Unemployed

Avery really likes to draw. She’ll draw Dan and me, or Romey, or her house, a helicopter, whatever—she’s a creative (or so it seems).

Last night Avery was drawing and alternately distributing pictures to Dan and me. Each time she’d say, “Here’s a picture. Make sure you show it to your parents.” It’s a natural conclusion that while at preschool Avery’s teacher is telling her to “show her picture to her parents.”

We decided to dig a little deeper and asked Avery, “Who are your parents?” She replied, “Well, Uncle Tommy, Uncle Jake, and Matt.” We corrected her and told her that we (Dan and Susan) are her one and only parents; no one else, just us.

Her response will go down in Avery history: “Well, WHY are you guys my parents? Tell me the truth!” Naturally these words were accompanied by an emphatic bummer sigh. Sorry to disappoint, Avery. Which leads me to share these Donald Trump pictures of Romey—Dan and I are SO FIRED!

Romey's Donald Trump inspired hairstyle

"Mom! You're fired!"

"Dad! You're fired too!"

"And you too blog-readers!"

Lesson Learned

I learned three very valuable lessons this morning:

1 – To never allow Romey to eat an entire can of mandarin oranges.

2 – To never hastily diaper Romey.

3 – To take Avery’s word when she says that Romey has a dirty diaper. And this is important for any mother of two (or more): when the older child says that the younger one has a dirty diaper it is not because he smells it (maybe) or because the older child is tracking the younger one’s bowel movements. It is because the older child can SEE it, and that, in effect, is reason enough to move quickly.

Wow, did Romey ever have a blow out this morning, made worse by the fact that I was blissfully unaware even though Avery kept telling me that Romey had a dirty diaper. All moms have been there—a major diaper blowout. Of course Romey was wearing her shoes and managed to get them good and dirty as well. These shoes are the fairly typical type of toddler shoes with lots of indentation grippers on the soles. After the aforementioned indiscretion, I flipped over Romey's shoes and had a choice to make: salvage or toss? I chose to salvage, and proceeded to use a toothpick to clean out my daughter’s shoes. Did I mention that the indentation grippers are heart shaped?

As I picked through her shoes, the following thought came to mind: I’m so glad my daughter has shoes. I’m so glad that her digestive system works. I’m so glad that we can afford mandarin oranges (not saying that mandarin oranges are expensive, but I think you understand). Most days I’d be wallowing in my mothering duties hating these types of tasks. I’m not saying I enjoyed it, but it was quickly over, the shoes look great again, and we were on to the next thing.

Perspective is such a valuable commodity. I’m glad I found some today, and am hoping that I wake up with a generous portion tomorrow too.

Avery and Jesus, Part 2

Avery and Jesus. Jesus and Avery. Avery’s really interested in Jesus these days, and I could not be happier about it. I don’t suspect I’ll ever forget her “I need Jesus!” moment with the nativity, or her latest cries of adoration. But, just in case, I’m filing this story in the “So I don’t forget” category.

Here’s how Avery’s mind works: “Ouch, I’m about to get in trouble, so now is the time to say it. And I’m going to say it loudly, and passionately, and I’m going to get right in Mommy and Daddy’s face so they can’t punish me. If I say it again, and again, and again, it will break their resolve. So, ready go!”

And what does she say? “I love Jesus! I love him, Mommy and Daddy! I LOVE Jesus! I love him so much! I LOVE JESUS!” Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

And here’s where I’m stuck: what do I say? I’ve been mumbling something like, “I’m so glad you love Jesus, but it’s not okay to [insert infraction here].”

Avery is such a trip. I’m crazy about this kid, but there are some moments where I feel like she’d be better served by saying, “Jesus, help my Mommy! She needs you so much!”

Riddle me this

The craziest thing happened today—Romey picked up a princess dress-up crown and, without a second thought, put it on top of her head. I thought, "Wow!"—Romey knows what to do with a princess crown. Obviously she’s been watching Avery and has learned that the crown goes on the princess’s head! I'm so proud.

In addition to joining the royal harem, Romey has also been pointing the remote control toward the television, and “chatting” while holding the phone to her ear. Yes, you might say that we Nelson girls wear crowns, watch television, and chat on the phone all day (not far from the truth!).

And speaking of chatting it up, I have begun the arduous task of trying to explain the word 'why' to Avery. When I ask Avery why she did something, and she doesn’t seem to be understanding the question (or is being coy). By asking her why, I am wanting to know what her motivations are, her reasons, her promptings—for instance, why did she spit all over her bed; why did she hit her sister? Avery will often cutely reply that “it was an accident or a mistake."

In addition to Avery comprehending the word 'why', how do I get her to understand the difference between a purposeful action, and an accidental incident? I can only dumb it down so much before the words just seem to get lost in translation (note: I’m not calling Avery dumb. In fact, she’s smart. Some intangible concepts are just difficult to explain).

And to throw a little more kindling on the fire, Avery has started saying the following to me in the midst of being disciplined: “Mommy, God loves me. I love God. I love Jesus. I love you, Mommy.” I am delighted to hear that she loves God (and me), but when I’m trying to explain that she didn’t make a mistake by spitting all over her bed, and that it was in fact a purposeful action, it makes me want to pull my hair out and scream like a crazy lunatic in an insane asylum! And that’s why I’m going (insert expletive) nuts! Happy Friday!

Our little princess in training.

Posing

The Sole Survivor

“I saw that going so differently in my mind” has now been added to our list of favorite parental coping phrases. You might recall that one of our other favorites is “it could have been so much worse” after Avery gave herself a haircut.

The goal was simple: first birthday portraits for Romey. The stage was set. Romey had had a great start to her morning, and my sister agreed to come over and hang with Avery. And then, little by little, things started to un-ravel. The cumulative effect of the following resulted in no portrait and a lost shoe:

• It was snowing.

• Ave intentionally woke Romey up from her morning nap.

• During Romey's bath she slipped and banged her cheek on the side of the bathtub (resulting in a dime-sized red mark.)

• I spilled some water on Romey’s dress resulting in a last minute wardrobe change.

• My sister was late.

• The mall’s parking lot was packed.

• Somewhere between the car and the portrait studio one of Romey’s shoes disappeared (and she wasn’t wearing socks).

• I looked for the shoe; Dan looked for the shoe. We collectively determined that the shoe had vanished into thin air. Ro knew what happened to the shoe but she wasn't giving us any hints.

• We bagged the idea of trying to find the missing shoe, and decided to buy some new shoes. Gymboree was selling zebra print shoes, and polka-dotted shoes. No thanks—she’ll go barefoot.

• Our number is up, and we take a smiling and charming Ro into the portrait studio.

• I set Romey on the floor, and she freaks. She’s afraid. I pick her up, soothe her, and put her back down. She screams louder. I look at Dan. He looks at me. We hastily grab our things and head for the nearest exit.

The moral of this predictable story is: don’t ask me for professional portraits of the Nelson girls. Instead I’ll happily send you the Kodak Gallery link, and you can order some cute candids. And, speaking of pictures, Avery’s preschool portraits came in this week. She did a great job, and I’ll be posting one here soon. Maybe the key is that someone else needs to take Ave and Ro to the portrait studio. Any takers?

Jesus

“I need Jesus!” yelled Avery, and then louder, “I NEED JESUS NOW!” I thought, okay, this is going to be interesting. I was about to tell her that Jesus lives in her heart, and He is with her every day when I realized what she was asking for: the Fisher Price nativity Jesus. She was holding a lone wiseman that never got packed up with the other Christmas decorations last year, and she was yelling and crying that she needed Jesus. It was astonishing to me that she remembered that the wiseman was a part of something; not just some random figurine. Plus, she hadn’t played with the nativity in a year so I was feeling impressed. Impressed enough to pull out the minivan (yep, you read right—more on this in a minute), approach the six-high stack of Rubbermaid containers, pull them down one-by-one, dig through the Christmas decorations to produce Jesus and all his mates and other nativity paraphernalia to a delighted preschooler. She said, “Thank you Mommy for finding Jesus!” No problem.

I’ve got to tell you that this little nativity set was sort of an impulsive purchase. I really went back and forth on whether or not it was necessary. It was a little pricey but I decided to go for it, and I’m so glad I did. Not only did it keep Avery’s hands off of my breakable nativity, but it also became a real tangible way to talk about the Christmas story. And, it has given me tons of memorable material—like yesterday, and the day after Romey was born (as Avery told the nurse that Romey was the baby Jesus, and said so with such awe and conviction; it was priceless). Now that I think of it my nurse’s name was Mary. Crazy.

And Dan’s needing a little Jesus these days too as he’s finally given up the fight and surrendered to my constant needling, begging, and downright practicality—he agreed to a minivan. Dan hates the idea of a van. He hates what it represents, he hates the idea of being seen in it—the whole package. Me, I’m too practical to care what people think so I’m ecstatic to have the extra space, and love seeing my little queens perched on their thrones. Soon I’ll have a picture of Dan in the driver’s seat with a big smile on his face. I suggested taking our family Christmas picture in front of the van but Dan said he’d put his hand over his face. So, I made him a deal. Quit griping about the van, be pleasant about it, smile when you talk about it and we’ll get a Nintendo Wii. The deal is under consideration. Hopefully he’ll go for it.

Here’s to embracing life as minivan mama, and Dan lying down in the backseat wondering who’s seen him! :o) The plates should read: DAN VAN.

Have a great day!

Avery helping my mom rake the leaves. My mom was using a "blower" (I think that it is what is called) and it was hysterical to see Avery's reaction to all the leaves coming at her. Avery loves to help--she quickly grabbed a rake and started raking. At home, she is always asking for her turn with the broom. She doesn't know it yet but I'm going to get her a kid-size broom for Christmas.

Little brown-eyed beauty watching the leaf show. She'll be a year old on December 6.
I had to "share" a craft with you. Avery is constantly bringing the coolest crafts home from school. Avery's teacher says that craft time is Avery's favorite activity of the morning. Anyway, this is a piece of pumpkin pie, and I was so puzzled as to what the white cotton was supposed to represent. Alas, I got it: cool whip, and the teacher even sprinkled it with cinnamon. Cute.

Pizzazz

Avery’s pizzazz has done it to me again—a real down-for-the-count knock out punch. Lately, I’ve been feeling as though my time with Avery is running out. Soon she’ll have a sister and will have to share my attention. So, to make the best use of our time left, I’ve signed Avery up for various park district and library programs (yes, I’m her cruise director and she’s spoiled). This week was kick-off week—and so far, so good. Avery’s enjoying herself, mommy’s tolerating it well, high-fives all around. Then comes Wednesday’s story time at the library. The story is best told like this:

Scene: Avery and Mommy walk into the room, and take a felt apple from the teacher. The teacher tells us to put the apple on the story time tree, and take an apple nametag from the hook.

Avery: “Cool apple!”
Mommy: “Yes, cool.” And Mommy puts the apple nametag necklace around Avery’s neck, wondering how long Avery will actually keep the nametag on.

Scene: The room fills with 9 other toddlers, and their mothers. All of the toddlers are subdued, well-behaved, and are quietly sitting in their mother’s laps. Avery’s Mommy thinks: We’re screwed.

Sure enough, Avery starts dancing around the room, loudly performing for the room. Unfortunately, the room is not amused, and neither is Mommy, so Mommy snatches Avery. Avery is not pleased, and wants to dance. Luckily the teacher starts, and grabs her guitar.

Avery: “GUITAR! GUITAR! GUITAR!” And throws her body on the floor for a full-body tantrum, continuing to scream “GUITAR! GUITAR! GUITAR!” and bewildered as for why the teacher will not give her the guitar.
Mommy: “Ave. It’s the teacher’s guitar, so hang here with me.”
Avery: “NO! GUITAR!” and then proceeds to run up to the guitar and tries to take the guitar from the teacher. Teacher is not amused, and neither is the rest of the class. Mommy grabs her bag, and the screaming child and exits the room as if it were on fire. And……….scene.

So, story time is no more (I’ve forfeited our spot, and our apple name tag), and if we weren’t blacklisted from the library before, we certainly must be now. Such is life with a two-year old, right? Tomorrow is Kid Rock, and I have high hopes. Avery loved Tot Rock last year, and the instructor was fantastic. However, if she sucker punches me tomorrow, then she’s done.

On another note, we’ve had a super week. The weather here is beautiful, and we’ve gotten some great news from people in our lives—a new baby girl, a new baby boy, and a miraculous healing. God is good, and our hearts feel very full. With any luck I’ll be able to sneak by the hospital and meet the baby boy, born yesterday to a couple that is very special to us. They’ve waited a long time for this little boy, and it’s a thrill to see how God has answered their prayers.

Other news: Avery has fully transitioned to her big girl bed; communication with Avery continues to expand; Avery’s re-living her glory days (see picture); Avery LOVES to swing, and swinging for less than 30 minutes is totally unacceptable, unless she is bribed with a sugar-free popsicle; the nursery is coming together nicely (as is the “before-the-baby” project list); Dan’s in heaven watching all of the baseball and football he can stand; Entrusted with a Child’s Heart study starts at GEBC in a week; I tested negative for gestational diabetes; and my dad turns 50 in a week.

Well, I hope this finds you well. And if you are arm-wrestling a toddler, I hope you’re winning. Have a great day!

What We Do For Our Kids

Dan has been very busy with work lately, so I decided to take Avery to a Ralph’s World concert on Saturday. For those of you that aren’t familiar with Ralph, he does little mini-concerts/shows on the Disney Channel. He sings silly kid songs that Avery thinks are pretty cool. So, on Saturday, I figured, “hey, a couple of our playgroup friends will be at the concert and Avery loves Ralph’s World, so why not?”

Well, it seems that 4,000 others had the same idea, and as we got closer to the concert site, I saw the lines and lines of SUV’s and minivans, many of which were jamming out to Ralph tunes. Although we were there well in advance of the concert starting, we parked a good mile out from the concert site (well, it felt like a mile—the rough terrain, and Avery in tow made it feel like a mile plus!)

So, we left the minivan lot and headed toward the concert area. I couldn’t help but notice all the strollers and wagons—WOW. I thought, “Okay Avery, you better love this!”

The concert started and Avery sort of liked the first song. Then she sat in my lap, and started grabbing my face and saying “bye-bye?” Perhaps it was the heat? Maybe the loud music, or the 4,000 other attendees?

You know what’s funny about a kid’s rock concert? When you look around many of the kids are just kind of hanging out. You know who’s jamming? You’re right: the parents. It was then (six songs later, towing Avery back to the car), it came to me: “Gosh, what we do for our kids!” We often look like dummies, and go to a kid’s rock concert. But isn’t that part of what this is all about, loving our kids, and, at times, looking foolish in the process? At least this is self-realization foolishness. Many years from now Avery will likely be telling me how foolish or dumb she thinks I am. And I’ll likely say, “You’re right.”

On a much more serious and somber note, Dan’s grandfather passed away on Friday evening. Although he had been ill for sometime now, the reality and permanency of death can still be difficult to fully embrace and acknowledge.

So, while Dan’s gone Avery and I will do our best to stay busy. One thing’s for sure: no more concerts.

Shiny Happy People

Ever approach your child and pause, because you just don’t know where to start? Your child is covered with some gross substance, and has managed to spread the goods all over the crib, wall, bedding, etcetera, etcetera. Have you caught yourself surveying the room, and actually entertaining the thought to turn around, and walk back through the door?

Well, it must have been my turn cause during naptime today little Avery managed to grab the petroleum jelly off of the changing table, and smeared the entire container on herself, and her surroundings. I found her very distressed and very shiny.

This stunt earned a call to her father, where I dutifully reminded him that “your life is so much better than mine. You’re not going to believe what she did this time.” Poison control indicated that she’d be fine (if she had ingested some she’d be coughing, and gagging).

Avery’s now sporting a slick back hairstyle, and hanging out in her pack n’ play in her room. Before I laid her down she pointed to her crib, and said, “naughty.” Yep, pretty naughty.

Take my advice: throw away your petroleum jelly. I can’t remember ever using this stuff with Avery. Believe me – the clean up is a bear.