Wiped out

How is it possible that I gave birth to two people so completely different from one another? I tell you the recessive gene pool is expansive. Vast.

We're having trouble getting my son to wipe himself (sorry, that wasn't much of a segue). He's five. I'm sure this is normal and to be honest part of me wants to keep doing it because I do a better job than he does, but he should really be wiping his own ass (I keep hearing that little boy in Adam Sandler's movie Big Daddy,  I wipe my on ass! I wipe my own ass!). Anyway, my husband told him he's not doing it anymore and I said, I guess me neither. And then my son didn't take a dump for three days. This is what we are up against. So I said fine, I will wipe and then after, you will practice, as in wipe with no threat of getting poop on his fingers. We've been doing this for a week or so. And yesterday, when he didn't want to reach over to get the toilet paper because he would have to close his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the poop and then he might fall and land in the toilet (his words), I realized the extent to which he is not psyched about poop.

Compare that to a recent conversation I had with my daughter. She'd been playing in leaves outside and then came in and wanted her pants off because something was itching her. You mean the dried up maple leaves in your underwear? Is that it? I pull down her pants and a bunch of brown flecks of leaf fall to the ground and a very nonchalant conversation ensues.

her: (bending over to touch the leaves) mommy, is it poo poo?
me: no, honey
her: spider?
me: no, it's a leaf.
her: oh, leaf. (shrugs and giggles). Leaf is not poo poo mommy. Silly.

Same parents. Swear.

Morning dose

I had the kids solo from Friday morning through Sunday night. We had beautiful weather and took advantage spending a lot of time with friends riding bikes and swimming. Today we even went to a lake and took out a paddle boat. But my favorite moments were the little ones at home. Like when I gave my daughter her gummy vitamins and she went to put them on a toothpick. Kids seem to know this instinctively - that all food is better on a stick. Then once I got the camera out the kids started hamming it up. And that's how my daughter got today's dose of calcium and I got today's dose of laughter.

ps. that's Julio wedged under her armpit.

Overheard

This is the conversation I just heard from the kitchen while my kids are playing in the yard:

Her: (crying)
Him: Did you fall down?
Her: Yes
Him: Did you get an owie?
Her: Yes
Him: You have to be more careful.
Her: I know
Him: Do you need a hug?
Her: Uh-huh.

I take back all of the horrible things I wrote about him. He's a gem. Now they're behind the house reprimanding their dolls and winnie the pooh for misbehaving.

Copy rat

The other day after school the kids got home and my son decided it was time to play house and take care of his stuffed cat, aptly named Kitty. When his sister was born I got him a sling just like mine, but mini-sized, so that he could schlep around his things like I schlepped his sister. He wasn't much interested. But in the last year he's taken it out a few times as a favorite prop when playing house.

So I put it on him and stuffed his cat in with his head peeking out. So cute. Then my daughter wanted one too because she's in the me too stage. So I fashioned a sling for her out of a bandanna and we stuffed her rat Julio in there with his head peeking out. So cute. And the two of them proceeded to while away the rest of the afternoon taking care of their precious cargo. The cat and the rat remained even for dinner time. And I watched in amazement as my daughter did exactly everything that my son did. He picked up his glass of milk for a sip; she picked up hers. He pointed to the window and told me about the crow he saw; she pointed and blabbered something unintelligible, presumably about the crow. He ate his fish and cucumbers; she ate her fish and cucumbers. And she doesn't even like fish.

My son figured out this pattern and asked why little sisters always copy big brothers. That's how they learn, by watching and copying someone bigger. The same way that you learn by watching and copying Mommy and Aba. To which he replied, and that's why I need my own cell phone so I can watch and copy and learn from you. And then I swear I saw him wink.

I'm sending him to law school.

Second shift

As I was driving home from work today I was hatching a plan for the afternoon's activities. It's always around 4:00 as I'm getting in my car to pick up my kids that I start to assess the second shift. Is there food in the house? Is it hot out? Should we go to the park before we eat? Should we go to the park after we eat? Should we even bother with park? What about the blow up pool? Should I invite friends over? Should THEY bring dinner? Should I invite friends over to bring dinner and watch my kids while I go to the movies...?

I knew that today would be at least an order of magnitude less chaotic because Maria came this morning and cleaned the house. I just find it to be next to impossible to cook anything when the kitchen is a pit of disaster. So I called my friend and she met us at home with her son. And it was hot today so I decided to move forward with the blow-up pool idea. Dinner was still a question mark but I figured I'd wing something.

It's so hard to balance though because my kids have to eat something right when they get home. They're starving and unless I've prepared meals for the whole week ahead of time, it's likely they'll have to wait. Which is only my own fault so I give them snacks. But if they eat too many snacks then they don't eat dinner. Genius, I know. It only took me like two years to figure that one out with my son.

Meanwhile, back at the pool, the kids are stripped naked, the pool is five inches deep and I am loving it because they're happy and I have time to think about my next move. Then suddenly, without notice, all three kids abort the pool idea and come trampling in the house dripping wet including the baby who's carrying with her three liters of pool water in her swim diaper. So we switch gears. I hustle everyone outside again and bring out the blueberries. Then my kids sit on the porch naked for the next half hour eating blueberries. Meanwhile I've thrown chicken in the over, steamed some broccoli, and brought out the finger paints for the next round of inspired activities.

So we move on to sidewalk painting, also known as"paint your baby sister." And the chicken is still cooking so I break out the cherries and baby girl is now covered in green paint and red cherry dribble, just as happy as she can be, until finally some food is ready so we pile into the house and the kids eat dinner in their underwear.

And I am so tickled to see sun kissed kids eating broccoli in their underwear that I don't even mind the exhaustion. You wouldn't think it would be so hard to orchestrate just a regular drama-free afternoon. But it is. So when it works out, you somehow feel lifted. I mean, at this moment I can think of nothing better than my two babies sitting naked together on the porch eating blueberries. Except that my husband will be managing the second shift tomorrow.

Why I love my kids

One reason anyway. It's been raining here a lot and my kids have been stuck inside mainly driving me crazy. Today I left them playing in my room for a few minutes to check my email. My son packed his carry-on suitcase full of his most important possessions (like his cell phone, box of stickers, wallet, keys, doll house family and markers) and brought them into my room to entertain his sister. When I turned around after twenty minutes or so to see what they were doing, I see my son is putting stickers all over the back of my daughter's sweatshirt while she is chewing on some crayons.

Him: See mommy? I put them on her back so she doesn't get them and eat them.
Me: That's so thoughtful sweety. She looks pretty with her stickers.
Him: Ya, I decorated her. I'm a good big brother.

He's happy. She's happy. No one is bugging me. No one is choking on small objects or grabbing toys. Just a brother accessorizing his baby sister. What could be better.

He's not Levy, he's my brother

They say that having kids close together in age is painful for the parents but great for the kids. The jury is still out on that one but I can say for sure that it is exhausting to constantly be engaging one and holding the other. And I am the queen of multi-tasking. I can turn on the DVD, tie a shoe and hold a reasonably coherent phone conversation all at once. But nursing my baby while supervising my toddler on the potty is frankly unpleasant. For everyone.

Now that baby is five months old and toddler is approaching three years, I've noticed a change in their relationship. They actually play together. I had to send a quick email the other day so I put the baby down on her play gym and asked my son to "watch" her while I did some work on the computer. Within a minute, he's laughing because she's rolled under the crib and she's giggling because he's laughing. And then I'm laughing. And suddenly it's such a pleasure to be with them together.

I remember that while I was in the hospital after my daughter was born and my son had been to visit once and left sobbing because he saw a nurse take my blood pressure, I wondered how he would ever adapt to this new member of our family. And my midwife said, "in two months he won't remember there was life before his sister." And it's true. It's as if she's always been here. Plying him with candy also helped the transition.

But besides being a big help to me to have my son occupy my daughter for ten minute spurts here and there, he is better than any teething toy or pacifier for calming my daughter. She's really an easy baby but she hates to be in the car. So my son has taken to singing to her to calm her. If I sing she continues to cry. If he sings she stares at him and grins. When he comes in the room, she stops nursing (by far her most favorite activity) to watch him.

And I wish I could take credit for their delightful rapport, but it was none of my doing. They have a natural affinity for which I am grateful.

Now, if only my son could nurse by daughter while sitting on the potty - take me out of the equation altogether - now THAT would be something.