Fly Away Jack, Fly Away Jill

And so we begin preparations to get on a plane (again) and fly to the midwest for Christmas.  Tomorrow.  This trip should be easier than the last because: a. We don't have to get up at the crack, thereby minimizing the likelihood of pissy neighbor encounters and raging children.  b. My dear, beloved, wonderful friend of a million and one years heard that we were planning to fly without any sort of screen device whatsoever.... and sent us a portable DVD player for xmas.  It's a Christmas miracle!!!  c. We just did this.  We should be SUPER good at it now!

Except.  Life has a crappy sense of humor.  And so... we are instead flying with two sick children.  We haven't had a chance to prep until today because of said sick children.  Oh, and an incident involving Urgent Care which took place after a fabulous evening of Holiday Merry-Making 'til after bedtime downtown on Wednesday.  (Everyone is A-OK; fret not.) After which, everyone woke up exhausted and the Big One was hacking and leaking massive amounts of snot and sneezing every 5 seconds.  Rad.

So the past two days have consisted of trying to keep the Little One away from the Big One (impossible), trying to keep the hacking and the snot river contained (impossible), trying to get both children to get the adequate amount of rest so we can all be as healthy as possible for this trip (huge, gigantic failure), and laundry, dishes, baking, and more laundry.   WHEEEEEEE!!!!!!

It's really put a damper on my yule, you guys.  I'm hoping we can kick the sick ASAP and that we can all have a great, snowy time in the midwest for Christmas.  It's going to be crazy busy, but I'm hoping.  I'm really hoping for some rest and relaxation.  Really a lot.  Please tell me it's possible.

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FYI: our Holiday Merry-Making included riding the Holiday Duck downtown.  It was slightly terrifying.  The Little One was wildly confused by the entire thing.  But the Big One loved it.  I mean LOVED. IT.  I haven't seen him that elated in... well... possibly ever.  He said it was his best Christmas ever and exclaimed his love for all of us multiple times.  So... worth the raging cold afterward?  Maybe?

Perspective

So, lately I've been losing perspective.  In the sea of bills we can't pay and jobs I can't find and things we can't do and and and and and, I've forgotten to step back.  I've forgotten how to stop and breathe and remember that this too shall pass.

It's been a tough couple of years, but we've been living with purpose- with an end goal in mind- and that has made everything more bearable.  We have made the choice to struggle briefly so that we won't have to struggle in the long run.  And I think it's a good choice.  A choice that our families have mercifully supported.  I know it's a good choice for our family.  But in the day-to-day, I've forgotten about that purpose.  I've forgotten about the end goal.  I've been so concerned with making it through the day, that I haven't stopped to celebrate all we've already made it through.  Together.

And then there are the babes.  My two boys who are growing so fast and learning so much.  These two boys who, more often than not these days, drive me completely bonkers.  They are nearly two and three and half, and they are testing all the boundaries and pushing all the limits.  And instead of realizing that they are nearly two and three and a half- and therefore DESTINED to be naughty- I think, "Where did my sweet little boys go?  WHY ARE THEY ACTING LIKE THIS?!?"

Because, let's be honest here people, both of these ages are trying.  Two is legendary in its challenges and three should be- I find it to be WAY harder than two.  So, as my two boys are bouncing off the walls and each other and ignoring my every request/suggestion/order, I find myself standing in the middle of the room (OR hiding in the bathroom) wondering- WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!?

Well, first of all, nothing happened, really.  I mean, my kids are at challenging ages, and there are two of them plotting against me working together, so there's that.  They are go-go-go and no-no-no all the livelong day.  Doo-dah.

And then there's our asshole neighbor who continually shows up at our door at weird times (like 4:30 a.m when we're trying to get out the door with two exhausted/cracked out children for a funeral) whining about how my children move and make noise and it's just so hard can't we make them be quiet.  Which, um, NO WE CANNOT, but we live in fear of his icky visits because he's an annoying, mousy little asshat.  This keeps my husband and I on edge and perpetually begging our nearly two year old and three and half year old to please be quiet and stop running which IS. NOT. POSSIBLE.  (Nor is it reasonable to ask of them.)  I think this may be making my children high strung.  It's certainly making me and my husband high strung.

And then there's life, which has been a challenge, and our stress is (unfortunately) reflected in our children and their behavior.  As much as we try to avoid it, our stress comes out in our actions, in our tones of voice, in our general demeanor.  And our kids react to it- usually in highly unpleasant ways.  Which makes us more stressed out.  And repeat cycle.  It sucks.  We did a damn fine job of keeping our kids in blissful ignorance for a long, long time, but you can only live in a constant state of worry for so long before it starts to leak out of you.

And the thing is, as I've said before, I'm a worrier.  I've ALWAYS been a worrier.  And even the smallest things can cause me to worry incessantly.  I think I've done damn well with all of this, considering my clear and present psychosis, but it still escapes sometimes.  And it freaks my kids out.  Which SUCKS.  I try to model healthy coping skills- I try to name my feelings and show my kids how to handle intense emotions- but I am human.  Sometimes I just get pissy.  And then my kids get pissy.  And then I wonder what's going on with them.  Geez, MOM.

Anyway, all this to say that I'm working on it.  I'm working on remembering how much we've accomplished, how much we're continuing to accomplish, and what a positive decision this has been- and will be- for our family.  I'm working on remembering how much I love my family and how blessed I feel to be able to spend so much time with them.  I'm working on stepping back and realizing that my kids are just kids.  That they're not really doing anything wrong- that they're just being little people who are trying to figure out their place in this world.  They're pushing boundaries so they can figure out where they are.  They're just growing up.  And it's all going to be okay.

Maybe I can remember that.  Maybe.


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P.S. If you have a three and half year old and you're constantly wondering why they are so psychotic... this article at Planning with Kids helped me feel a lot less crazy.  http://planningwithkids.com/2009/11/17/characteristics-of-three-and-a-half-year-old-behavior/

What's in a Name?

A blog by any other name... still sweet, yes?

So, I need to change the name of this here blog.  I don't need to, need to, but I want to.  The reasons are twofold:

#1. The original name (You Shall Be My Squishy) comes from my nickname for babies ("Hello, Squishy!  You are SO SQUISHY!"), but it is also a reference to a scene in Finding Nemo.  Now, listen.  I'm not dogging the movie.  I like the movie.  I totally stole my nickname for babies from the movie!  It's just that I may be sending the wrong message by referencing a Disney/Pixar film when I like to say "fuck" a lot.  Know what I mean?

#2. I don't want to get sued.  I do understand that in order to get sued, more than 10 people would have to read this.  However, I am ever hopeful that my readership will expand exponentially and at that point, it would be super awkward when Disney/Pixar calls and says, "Hey.  Those are our words.  Pay us a lot of money if you want to use them."  And then I'll have to be like, "Dude.  I don't have any money.  You do, though!  Want to pay me for reminding people how much they like Finding Nemo?"  And then they'd be all, "No.  We don't.  You have to pay us.  Get a lawyer."  And I'd be like, "Can't.  Refer back to the no money part."  And it would be this whole long, awful battle wherein Disney/Pixar would win anyway and I'd have to change the name in the end.  SO!  I'm beating them to the punch.  Genius, no?

Point is, I'm changing the name.  I'd like to keep Squishy in there, cause that's what I called (and still periodically call) my babies and I like it.  So there.  Plus, so many possible references and innuendos, so little time.

I think I've come up with a suitable replacement.  I'd like to try it out on you.  Let me know what you think.  I'll put it in big, flashy letters so you're impressed and stuff.  Ready?!?  The new name will be:

Becoming Squishy

So?!?  What say you?  Is it good?  Is it catchy?  Is the font big enough?  DO YOU LIKE IT?!?!  

I mean, it kind of doesn't matter, because I have to change it anyway since Disney/Pixar is clearly seconds away from suing my ass... (after they're done laughing about buying LucasFilm and the potential to further bastardize Star Wars), but still, I seek your approval.  

Anyhoo... I hope you like it.  I do.  Now I just have to figure out how to change my Blogger name and make sure my archives don't disappear into the ether.  

Crap.  That sounds hard.  I need a tech person.  Or skills.

Stuff We Say

All of these things came out of the mouths of my family in the past couple days.  I'm really hoping other families have conversations like this, because otherwise....

The Big One:

- While playing "Spaceship Man" in the cardboard box spaceship Daddy built, the Big One says,
"Space is long."
That's deep, man.  Real deep.

- After I complimented him on his love of veggies while he crunched on some carrots:
Big One: "T-Rexes- with two fingers (holds up two fingers like a t-rex)- they eat carrots, too."
Me: "Do you mean carrion?  T-Rexes like to eat carrion?"
Big One: "Nope.  Just carrots."
Turns out they're WAY less scary than we originally thought.

- Explaining Jack and the Beanstalk: "Jack came from the bean-stop."  Yup.  Sho' nuff, little dude.

- Me to Daddy: "Oh, stop hating my guts for a minute, wouldya?"
Big One (very seriously): "No hitting butts.  No, no."

- Big One: "When I'm really big, I wanna touch the dark.  I want to fall off the earf [earth] and touch the dark."
Me: "Do you mean you want to be an astronaut?"
Big One: "Yes!  I want to be an astronaut and touch the dark!"
Whoa.  Just... whoa.

The Little One:
Little One: "Water?" (pointing at milk)
Me: "Say, 'Milk.'"
Little One: "Water."
Me: "Milk.  Say, 'Milk.'"
Little One: "Water."
Me: "Milk.  Muh-muh-muh-milk."
Little One: "Muh-muh-muh-water."
Me: "Fine."

Daddy:
"No food in your holes." This was in response to the Little One sticking a green bean in his ear.  Filed under Things You Never Thought You'd Say.

Also, this happened:

Note the many slices of cucumber wedged into the cabin of the dump truck.  Why?

Being a parent is so super, duper weird sometimes.

A Day in the LIfe

This was a 4 hour portion of my life the other day.  It's pretty standard, in case you're wondering. 

-Toilet clogged due to Big One and Little One locking themselves in bathroom and unrolling half the toilet paper roll into the toilet.

-Both children freshly bathed due to potty water/toilet clogging/wet toilet paper fight.  

-Mommy freshly showered due to wet toilet paper (fresh out of clogged toilet) being thrown at me.

-Bathroom rug needing to be freshly washed due to Little One squatting and peeing on it IMMEDIATELY after stepping foot out of shower. 

-All three of us freshly traumatized after all of the yelling in the past hour/day/month (that yelling coming from all 3 of us, btw).

-Beef stew cooked all day but finally made, done and delicious.  

-Beef stew cut up and carefully plated for both kids.

-Beef stew rejected by both children and thrown all over the carpet by the Little One.

-Attempts at getting both children to bed early turn into hour and a half long battle.

-Mommy trying to decide if getting freshly drunk at 8pm is cool.  Probably not.  Doing it anyway.

Saying Goodbye

We just returned home from a trip to honor the passing of my husband's grandfather.  It was important that we go, that we be there with our family and remember- together- all of the wonderful things about this man.  That we grieve- together- and say goodbye.

I am so glad we went and it turned out to be an incredible opportunity to spend time with family members we love but rarely see.  But it also brought up a lot of things I wasn't prepared to talk about with my young children.  We had to explain to our 3 year old, for the first time, what death is.

It was a startlingly daunting task- one I knew we'd have to tackle soon, but I didn't expect to have to explain it in reference to us- to one of our own.  Explaining to a 3 year old that one of their family members has died is strange moment in the life of a parent.

I sought out the help of the parent educator at my son's co-op preschool, and I'm incredibly thankful for all of her advice.  She guided me through how to speak about death to a preschool aged child (use clear, simple language- avoid phrasing like "passed away") and how to explain what happens ("when we get old, our bodies stop working, so we die").  When we discovered that there was to be an open casket viewing, both my husband and I worried about how the Big One would react.  The Little One wouldn't really understand what was happening, but the Big One has frequent nightmares and scares relatively easily.  I worried about how he would handle seeing a dead body for the first time and the trauma it could cause him.  Our parent educator was so reassuring and gave wonderful advice about allowing the child to lead the way and choose what they want to do.  As a result of her guidance, I felt much more comfortable as we left for our trip.

In the end, both kids handled it SO much better than I ever could have expected.  They spent long hours in the car and in the funeral home, behaved very well for exhausted kids at both the viewing and the funeral, and, in their own ways, said goodbye.  The Big One understood that something serious was going on and that people were feeling sad.  He sat quietly through the funeral as his family members cried softly next to him.  He climbed into the lap of his grandfather as we said our final goodbye at the cemetery.  As we drove away he said, "I'm going to miss my old Grandpa."

I often forget how much we underestimate our children.  We don't realize how much they really understand.  How much they see and hear.  How closely they listen and how much they get it.  We may have had to explain what death is, but we didn't have to explain the sense of loss that comes along with it.  We didn't have to explain that the people around him needed a little extra quiet and little extra love.  We didn't have to explain that family is important.

This experience gave us the opportunity to show our children how we rally together when we need to.  How, through death, we can celebrate life.

As worried as I was about the entire experience and as sad as I knew it would be, I could not be more grateful for wonderful things that came out of it.  We were able to honor and celebrate a wonderful man- a leader in our family- and to show our children what love and support look like.  We were able to be together, as a family, and say goodbye.

Try Walking In My Shoes

The Little One has a shoe obsession.

He has always been obsessed with shoes- it was one of his first words in fact- and has long been stealing shoes out of the boys' shoe basket to wear around the house.  More recently, he's slipped on Daddy's sneakers or Mama's red Kanga's.

But lately, he has taken a particular shine to my fancier shoes.  He sneaks into the closet and comes out looking much snazzier than before.  Yesterday, he clomped by in my black studded flats.  Today, my red patent leather wedges, accessorized with a multicolored maraca.

This kid has style.