My children don't speak English

Matt and I thought we were teaching them how to speak and understand English as their native language, but we can now see that we were wrong. The common English words and phrases listed below are utterly incomprehensible to our children. Following the English phrase, I will include our perception of what Noah & Luke hear us to be saying.

1. "Don't ask me again" = ask me again in 3 minutes, but this time with more intensity.

2. "Please aim for your pee pee into the toilet" = try to hit the wall, the floor and even the shower curtain, depending on your angle, but do whatever it takes to avoid the toilet.

3. "Please go put your shoes away in your room" = throw your shoes into the middle of your room while you stand in the hallway.

4. "Please just leave me alone for 10 more minutes so I can finish exercising" = stand next to me for the next 10 minutes screaming "NOW NOW NOW!!!"

5. "Luke, you cannot have your mimi [pacifier] if you aren't sleeping" = stand there, close your eyes, and make snoring sounds, but under no circumstances let go of the mimi.

6. "Go wash your hands" = put your hands under cold water for 1.2 seconds.

7. "If you don't take a bite to at least try what mommy cooked for dinner, you aren't going to get any dessert" = push your plate away screaming, then crawl onto mommy's lap, cuddle her adorably, and ask if you can have your dessert now.

8. "For the love of God please pick up these legos before one of us hurts ourselves" = this one seems to have no translation whatsoever. Such a phrase repeatedly falls upon deaf ears. I think the vaccuum cleaner bag is the new lego container. But if those boys think I'm sifting through that nastiness (again) to find their missing lego piece, they're nuts.

9. "Ok, but this is your last one" = you can have as many as you want, so long as you continue nagging mom!

10. "Relax, just relax" = Louder! LOUDER! DON'T STOP NOW!!

For parents of young children

This article speaks to me, in what I aspire to as a parent, and in what I am horribly guilty of as a parent. And on this particular subject, it should be noted that I always negotiate with toddlers.

"Snack Time Never Ends," The New York Times.

I love my nieces

I love Kaia (almost 7) and Audie (3 1/2) for many, many reasons, not the least of which right now is that they allow me to live vicariously through them, both as a former doll-obsessed little girl, and a mother of two boys. My nieces, God bless them, love American Girl Dolls. Today I just bought Kaia, whose 7th birthday is Sunday, the pet bunny that belongs to her newest doll, Julie. This is Kaia's 4th American Girl Doll -- she has Kaya, Kit, Ruthie & now Julie. This probably means nothing to most of you, but it takes me back to my Cabbage Patch Kid days, in all their glory.

This summer when Mike, Kerri & the kids were visiting, Kerri & I made the trek to Mall of America (something I am generally loathe to do), so we could give Kaia a special trip to the American Girl Doll store. Her doll Kaya, who is an American Indian, was having some hair issues, and the store has a beauty shop (oh yes). So Kaya was attended to by a professional AGD hair stylist. She was changed into a spa robe, placed in a salon chair, and given the works. She got beautiful new braids AND got her ears pierced (Kaia had also just gotten her ears pierced).

And anyway, while we were there, I got to look around. Oh, how I longed to be a little girl again. I fell in love with all of those dolls! They're so interesting! My favorite -- and the one I really want for my birthday this year -- is Rebecca. She's a Russian-Jewish girl in 1914 in New York City, and I love her. I tried to persuade Kaia to get her next, but she opted instead for Julie, the little sixties flower child. Hippie. I'll have to start working on Audie, -- maybe she'll cave to the pathetic requests of her Aunt Mary.

As I write this post, my two sons are selecting, over and over again on On-Demand, the Lego Indiana Jones show, while playing with there Indiana Jones legos. Noah is home sick today with a fever, a bad cough, and "little drops of throw-up." And Luke, who's lazing around in his pajamas, just announced, "Ok, I give up. I need to go pee-pee." [Pause] Ok, now I gotta go wipe Luke's butt.

Mother Guilt

Mothers of young children are encouraged to volunteer in the classroom (be in the kindergarten or preschool one, in my case). I was a room mother for Noah's preschool class in Charlotte, and he seemed genuinely happy to see me when I appeared in his class. But at the same time, he seemed to prefer to hang out with me (yes, I am that cool), and nervously engaged in the activities of his classmates, and only when I prodded him. As an example of how our presence affected his behavior:

When he was 3, his teachers invited all of the kids' families to their holiday party. My parents and Uncle Mark came, too. First we all did some crafts together, then ate Christmas cookies -- you know, the usual preschool party stuff. And then the kids were going to do a little concert. The teachers gathered all of the toddlers at the front of the class for their performance. Noah quietly sat with his classmates, starring at us, but when the music started, he subtley turned around, bent down and stuck his little butt in the air. He stayed that way through the whole thing. All 12 of the other children, their smiling faces beaming proudly toward their parents and family, sang and made the requisite adorable arm motions, except our kid. He just bent over with his ass in the air. 12 happy, shining faces and one ass. As the other parents stared at each other, wondering whose kid's ass was ruining a perfectly good photo op, my beet-red face and giggling gave me away. In any event, I think (hope?), he wouldn't have done that if we hadn't been there, so I tried to limit my attendance at school so I didn't negatively affect his mojo.

But all of that is just an aside. The real story is that today, I didn't have any errands to run during the 1 hour and 15 minutes I have in between kid pick-ups, so I thought I'd hang out in Luke's class for a while to help out, watch him play, etc. We're trying to decide what kind of preschool we should put him in next year, so I wanted to observe him in action and see how he behaved in this setting. (His teachers swear to me that he is an angel in school, despite my frequent apologies for his stubbornness.) I had asked him a couple of months ago if I could come to school with him, and he firmly answered that I could not, because school was just for little kids, not mommies. Fine. But this time, I decided not to ask permission and just do it. After we got him situated (cup in the bucket, frog with his name on it in the basket, jacket in the locker, etc.), I was just standing there, asking him what he was going to do first -- art table, puzzles, etc. He looked at me in confusion and said, "Mom, why are you still here? You need to just leave."

I calmly told him I wanted to stay so I could play with him and help his teachers, and he said "No, just leave."

My first instinct of course was Ouch. But then I rethought that. From one perspective, it should actually be perceived as a good thing that my kid doesn't want me at school. It means he feels safe there, he feels a sense of personal identity -- that is his turf, and he's independent and self-possessed enough to function just fine without me. These are, in fact, all good things -- exactly the qualities I want to instill in my kids. And what's more, what the hell was I complaining about? Not getting to hang out with 15, 3 year-olds for an hour? Had I gone mad? I know that a good mom is supposed to be thrilled to volunteer in her kid's class, but I've never claimed to be a "good mom" (the best I am hoping for is just not to raise total assholes), and I've hardly been beating down the schools' doors to volunteer my time. And here my kid was kind enough to let me off the hook. I only get 3 hours a week to myself, damn it. So I headed down the street to the bakery, ordered a banana pecan scone and a coffee and read a book. Perfect morning. Thanks, Lukey.

(That being said, I came home and emailed Noah's teacher to ask when would be a good time for me to come there (in my very mature way, I'll just hang out with the kid who actually likes having me around). And, I recently appointed by the town school board to sit on its committee on Human Rights, so "check" on the to-do list item for community involvement and volunteerism. I'm so pathetically susceptible to guilt.)

Shut up, Brian

Fine. I'll blog. Because frankly, I'm giving in to everyone lately.

Luke, in particular. He's missed two of the last three days of school because he didn't want to go and I didn't want to argue with him. I really won't argue with Luke about much of anything lately, and for this, I admit that I suck. And if I'm going to be completely honest, I would also have to admit the primary reason he did not want to go to school is because such an outing would interrupt his marathon viewing of Tom & Jerry Go To Mars. $4.75 at Target buys so much joy for that child. I'm not proud of this.

But while we're on the subject, I'll give you a little update on Luke that wasn't quite worthy of the Christmas letter. He won't drink a smoothie unless he gets to help make it. He won't bathe unless Mr. Bubble joins him in the tub. He generally won't eat dinner unless popcorn, cheese or crackers are served as a side dish, and even then, he'll only eat that side dish. Two nights ago his dinner consisted of 5 pieces of string cheese (but it was organic, so that's ok, right?). His favorite word is "butt." He adds to it any sentence to make that sentence funny. At Christmas at my parents' house, when he was DRUNK off of the m&ms that my mother was willingly doling out to him by the handful, he came into the living room to serenade everyone with Jingle Bells. It was a lovely rendition by a drunken 3 year-old, slurred speech and all. Then he announced he was going to single "the funny one." I figured we'd get the "batman smells" version, a perennial favorite. But instead, he sang the entire song, just as before, but at the end, he shouted "BUTT!" Then he lauged hysterically, grabbed another handful of m&ms and disappeared into the basement. He passed out about 45 minutes later.

Yesterday, I walked into the boys' room to hear Noah telling Luke that he didn't want Luke to put his penis in Noah's face. Why would Noah ever have to utter such a sentence? Because Luke's favorite thing to do these days is de-pants himself and dance around the house, demanding that everyone check out his butt (and more recently, his winkie). And speaking of Luke's penis, there's something wrong with it because when he pees, the stream is at a minimum of a 45-degree angle, even when he points it straight down. He's been known to piss in his own face. He goes through several pairs of underwear each day, that is, if he's even willing to put underwear on in the first place. He's a big fan of freeballing.

I think I need to make an appointment with my therapist.

It's been a long time

For a full explanation of the events of the last several weeks, please visit my other blog.

But here's this little tidbit of hilarious kid-ness. Noah was talking to me the other day as we were in the car running errands about his life as a grown-up. Apparently, he's growing dissatisfied with the fact that mommy and daddy are the boss and that there are a host of things for him that have to wait "until he's a grown-up." So he told me that when he's a grown-up, he's going to buy his own house. "Good idea, bud."

Noah: "Yeah, and when I buy my house, there's a lot of stuff I'm going to have to buy for it. Because a house is what you keep your stuff in." [see prior post discussing Noah's curiously about why people live in houses]

Me: "Like what?" [a couple of minutes into this conversation, I whipped out some paper and starting taking notes]

Noah: "Well, I'm gonna need a TV for grownups, so I can watch cartoons. And I should probably get another TV for the downstairs, too, for kids."

Me: "Oh yeah, your house is going to have a downstairs?"

Noah: "Yeah, an upstairs and a downstairs like our house in Minneapolis, not like our house in Charlotte. and I'm going to need a couch to sit on. And a refrigerator. And my very own big-boy bed. And I'm going to need a bike so I can take a bikeride all by myself because I'll be a grown-up and I won't have to ask you first. And I'm going to need to get some cables for my TV so it works right. [silence. he's thinking.] WAIT! I don't need cables! I'll just get satellite."

Me: "Anything else?"

Noah: "I'm gonna make sure my house has a guestroom if someone is staying for 5 days. And an attic, to put my extra stuff in."

Me: [laughing.] "Sure, that's a good idea. What else do you need?"

Noah: "Well, I'm going to have to put a garden in my yard so that when I run out of food I can just get it from the garden and I don't have to run stupid errands."

Me: [laughing harder] "Well that makes sense. Where are you going to buy this house?"

Noah: "I'm going to buy it by you and dad and Lukey. Not on the wiggily part of the street, just on the straight part. [thinking] No, you know what? I think I should buy the house next to yours."

Awwwww.