Wednesday, September 17, 2014

These two


Lately, these two play so well together it kills me. We definitely have flare ups over sharing, people get hit and feelings get hurt, but for the most part, they play really well together. Trains, cars, Playmobil toys and the dollhouse can all hold their attention for quite some time, but it's when they go off on imaginary adventures that the magic happens. And by magic, I mean they collect random things in bags, drag said bags all over the house, huddle up under the pillows on our couch and cram countless treasures into these yellow lacquer boxes that normally hold coasters but are clearly meant to hold so. much. more.

More often than not their imaginary adventures take them to Michigan. Sometimes they go camping. Sometimes Chip and I are dead and they are all on their own. Sometimes daddy is dead and mommy is on a date. Sometimes they are baby bears. You never really know what you are going to get, but dang, is it ever good stuff.

This past Friday afternoon they decided to dress for their imaginary travels and raided the bin of Halloween costumes. While Charlie was content to stick to pirate garb, Mary Clare went whole hog and whipped off her school jumper, replaced it with bunny ears, wire rim glasses and a tiger costume I estimate to be size 2T at best. I didn't ask questions. Because, really, would you want to know the method to that madness? Instead, I just took pictures because hey, mommy's blogging again, kids.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

HIPPA violator

Now that Mary Clare is in school five days a week and I only have Charlie with me on Mondays and Fridays, I am able to volunteer at her school on a more regular basis. It works well—I love being able to sneak peeks of Mary Clare during the school day (and being of service, natch) and the grandparents are only too happy to take Charlie on the days where the volunteer commitments are a bit or longer, or Charlie's assistance is not required. 

Yesterday was my first shift in the first-aid room. When I told Chip that I was volunteering for a monthly shift as the school nurse, he looked alarmed. "Don't you have to be certified? Don't you need training?" 

"Um, pretty sure I will be applying ice and band-aids," I said. "The mom in charge told me you don't get to set bones and do stitches until your second year."

So, my first shift rolled around yesterday, and oh my word, was Mary Clare ever excited to see me walking into her school. She greeted me with a "Mommy!" and a huge hug. After lunch, she spotted me talking to the secretary in the front of the office, so I went onto the playground to say hello.

"Mom!" she said. "Have you nursed a lot of people today? How many people did you nurse?" 

The inquisition continued on our way home from school. "How many kids did you nurse? What was wrong with them? What were their names? Did they know you are my mom?"

She then recounted her schoolmates' headaches, bloody noses and scraped limbs (it was a light day) to Chip and Charlie at dinner that night. After she finished, Chip told me that I better hope the Holy Redeemer volunteer nurse doesn't have to be HIPPA compliant.

It was worth the privacy violation, however, when I put Mary Clare to bed that night. As I went to stand up, she rocketed off of her pillow, latched her arms around me and said, "Mom. I am so glad you were the nurse at my school today."

I'm not going to lie. It's nice to be appreciated for your Band-Aid application skills. 

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Sartorially challenged

I cannot make this stuff up. 

This morning as I was doing Mary Clare's hair, she looked down at my dress and asked, "Are you going to work today?" 

"I am," I said. "I'm going into the office again today."

"Well, why are you dressed like an Indian?"

"What?"

"An Indian. Why are you dressed like an Indian?" 

I looked down at my dress. It's red, with a kind of swirly paisley, medallion-ish kind of pattern in navy, white, aqua and the like. 

"So, I guess you don't like this dress? Is that what you're saying?"

She thought for a minute. 

"No, I like it," she said, and then paused. "But you do look like an Indian."

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

My office is super casual

Usually when I come home from work, the first thing I do is wash my face and change into a T-shirt and shorts. Because I am fancy. Tonight, however, Mary Clare had to be at a soccer camp by 5:30 p.m. and I wanted to feed her a little something first, so  it was go, go, go, the second we walked in the door. Chip took Mary Clare to her camp, so that left me and Charlie. Charlie who had to use the potty three times in 10 minutes, because heaven forbid you sit still long enough to take care of your business all at once. 

Anyway, as I helped him down from the sink for the third (and thankfully final) time, he suddenly leaned over and hugged my leg. 


"I love you, mama," he said. 

"Aw, buddy, I love you, too. You're such a big boy."

And then he looked me up and down and said, "But I don't like your pajamas. Don't wear those anymore." 

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Busted at bedtime


Chip had to travel one day last week, and when this happens, I usually do our evenings backwards. Chip usually does the baths, so I get the kids' baths out of the way right away, and then do dinner and a movie so we can chill out and ease into bedtime. The kids have frozen pizza, and I have wine. It is lazy parenting, and I love it.

After bath time, I sent the kiddos into the family room to play while I made dinner. As I gathered the necessary gear for eating in front of the TV (towels, napkins, bibs, hoses, etc.), I spied them having the most animated exchange with their toys. It was ridiculously cute. So cute that I had to have a picture. And that is when Charlie busted me. I held my breath, expecting him to squawk at me and demand dinner, but the pleasant play continued, thankfully, and the rest of our evening went just as well.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Early morning antics


This morning I had the pleasure of attending a pirate tea party picnic. At 6:45 a.m. I was required to don a child's belt around my head and sip imaginary tea from the bottom portion of a nesting doll. It was delightful. Simply delightful.

Okay, it was totally not what I wanted to be doing before I showered, much less put in my contacts. But Mary Clare had been planning this pirate tea party picnic  for days, and trust me when I saw that it was supposed to be a much grander affair complete with music, real tea and real chili. Yes, chili. Suffice it to say there was a lot of managing expectations on my part.


But the kids had a ball doing "cheers!" with their nesting dolls and making sure all of the toys had their fair share of tea. And for a five-minute tea party, it was just perfect.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Scootie


A few weeks ago, we were at my cousin's graduation party. Between my aunt, her sisters and all of my cousins, Charlie got more than his fair share of attention. The fawning! Seriously. And he ate it up. The asked him to sing for him. They fed him cake. They fetched him water. They laughed when he kept stealing cookies. They cheered when he climbed on the lawnmower. It was completely ridiculous, and he loved it.

On the ride home that evening, I popped in a movie for the kids. Mary Clare fell asleep about halfway in, and the movie was over by the time we neared our exit. Charlie asked for another movie, but I told him he would just have to tough it out. He harrumphed, of course, but a short while later I heard him talking quietly to himself.

"I cute," he said. He paused and then said, "I cute. I cute."

While I knew I would regret further feeding his ego, I just had to engage him.

"Charlie, what are you saying?" I asked.

"I'm saying that I cute," he responded.

"Who told you that?"

"The ladies. The ladies at the party," he said. "They told me that."

He was quiet again for awhile, and then just before we made our last turn, I heard a very soft, "I a scootie."