Effing Nala

My boss recently returned from Disney World with thoughtful gifts for my children.  So thoughtful, in fact, that she not only remembered that they both like the Lion King, she actually checked in with Minh to see which specific Lion King characters my kids liked best.  "All of them," was the reply Minh gave her.

Yesterday she presented us with a stuffed Nala and a stuffed Timon (see below).  We, in turn, went home and gave them to the kids--explaining that they were a gift all the way from Florida.  Look at these, aren't they adorable?  Timon is even clutching a juicy grub in his hand.  How could any child not love these gifts?

Tai immediately wanted to know which stuffie was for which kid.  In my overly egalitarian, almost socialist, way I replied that they are (of course) both for sharing.  This, in retrospect, may have been a mistake.

As soon as one child (Quynh) took a shine to one of the stuffies (Nala) my afternoon was ruined.  Quynh's affection for Nala over Timon only served to make Nala the object of Tai's affections as well.  Timon was cast aside while my kids fought over, whined for, cried about, and grabbed at poor Nala. 

After 30 straight minutes of trying to both negotiate turns with Nala and spark some interest in Timon, I attempted to change the subject with a game of hide and seek.  Luckily, Tai seemed not to care that while both hiding and seeking Quynh kept Nala tucked under her arm, or that Nala had to sit at the dinner table next to Quynh.

While I was tucking her in last night, Quynh requested to sleep with Nala.  Since Tai was already in bed, there was no one to fight her on that point.  So I acquiesced but told her that Tai will get to sleep with Nala the next night. She replied, "Why?  He can have The Other One."  (Poor Timon, Quynh can't even be bothered to remember his name.)

Post-tuck-in, I went out to the kitchen and found poor Timon, discarded on the kitchen floor with only his grub for company.

Fat Pants

I don't understand Fat Pants.  Maybe I'm doing it wrong?

Not long ago I discovered that all of my work pants were way too tight.  I mean, I could just barely fasten them and when I did I was immediately uncomfortable and grouchy.  So I figured I needed to lose a couple pounds.  But that could take a few weeks, right?  So I decided to get a couple pairs of stop-gap Fat Pants to meet my needs until I dropped a couple pounds and went back to my usual pants.

Also, I figured, it's only a few pounds I need to lose, so I don't need a serious diet, I'll just cut out junk food, including the (almost nightly) glass of wine and some-form-of-chocolate.  In a few weeks, I'll be back in my regular pants.  Right?

This does not seem to be how it works  Instead, it went like this:

Purchased 2 pairs of Fat Pants and experience immediate relief.
Lost all desire to squeeze into old pants.
Lost all desire to lose a few pounds.
Drank lots of wine and ate lots of chocolate.
Can now ONLY fit into two pairs of Fat Pants -- regular pants will no longer fasten.

When I was wearing the Tight Pants and feeling uncomfortable all day long I was much more motivated to diet.  Now that I am comfy in my Fat Pants, why would I bother?  Actually, even when I was sausaging myself into my old pants from 9am-5pm, the motivation was only present when the Tight Pants were on.  As soon as I'd get home from work I'd put on Comfy Pants and miraculously forget about the whole pants problem.  It's like I can only diet when I'm at work, and uncomfortable.

Like right now.  I'm in my powder blue snowflake patterned fleece pajama pants (jealous?) and they feel great!  So what's the problem?  No problem!  Bring me more wine and chocolate!  No problem all the way till tomorrow morning when I have to dress for work.   And even then, I have the Fat Pants.

This all reminds me when a friend of mine gained her Dissertation Weight (it's a thing, really) and she went out and bought bigger clothes.  I remember she said, "I'm not getting fat, I just needed bigger clothes!"  This is exactly my problem.  The bigger clothes take away that sense of expanding waistline, thus all motivation to diet. 

So the questions remain:

(1) How do I get motivated to get back into my old pants?  Keep wearing them?  Wear them 24/7 so I am always uncomfortable?

(2) How do I keep the Fat Pants from becoming the Regular Pants?  Or, God Forbid, the New Tight Pants?

(3) How is this supposed to work?  What am I doing wrong?

Necessity is the Mother of Learning to Operate Doorknobs

At the ripe old age of 2 years, 7 months, Quynh had still not learned to operate a door knob.  And why would she?  With two parents and a brother to open doors for her, she had no need.

Until she moved into her Big Girl Bed.

The first few nights in the bed she slept like an angel, waking at the usual hour of 6:30am and softly calling to us or signing to herself to let us know she was awake.  We'd go in and find her still in her bed, playing with her baby dolls.  The transition from crib to bed went so smoothly, I thought to myself, somehow forgetting my past experience.  Then, just like her brother before her, it occurred to her that she could simply get out of bed.  Whenever. She. Wanted. 

The next few nights, she woke early and decided enough was enough.  No longer caged in her crib, she climbed out of her bed.  But she was trapped in her room by her inability to figure out the enigma that is the doorknob.  Logically, she knocked to be let out.  One night Minh and I woke to the outrageously loud sound of tiny little knuckles rapping on a door at 2am.  And then again at 5am.

This habit spread briefly to bedtime.  A couple nights in a row, just after being tucked in, she would start knocking on the door.  We found that if we opened the door and tucked her back in there were tears.  But if we ignored the knocking it eventually stopped.

But then one evening it happened.  We tucked her in and closed the door.  Less than two minutes later the door *opened* and Quynh came out, announcing, "Mama, I have to tell you a secret."  Trying not to let my face betray the absolute shock and horror (and not even a hint of pride) I felt at her new-found ability to escape her room, I tucked her back in and told her to save her secret for the morning.  She wept.  And fell asleep.

For the next several nights, Quynh woke at the ungodly hour of anytime-before-6am, came out of her room, and wandered down the hallway.  She'd come into our room, clad in feety PJs, nuk in mouth, stuffies tucked under arms, and blanky dragging behind her.  She'd look up at me with those big black anime eyes and ask, "Can I come in your bed?"

And I'd say "No."

It's so hard to say no, but we learned with the first kid that we have to.  So each time, we'd put her back in her room and she'd cry.  But eventually she got the hint.  She's still not sleeping all the way until 6:30, but this morning she stayed in her room (doing God-Knows-What) until then.  Actually, I take it back.  I know what she was doing.  She has one of these things, where you scratch off the black stuff to reveal sparkly rainbow colors underneath. She adores it.  And at one of my recent 5am wake-ups (during which I found myself arguing with a 2 year old over whether and why she had to go back to sleep) I grabbed the notepad off her table and suggested she busy herself with that till 6:30am.  Not the best decision, since I now find her sheets covered in little black flecks every morning.  But at least she lets me sleep.     

Now she has the cutest little night light on a timer just like her brother.  And we're hoping she takes to that system as well as he did.  Tonight's the first night with the timer and she's pretty excited about it.  Let's see what the wee small hours of tomorrow morning bring.

Welcome to the Big Leagues

Quynh is (daytime) potty trained.  She had been working on that, off-and-on, for a while, but a few weeks ago something just clicked and she got it.  Do you suppose it had anything to do with the fact that in her PNP video Santa said, "I understand you've been asked to try to always make it to the toilet on time"?  That Santa, he can be pretty powerful.*

Well, whatever happened, I'm thrilled that it did.  She's 2 years and 7 months old and the only time she wears a diaper is overnight.  I can practically see the End of Diapers Forever on the horizon.

Quynh's other milestone over the holiday break was learning how to climb in and out of her crib on her own.  She frequently takes to her crib to "rest" (get a nuk fix).  It's lovely that she likes to hang out in there, especially when we are making dinner.   When she's done she yells, "Can someone get me out?!?"  But one evening she did not call for help, but simply emerged from her room with a big smile on her face.  Surely it was a one-time fluke, we hoped.  But over the next few days she proved that theory wrong, easily climbing in and out at will.

So we got a sitter and went bed shopping. (Because I cannot imagine much worse than trying to make a decision about such a large purchase with two kids jumping on mattresses and asking me to play with them.)  Quynh's only request was that we get her a "pink one".  When we returned home and declared success, she asked a series of questions:  "Where is it?  Is it in the trunk [of the car]?  Can I sleep in it?  Is it pink?"  We tried to explain that large items like beds have to be delivered and that for some strange reason pink beds are not that common.

So the bed arrives tomorrow and we're hoping the pink Hello Kitty sheets will take ker mind off the fact that her wooden bed is not pink but the color of, well, wood. Yes, tomorrow night my baby will sleep in her brand new Big Girl Bed for the first time.  Yes, I am excited.  And yes, I am little bit sad.  But mostly I'm just wondering how she will handle sleeping un-caged. We all know how well that has gone in the past.



*I need to keep this in mind next year and start plotting what he can help me achieve in 2012.

Five

I have been a mother for five years.  I have been tired, overwhelmed, and angry.  I have been energized, playful, and elated.  I have yelled and waved my finger.  I have whispered secrets and rubbed noses.  I have lost my patience.  I have used my imagination.  I would not trade it for anything.  

Most importantly, I have raised a five-year-old who is:

• smart beyond my wildest dreams
• interested in all types of music
• an avid fan of mystery novels
• amused by slapstick comedy
• fascinated by animals
• an environmentalist
• determined to study all-things-prehistoric
• desperate to own a microscope
• hoping to one day do "real science experiments, with chemicals"
• planning to (also) be an architect
• the class clown
• a good friend
• practically a swimmer
• generous
• highly suspicious of Santa's existence
• sweet and loving toward his sister (mostly)
• sometimes shy
• frequently frustrating.....but
• always amazing

The Miracle of Birth

Over the holiday break we went to the Museum of Science. Tai was, of course, fascinated by the dinosaurs, the Pompeii exhibit, and the gift shop.

But Quynh cannot stand and look at dinosaur skeletons for as long as her brother, so I brought her to what was one of my favorite exhibits as a child. The chick hatchery. Being 2 days before Christmas, it was not at all crowded, so we could stand right up by the window to the incubator and see all the little fluffy yellow chicks on one side and the un-hatched eggs on the other side. This was so luxurious, compared to my memories of field trips when 28 of us all tried to see in at once.

So she and I stood there and watched this one egg with a large crack in it. It began to wiggle. The museum staff member assured us it could still take hours for a chick to emerge. But a mere 5 minutes later a scrawny, wet, and tired chick emerged from the egg. Quynh was beyond excited. And I have to admit that I was pretty darned thrilled myself.

But after watching him/her struggle to stand, fall over, and flop around for 10 full minutes I was ready to move on. Quynh did not want to budge. Eventually, I decided to try to cajole her away from the chick display by enticing her over to the section on human birth.

She adored the mother-and-baby statue almost as much as she liked the models of fetuses at 2, 4, 6, and 8 months gestation. She kept asking to play with the "tiny babies".

Then she found the birth videos.

We walked into this little room with a TV screen and four buttons below it. The buttons were labeled Fetal Development, Vaginal Birth, Home Birth, and Cesarean. When we entered the room, the vaginal birth video was in progress. From my point of view, it was at a very exciting part. But Quynh found it boring at first. While the video showed a close up of the woman's face as she pushed and pushed and pushed, Quynh asked loudly and repeatedly, "Where's the baby???"

Then the camera panned down to Where The Action Is and Quynh exclaimed with apparent concern, "What's on her bah-gina?!!" I tired to calmly and quietly explain where babies come from (literally). I hoped she would not be horrified.

She watched intently as the baby emerged, was placed on the mother's chest, and was wiped clean with a towel. The video ended and she said, "Again!!!" Later, when someone was halfway through the home birth video, Quynh ran up to the TV and pushed the button to switch back to the vaginal birth movie. All told, I think she watched it three times before deciding to move on to another exhibit.

So while Tai learned about volcanoes, dinosaurs, and the solar system, Quynh learned, at the tender young age of two-and-a-half, about the miracle of birth.

Winter Market

I used to think "Farmer's Markets" were all about vegetables.  But I have learned over the past few years that they often include meat, cheese, honey, pastries, various other crafts, and live music.

Our town happens to have not-one-but-two outdoor summertime markets and not-one-but-two indoor winter markets.  Excessive?  Perhaps.   But it means that chances are, when you find yourself sitting around wondering what to do, there is a farmer's market you could be visiting.  We've lived here only a few months but have now officially been to each of the four markets at least once. 

Yesterday morning we checked out the winter market held in the middle school cafeteria.  Our kids were hesitant to get out of their PJs and into the car, but once we got there they had a blast.  They headed right for the live music.  Tai stopped and stared at the musicians -- enthralled but not moved to dance.  Quynh is more of a free spirit.  The music moved her to spin around in circles as fast as she could to the point of extreme dizziness and then stagger off into the crowd. 

Minh took the time to visit all the tables and even purchased some Actual Vegetables.  I, on the other hand, (1) finished my Christmas shopping and (2) bought coffee, cocoa, and a scone for our family snack. 

And, of course, we ran into some friends.  How could we not?  The place was packed with young families, old townies, and everything in between.

Part of me pats myself on the back for introducing my kids to farmers markets, with their local organic produce. And part of me wonders about the example I set when I run right for the table with the chocolate croissants.