Joy

"Mommy?" says the voice of my 4 year old from the backseat.

"Yes, my Peanut?"

"I'm happy today!"

It's said with such glee, such true joy, that it just filled my heart. There were no qualifiers. She hadn't gotten any candy or gone anywhere special. She was just especially happy and wanted to share.

Those moments, those tiny, seemingly insignificant events, are so much of what makes this Mommy gig so freakin' worthwhile.

"I'm glad, Baby. I'm happy too."

And I was.

Peace Out, Baby!

Curly's BFF had a birthday last week and I had the honor of making her party cupcakes. I also had the misfortune of a giant migraine that day, so they didn't come out quite the way I wanted. In the end, the birthday girl loved them and so did her mom and that's all that matters.

I was going for a peace/tie dye/ flower power for an 8 year old feel. I didn't quite get there. Next time. They did taste good though. I know because I ALWAYS make enough so I can sample.

Next cake project is end of the school year gifts. I have an idea...we'll see how it come out.

Just Do It

Because Potty Training is NOT a spectator sport.

I've tried to let it be. It worked with Peanut. Without any real effort on my part, she learned to use the toilet. One day she announced she was going to go use the restroom. She peed in the toilet and that was pretty much it. She was done with diapers and barely needed pull-ups. It took no time at all and was no work for me whatsoever.

BabyGirl? Yeah, no, she's not going to make it easy.

Mommy: Let's go potty!

BabyGirl: No. No go potty.

She's not even being sassy. She's just stating a fact. Nope, I'm not going potty. She's really quite sweet about it.

I guess it's time to get serious, but really, I don't wanna. I've potty trained MORE than my fair share of kids between teaching 2 year olds for years, being a nanny, a mom and a babysitter. I just want a magic wand.

Except then maybe she's not a baby anymore. That's no good either.

And therein lies the problem, of course. I don't want to change her diapers anymore, but I also don't want her to be big. And potty trained equals big.

Of course, potty trained also equals preschool. I love preschool.

Hmmmmmm.

I guess I'll do it, but you can't make me like it.

Well, OK, I'll like the results but you can't make me love it.

And least she's still MY baby, even if she's not A baby, right?

Oh

You know you are a stay home mom who rarely leaves the house or the car when you are folding laundry and realize you have more "bum around the house" clothes than "be seen in public" clothes.

This is not how I intended to be. I was going to be that cute stay at home mom, the one who was thin and darling with cute clothes and cute hair to match the cute kids.

Huh.

Well, I got the cute kid part right. Better get on with the rest of it.

I'm not a total slouch. I don't wear pajama pants all day, every day. I shower and get dressed. I do wear jeans more or less daily. I have a friend who gave up jeans for Lent. I would never survive that. I have OK tops, nothing special. The nicer ones I do save for when I go out. Bit by bit I'm getting a little thinner.

But I'd say at least half the time the hair gets pulled back and the make-up never goes on and there is a general sense of not quite having had the time to take care of me.

That has to end. For me. I'm sure Husband would appreciate the effort too, though he's not one to complain. Mommy mode is too easy. And it comes with built in excuses, but really there is no excuse for not being as good on the outside as I feel on the inside.

On the inside, I am a confident mom. I'm good at it. I watch twin babies 4 days a week and you know what? I'm good at that too. I've grown leaps and bounds in the kitchen. I think I'm a pretty good wife. I try to be a good daughter and I think I'm a good friend. OK, my housekeeping sucks, but we can't all be perfect. I am happy with who I am inside.

I need to match the outside with the inside.

Time to get started. First up, closet weeding. Out with the old, and time to find some new.

We'll see how it goes.

Doctor, Doctor

To Peanut's great delight we have a stethoscope that actually works. She discovered this with glee yesterday, running around listening the chest of every person in the house. After she listened to mine, she delivered some bad news.

"Your heart is very broken." She was quite solemn. "It's in bad shape."

"Oh dear." I was shocked. "Very bad shape?"

"Yes. It's doesn't look like a heart anymore. It's a circle now."

"What are we going to do?"

"I will call the hospital on my phone. They will come and fix it." Apparently on the other end of Tinkerbell phones are magical, mobile hospitals. "Yes, hello. This lady has a circle heart. Come fix it please."

"Look here is the hospital!" I announced when a completely unaware-of-the-game BabyGirl came into the room.

"Fix her, Hospital! Her heart is broken!"

BabyGirl wandered off, I guess in search of a less round heart, perhaps.

"I will do it!" declared Dr. Peanut, waving around a plastic shot. "I have the shotter. I will give you 2 shots and your heart will not be broken anymore!"

Amazingly one shot in each arm seemed to do the trick. "I can feel my heart getting fixed!" I affirmed.

Putting the stethoscope back to my chest she nodded. "Yes, it's a heart again. You are all better."

Wonder what the bill is for doctor who makes house calls in a Princess gown and fancy shoes with a Tinker Bell phone?

Smarter

Every day StinkyMan and I joke about how he's allowed to go to school, but he is NOT allowed to learn anything. Every day he tells me that he will learn something and I make a big fake fuss about how that is totally unacceptable.

When he comes home and tells me about his day, I always ask him if he learned anything. When he says he did, I throw up my hands in mock frustration and say "WHAT?! You'd better quit that learning business. Pretty soon you'll be smarter than Daddy and me and we can't have that!" He laughs every time and goes on his merry way to whatever he's going to do to relax.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday I said "Hey! What have I told you about that learning stuff? You'd better stop. I can't have you getting smarter than me!"

He paused, looked at me somberly and said, not unkindly, "Mommy, I think I might already be smarter than you." Then he went to play the Wii.

Apparently, not only am I not smarter than a 5th grader, I'm not even as smart as my kindergartner!