The night before last my daughter woke me up at 3am moaning for me. It was kind of a muffled maaaawmy...maaaaawmy...I finally hauled my 600 pound ass out of bed (that's how heavy my ass feels at 3am. Like I might need a forklift). I walk into her room and see her head and half her body is under my son's bed. She's stuck under there. She's basically unconscious so you can see how it would be difficult to shimmy backwards in that state. How did you she get in there? Good question. Their beds are catty-corner. His bed is in the corner of the room and her mattress is against the back wall, flush with his, but on the floor. They make an L or a lower case R. So there's a space where she might be able to crawl under his bed. But why she scoots herself in there while she's sleeping is a mystery. Anyway, I pulled her out and put her back in her bed and since she was asleep this whole time there was no protest. And I hauled myself back to bed.
Last night, same thing. Only when I went into their room, she was missing. And just as panic was setting in I took a breath and realized I could still hear her mommy moaning. I waved my hand under my son's bed and came in contact with a xylophone, a roll of butcher paper, grandma's neck pillow, a stack of puzzles and a tool box but no toddler. But I could hear her in there.
Now, just so we all understand, this is a twin bed (with a lot of large items stored underneath). It's not a queen or a king. I finally get on my belly and really reach my whole arm under the bed where I feel her leg. She has inched herself all the way over to the wall, navigating between the aforementioned obstacles. I can't really comprehend how it's all possible. I decide at 3am that she must have magical powers beyond my tired imagination. I pull her out, put her back in her bed and barricade what we now refer to as the crawl space.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Houdini
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Kids sort of love soccer
I signed my son up for soccer. Did she not learn her lesson after the swimming? Don't remind me about the swim lessons. I signed up for more of those too. What can I say? I like torture. But I did. I signed him up. For a number of reasons. You see I'm pals with some moms of other kids in his class and they were signing their kids up (this would be their SECOND session) and I thought, well, if there are other kids in the class that he knows, maybe it won't be horrible. Maybe it will just be awful which is a big step up for us. Also, I've seen him pass a ball around with his uncle, CIF Champion 1987, and he's pretty coordinated. For a four year old. He's no Pele or Ronaldo but he's also not Brazilian, born with cleats for feet. Anyway, I figured we would try it.
Posted by Inner Toddler at 1:47 PM 2 comments
Labels: Kidz love soccer, pee wee sports, soccer
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Fine by her
Monday, June 29, 2009
Happy anniversary to me
I just happened to look at my blog archive today thinking I've been writing in this thing for nearly two years. I thought I'd started in July. Turns out I started exactly on June 29 of 2007. So there you go. That's today. Happy Anniversary to Me! I'm surprised I made it this long. I usually get bored of activities after a few weeks. Maybe months. But two years is EPIC. And more than ever it is true that the more things change, the more things stay the same. Which is why I will celebrate with my usual: Nutella in a pita.
xoxo
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Two productions
On Friday was my son's graduation from preschool and I was promised by all of the teachers that I'd better bring at least one box of tissues because it was sure to be a sob-fest. And in fact it was very sweet and quite a production. I was very proud of my son, even when he told me mid-song to stop looking at him. It was fun to see him sing all of the songs he'd been practicing at home for the last four months and even a few in Mandarin and Spanish (yes, we live in California) that's I'd never heard. And I felt very assured by the end of the production that we were making the right decision to send him to the Young Fives program at the JCC. Something about him hardly smiling, eyes darting around the room and his general seriousness made me think another year of play and self assurance would be great for him. But I can't say I cried. I welled up a little when I saw his teacher start crying as she was handing out the diplomas (did I mention they were all wearing pint size caps and gowns?). But the sob-fest unexpectedly happened the day after when I went with my husband, brother and sister-in-law to see another production.
Posted by Inner Toddler at 2:37 PM 2 comments
Labels: graduation, preK, preschool, San Francisco, Wicked




