Toolin' Around on a Sunday Morning

We get the Sunday paper delivered to our house. We never read the actual paper-paper (hello, recycling bin); we get the paper for the sales ads.

G takes the "boy papers" - Best Buy, Circuit City, Lowes. I take everything else. I even have a system - coupons first, followed by the stores I'll never go to (Kmart, office supply stores, furniture stores), saving the best for last (Kohl's and Target).

We sit at the kitchen table, scouring the ads for things we "need" or want. Sometimes we're just browsing, looking to see what's new and who has the best price on Diet Coke or New Balance tennis shoes.

We drink coffee and fresh juice. We eat toast and sometimes eggs and bacon. It's relaxing, and it's our little weekend thing. I actually look forward to Sundays because of this quiet time.

Now, Pumpkin has taken an interest in the Sunday paper. As soon as G brings in the paper, P starts asking for "my tool book." Pumpkin is obsessed with the Sunday Sears ad.

He removes the "extra" pages - gone are the clothes, housewares, and appliances. P is only interested in tractors, tools, and garage stuff. He skims these pages like some sort of treasure map, talking to himself under his breath, taking it all in.

Finally, he crawls into my lap and asks me to read the pages to him. Like a bedtime story, I start, "Save 100 dollars! Now only 399 dollars, Craftsman seven drawer tool chest with ball bearing drawers! On sale! Ten piece screwdriver set with free carrying case! Fourteen ninety-nine! Your choice: tape measure or tool carry-all for under seven dollars!"

When P's had enough of my reading of his tool pages, he jumps off my lap, takes his advertisement, and sits at his little table in the corner of the kitchen. He'll spend minutes (feels like hours, but I'll take the 20 minute relief where/when I can) with the ad and a pencil, making tiny marks on the images, almost like he's taking notes.

We have to save his "tool book" for the entire week. P comes back to it almost every night, pondering the images, "reading" it to himself. When the next Sunday's ad arrives, the old one is discarded. And the cycle continues...

We're going on our first family vacation later this year (first trip that doesn't involve visiting family, friends, or our alma mater), and my parents recently sent a package for P to be opened on the plane when he gets antsy. It's a 200-page Craftsman tool catalogue. P will LOVE it!

I'm Home!

After being away for five whole days on a business trip, I'm finally home!

Why being home rocks:

• G was so patient with Pumpkin and potty training. I guess I needed some time away to regroup my thoughts on the subject, but we only had two accidents all weekend!


• Sleeping in my own bed, with my own pillows and my own blankets. Heaven!


• Being back on central time - pacific time was nice, but dude, it totally wiped me out.


• Getting to drive my own car. The rental place hooked me up with a massive SUV (they were "out" of sedans), which I couldn't park, didn't know where the blind spots were, and didn't feel comfortable in. It did come in handy, though, for escorting clients to dinner on Tuesday night (thanks, third row seats).


• Having P wake me up by saying, "It's o'clock, mommy! Time to get up! It's o'clock!"


• Catching up on TiVo'd shows. There wasn't any time for TV watching while away, and while I don't watch too many shows, I did miss those I do watch every week.


• Wet kisses and warm hugs by this little guy:

Now it's time to pack up for vacation - will I ever be able to put the suitcases away??

We Interrupt This Program...

...for the following announcement:

I fucking hate potty training.

That's all.

P's Catch Phrase

Scene: Family sitting around kitchen table, eating breakfast.

G: I think I'm going to mulch the flower beds today.

Me: (in my best mocking voice - since I've been asking him to do this for WEEKS, hands pumping in the air, just like P does when he's super excited) Oh boy, oh boy!

Pumpkin: Mommy, that's my line. Only I say that.

G: You were schooled.

Put in my place by a two year old. Nice.

Scenes from a Saturday: Princes and Pimps

Scene: I'm getting dressed in my bedroom; G is dressing Pumpkin in the nursery. Suddenly, Pumpkin comes running down the hall, wearing a diaper and a blanket wrapped around his mid section.

P: Mommy, I'm a princess.

(I can hear G groan.)

Me: Pumpkin, little boys are princes... I mean, more than one prince...I mean, you are a prince.

P: (confused)

Me: Mommies and little girls are princesses. Boys and daddies are prince-es, well, you're a prince. Let's turn that blankie into a prince cape.

P: (running back to G) I'm a prince! I have a cape!

Me to G: Ever realize that the plural of prince sounds like princess?
______________________________________________________
Scene 2: Watching the movie, Cars. Pumpkin points to something on the screen during one of the racing scenes.

P: Mommy, what's that?

Me: That's a blimp. It flies in the sky like an airplane, usually around sporting events.

P (turning to G who just walked into the room): Daddy, it's a pimp! A pimp! Pimps like sports.

Spring has Sprung

Spring and fall. My two favorite times of the year. Not too hot, not too cold, just right. You can be comfortable anything - from capri pants and short sleeves to long sleeves and jeans, wear a jacket or don't wear one, it doesn't matter.

I think I enjoy the seasons even more now that P is old enough to enjoy them, too. It's awesome to be able to come home after work/school and spend time outside. Voila this evening in photos:

P poses by the Japanese peach tree in the backyard. One photo and the photo opp was over.

P found the ONE patch of dirt in the yard and insisted on creating holes with sticks. Oh yeah, and Scoop needed to help. The house went on the market yesterday; I'm sure the extra drainage holes will add value.

"Seriously, lady, can you put down the camera and wipe my snotty nose. Geez!"

He Can Barely Say "Emergency," Let Alone Comprehend One

We don't allow P to watch a lot of TV. He gets to watch a show or two after dinner, before bath time, and we're very particular about what shows he's allowed to watch. "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" and "Handy Manny" are fine, for example.

I'm a huge fan of Disney. Heck, I was raised on it. My favorite movies are still Disney animated classics. I love that P loves Playhouse Disney. Playhouse Disney is wholesome, family-oriented, and fun - or so I thought.

Almost every night, P will beg for "just 10 more mim-ets" and we'll usually compromise with five minutes. Sometimes we fill that void, if he's been particularly good, with a TiVo'd episode of "Lou and Lou Safety Patrol," a Playhouse Disney short cartoon.

Last night may have been the last time we watch "Lou and Lou." The episode was called "Get Ready! Get Set! Emergency!" and I assumed it was like all the other "Lou and Lou" shows, focusing on teaching kids to do the right thing.

This episode was different. There were no "safety violations" but instead explicit instructions for preparing for a disaster. Mom is filling water bottles and storing them in a plastic tote. Lou and Lou ask her if she's thirsty. She replies the water is, "just in case" and part of the family emergency supply kit.

A flashlight, radio, batteries, first aid kit, and non perishable food items (in case "we can't use the stove") are gathered. Lou and Lou gather their own necessities for their backpacks in case they need to leave home in a hurry. Even the dog collects his bone in has bag. Lou and Lou even encourage kids to "talk to your parents about what you need for your emergency kit."

At the end of the episode, P crawled into my lap and said, "Why they need water and food, mommy? They go camping?"

P is not even three years old. He gets scared whenever "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" features the giant. He's innocent - and I want to keep him that way.

I know today's world is different than the one in which I grew up. But preparing for an emergency - terrorism or natural disaster - is not something my child, my baby, needs to worry about.

I would like to give the creators and writes of "Lou and Lou" a safety violation of my own for that episode. It's one thing to teach a lesson, but it's another thing to call out things a child doesn't need to know about or understand. There will be plenty of time for P to worry about things like emergency preparedness - but not until later, much later.

Shame on you, Lou and Lou. Shame on you, Disney.

How I Became a Toddler Wrangler and Other Good Excuses for Being Late to Work

G had a very important meeting this morning. So important, in fact, that he failed to mention it until he was halfway out the door an hour early. This meant I was responsible for P this morning - the changing of the diaper, the dressing in the clothes, the feeding of the breakfast, and the getting to school.

Of course, P didn't want to to wear a new diaper, get dressed, eat, or go to school. And it was raining - a lot. So, we were running late.

When we arrived at school (at the time I should have been getting to my parking garage), I noticed towels stuck under the back door of daycare. Not unusual considering the amount of precipitation we've had (and the fact that we've had to pump water out of our crawlspace). What was strange was that the door to his classroom - and the room across the hall - was propped open.

Kids were still consolidated in the Ferret room, but as soon as we entered P's Peacock room to remove his coat, his classmates started coming into the room via the Jack-and-Jill bathroom connecting Ferrets to Peacocks (who, I dare ask, names these rooms?)

P's classmates entered the room and noticed the door propped open - enter chaos. Maya took off out the door. Zach yelled, "Escape!" Soon, 12 toddlers were on the loose (but not P. He stayed in the room. Good boy!)

Head Teacher stayed to keep P in the room. Afternoon teacher (why was she there in the morning? I don't know, but I'm still mad at her) took off down the main hall, and I ran down the smaller hallway. The kids were giggly - and fast - and didn't want to go back to the classroom. I cornered Conner, but he had a runny nose (and I didn't want to touch him - I don't do other people's snot). He got away, only to be captured by another teacher. I caught JM, who was laughing hysterically, and handed him to the Director (who came out of her office to see what the commotion was about). I chased Donovan, who was yelling, "no, no, no!", picked him up, and took him down to the Peacock room. I didn't notice any other kids in my hallway.

After a quick headcount, I left.

Of course, no one noticed I was late to work, and given the torrential downpour I doubt anyone cared, but I was really looking forward to explaining my new found talent of "toddler wrangling" - unless said toddlers have runny noses, then they're on their own.

Because a Trained Monkey Would be Better than Afternoon Teacher

P attends a very reputable daycare. It's a chain, but a very top-tier, well-respected one. He's doing well since we made the transition more than a year ago. His development - verbally, socially, mentally, physically, etc - is terrific. But, I'm starting to have a problem with the care side of things.

The head teacher in the Playful Peacock room is exceptional. The afternoon teacher, however, leaves a lot to be desired. While the head teacher engages the kids, asks questions, and seems like she genuinely enjoys her job, the afternoon teacher is quiet. Really quiet. G doesn't like afternoon teacher.at.all.

I really didn't have a problem until recently. My complaints (all of which have happened after head teacher leaves for the day and afternoon teacher is in charge):

• P's security blanket disappeared. I might be a rookie mom, but I'm no fool. I had a spare, identical "blankie" at home, but with the primary one gone, we're done to just the one. No one knows where it went.
• P came home covered in red permanent ink - on picture day. Sent him to school dressed in "picture clothes" (really, a polo shirt and khakis I bought the day before for our upcoming vacation). Picked him up and he was covered from the collar of his shirt to the soles of his socks (seriously, the bottoms of his socks) in red ink. I've washed the outfit six times now. The ink is permanent. Who gives 2.5 year olds PERMANENT ink? On picture day? When the kids are dressed up? Oh, I know - afternoon teacher.
• P has had Pull-up wedgies for weeks. The afternoon teacher refuses to pull up the Pull-ups. She opens the sides, puts them on, and tries to reseal the sides. In all of P's activity, the sides split, causing the back half of the Pull-up to get wedged in his little tush. Not only does this look uncomfortable, but it causes accidents. Major accidents.
• Accidents like the one yesterday. I picked P up and found him wearing his paint shirt (yes, he has one of my old t-shirts for painting - yet another reason I was ticked about the ink thing). G dropped off a change of clothes on Monday, but instead, afternoon teacher choose to put P in a men's medium t-shirt because of a blow-out. I couldn't find P's change of clothes in his cubby, and when I asked P if he had a change of clothes he responded that afternoon teacher "threw them in the garbage."

I'm willing to let a lot go - hell, I couldn't handle a classroom of a dozen 2.5 year olds. But, I'm reaching a boiling point with all the stuff that's happened over the last month or so. I talked to head teacher this morning, who appeared very concerned about the ink problem, wedgies, and paint shirt situations. Turns out, head teacher didn't realize any of that happened (she knew about the blankie). She promised to talk to afternoon teacher.

I can only hope afternoon teacher gets better - or leaves - or P gets potty trained so he can move up to the Happy Hummingbird class. With the state of potty training, I'll be lucky if one of the first two scenarios happens.

Note: Hey, if you received an e-invitation to a grand opening event from me and I recalled it, but you read it anyway, I'm mort.i.fied that I had a typo in the invitation. I fixed it as soon as I discovered it and resent the email. Don't hold that one typo against me - I really want you to come - you'll have fun, I promise!

In the Rain, Something Sunny to Think About

From GORGEOUS weekend to cold, grey, rainy days. Spring sucks. To keep spirits up in these icky spring days, here's how we spent the lovely weekend:

When Pumpkin first saw his new soccer nets, he thought they made a perfect house. Actually, he called his new dwelling a "cage" but that just sounds wrong.

Then we taught him how to USE the net. You could totally see the wheels turning in his head, "Seriously, I can KICK the ball, and no one will get upset? Love it!"

Unfortunately, after every scored goal, Pumpkin would run around the back yard, yelling, "Go Cardinals! Homerun!" Don't hold a scholarship for him yet, Pumas!
Next, we moved onto baseball and tractors. Seriously, who would've thought they could have been incorporated into a game that would keep Pumpkin busy for an hour... Love it!

A boy and his hoe. Finally, it was off to fix a fence. Pumpkin noticed that the neighbor's fence has loose screws. When the garden tool didn't work, he found some masking tape and taped up each screw.

How to Make an Impression in a Client Meeting

Scene: Client meeting in Dallas. Room full of old, grey-haired, white men. Main client setting up an ice breaker game - it's one of those "interview the person next to you so you can introduce that person to the rest of the group" kind of things. Our main interview question: If you could have dinner with anyone in the world, who would it be and why.

My partner and I were toward the end of the room, so we sat through about 30 other "introductions." Everyone had really "smart" answers like Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, Jesus...

My answer: Britney Spears. Reason: I want to knock some sense into her.

Unfortunately, I don't think my old, grey-haired, white man knew who Brit-Brit is. As he introduced me to the group, revealing my dinner guest, he left it with, "Jilt would like to eat dinner with Britney Spears..."

The end. That was it. So, I stood up and said, "Well, you have to tell them why..."

Unfortunately, time was up, so in a room full of pseudo-intellectual dream dinner guests, I was left hanging in the wind with my Britney response. Great way to make a first impression.

God, I hate icebreakers!

Filling in for Daddy this Morning...

I stood in the dining room, gathering my keys, Blackberry, laptop bag, and purse (am I a pack mule?). "Bye, Pumpkin," I called into the kitchen where he sat eating "hobo toast" (aka cinnamon toast).

"Bye bye, Mommy! I wuv woo!" he called back.

"Bye, G!" I called in to the kitchen. "Love you!"

Silence.

"See you, G!" I called again.

"Bye, Honey Bunny!" Pumpkin called in a deep voice (well, "deep" for a toddler), using G's nickname for me.

Since G stepped into the garage, I guess Pumpkin thought he'd fill in for his daddy.

Home Improvement

Things around here have been a little busy. Work travels continue, and we're preparing to put the house on the market - again. But before we do, there were a couple of things we wanted to improve - like the floors on the main level.

What I thought would be a weekend project has turned out to be a four week mess. G has really done a great job on the bamboo floors - I've always said he's handy for a lawyer!

Hey, construction is fun - I finally have a use for my plastic tools!

You might think this photo is blurry, but I'm just moving really FAST!

Hey look! A nail! Can I keep it?

We're getting close to finished. "Yep, that's my big boy potty in the middle of the floor. Gotta problem with that?"

Disappointed and Sad

My cousin Michelle (not her real name) was born when I was in high school, and while we didn't live nearby and I was too cool to hang out with a baby, she and I grew very close.

Her parents would often point to me and tell her to keep her grades up so she could grow up, go to college, and be successful, like me.

When I introduced G to the family at my college graduation, she immediately developed a crush on him. She would introduce us to her friends as "This is my cousin, Jilt, and this is...this is...this is my G." She would sit as close as possible to him during family meals and get-togethers. She would eagerly get him a beer when he asked for it. She was almost attached to his side for years.

On a long car trip when she as about 10 years old, G taught Michelle about gravity by demonstrating how her Beanie Babies fell when dropped. She called us six months later when her class was learning about gravity and she felt superior because she already knew all about it from "her" G.

I found a birthday card that said something like "send this card back to me on my birthday." For 10 years, we'd send that card back and forth, resigning it and rewriting birthday wishes. We'd find new ways to package it so the other wouldn't know it was "the" card. I don't know what happened it or why it stopped.

Then, her parents divorced. My uncle got custody of Michelle after a long, hard fight with his ex-wife. It was the best thing for her. Michelle went on to become a straight A student and a cheerleader. She actually changed my perspective of cheerleaders - she was friends with everyone, very empathetic, really truly a nice person, and wicked smart.

Last Christmas at a family get together at my parents' house, Michelle got into a big fight with her boyfriend (a 22 year old part-time tattoo "artist with a major marijuana habit), resulting in hours of screaming, crying phone conversations in the middle of the night. At one point, I went outside to ask her to keep it down. I took the phone away from her, told boyfriend (whom I've never met) that she'd call him tomorrow, and escorted her to her room. I held her as she cried about the silly thing they were fighting over (kid stuff, really). She thanked me the next day for listening to her.

I found out this weekend that Michelle, now a senior in high school, is pregnant. With the tattoo artist's child. She's about three months along and has totally abandoned plans to go to college.

I don't know what to do, what to say. I'm so disappointed in her. I'm so sad for her. I'm worried about what her future holds now that she's going to be a mom. And, I know that she's not ready for the responsibility of motherhood.

Really? 10 a.m. on a Tuesday...

I work "outside the home." I'm unapologetic about having a career and a family. But it's things like this that really tick me off.

Today in my inbox, I received an email from Pottery Barn Kids - a store in which I've spent more than a reasonable amount of money over the last three years. Seems good ol' Pottery Barn Kids has launched a Book Club. Nice enough, right? Well, the club meets Tuesday mornings. Tuesdays. As in, during the work week. At a time when I'm ... well, working.

It's not like we would (probably) attend weekly reading events at an overpriced retailer, but it really annoys me that companies blatantly disregard working moms.

Steps off soap box.