird sort of competition with your brother to see who can be more of a middle child, and you fight all the time, but then in the same hour we'll be at the grocery store and you will insist that you have to get something for Little Man, just because. Your baby brother is your constant companion who wants nothing more than to do whatever you want to do because he wants to be big like you, even though he's just about bigger than you already. He is delighted to let you order him around and to do your bidding the whole day through. He pops up in the morning and after saying good morning and hugging your dad and me he wanders off to find you and see what the day's adventures hold.

You were the best surprise I've ever received, my Sunny girl. My little teeny big girl with the infectious laughter and the sweet smile. Happy birthday, baby.

Love,

Mommy

 

 

 

 

Weaning: I Can't Tell If the Fat Lady has Sung or Not

Okay, so, BigDaddyFish and I went away three weeks ago, and Friday the 20th was the last time I nursed Nemo. He was really upset about us going away, so I lay down with him on my bed and snuggled him up close and nursed him until he fell into that drunken, post-nurse deep sleep. I picked him up and held him close, no easy feat as he's grown and I haven't and I'm not overly big to begin with and he's more than half my size at 2 years old, but I held him close and breathed in the smell of the top of his head, kissed him, and tucked him into his crib. Then BDF and I left for the trip. And Nemo did fine while we were gone.

When we got back, he asked to nurse that day, but was easily distracted by the presents we brought, and then he fell asleep that night in his high chair. I thought "Oh, yay, this went great! I am a weaning Diva!" because I am a total moron. The next night, though, when he didn't fall asleep in his high chair and I had to put him to bed because BDF couldn't, it was awful. He cried and cried. He begged for nummies. I snuggled up with him and gave him hugs and kisses and a sippy cup of water and just loved on him, but it ended with both of us in tears until he finally fell asleep.

I told myself it would get better. In time, he'd get used to it. After all, that's what happened when we forcibly evicted Sunny just shy of age 2. She asked a couple of times, then that was it. But not my poor Nemo.

He has asked every day of the three weeks, save two, and one of those he asked to just see them instead of nursing (and I respectfully declined to acquiesce to his request). And the past few days he's been sick. He's got a slight fever, and a sore throat, and a runny nose, and he wants his nummies. Saturday BDF and I went out for a quick date, just a decent dinner in peace and quiet (so we went to a pool hall, because that's quiet to us) to cap off a particularly stressful week, and Nemo cried and asked to nurse. Three weeks of no nursing, but I've still got milk, because it let down, and I cried. Superbabysitter told us to just go, and said he fell asleep pretty much right after we left. When we went upstairs to go to bed, I moved Nemo from our bed to his crib (which is just at the foot of the bed anyway) and he stirred and started to whimper a bit about the covers, and when I tucked his blanket in around his shoulders he mumbled "Thanks, Mom." My milk let down again. He's still sick, and the thought of at least pumping and giving him whatever I can pump has crossed my mind. The thought of nursing him crossed my mind, too, and I wondered again why the heck I wanted to wean him in the first place. Am I evil and selfish? What's wrong with nursing til age 3? He gets so much from it, why can't I give that to him? Then I remembered the pinches, the bites, the wrestling matches, the yanking on me, the trying to play with one nipple while he nursed from the other, and I felt less guilty. Not guiltless, but less guilty.

I've given him plenty of love, of cuddling and hugs and kisses and all his favorite things. We've tried to replace the closeness he got from nursing with other loving activities that don't involve my breasts. I've been covering up when he's around, not showering with him (and let me tell you, I never thought it'd be such a delight to shower ALL BY MYSELF), not changing when he's in the room. When I put him to bed, I lay him down in our bed and lay with him spooned in front of me, and I rub his back or put my arm around him and rub his tummy, hoping that will give him the skin to skin contact that he needs. One day I know he won't want me anywhere near him, and I'll miss these days. But it is oh so hard sometimes to remain resolute. I guess that's why they call weaning a process.

Homeownership: Not All It's Cracked Up to Be

I'd like to write something eloquent and wax poetic about the pros and cons of home ownership, but I just discovered a leak under my disposal under the kitchen sink, and, well, the house is 20 years old. This is just going to keep happening. I'm tired right now, it's been a long day. Tomorrow, maybe, I'll write a post about weaning. Or fixing the damn leak. Or something. But now, now I'm going to sleep.

The Next Class at Hogwarts?

"Bye, hon, I'm leaving," I said, bending over him in the bed to kiss him goodbye.

"Where you going?  Don't you want to get back in here with me?"

"I can't, I have to take Sunny to school."

"Well, hurry up, I'll wait right here for you."

"You have to get to work! I'll be gone for an hour."

"That's okay. You underestimate my dedication to the Sleeping Arts."

Dr. Destruction Strikes Again

So this morning, BigDaddyFish and I were utilizing our Locked Door strategy when Sunny came up yelling that Nemo had pulled out all the cords to the tv again. He is rather prone to doing just that, so we had no reason to doubt her, but also didn't see any urgent need to go running down to fix the problem. They'd survive without Oswald and Hi-5 for a few minutes while we finished our conversation. But Sunny's been really working on that middle child competition (you know, the one where Little Man and Sunny compete to see who is the Most Middle Child of the middles) so she had a full-on temper tantrum necessitating a trip to her bed for a while to think about staying calm. Once I got her squared away I went downstairs to fix the tv, only to find that all the cords were plugged in. Nemo had spit liquid into the DVR and shorted it out. This isn't the first time this happened. He spit it into our old cable box that I then was able to get working again just in time for us to decide to upgrade to the DVR. (I SWEAR I wrote a post about that, but I can't for the life of me find it. It was right before Christmas, I think. Ring any bells?)

This time drying it out didn't work, so I called Tsacmoc to tell them what happened and to arrange to get a new DVR (yes, I plan on paying for it). I waded through their ridiculous menus, and got a message that said that my phone number isn't in their records. After banging the phone on the counter a couple of times, I tried again, this time being vague until I got an actual human person to talk to.

The Monday after BDF and I got back from our weekend, a Tsacmoc service person showed up at my house. I was bewildered, because I would have known if we'd called for service, and we hadn't. The guy said someone called to complain there was no sound from the TV. Besides the fact that I wouldn't call the cable company for such a thing, I couldn't figure out what had happened. About ten minutes after the guy left I looked a bit more closely at the receipt he'd forced me to take and noticed that the phone number it was showing was not my number. Not even close. I called the guy back and told him not only what the problem was but also my actual number, but of course it never got translated into the system.

To make a long frustrating story short, tomorrow a tsacmoc service person is coming to our house to bring us a new DVR. I think that is a scheduling coup for me, because never have they ever come out to our house so quickly. I told the guy on the phone "My kid spit juice into the DVR and shorted it out" and that I was fully prepared to pay for it and the guy said, "Well, we'll just put in the service call, and we'll see tomorrow if you actually have to pay." WTF is that supposed to mean? He doubts that my kid actually spit stuff in the box?

Stay tuned for tomorrow's installment of Dr. Destruction. Any bets on what he's going to destroy next?

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Yesterday while I was busy being unplugged, I went to visit some other ponds. First, my wonderful friend Stacy let me blogsit over at her place where I talked about a profound experience that I still think about 16 years later.Then, I also talked a bit more about the importance of nurturing your marriage over at DC Metro Moms, and darn if that thing didn't get picked up for syndication next week, too. Check them out and enjoy!

We're Busy!

It's hard to get alone time with your spouse when you have four small kids needing all manner of care running around the house trying to destroy it. You spend all day chasing them around and putting out fires, then at night you are just too exhausted to even look at each other, much less get a little action. During the crazy daytime hours, it's difficult to even find a few moments when the decibel level is low enough that you can actually discuss a strategy for managing the house, much less to tell each other how you feel. BigDaddyFish and I started about a year ago using our friend, the Locked Door, each and every time we needed it. Need to discuss who is going to drive who to school? Go behind the Locked Door. Feeling lonely because you haven't seen each other all week thanks to the long commute and a crazy activity week for the kids? Go behind the Locked Door for a little smooch. Need to give yourself a timeout before you have a stroke? Go behind the Locked Door. We've been using it for all kinds of things, not just Alone Time, if you get my meaning.

It's funny how each kid reacts differently to the Locked Door. Sometimes we don't even lock it, just close it, just to see what they'll do. Trout will stand outside it and whine (actually quite impressive since she's 9), but if ignored will go away, and usually won't try the door to see if it is actually locked. Little Man sees the door as a challenge and will immediately go try to find something to use to unlock it, but again, often without trying it first to see if it's unlocked. Sunny will try the door and then stand outside it and pound on it and try to engage us in conversation through the door. Nemo will pound on it and yell "Ma! Ma! Da Dee! Doow shut!" They all have trouble with knocking, hence the liberal use of the lock in the first place, and our usual response, no matter what we're doing behind that door, is "We're busy! Go [watch a movie/play in traffic/wait on your bed/ask your sister] away!" so that we have a few minutes to finish our conversation before facing the hordes.

Yesterday Sunny and Nemo successfully breached the closed but not locked door, and we discovered that Nemo needed a diaper change but that we didn't have any diapers. Sunny brought us a bunch from the other floor of the house without us asking, we kissed the top of her head and sent her away so she didn't have to smell her brother's toxic waste, and we shut the door. BDF changed the baby while I finished getting dressed and we both continued our conversation. Sunny decided we were taking too long after a minute or so, so she came and banged on the door. And before either BDF or I could open our mouths, Nemo yelled out "We're Bushzy!"

Good to know we're getting through to somebody.