A Berry, Berry Happy Halloween To Ya!

Happy Halloween from Strawberry Shortcake and Snow White.

Mommy...you are not an alien after all!

Emma has been on a big picture kick lately. Here's a really detailed drawing she gave me this weekend. I must say, this one definitely makes up for the alien version of me she rendered a few weeks back, even though it looks like I now walk with a limp.

Aladdin Made Me Lose My Mind

Apparently, Chris now likes to spend his spare time recording secret videos of the women in his household. This weekend, he managed to nab some footage of us being silly while I was completely unaware. (Believe me...if I had known, I would have twirl-kicked that camera right out of his hand.) I wasn't very happy when I found out what he'd done (understatement of the YEAR), but I have to admit - it is nice to have tangible evidence for Emma and Sophie that at least once during their childhood, Mama played with them. Plus, I discovered the viewer can block me out of the video entirely with one very precisely placed hand. (This can be challenging, considering I am dancing around like a drunk ballerina through the whole clip. But if you have exceptional hand-eye coordination, I maintain that the hand block process works quite well.) However, if you must indulge a glance or two at the tall chick hopping about in her pajamas, make sure you enjoy yourself. Because you are witnessing a very rare Jen-on-video occurrence, and now that my vigilance level has been upgraded from yellow to red (I'm watching you, Chris), it will likely never happen again.

Wisdom Just Drips From My Mouth

A few of my favorite sayings/exchanges from the weekend...

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Emma: "Mommy's good at tickling, Daddy's good at drawing, and I'm the best bubble letterer."
Chris: "Sophie, what are you good at?"
Sophie: "Birds."
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Em: "Violet sits at my table. She took the other kid's spot who transformed to another school."
Me: "You mean transferred."
Em: "Nooooo, I mean transformed."
Me: "'Transformed' means to turn into something new."
Em: "Right. That's what I'm saying! She turned into a kid that goes to a different school."
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Em: "Daddy, you are the weirdest kid in this family."
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Chris: "Em, I'm not going to wrestle with you anymore if you don't stop tooting."
Emma: "It's not my fault! I can't hold in my toots like my pee and poop. It makes no sense!"
[Loud toot, followed by mad giggling.]
Emma: "Oops Daddy. Sorry. I farted in your face again."
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Soph: "Tickle my pieces. TICKLE MY PIECES!"
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Soph: [Screaming-Tantrum-Screaming-Tantrum-Screaming-Tantrum]
Em: "Sophie, pipe down. It's not like somebody is stabbing you or something."
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Me: "Isn't it a beautiful fall day?"
Em: "Yes. I hope I don't die today. I love life."
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Me: "I guess it's warmer out than I thought."
Em: "I told you. I knew what the weather was outside because I can see the future."
Me: "Really? You can see the future, huh?"
Em: "Ugh. I knew you were going to say that."
Me: "Ha ha, very funny."
Em: "What the heck are you talking about?"
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Em: "You are more wrong than the trees in India!"
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Em: "If I had $100, I would buy all the Fun Dip packages in all the world."
Soph: "If I had $5, you know what I like? Candy. With mermaid tails on it."

Emma Hearts Mom...Sometimes

Emma made a picture for me. She spent several hours on it, toiling away at the gym nursery and then continuing at home. She said it was "the harderest" drawing she has ever done. When she finished, she made me close my eyes before whipping the picture from behind her back and exclaiming, "Happy Birthday!" I reminded her that my birthday is still two months away. "I didn't want to forget," she explained.

I love that she created something so beautiful and specific just for me. I actually got a lump in my throat when I saw it. I plan to hang it in my room so I can gaze intently at the picture whenever she's in a time out and shouting that I am a stupid mother.

I Pee, Therefore I Am

Dare I say it? Okay, I'm just gonna take a deep breath and spit it out. Sophie is now...kinda/sorta/maybe potty trained.

HOORAY! HOORAY! HOORAY! HOORAY! HOORAY! HOORAY! HOORAY! HOORAY!

Check it out:

She's already filled half of her second chart, too. Since last weekend, when she suddenly decided out of nowhere that she is a potty prodigy, Sophie hasn't looked back. She wears panties everywhere, and not one accident. Not ONE! She is a peeing master. However...#2? Well, the jury is still out on that one. So far, she has either timed it to go during naptime when she is in a pull up, or she just hasn't gone at all. In fact, we are currently on Day 6 of Sophie Poop Watch. (Why do my children have such screwed up bowels? They are both smart, healthy, happy, beautiful little girls who happened to draw the super short stick in the defecation department.) Except for the dark shadow of Constipation currently hovering over our house, I can't believe how smooth this transition has been...that is, once Sophie finally made up her mind to do it. After the horror of the last few months, the biggest bump in the road this week was when I proudly presented her with a brand new baby doll as one of her special treats and she dropped to her knees and sobbed that she wanted an Oreo instead.

Now, if everyone out there can just do a little poop dance and send it Sophie's way, all will be well.

Does This Orange Make My Butt Look Big?

Hey...dig the blog facelift? It happened accidentally on purpose, which is pretty much the story of my life. So if you don't like it, keep it to yourself please. I have no clue how to change it back.

Out of the mouths of babes...

• Me: "Girls, quit playing the dead game." Em: "We aren't dead. We are just hurt really bad and our eyes won't open because we fell from a roller coaster 130 feet tall and broked our bodies. But we aren't dead."

• Soph: "Mommy, look at the birds in the sky. They are playing Follow The Leader!"

• Em: "Now that my teeth are falling out, I'm practically a teenager."

• Soph: "Mama, you are my friend, and Millie is my friend, and Emma is my friend, and Callie is my friend." Me: "What about Daddy?" Soph: "Daddy is my father." Me: "Well...fathers can be friends, too." Soph: "No. That's gross!"

• Em: "Grandma, did you know that if you take off your underwear anywhere in the wide world, your vagina will explode?"

• Me: "Sophie, are you a big girl? Do you pee and poop in the potty?" Soph: "Yes, I do! Whenever I feel like it."

• Em: "Mommy, what am I whistling?" [Cue crazy-screechy-whistle sound.] Me: "I don't know." Em: "Mom. Pay attention." [Cue crazy-screechy-whistle sound.] Me: "I have no idea." Em: "Ugh! Mama. Just listen." [Cue crazy-screechy-whistle sound.] Me: "I don't know, Emma. Goodness. Just tell me what it is already." Em: "WHOO-HOO! I am whistling WHOO-HOO!" Me: "Wow. You didn't have to scream it in my face." Em: "Yes, I did. Clearly."

• Soph: "Mama, can you hold my tiara? I hafta pee."

• Em: "我饿了, 我要牛肉. That means 'I am hungry and I want beef' in Chinese."

• Soph: "Look at my belly, Mama. It is so big! Touch it."  

• Em: "Sophie isn't ready to go to school yet." Me: "Why?" Em [in a whisper, with hand cupping her mouth]: "Because she'll be loud and crazy on the bus and she won't know where to sit or how to put on her seat belt and she'll do somersaults on the ground when the bus is moving and cry that she misses you and fart in her pants and it will embarrass me."

• Soph & Em: "We looooooove dressing up like princesses!"

Potty Training: Progress Report 4

My daughter confounds me.

Since my last progress report, we've taken a total break from potty training. Sophie is back in pull ups, and she hasn't gone near the toilet in weeks. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she announces Thursday afternoon that she feels like she has to go. We go in and sit...AND SHE PEES IN THE TOILET. I'm not talking a few dribbles here either, but an actual stream of urine, people. Not only that, but she does so with the ease of a seasoned pro. She sits there, peeing away, with a huge smile on her face and knowing gleam in her eyes that says, "No big deal. I was ALWAYS capable of this, you idiots."

I thought it was a fluke. Then yesterday, she does it two more times. She even pees for SPECTATORS, inviting my friend Genevieve to come in and watch her do her stuff. She's actually showing off how good she is at this!What the what? I don't get it, but I'm not gonna question it. I'm only praying that it lasts. No pressure. She is still in pull ups. We aren't asking her if she has to go or forcing her to sit on the toilet in timed intervals or any of that junk. This time, everything is super casual. Sophie is clearly running the show here, which apparently was what she wanted all along. I am just following her lead. Who knows if this streak will continue, but right now a very proud and happy toddler resides in our house. (Oh - and one confused but VERY relieved mother.)

My kids

Let's face it: my kids are rather odd.

Exhibit A:
Sophie started the day happy as a clam - chatting away, giggling, being silly. Suddenly, she stopped mid-conversation and declared, "I'm having a bad day." It was 6:45am. Then she threw herself face down on the floor and lay prone like this:

Why, you ask? I have no idea. That's just how my kid rolls. 

Exhibit B:

About 30 seconds after the face-down-on-floor-bad-day incident, Sophie stood up and announced she wanted to talk with the camera. Here is our conversation - nothing earth shattering, just typical Sophie cuteness:

Exhibit C:
Later, Emma and Sophie had themselves a little clown party in the living room. My favorite part of the video is when Sophie inexplicably stops to hold her butt...and then starts dancing again. Do you see what I am dealing with, people?!?

These are three relatively mild examples of what passes for normal around here. I accept that my attempts at control are merely an illusion. I'm just the mommy pinball, bouncing from one weird thing to the next, trying to keep up.

MY Jersey is better than YOUR Jersey

My friend Gen writes a wonderful blog. Seriously, you should check it out. In fact, she recently dedicated an entire post to yours truly because she loves me THAT much. (And...well, okay...maybe because I also semi-browbeat her into it. But anyway, click here if you want to find out exactly how adept I am at wasting time with friends on email.) In Gen's latest blog post, she has thrown down an internet drag queen challenge. Now, anyone who knows me should be well aware that I take challenges very, very seriously. Particularly challenges in which someone is claiming they can look more awful than me. So, of course, I accepted her dare. Here is my drag queen entry, and for the record, I think it is HAWT:

Oh, yeah. Snooki, watch out. If you think you can do better, click here and go to town. But be warned: I. WILL. WIN.

Autumn: A Photo Essay

Sunday was family day in the Mathews household, and we decided to autumn it up at the Nature Center's Harvest Festival. Except for the fact that it was 80 degrees outside, it was a perfect fall day. (Sidebar: GLOBAL WARMING IS NOT A MYTH.) First, we stopped at the pond to visit the geese.

Can you believe places like this exist in the city? And only a couple miles from our place too. Beautiful.

Don't you love their little matching potbellies?

Next, we wandered through various booths before hitting the scarecrow-making area.

Sophie got into the whole scarecrow thing right away.

Emma wasn't lovin' the hay at first.

But soon, she jumped right in. Yay! Hay pile!

And eventually, with a lot of help from Daddy...ta da! Our very odd-looking scarecrow.

Finally, we headed back home for some old-fashioned pumpkin carving. Chris was so excited to share this project with the girls. He had his professional carving instruments at the ready and found the perfect jack-o-lantern face on the internet. But our little princesses didn't react exactly as he had hoped.

At first, they were intrigued...

...but after a close-up view of pumpkin guts, they were done.

Poor Chris. His dreams of Daddy-daughters pumpkin bonding evaporated into thin air. He persevered and finished the project alone while the girls cowered on the couch and watched him warily. And the final product? Pretty freakin' cool.

Seriously...shouldn't Chris be a professional? I wish our camera could have caught how cool it looks with the flashing bulb inside, but sadly, technology failed me. Or else I just don't know how to work my camera. Nah...I blame technology.

Later that evening, I almost tripped over this adorable sight.

Sophie's baby Jill and Emma's Baby Doll, snuggling side by side.

I don't know which girl took such loving care of their babies, but it could have been either one. They both dote on them. Somehow I've ended up raising major girly-girls...leery of dirty, slimy things like hay and gourd guts, but apparently awesome mommies-in-the-making. Not sure how this happened, but I do know one thing - my women studies professor from college would be so appalled.

Sophie on a Thursday

• Finds a tampon in my gym bag and claims it as her own, calling it her vampire. (A simple mispronunciation, or is she unconsciously confusing one bloodsucker with another? Hoo-AH!) "It so pretty! It has stripes!" (The packaging has stripes. I knew what you were thinking. Sickos.) Periodically (Ba-DUM-bum) hides the tampon behind her back and announces, "I got a surprise for you, Mama!" Whips her hands in front of her with a flourish. "Ta-DA! A vampire for you to love!"
  
• When I tell her I Tivo'd "Backyardigans" for her, she throws her arms in the air and yelps, "Yay! I so proud of you, Mama!"
• Asks to go to the pool. I explain the pool is closed until next summer. Scrunches her face up and glares at me. "I ask Grandma to take me! Grandma LOVES me!"
• Story game...Me: "And then the bear did a happy dance and...what happened next?" Sophie: "And then the bees flied all around his nose and the bear died. The bees died him. The end." Second attempt...Me: "So the bear tiptoed into the house to take a nap and...what happened next?" Sophie: "And the bees grabbed the bear's arm and that not nice! And the bear died. The end." Third attempt...Me: "The beautiful butterfly flew high above the clouds with the fairies and...what happened next?" Sophie: "The bear died like this [lies flat on back on floor] and he died [pointing] here and here and here and here and here and allllllllllllll over the floor and the bees said 'Yay!' The end."
• Gets frustrated helping with laundry because I give her too many clothes to carry at a time. "Mama, you are getting me nuts," she mutters.
• Sophie: "Mama, I went poop." Me: "Uggh. Okay. Just...next time, will you please tell me before you go poop so we can sit on the potty? Please please please with sugar on top?" Sophie: "Sugar on top...of my bottom?"
  
• Declares me a better singer than Tasha the hippopotamus on "Backyardigans." I open my mouth to thank her when she adds, "And you look like her, Ma-ma! Mama, you a pretty hippo!"
• Refuses to put on shirt because the tag itches. Insists on wearing bathing suit under it before leaving the house. "You are just doing this because Emma does," I accuse. "Yep," she confirms.
• Sophie: "Mama, I peed on the floor." Me: "Uggh. Sophie! You're killing me!" Sophie: "I no killing you, Mama. Don't say that! That not nice." Bursts into tears.
  
• Lights up when I explain that our street is filled with forklifts dumping huge pounds of dirt into holes because they are planting trees and flowers. "That's a GREAT idea!" she says. Shouts out the window at the construction workers, "Good job, con-cussins! Good job, dirt! The flowers will look so bee-autiful!"
  
• Grabs my arm at 10:05am and says, "I ready for night-night." We read a book, sing a song, turn out the lights. I put her in the crib and am just closing the door when she shouts, "I all done!" I turn and ask, "Seriously? You're kidding me, right?" Oblivious to my sarcasm, she grins and gushes, "I no kidding, Ma-ma. Mama, I had a good nap."
  
• Screams following phrases from bedroom to avoid napping (successfully, I grudgingly add): "I just need to whisper you somefing, Mama." "Ma-ma, I want another story!" "Maaaaa-ma...what happen next, Ma-ma?! What. happen. NEXT?" "Mommy! It 9 of the clock, time to wake up now!" "Mommy, my butt hurts. You need to kiss it, Mama!"
  
• Keeps asking if we can go to the cube-li-esque store. All day long: "Mama, when we going to the cube-li-esque store?" Finally dawns on me about 4 o'clock that she means the UPS store.

Dude. Your head is HUGE.

Emma has recently started carrying a notebook and pen everywhere she goes. She draws and writes in it. She is prone to whipping the notebook out at any given moment and mumbling things like "that's a good idea for a song" or "oooh...I want to draw that." It's all very artsy and deep...and, of course, very cute.

Yesterday, she drew the members of our family.
Doesn't everyone look lovely? Sure, our toothpick legs seem ready to buckle under the strain of carrying around heads large enough to be spotted from outer space, but we are still a good-looking bunch. Emma did explain that she gave Sophie and me long hair because she doesn't know how to do short hair. Although...that sure looks like short hair I see in Chris's picture. But hey - who am I to question an artist's process? At least we look happy, with beautific smiles pasted on all our faces. Oh yeah. Excuse me. What I meant was...on all our faces except MINE. Yep, my pic looks like I just sat on an upended nail and can't decide if I liked it or not. Emma told me she drew my "surprised face" because that's how I always look. What the what? Seriously? I always look like I'm high? I always look like I'm hypnotized? I always look like I can't take my eyes off the crossbeams emanating from the mother ship?

Weird, to think this is how she sees me. I was actually fired from a job once because they said I didn't smile enough. Guess I need to get happier, stat. Or at least my face does.

The Storm of Sophie

Sophie has been out-of-sorts lately. And by out-of-sorts, I mean she has been a complete maniac. Neither of my children are sedate individuals. Both are prone to extreme tantrums, but Sophie's are usually manageable. However, she's been feeling icky and sleeping poorly the last few days, and the cumulative result is an easily triggered, deeply disconsolate Sophie Patrice.

This morning, Sophie was one long storm of rage. She kicked, wailed, threw things, screamed, clawed her face, pulled clumps of hair out, spit, snarled, roared. At one point, she actually flipped over the kids' table in our living room like a toddler version of The Incredible Hulk. I haven't seen her like that in a long, long time. Tantrums trigger many feelings in me - annoyance, anger, frustration, loneliness, betrayal, sadness, humor. (Especially humor. I mean, sometimes life is so ludicrous, what else can you do but laugh?) But ones like today are truly heartbreaking. It literally makes my chest ache to see her so upset and know there is absolutely nothing I can do to make her feel better. She does not want to be touched or cuddled or soothed in any way. She just wants to get her anger OUT. So I sit and wait, and sit and wait, and sit and wait...and eventually, she comes out the other side and collapses into my arms, finally ready to be consoled.

It took us about an hour to get on Sophie's socks and shoes this morning. ONE. HOUR. (Maybe others would have given up, but faced with the choice of going to the gym and letting others deal with her or giving up and being stuck with her all by myself, I opted for perseverance.) I decided to videotape her towards the tail end of the tantrum. Why, you ask? Because it occurred to me that I am always recording cute, memorable moments of the kids that often showcase their best sides. Yet this side of Sophie is as real as any other, and an essential part of what makes her...well, HER. And when I look back on the girls' younger years, I want to remember them as accurately as I can. Besides, this isn't even remotely the worst of it - the presence of the camera seems to distract her, and by the end of the clip she gives in and seeks physical contact (hence the dramatic flinging of herself into my lap), which usually signifies a turning point in the onslaught. Still, it is a glimpse.

A few minutes ago, Sophie woke up smiling after a long nap and declared, "Mommy! I don't feel gross anymore!" I am crossing my fingers that she is right. Either way, I'm here and waiting with hugs at the ready whenever she needs them. It's all I know to do.

Emma: A Self-Portrait

The worksheet below came home in Em's school folder today. God, I adore this kid.

Potty Training: Progress Report 3

Sophie has managed to acquire eight stickers on her potty chart this week. She even earned her first special treat - a Snow White Polly Pocket Play Set. Yay!
However, in the interest of full disclosure, I feel compelled to add that at least three of those stickers were gained by less than a handful of pitiful little urine drops that just happened to fall into the toilet. And yes, while there have been celebratory moments this week, Sophie has also peed on the floor of just about every room in our apartment, as well as all over Aunt Jayme's shoes, our couch, the living room rug, and an innocent baby doll's head. In addition, there have been countless instances of poop-in-the-panties, and a few hours ago I stepped on a huge wet steaming glob of Sophie poo on the bathroom floor...IN MY BARE FEET.

At this point, I would say failures are outweighing successes, but I vow to stay strong. Um...well, later. Yeah. That's right. LATER, I will stay strong. Right now, I just have to say: I. HATE. POTTY. TRAINING. It SUCKS, it is DISGUSTING, and I don't understand why there aren't any professionals out there that I can hire to do it FOR me. I mean, I'm talking about a niche market in a crappy economy that is just WAITING to be exploited, so why isn't anyone out there DOING it?! Doesn't anyone get how many desperate parents there are in this world who would meet any price? Plus, we are all stupid enough to KEEP REPRODUCING, which means a neverending stream of customers! Hello...is anyone LISTENING? There are people out there willing to wade through garbage and plunge toilets for a living. There is even an outfit in this city that you can pay to get rid of your kid's head lice! Yet no one will take on my two-year-old? I would give ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY. I would rob a bank, I don't CARE, just somebody else do it for me please please please please please, for the love of god PLEASE!

O-kay. Deeeeeeeeep breath. In, and out. IN. And. OUT. Good. All right. Glad I got that off my chest. I actually feel a little bit - TINY bit - better.

In times like these, I find it prudent to remind myself of the many things I do adore about my child...my lovely, adorable, obstinate, willful, nonstop-peeing-and-pooping child. Hence, this video: