Peter's Race Track

Next year, in particular, when I am fighting to get my 4 year old son out of bed EVERY morning for his 5 days a week preschool class... the class that he BEGGED me to be a part of... I might need some reminders of why I put him in that class.

Next year, particularly come November and December, when money gets tight because it is A.J.'s birthday
and the holidays are coming and I still had to pay for his tuition ... I might want need some more reminders of why my family is "broke" all for the sake of my son's education.

Next year when I get the report back that he's gotten himself sent to the office for something again.....

Next year, when I have to drag a newborn and a 2 1/2 year old out of the house EVERY SINGLE MORNING of the week to get their big brother to school...

I'm pretty it's all's going to get OLD really fast.  But I will do it, because I love his preschool and we really think the 5 day class will be best for him.  He needs the structure and the routine and the preparation for kindergarten.  He needs the extra challenge.  And also because the 5 day teacher is amazing.  She has worked hard with Peter this year, even though she's technically not even his teacher yet.

There's the time she was the only one who was able to talk him out from under the table when he decided he wasn't in the mood for school that day.

There's the time he was randomly melting down and wouldn't come in the classroom at all and she scooped  him up in her arms and whispered into his ear gently until she'd changed his mind.

And then there was yesterday.

We arrived a bit later than usual and I was, frankly, all out of sorts.  I was trying to get his things put up and sign him in and a few of the other parents and I were chatting and, then A.J. ran off to play with the toy rubber animals.   I lost track of Peter in the hustle and bustle of everything and when I found him again I just loved what I saw:

As many preschools do, every morning the teachers set up a variety of toys around the room, sort of as learning stations.  They'll be some things to count and measure, some blocks, assorted puzzles, art supplies, etc.

So yesterday morning, in the middle table they'd set out a big piece of green butcher block paper and a cup of markers.  I assume the idea was the kids would all create a random big mural of their art together.  But based on what I saw, I'm not entirely sure that ever happened.

Peter got there first.  By the time I found him there, he'd selected a marker and had roughly drawn two big GIANT circles along the outside edge of the paper, one just inside the other.  The teacher looked at him and asked what he'd made.

"It's a race track!!" my son declared proudly.

"Well then," she said, and thought for a moment.  "I suppose you'll be needing some cars to race on it then?"

Peter agreed enthusiastically and she went and pulled out the supply of old matchbox cars... the ones they only rarely get out, probably because many of the boys would never play with anything else. Also because certain children (mine especially) have been known to fight over them.  She selected 4 or 5 and handed them over to Peter to race.

She reminded him to share, and when I left a few minutes later, there was a whole motley crew of little boys around my son,  fighting over taking turns racing the cars around the track Peter had drawn.

:)

It made me smile.

In all my years working with children as a camp counselor and a teacher there was often something they'd talk about in training called the "teachable moment."  The idea being, that teacher's must be flexible and be willing to grab onto children's enthusiasm over things when the opportunity arises and create a lesson, often out of no where, even when it means abandoning the original lesson's plan.

It can be tough to do.  In the older grades there are so many standards and tests that have to be taught and prepared for. Children can get out of hand if you're not careful and you can quickly find things are getting inappropriate.  As a music teacher, for example, you don't really want to find yourself caught up in a debate over Britney Spear's talent and morals, no matter how much you want to encourage the kids to speak intelligently about their preferences and tastes in music.

There was an old story that used to go around Sea World of some counselors who let their campers abandon their plans of painting pictures of fish in favor instead of painting one of their counselors and themselves to look like fish.  Or something.  The details of the story always got confused, but you can imagine the mess.  You can also probably imagine the shocked reaction of the park's General Manager when he just happened to come around a corner and find 20 some odd children and at least one camp counselor absolutely covered in paint.  But the thing is, those kids were having fun.  And isn't that the point of summer camp?  Learning is great and all, but this was SUMMER CAMP!

Obviously the teacher yesterday had other plans for that giant sheet of green paper.  Just like she knew that preschool boys often fight over those matchbox cars.

But she got them out anyway, grabbing on to my son's creativity and excitement at having drawn his very own racetrack.

Way to go her!

I love our preschool.

I just hope I can remember that next year, when we are there every day.

The second day and night

Peter came home from school yesterday , having managed to defy the odds and have a good day.  But as soon as I saw him he started asking for his pacy again.  By the time we arrived home he had changed up his tactics to the ever popular:

"Just for one minute Mommy?  Can't I have it for just one minute?"

Oh child.... if only it could be that easy.

If only I really could give you everything you want, give in to your every little request.  It would be so easy.  So satisfying.   If only doing that wouldn't be the absolute worst thing for you.

We powered through lunch and I set the kids to playing in the backyard for the first part of the afternoon.

Shortly before 2:00, tiny A.J. came up to me very matter of factly, kicked her crocs off of the wrong feet she'd been wearing them on and declared she needed a nap.  Clearly.  It was her nap time, but I had decided not to press the issue that afternoon.

Not long after his sister disappeared into her own room, stealthily suckling on her own pacy for awhile longer  (at least when she's safely hidden away from her brother,) Peter declared himself to be tired as well.  He requested the iPad, his bunny and his pacy and retreated to his bed.  He only got 2 of his 3 items, but he seemed okay with it.

The day wore on and I began to feel absolutely bushed.  The night before was catching up to me, and the stress of the whole undertaking wasn't helping either.

When 7:00 rolled around both kids were out in the backyard again.  Matt wrangled them back inside and together we changed them into pajamas for bed.  Getting them washed up and their teeth brushed was an entire other battle as well.  But soon enough Matt had A.J. in her room and I found myself tucking Peter in.

You can imagine what he wanted and how many times he asked me for it, but he was thankfully remaining mostly calm and rational this time around.  Matt and I searched for some of our "child friendly" chapter books for me to read to him (until maybe he even passed out listening) but found them to all be in boxes, stored out in the garage.  I tried the big book of Bible Stories but he wasn't having any of that.  He insisted instead, upon one of our big, busy, Richard Scarry books.  I had several of these when I was a child and I remember pouring over the funnny, detailed pictures for hours and had purchased a couple of these for my own children to enjoy just a few weeks after becoming a mother myself.

I selected Cars and Trucks and Things that Go for the evening because it is a good 69 pages of big, colorful detailed pictures of vehicles.  There's an underlying story there too of course, but Peter could mostly have cared less.  He and I followed the Pig family as they drove off to the beach for the picnic, followed the bicycle cop as she chased the reckless driver, found the elusive Goldbug hiding on every page and studied all the varies cars and planes and boats and things for well over an hour.  I had him thoroughly happy and distracted but by about page 40 I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.

Peter had lost hist attention for the story anyway and was starting to aimlessly flip through the pages in favor instead of simply pointing out all the cars that he wanted.  (All of them.)  I fell asleep to his pointing and saying "I want this one and this one and this one and..." and after a few minutes I rolled out of his bed and headed to my own.

Matt was working on the computer in our room and for sure Peter popped up several more times to share something in the book with his Dad.  Each time Matt sent him back to bed he had to deny him the pacy again.

At some point, Peter came in to tell me he'd had a rather smelly accident in his pull up.

Well that was a first.  Good gravy he'd better not be "regressing" to spite us because of his lost pacy!

Not long after that I fell asleep for real.

The next thing I knew it was after midnight and Molly needed to go out.  For the life of me I'll never understand why she insists on always waking me up for that.  Matt is just as good at letting a dog out and he probably wouldn't even remember and hold a grudge.  Anyway, she went out and I went to use the restroom and found Peter asleep in there on the rug.  The floor underneath the bowl was wet and it would seem he'd missed the bowl pretty thoroughly while peeing.  Lovely right?  I sent the boy back to bed after a good hand washing and mopped up the mess as best I could.  (That reminds me I need to wash that rug and better mop that floor again in a minute...)

I wondered if he'd done it on purpose again or if he was just "that" tired.  And if he was "that" tired, was it left over from the previous night or was it because he doesn't sleep as well without the pacy?

Either way, he needs to get over it.

Matt left for work at the normal time this morning and reported to me through my sleep that everybody was still sleeping.

At 7 am sharp, Peter promptly showed up beside me and crawled into my bed beside me.  He had his bunny and the Richard Scarry book and he went on and on about my needing to read it to him.

He asked for his pacy once or twice but that seems to be it for now.

The battle is raging on, but for now, the action seems to have died down.

I just wonder how much longer before he stops asking me for it altogether?

Cold Turkey

When Peter was on his third night of life he earned himself a pacifier.

I had them at home, ready and waiting of course, but as a new  mom I hadn't brought them to the hospital because I'd read you shouldn't give them to babies too early and risk confusing their latch.  But that night, there was just no other choice.  He wouldn't do anything other than cry or nurse and I absolutely couldn't sleep while he nursed.

Somewhere in the middle of that long, tough night, the nurse suggested the pacy and he's had one ever since.

The thing with my son is he was apparently born with a tremendous drive to suck.

Haha.

That's funny, and kind of mean if you read it like a pun.

But what I mean is that the child could NURSE.  And during the first year of his life, whenever he slept, he either had a pacy in or if the pacy fell out he sucked on his tongue.

By his first birthday, I had the thing limited to his bed.  It stayed there and he only used it when he slept (and occasionally for church and long car rides.)

It was great.

But then A.J. was born.

The lactation specialist told me to give her a pacy if I wanted by the middle of her second day of life.  This after she came to see if everything was going smoothly for us in the nursing department and she watched my brand new baby girl suckle with vigor for the full 45 minutes of our conversation.  I think the women feared for my nipples.

My nipples thanked her.

And it was when A.J. came home that the trouble with the pacy started back up again for Peter.

Every time we tuned around we'd find him with A.J.'s pacy in his mouth. A.J.'s ridiculous teeny little pink pacys. Sometimes you'd even hear the little "pop" sound from across the room as he'd steal them right out of her mouth.

Then we drove home for the holidays spending 6 days travelling by car over the course of about 3 weeks.

About 3 months later we moved to Washington spending 2 more days travelling in a car.

Then Matt deployed.

And in the new house Peter's crib was just down the hall from our main living space so he just kept going into his room and retrieving his pacy for himself.

I really tried to fight it.

I did.

But my husband was gone for a year.  I had a 4 month old and a 19 month old.  I was sad.  I was tired.

I lost the battle.

Peter's 2nd birthday came and went and he still used that pacy.  In fact, he used it almost all the darned time if we were at home or in the car.

His addiction was worse than ever.

Then we moved back to California.

Pacy pacy pacy pacy pacy.  My life started to feel like it revolved around the things.

By now A.J. was mobile.  She had one her mouth all the time.

And so did her big brother still.

Eventually Matt came home.  It was good, but it was a big adjustment.  With him to help me, I kept intending to do something about the pacys but never did.

Peter's 3rd birthday came and went.  Uncle Marcus came to visit and the pacy drove him insane.

After he left, driven by his brother's urging maybe, Matt put his foot down one weekend and Peter learned to keep the thing in his bedroom.  The compromise was that he could have it whenever he wanted, but only in his bedroom.

In an "out of sight, out of mind" sort of way it was great.

Except for the fact that my 3 year old still used a pacy and really, every chance he got, he'd try to sneak the thing back out of his room and drive us all crazy with the thing.  .

It was awful.

AWFUL.

I know a lot of you reading this must be like, WHATEVER, just take the thing away.  But my son is so stubborn.  You just have no idea.  His fits, when he really wants something tend to go on for two hours or more.

Two hours or more of kicking and screaming and tears and spit and hollering and HELL on Earth.

And now there's another baby coming.

There are 2 things that really NEED to happen before the birth:
1.  A.J. needs to get potty trained and
2.  The bigger kids need to lose their pacys.

Yesterday, Peter was sort of being awful about sneaking his pacy again so I put it up for him.  At rest time he screamed for it, but when I asked him to choose, he picked playing on the ipad over taking a nap and getting his pacy.  That was a first, so come bed time, I read him the longest story I could find and then tried to put him to bed without it.

I don't know what made me do it, but I just went for it.

It's odd really since usually I tend to over plan everything way ahead of time.

But like, if you're going to surprise your cracked out friend with a trip to rehab, you don't warn them about it ahead of time.  You just spring it on them and hope everybody survives.

Much like detox in rehab, it wasn't long before he started to wail.

"But I can't sleep without my pacy!!"

Over and over and over again.

My heart broke.

He soon started to get out of control, a bit violent even. He cried and cried and cried.

I cried myself.

I felt like I was... no I really was, completely destroying his entire sense of security.

Goodness, I'm starting to cry again just thinking about it.

He wailed and flailed.

Eventually Matt came in and we took turns holding him so he wouldn't hurt himself.

But the kid has serious willpower and stamina and it went on and on.

I tried to give him his beloved bunny, but he just kept getting mad and throwing it back at me.  The child has sucked on a pacy and rubbed the paws on that bunny to fall asleep practically every night of his life and suddenly I was taking half of that away.

We tried to hug him.  To love him.  To sing to him.  He wasn't having any of it.  The poor child was hysterical.

It was a bit more sudden than I should have gone for.

Perhaps I should have done a "countdown to goodbye pacy" or had a big farewell party or something.

But I didn't.  I just went for it.  It was stupid and it was awful.

For him and for Matt and for me.

Arguably, the worst for me.

To be fair, all I did is ask him to *try* to go to sleep without it.  If he really had tried and after 30 minutes he was still awake I would have given it to him.  I told him as much but he refused to try.  That was my original plan.... to just get him used to the idea of trying to sleep without it.  But he wouldn't hear any of it and before long I knew that we were just going to go for it.  He carried on until he exhausted himself.  It went on for well over 2 hours.  When exhaustion took over, I watched him fight to keep his eyes open.  Every time he jerked himself awake he'd feebly ask for his pacy again.

But finally he lost the battle.

I kept flashing back to the failed attempts we had with him to let him cry it out and sleep through the night.

I started to wonder, how long A.J. went on when I finally lost my mind about her getting up multiple times at night (somewhere around 13 months of age) and let her cry if out for real.

He slept through til morning, but Matt tells me the first thing he did was ask for the pacy again.

Matt let him play on the ipad until it was time to get up.  When I went in to get him I congratulated him on making it through the night without it.  He looked sadly at me and said "but I miss it.  I can't sleep without it."

I reminded him that he had, but my heart broke again.

It was a battle getting him ready for school, but he's there now.  I'm hoping he has a somehow has good day.

I did warn his teacher about what is going on.  I got lots of encouragement from the better, more mature moms, all of whom have been shocked to hear he even still had a pacy.  But my one friend, who has a child like Peter... a little warrior child who makes everything a battle, was like "why on Earth did you do that?"  I don't think her kid uses a pacifier, but if he did, she might stick with my other idea which was to just let him give it up when he's 25 years old ready on his own.

A.J.'s pacy has been relegated to live exclusively in her room for now.  She, being generally a much  more easy going child, seems okay with that.  Little does she know that in the coming months we'll have to fully say goodbye to hers as well.... once Peter is over his and I've gotten her potty trained perhaps.

But I feel awful.  I know that it is my fault.  I gave him the thing to get hooked on and I never took it away when I should have.  When it would have been hard to get rid of, but NOT like this.  For goodness sake, there is every likelihood that he's old enough now that he will remember this turmoil.  I certainly remember loads of crazy things from when I was three.

I only hope he forgives me.

This morning he gave me a big hug that lasted a long time before school.  That seemed like a good sign.  Because quite honestly, when we're in the heat of the battle he blames me for this.  He HATES me for this.

And he should.

Because I'm the one doing it to him.

I know that lots of things that you have to do for their own good suck, but this sucks a lot.

And at the same time is also really really stupid.

I wonder how many more days and nights this terrible, stupid, battle will last?

If you've ever heard me talk about how Peter basically fully potty trained in just 3 short days (aside from some residual constipation issues over the next couple of weeks as he figured out how to properly hold and release the stuff) you probably hated me.  That just went WAY to easily.

But this?

This is the worst thing ever.

True Confessions, from a fed up Mom who, at the end of a really hard, really long week, just can't take it any more

I've had it.

I'm tired of the 5000 articles and blogs and Facebook posts a day aimed at helping me realize I am a bad mother.  The well intentioned little notes home from preschool about being sure to send the kids in with a "healthy snack," a warm coat (that my kid refuses to wear) or whatever. The snide remarks or well meaning little suggestions from other, more experienced moms....

That I'm doing it wrong.

And if I really cared about my kids I'd do it another way.

Furthermore, I'm tired of rereading the same information, rewritten in someone's "own" words or simply forwarded on half a million times because the information is just so so very important who cares if I might have seen it already, it's worth my having to see it again just in case somebody more ignorant than me hasn't heard it yet.

So here it is now, for all the world to read.

My confession.

The God's honest truth.



I suck as a mother.



I'm aware.

Peter, A.J., unborn baby number 3, sorry kids but you drew the short straw.

You all seem to being doing fine to me, but in the interest of full disclosure I'll admit it for you here and now.

Mommy stinks at her job and here are all the reasons why:


1.  Mommy isn't a morning person.  She doesn't bound out of bed before 5 to get in her workouts and chores and personal time.  Instead, most of the time she sleeps until one of the kids wakes her up, and sometimes (*gasp!*) she'll even roll back over and doze off again for awhile longer even when she knows the kids are up.  She doesn't come gliding beautifully into the children's rooms each morning to sing them awake.  She is never Miss Molly Sunshine before 9 am and she just sucks at mornings.

2.  Mommy doesn't like to cook.  She doesn't like to cook SO MUCH SO that she has actually recently taken to just telling people she doesn't know how to cook or that she is a really bad cook so that people will leave her the hell alone about it.  Except that is an untruth and really Mommy just can't stand cooking.  The fact of the matter is, Mommy learned to cook when she was pretty young.  8 or 9 years old really.  She had to learn to cook because her parents had split up and her own mother was always at work around the dinner hour (and most of all the rest of the time as well) so she had to be the one to make meals for herself and her brother.  Maybe she doesn't do gourmet, but the food she learned to cook then was healthy and edible enough that it kept her and brother alive and well nourished throughout many of their formidable years.  But then again, because she started doing it at such a young age, by the time she reached adulthood she was just freaking over it.  And also, her husband has the nerve to disagree on the way and the things she cooks.  He knows better obviously, although she has never figured out why.  Anyway, so Mommy reasons if Daddy knows better than he can just do it when he is around.

But shockingly enough, last year, when Daddy was deployed, her children didn't starve, even after Mommy brought everybody back to California and she didn't have a sister-in-law to do much of the cooking for her.  Just like the children always get a shot at eating a filling breakfast and lunch.  Every day.  She can cook you see.  She just really hates it.

3.  Mommy doesn't stress out very much about food choices.  She supposes it's because of how much Mommy hates to cook, but some people who live almost exclusively in Judgemental Land have actually taken the time to be appalled by some of (a lot of) the things Mommy actually lets her children eat.  Regularly occurring items of this sort might include the following:

-sugary cereals (lucky charms, fruit loops, etc)
-pop tarts (yes, even the ones with icing)
-fruit snacks
-macaroni and cheese (from a box and everything.  Powdered cheese?  Love it.  Velveeta "cheese" product?  
     tastes great to me.)
-chicken nuggets
-fish sticks
-frozen pizza
-NON organic produce
-canned fruits and vegetables
-frozen vegetables (I'll never ever in a million years understand the judgement on this one.)
-pasta.  lots of carb loaded pasta.
-candy
-juice
-margarine
-ketchup
-ranch dressing

I know right?

Somebody call CPS on this women.  She doesn't love her children at all.

Or.... do her a favor and lighten the fuck up.

(Did she really just drop an F-bomb?  What is she so worked up about?)

Well, since you asked, she's so worked up because in addition to all these horrible things she actually feeds her kids a lot of really great things.  A Lot.  She works hard to give them tons of options and variety from all the food groups.  And frankly she just doesn't see the harm in letting them having some "easy," not so nutritious items as well.

Everything in moderation right?


Let's see... what else?

4.  Mommy has a temper.  She is overly emotional.  She loses her cool an cries a lot.  Sometimes she yells at the kids.  I mean yells.  She's not proud of it, but it happens.

Also, she sometimes let's the children hear her swear.

Not on purpose of course, but it happens.

She does always apologize afterward, but the damage is likely already done.


5.  Mommy only brushes the kids' teeth once a day (before bed) most days.  Actually, that's not true, Daddy does it at bed time most nights.  She really is that bad at mornings and never seems to remember.  Or if she does remember she is busy trying not to be late for something.  As she can not stand being late, she makes her choice and the tooth brush often looses out.

6.  Mommy does not believe in hovering.  She always keeps an eye out of course, but she believes in giving her kids a chance to work things out for themselves before she intervenes.  The means sometimes they fight.  Sometimes the fall down.  Sometimes they even cry because of her "neglect."  Allowing children to learn from their own mistakes can be costly that way.

7.  Mommy usually insists on buying the kids better quality, and usually "name brand" clothes.  We're not talking Gucci here, but she can't stand the kids shoes from Payless or clothes from Walmart.  She prefers to buy them a little bit nicer things whenever she can find the money because she feels they look nicer and hold up better.  If this is wasteful or frivolous  and Granimals really are just as good as Osh'Gosh, well, then she guesses she's just a snob.  Mommy is too busy worrying about teaching her children to take pride in their personal appearance and have a good sense of self esteem then to care if other people thinks she spends her (husband's) money unwisely.

8.  Mommy listens to regular, grown up radio stations in the car.
Can you even imagine some of the filth she's allowed to penetrate her children's ears?

9.  Mommy let's her nearly 4 year old and nearly 2 1/2 year old use a pacifier still.  Granted they are supposed to be for sleeping only but a lot of the time the pacy's get by her during the day.  She's already heard about it from the pediatrician and is sure the dentist will have something to say about it whenever she finally gets around to taking them there.  The truth is Mommy thinks its awful and disgusting too.  But she just can't make herself take the things away.  Clearly the children love them very very much...

10.  Mommy let's her children watch lots of television.  It started when their Dad was deployed because she couldn't stand the quiet all the time without it, and now, nearly a year later, she hasn't ever broken the habit of just always having the thing on.  Mostly this is junior kids, educational programming, but some days they watch hour after hour of it.  Sometimes the watch grown up TV too... sports (mainly college football, the food network, the travel channel and even lots of old episodes of The Cosby show.)

Mommy knows there are studies everywhere that show how damaging TV can be but you know what?  She doesn't care.  Her kids are both really smart (according to their teachers and other Moms and people who interact with them in general) so clearly the TV isn't doing too much harm.  Plus you know what else?  Mommy watched lots of TV when she was a kid too.   Also, Mommy doesn't care what anybody says, but hours of "educational" TV programs a day beats out video games ANY DAY of the year.

Although she's sure loads of folks disagree with Mommy on that one too.


But you know what else?

Mommy is doing the best she can.

Mommy tries really, really hard to do the very best she can.

Maybe she'll never be wonder women.  But she's trying, really really hard.

She loves her kids.  She wants the very best for them, but she is limited by her own shortcomings and the family budget.

She worries about her kids and reads all those annoying articles about what is supposed to be best for kids, constantly looking for help as a parent, even though most of the time the articles just make her angry.

She listens to the criticisms.  She takes all the heat and wishes she could do better.  She tries to do better.

But she is who she is.

She would do anything for her children.

She does do everything for them she can manage.

And she prays every night for their health and their safety.  She prays to be the mother her children need and the one they deserve.

And if any of this... ANY of it, really does make her a bad mother, well... fine.

That stinks.

But she's doing the best she can.

Epic Badness

Do you remember this book?

I do.

Well, I remember the title. Not so much with the details of why Alexander's day is so horrible.

Anyway, right now I'm just sitting here wondering why the author never wrote the sequel.  Or maybe there were some sequels, but probably not the one I need right now.

The one where Alexander is all grown up and has become a parent himself and everything he does (or tries to do) for his children goes really really wrong.

Because this week?

This week is Jennifer and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad WEEK.

And at this point I only have 2 things left to pray for:

1.  That this terrible, horrible, no good very bad week ends soon and does NOT, in fact, turn into a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad MONTH.

and

2.  That everybody survives.

Amen.

Mr. Fix It

Let me begin by saying this:  While I love my husband very much, being "handy" around the house has never one of his strengths.  I mean, he can hammer a nail or drill holes for screws as well as the next person, sure, but when it's come to bigger projects or home renovation he's always much preferred to hire somebody else to do the work for us.

Until lately.

Maybe it's because we've had a lot of extra time on the weekends (there hasn't been soccer or any races) and the front yard is basically done (only maybe 30% of the flower beds still need to be mulched) so the maintenance outside is pretty quick each weekend.  Or maybe it's because he"s gotten tired of trying to save the "extra" money it would take to pay somebody to do some of these projects for us, BUT, a couple of weeks ago he just decided he was going to get to work on some stuff around here himself.

The first major project we've been putting off forever was the laundry room.  We've had our older, far less efficient top loading machines in there since we bought the house, and have been planning for sometime now to re do the floors, and the trim and the walls in there so that we could stack our MUCH more efficient front loading machines in there to save water and free up some storage space.

If you're wondering why we own two sets of machines it's because we left the top loaders in the house for out renters when we went to Monterey and then we bought the newer front loaders to use in our military housing while we were there.  

So a couple of weekends ago Matt got all wild and just started ripping up the old, terrible linoleum in there one afternoon while everybody else was napping.  I swear, I had no idea he was even seriously considering doing that.  Eventually he pulled the old machines out as well and got all the flooring up do he could rip out and replace the water and somewhat termite damaged (probably from well before we ever purchased the house) parts of the sub floor.

Then we repainted in there, and laid down the faux-wood vinyl flooring that we've used to replace the floors in the bathrooms and entry way already.  Scoff if you will at the us using vinyl instead of real wood, but this house is so old that a lot of the floors just aren't flat enough to lay anything that doesn't have some flex to it.  

As it turned out, the most exciting part of replacing the laundry floor was trying to figure out how to work it through the doorway into the kitchen since it's all connected and we didn't want a seam.  We hadn't yet taken up any of the kitchen floor so Matt found himself cutting up pieces to fit the "boards" in for the new floor as he went. 

Lovely right?

For a week we had this weird mismatched flooring thing going on until he got around to ripping up the kitchen too and making way to match up to his previous work.

And then the next week we got to tearing up the kitchen too.

In the mean time, we also finished the new laundry room by putting up new trim (not that you can see it in the picture,) brought in and stacked our better machines from the garage and filled in the open space beside them with a shelf for storage.  

In the picture it only has the laundry stuff on it, but I'm sure before long, those shelves will be filled with all sorts of our extra pantry items that we never have enough space for.

Over the course of the next two weekends, Matt got the rest of the kitchen floor down too.

All that's left now is for him to go back around the edges and caulk to seal it all in.

But doesn't it look so much nicer than the old boring (always dirt showing) white linoleum that was there before?

I'd just mopped before I took the picture which is why the floor is wet.

I feel like the whole room looks warmer and more inviting now.  Also, the red walls (that I still ADORE) look a lot gentlerand less BOLD against the wood grain.

So I'm happy.

And I'll take my new and strangely motivated husband if he wants to fix up more stuff around the house anyway day.  It might take him a while to finish his projects up, and along the way things may seem a bit dicey, but in the end he gets things done right.

Of course... then last night we found a leak behind the dishwasher was bubbling water up in the corner from under my new flooring!  It might have been from when he pulled the dishwasher out to lay the new flooring, or it might have just been a slow leak that's been there awhile and suddenly gotten worse because a lot of the plumbing in that kitchen was done by the previous owners and all of it is has always been a bit.... dicey.

So now next week I've got my handyman coming to fix that.  And while he's there he's going to replace the leaky faucet, the leaky garbage disposal (so gross!) and all the weird piping under the sink.  (Don't even get me started on all of that.)  Matt really sort of wanted to work on it himself, but we have learned with plumbing... if its more than just a little work, it's way better to hire a professional.  :)

This weekend, Matt is going to continue to work on assembling the kids new swing set (their Easter gift) and then... OMG you guys, he talking about trying to build a cover for our back patio.  (Something I've wanted since we bought the house!!)

Wow.

:)

My Running Man

In the interest of getting "caught up," I feel like I should probably post a little something about Matt's latest running adventures... even if they did happen over a month ago.

Oops.

Can I blame the pregnancy brain?

Anyway, so to begin with, back over the last weekend in January, Matt ran his second FULL marathon, in Carlsbad, CA.  Going into it I wouldn't say he felt confident.  His knees had been bugging him ever since Santa Barbara (in early November.)  He was also in a class at work for basically the entire month of December which eliminated his ability to do his normal daily lunchtime training runs of 5-12 miles.  (Side note: but am I the only one that thinks it is a bit insane that the man's regular DAILY runs average over 5 miles?)  Then came the holidays and of course we were up at Disney in January for my last race and then we had his brother come visit, and so basically, he didn't get in any long (15+ miles) training runs at all to prepare for the race.

But in the end, he'd paid the money to run, and even though after Santa Barbara he was pretty sure he didn't ever want to run another marathon again, he really, really wanted to break the 4 hour mark so he decided to just go for it.

Never mind the fact that it poured rain that ENTIRE weekend.

The kids and I did not go to support him.  He left early while we were all still sleeping, and then I got everybody up and we went to church like a normal Sunday morning while he ran.  Other than the fact that he wasn't there with me, the only thing that was out of the ordinary for me was that I kept sneaking peeks at my phone during mass looking for his runner updates to see how he was doing.  

As it turns out, he did pretty well.

Him, afterward, when he finally got home, with his finisher's medal.

He said it went well.  He felt good.  The cool, damp weather helped I guess.

The course was also basically and out and back, without too many curves (ie: banked roads) or hills.

And in the end here were his times:

So he finished in 3 hours, 52 minutes and 10 seconds.  That put him just over a 9 minute mile.

And that's what he does when he's "unprepared?"

Anybody else kind of find that kind of obnoxious?

Oh well.  

He says he's probably done running marathons again.  Although he's signed up for a couple more halves later this year.   

We'll see though.  How bored will he get?  He's already started complaining about the monotony of his regular training runs around his work.  So who knows...

* * * * *

So, then, a couple weeks later, Matt and a group of guys that work in his building all got together and ran the "Winter" version of the So Cal "Tough Mudder."

(I give him lots of props and bonus points for not flexing his arms for the pictures like a meat head, not wearing a cheesy sleeveless shirt or flashing some stupid wanna be tough guy type hand signs in any of the pictures.  None of that stuff got any of those guys through the race any better than him, so, whatevs.)

If you're not familiar with the Tough Mudder races, well, I can't really explain them, as I haven't run one so I'd say maybe you should just Google them.  But basically they are described as arguably the toughest obstacle races/runs that there are.  They're 10 or more mile runs, usually through mountainous terrain, filled with a variety of intense obstacles.  Climbing walls, tunnels, mud pits, monkey bars, an ice bath, electric shocking wires, etc... and everyone I know who's done one, admits they are pretty freaking intense.  

Matt, for his part, said it was really hard, but fun.  His (and the rest of his groups) problem stemmed mostly from the fact that it was all of about 50 degrees that day, and cloudy and windy and they basically were soaking wet the entire time (even ignoring the ice bath.)  He was a bit blue and frozen the entire time and complained that his hands were so stiff from the cold that throughout much of the run, he struggled with the obstacles mainly because his fingers wouldn't work right.  

The couple of pictures posted above are from one of the team members Facebook page.  He took a waterproof camera along.  The first 2 photos are from before they started and the third is mid way through some where.

Matt says he is glad he did it, but was a bit socked by just how cold he was.  If he ever does one again, he says he'll try the summer version.  Several of the guys he ran with did the summer one last year, and they were all shocked as well to see how much harder the cool weather made it.

For my part, I just thought it was really really weird when my always hot and sweaty hubby came home that evening and put on sweats.  Don't worry, after about an hour he was overheating again and switched back into some shorts.  :)

Child Pictures Photo Dump

Gosh it's been a long time since I've posted any pictures of the kids.  I suppose it's because we've just been living our basic, everyday (mundane) lives.  Not many exciting things have happened.  And while every day life does create lots of photo ops, the blog posts about those random moments (and pictures) don't exactly write themselves.

But, since it has been so long, here are the best of the random ones off my phone from the last 4-6 weeks.  

This was back in February, during Catholic Schools Week,
which essentially turns into Spirit Week
for the kids.  It was mismatch day.  
Doesn't he look handsome?  Haha.

A.J. isn't one to give up when she can't reach something.
Not that standing in the play shopping cart is a safe
choice necessarily, but I guess for her it's easier than fetching a stool.

We met up with some friends from Peter's school one afternoon.
A.J. spent most of her time there making random piles of mulch.
Also, notice in the top right corner of the picture is a random t-rex figurine.
She was very adamant about bringing the dinosaur to the playground that day.
So maybe the piles of mulch were for it to stomp through?

Peter coloring in his Cars book.  It's rare,
but when he does sit down and focus, he does a
pretty good job of coloring the different objects in the pictures
different colors,even if he doesn't yet try to stay in the lines.  

A.J loves to color.  She'll sit for a long time with a crayon or two
 and go through a whole book and fill in random objects.

Miss messy after I let her have a brownie.
I particularly enjoy the face she makes once she's decided
she is too messy to be acceptable.

Peter has moved on from his obsession with his scooter and tricycles.
His friend acrossthe street learned to ride a real bicycle without training wheels
 so now this is his new mission  in life too.  To get him moving on this path,
he's borrowed her (pink) Strider balance bike to help his learn to keep his
balance.  They offered to take the basket and the poms off but he likes them.
I've also thought about getting him a balance bike of his own (like one that's not pink)
but at the rate he's going he might be ready for that real bicycle soon enough anyway,
 and it doesn't seem worth it to spend the money when he's perfectly happy with this (pink) one.  

See?

He'd much prefer to ride on the sidewalk or street out front, but this makes me too nervous so most of the time we stick to the safety of the back yard.  I think this is more fun for him anyway because he rides the bike down the little hill on the side of our yard.  I'm not sure if you can tell there's a hill there in the video, but, there is, and that's how he get's his momentum going.  

A.J. is into the trikes now, but unfortunately, her legs are still a bit too short to properly pedal.  

Ever the boy, Peter is still obsessed with cars and loved to drive them
and park them everywhere.He's fascinated with the different directions of the boards
 on the patio table especially and heaven help me if I dare to set my phone
or a drink down there while he's busy there with his cars.  

A.J. likes coloring with sidewalk (or in this case patio) chalk too.

If you're wondering about the "girly" basket from before, not to worry.
It may have pink stripes and a flower on the front, but he uses it for his boy purposes.
Specifically, he keeps a bunch of his cars in there while he rides.

A.J.'s hair is getting getting long.  I'm trying to decide whether to cut her bangs or not.  I really think she needs them, and her natural hair line certainly seems to want her to have them, but her curls make it tough.  I took these pictures immediately AFTER I combed her hair out and pulled it back, before the curl in her bangs could fight back and make it look all crazy again.  But, for just this brief moment, doesn't her hair look A-DOR-A-BLE?!?!?  

And then it does this:

Totally random but A.J. is obsessed with the dog's leashes.
Since I always tell her she's not big enough to walk the dogs herself, she's
moved on to walking her stuffed dogs instead (using Brutus and Molly's
leashes still, of course.) 

Also, the crazy curl in her bangs?  THAT's what I'm fighting with.

In other news....

The boys lounging in the backyard.  I particularly enjoy how Peter makes himself comfortable in
his own little way.

OMG!  Look!!!  They're playing together happily!  No one is arguing.  No one is fighting!
It really does happen!!!  (It doesn't last long, but anyway, at least it happens....)

Oh, and of course, this wouldn't be a post about the random stuff my kids do if I didn't include at least a few photos of them when they're supposed to be in their beds sleeping.

You'd think she was up late cramming for an exam.  

He'd gotten mad and stormed off to pout in his room over something.
It was obviously late in the day, he hadn't napped and his exhaustion
was at the heart of the problem.  When dinner was ready and he still hadn't
 come back out we went to find him and were amused to see how he'd put himself to sleep.
 That's the rug from his floor that he's wrapped himself in.  

 And finally:

This was this morning.  Miss A.J. was up to her usual non-sleeping antics
after bedtime last night. At 9:00 before I went to bed I checked on her and she needed a new diaper.
And midnight or so, when I got up to let a dog out, I noticed her light on
and she was out of bed again and laying in a big mess of books and
toys before I put her in bed AGAIN.  Needless today, this morning,
AFTER I put her clothes on, she still wasn't ready to be up.  

Feeling Brain Dead....

Yesterday, when it was Monday and I had both kids at home with me all day I had about 500 things on my mind to blog about.

Today it is Tuesday, one of my "normal" blogging catch up days, because Peter is at preschool and A.J. is basically self sufficient unless she needs a snuggle, a new diaper or something to eat.

But of course, now that it is Tuesday, and I have some time to write, I'm basically feeling brain dead.  It's almost as if all the thoughts fell out of my head.  I have the feeling that this might be rather what it is like to be a man.  You know, because if you ask a man what they're thinking, like, 90% of the time they're likely to say "nothing."  And of course, for women, normally, there is never nothing.  There is usually several dozen things going on in there, all of which are completely unrelated and rather confusing.

Except today, my brain seems to have shut itself off.  It does that from time to time.  LONG ago, a therapist of mine, heard me describe the phenomenon and, taking into consideration all the other stuff that goes on in my brain, compared it to a sort of bi-polar thing.  Like normally my brain goes a thousand miles an hour, (mainly with worries) except, you know, randomly, when it doesn't. For whatever reason, sometimes it just comes to a near screeching halt.  Or, okay, maybe not a halt, but it's puttering along in the slow lane going 20 to 30 miles per hour below the speed limit and thoroughly annoying all the other drivers behind it.

I don't really think this phenomenon is bi-polar at all, I just think I have a thing where if I'm really tired, physically or emotionally, my brain likes to take a vacation from itself.

I can't say I blame it.  Sometimes I'd rather like to take a vacation too.

Might be more helpful to have functioning thought patterns though....

So anyway, here I sit, or I guess, lay, on the couch, with my laptop open and at the ready and the words aren't flowing.  Or I guess they are, a little, because, well, look at all I've typed already, but not like they normally do.

I had this whole thing I was going to write about how the new baby is NEVER going to get a name unless it's a girl.  I don't remember most of it, but let me try to find some of it anyway and get it out now.

Because, basically, we have a girl name, pretty much all picked out, even though it's a bit more popular than I would prefer.

But if this kid is a boy?  We're screwed.  I have a list of about 5 names that I like.  Matt doesn't like any of them.  And of course, we started off with the first two on the Biblical naming trend, so our choices are a bit limited already unless we want to go crazy and name the kid Lazarus or something strange.  My name number 1 has already been taken by one of Matt's oldest cousins, and according to Matt this is now okay.  It's also the name of a song that I love, but the song isn't exactly a fairy tale, so I can't decide if using that name would even be a good idea.  My number 2 name was just taken by one of my good friends, although I think they spelled it differently than we probably would.  Also, Matt says it rhymes with something that he doesn't want it to and says no, we're not naming the kid that.  My number 3 name was already taken by another one of my friends. She said awhile ago that she doesn't care if I use it too, but it is also pretty popular so... I don't know.  My number 4 name was basically perfect and would have been my number 1 name except that somebody I know had a brother named that, and well, his life came to an early tragic end not very long ago.  :(  This is basically the story with my number 5 name as well.  Number 5 is really, not even under consideration anymore because I know of 2 people who had that name whose lives also came to a tragic early endings.  I like the idea of honoring those folks, but it also just feels too soon to "take" their names.  And maybe like it would be a bit unlucky too.

Matt insists on just one name.  A name that basically, I hate.  A name that also, happens to be the original name of the Biblical character my first son is named after.  Also, it's the name of a horrible celebrity that I can't stand.  Come to think of it, I'm not sure aybody can stand him.  So, no.  Ew.  Matt thinks it would be cute and nice and we can "remake" the image of the name.  I say no and am using my automatic veto.

Or, and I guess I had a number 6 name, which is the name I would have given A.J. had she been a boy, keeping in mind that her initials were going to be "A.J." either way.  But I have a lot of friends with that name for their kids too.  And I had originally wanted to give all of our kids names starting with different letters.  Matt comes from a family of 5 boys... 3 of them have names starting with J and the other 2 have M names.  My husband and I already have a hard time getting out the correct name of our kids when we're "scolding" them, (Matt especially tends to mix their names up with those of the dogs) so I figure we may as well try to find different first letters to start with to help our cause.  If you've ever seen their mother trying to figure out which on of her kids she's talking to in a frustrated moment, well, you'd understand my concern.

(*Bonus points if you can figure out what all my boy names would be....)

So basically, this kids never getting a name, unless it's a girl.

And the ultrasound to hopefully find out isn't until almost the end of April.

The Chinese Gender predictor chart thing says its going to be a girl.  And if you're wondering, it correctly predicted the gender of both my other kids.  Not that that means anything.

Symptom wise, I'm at a loss.  Until pretty recently, I would have said it's a boy because I wasn't like, hunched over the toilet puking all day long.  But I was sick.  And as we round the corner into my second trimester I still feel sick a lot.  So maybe it is a girl after all.  Because I definitely don't remember feeling this sick this long or even this often with Peter.  Then again, I was working so maybe I was just too busy to feel sick. I don't know.

Anyway, in other news, I've decided I'm going to need a morning nanny next year.

I mean, to begin with there is the obvious problem of taking Peter to school every day, on top of the new baby and A.J.  But also, this week, my kids seem to have decided to get a jump start on daylight savings and have been getting up closer to 6 rather than 7.

THAT IS ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY.

I hate mornings.  I will always hate mornings.  And when we don't have any place to be until after 8 am, there is absolutely no reason to be getting up before 7.  Period.

But try telling that to my kids.

(Little brats!)

(I'm kidding.)

(Mostly)

So.... I think I shall find some imaginary money some place and hire myself some help.  Just between the hours of like 6 and 9 am.  Or, maybe 10....  I am always much more capable and happy after 10 am after all.

Now, if only that imaginary money actually existed.....

:)

Anyway....

That's just some of what I was thinking about yesterday.  Like I said, there was a lot more, but most of it got lost when it fell out of my head last night.