The Assassin and the Wierdo

Between the last post and this one I've actually written 100 blog entries...in my head.

Unfortunately, I don't really remember any of them, but here are some crumbs...which is kind of a perfect analogy of my life in a way.

My future celibate assassin - don't laugh, he could kill you.

Judah. Judah has talked about which girls he would like to marry since he was 2 year old. But now, at the ripe old age of 5 and a half, he has announced that he will be a lifelong celibate. In his own words:

Mommy, I'm not going to marry anyone. Because I'm going to be an assassin when I grow up. That job is too dangerous for me to get married.

Well, it's nice to know he doesn't want to leave anyone widowed and bereaved.

Noah. Noah is becoming a really OCD kind of guy and it's driving me crazy. One of his worst pet peeves is getting wet, even if it's just a tiny droplet of water.

Future crazy homeless guy - emphasis on the crazy.

This is going to SUCK during the Summer when water play will be everywhere. Any accidental splash of water anywhere on his body or even just his clothes results in giant tears and a demand to change out of his wet gear. Even if the sun would literally dry it up before I can run upstairs and get a new shirt for him.

Recently, whenever he washes his hands, he has to dry them on a towel. And then dry them again on a paper towel. AND THEN dry them again on another paper towel. I'm so sorry rainforest trees - but I promise - I do collect and reuse these paper towels again!

This insanity reached an all new level of ridiculosity last week when Noah decided he couldn't even stand the feeling of wetness on his cheeks that were a result from his own tears.

He would cry about something and then cry about having wet cheeks.

And then cry about having more wet cheeks.

And then cry about having even more wet cheeks...

Ad nauseum

And now you know about the infinite loop of toddlerdom hell.

Oh yes, it's REAL.

The Good, the Bad, and the Fat Shaming

Life seems to be accelerating at break neck speed now that I'm with the kids a LOT more than I was previously (before Noah's preschool situation imploded and before I reduced Judah's time in after school daycare).

I can hardly find time to clear dirty plates off the counter and wipe down crumbs, much less maintain a blog of our ins and outs.

But I must! I must! Because this will be my only record of these soon to be bygone days of early childhood chaos and joy. I can think of no better application of Dickens' famous lines - It was the best of times! It was the worst of times.

First the best...

Child development books all say that age 5 is the "golden" year of childhood. And with Judah it is completely TRUE. He wants to be good. He aims to be good. And about 95% of the time he succeeds swimmingly.

 


He's so "good" in fact that he broke into tears last week when I told him that he'll one day be a teenager and will intensely dislike his parents.

Every teenager finds his parents annoying, Judah. They feel like they already know everything and that their parent's rules are simply there to frustrate them and keep them from enjoying life.

No Mommy! I don't want to be a teenager!

He was so distressed that I finally decided he could only be helped by a higher power. And so I told him to pray about it. That sweet boy, he immediately bowed his head and said the most precious thing.

Dear God, thank you for our life stages (Life stages! I kid you not, that is verbatim - the rest I'm paraphrasing from memory). Please let me be a good teenager and not hate my parents. Amen.

Man, I wish this kid could stay "5" forever.

And then the not so good...

Noah has always been a short, fat kid. Especially juxtaposed to his long, lean brother.

Noah at 7 months: poster-child for childhood diabetes or baby sumo-wrestling.

When Judah went through his "I'm Batman" phase, he often pointed to his baby brother and declared that Noah was "the Penguin".

Unfortunately, Judah's teasing of his brother has persisted and now Noah tells me at least once a day "Mommy, I'm fat."

I usually respond with a avalanche of reassurance.

You're not fat Noah!
You're perfect!
I love you just the way you are!
You're wonderful!
You're not fat. And even if you were, there's nothing wrong with being fat.
But you're not fat!
Hippos are wider than giraffes, that's how they're supposed to be.
You're just the way you should be!
Everyone's different and that's okay!

Why can't he understand he has THE PERFECT little body?

This week, instead of my usual tirade, I decided to ask Noah a further question. Maybe I'm reading to much into his statement - I'm fat, mommy. Maybe he identifies as "fat" but doesn't feel like it's a bad thing to be fat.

So I took a deep breath and said, "And how does that make you feel, Noah?"

He looked down and in a small voice whispered, "embarrassed."

Mommy heart. Broken.

My Life: A Long Downhill Slide

Ugh, I'm so behind on blogging. Massive photo dump time!

My life is in complete shambles after being pelted with 3 weeks of crazy sh*t storms. Nothing totally catastrophic, but things disruptive enough to decimate several days of productivity.

First, I broke my right arm bone (a radial head fracture for all you anatomy nerds out there). Goodbye one solid week of productivity.

The next week Judah had Spring break. Goodbye another solid week of productivity.

And then Noah's preschool teacher quit and before she could finish her last 2 weeks, was fired all of a sudden. There has been some shady stuff going on with management so I just pulled Noah out this week. So goodbye third consecutive week of productivity!

But time stops for no one! Spring has sprung!

How do I know? Judah's school is pushing "spring portraits" on parents. Portrait companies are so smart now - why settle for ONE school picture a year when you can do two?

But not smart enough for this cheap Asian parent. Picture of a picture - voila!

Easter came and went. It was great and I especially love our Easter selfie because he's still at the age when he is thrilled to take a picture with his mom. Judah is saying "Happy Easter!"

Although Noah's birthday is in January, he usually doesn't get his well-check ups until March because (a) I'm a germaphobe and try not to step into a doc's office during flu season and (b) I just can't get my act together until many months later.

Noah is doing great, but the doc was worried he didn't have both testacles descended. I was shocked. And then ensued a really awkward conversation with his male doc, complete with hand gestures, about the male anatomy and how I need to look for my toddler's parts during his next warm bath.

Which I did, and I'm happy to report, crisis averted.

During Judah's Spring Break, Noah still went to preschool. And Judah started missing his brother a lot. So I told Judah to do what I always tell him to do when he has overwhelming feelings - write and draw. How can a mother's heart not treasure this forever?!

During Judah's spring break we frolicked a lot outside.

Judah actually climbed to the top of this ridge one day, came back with a handful of poppies and declared - I found heaven!

Me too my love, I'm looking right at it.

We also finally renewed our zoo membership after letting it lapse for 2 years. Now that the kids are 3 and 5 (and avid fans of Wild Kratts) zoo trips are a lot more fun.

But their favorite thing there is still the rides.

Yesterday it was crazy hot - 90+ degrees! so we pretended it was Summer for one day and broke out all the warm weather stuff.

The brothers opened an ice cream and cookies shop:

And then I told them they could play with water after lunch, which elicited the biggest mid-day grins ever:

And then they splashed around the baby tub and realized quickly, it wasn't that fun.

And then Noah was suicidal...or maybe just thirsty.

But honestly, this pic sums up how I feel pretty well. 3 straight weeks of pain, disruption and constant child care and I'm done. D.O.N.E.

Tomorrow I visit a new preschool for Noah and, fingers-crossed, they will be the solution to all my problems. PLEASE, Lord, have mercy.