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Archive for November, 2010

Congratulations, Internet! You have made it through 30 days of my obnoxious posting of such important things as: my cat catching a mouse (SCANDAL!), my kids jumping in leaves (ORIGINAL!), snow storms (COLDISH!) and whining about Kindergarten (REPEATEDLY REDUNDANT!). You deserve a cookie wrapped in bacon for putting up with me and I am oh so grateful nobody defriended me on facebook.

{Even if you probably did hide my updates. Jerks.}

Seriously though, thank you for putting up with me, and for supporting me with your clicks through here. Posting every day gets to be a lot, especially when we’re planning for the holidays and Keaton’s birthday~ but again, I’ve found it a remarkably valuable experience, pushing me to remember, in between wiping chins and butts, that once upon a time I loved to write and look at that! I still do.

***

And now a scene from yesterday morning…

P1: Hi, Kitty! What the… OUCH!

P2: What’s wrong!

P3: Are you OK?!

P1: NO! The cat scratched me really bad with her mean sharp scratchers!

P2: You mean claws? Are you bleeding? Is that blood?

P1: AAHHH! Oh my god that IS blood. HELP!

P3: It’s OK, it’s OK.

P2: Come to the bathroom, quick!

P1: I need a Kleenex or something!

P2: I’ll get you one. Stay put.

P3: You be OK. You be OK.

P2: We’re out of tissues. I got you some toilet paper. Press down hard.

P1: Stupid cat.

P3: Don’t say stupid.

P2: How about you run some water on it?

P1: Oh alright.

P3: It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. You be OK.

P2: Now dry it off. Here’s a band-aid.

P3: All better?

P1: Thanks, guys. All better.

***

So if you guessed I was Person 1 in that scenario you probably also already guessed that I? Have the best kids in the whole wide world. And a stupid fucking cat. The end.

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Bill: Spent a lot of quality time with us, as he took a five day holiday weekend. I know what you’re thinking: Poor guy. And you’re totally right. Think about going from your cozy, quiet office where you can work and drink coffee and hear your own inner monologue in peace, to a place where little dictators get up early and Demand. More. Fishy crackers. And cereal. And can you just get me some milk while you’re in the kitchen? And then wipe my butt? And help me change my doll’s outfit 487 times before noon? If it wasn’t for the nasty, awful cold he contracted in the last 24 hours, I think he’d be excited to be back to work today.

Side Note: Husband if you give me your cold I will murder you. MURDER YOU. With something pointy. But not too pointy as there should be a significant amount of pain before the murdering is done.

Me: Possibly committing a homicide and researching school options. We toured two more schools last Wednesday, one of which we liked (but is way across town) and one that we didn’t (which is of course very close to us, for baby jesus hates me). Afterward Bill and Keaton and I went to Rowan’s school to surprise her with a lunch visit and…I got more confused. You guys, she seems really happy there. She was so excited to show us off to her schoolmates and at recess she had a whole group of kids playing a fun game, with another group asking her to play hockey. It was so sweet. And I don’t want to uproot her but GAH I just don’t think the learning environment is the best.

Outside of that, I’ve seriously spent the last 5 days non-stop eating. After our traditional stop in at Bill’s Aunt and Uncle’s for the world’s most awesome Bloody Mary, we went to my mom’s for a feast. We are NOT crazy Black Friday people {JENNIFER} and remembered that all the leftovers were at my moms so we packed up and Surprise, Mom! We are here to eat your food. Then on Saturday, to congratulate ourselves on blowing through all of Keaton’s birthday and over half of our Christmas lists we went to a fancy restaurant and ate a ridiculously expensive meal. We do not go out to eat often; we’re not a Applebee’s or TGIF or Ruby Tuesday sort of people. We might take the kids to a hole in the wall burger place or breakfast spot but we save up all our entertainment funds and then splurge. We rarely eat steak at home so that’s always my go-to but I got adventurous and tried the ahi tuna and walleye special and nomnombutterynom it was fabulous. Plus. There were giant martinis involved.

Rowan: Has been doing phenomenally. Ever since we started the goal writing from Tools of the Mind each day, she has become so much more responsible for her own behavior. She’s certainly no angel but when she does act out she is so much more reflective about what the better choice to make is and she corrects her behavior and moves on instead of tantruming for 2 hours or just being surly all day. I feel like I have my daughter back and that is just the best feeling.

I can’t discount Occupational Therapy as a help to this as well. When we had Rowan tested for SPD, they did a number of motor function tests that we were surprised to see Rowan flunk, and to be honest I thought they were kind of just looking for things to pick at. But when they demonstrated where she should be at this age, I was floored- the girl has no upper body strength and was completely overcompensating by using her legs for everything. This is caused in part by a moderate vestibular disorder, which in her case basically means that when she looks up she loses her relationship with the ground, with gravity. It causes really poor coordination when she tries to cross her mid-line and explains why she couldn’t petal a trike until she was nearly 5 and why she is so cautious on a playground, preferring to organize and oversee as opposed to doing. It also causes her to not feel the sensation of being dizzy like you or I would, which makes a ton of sense. When tested Rowan could spin and spin and spin and when they checked her eyes for dizziness? Nada. She’d get up and walk just find. These are small little quirks that can be corrected with minor conditioning but explain a lot about why the kid was so frustrated and acting out but not able to verbalize why.

One of the biggest blessings in helping her normalize this has been her comp dance class. They work her hard in there and she is gaining so much coordination and strength in her upper body from the dances and stretching. She absolutely loves the class and most of the time she works her butt off. Because she started late and because she does have gross motor quirks, we have to practice a ton at home. Which…she doesn’t love as much. On the up side it has taught her the value of working hard for something and that is a lesson a kid needs to figure out on their own.

When she practices hard all week, her teacher makes a big deal out of how well she is doing. If not? I get yelled at. Internet, I had this same teacher growing up and I’m still scared of her. I was a sensitive kid and only lasted about 3 months in her class before I dropped out. Rowan, who is scared of nothing, absolutely loves her. So I am the one having anxiety dreams the nights before I have to take her. Like oh my god did I practice hard enough? Can I do a better Russian jump? I still can’t do the splits and Bill is all: Wife. Stop being crazy. It is a class for five year olds. Not neurotic 30 year olds. Still though. I break into a sweat when she makes direct eye contact with me.

Keaton: Is two. Two. 2. Only two. A little itty bitty two year old. That is two. Have I mentioned I have a two year old? That is full of two-y-ness? Because someone *coughBillcough* keeps referring to him as three or almost three which is entirely and utterly and fantastically ridiculous as he won’t be that other, higher number until Saturday at 11:13am. That’s like… way over 4 days away. Why is he AGING HIM, Internet? HE’S JUST A BABY, GODDAMMIT.

I’m sorry I said goddammit.

But still. A baby.

Goddammit.

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Well hey there, Internet! I know. I KNOW. There have been a lot of picture posts lately, but in my defense I tagged this as a photography blog for NaBloPoMo and I’ve also been really busy digesting first, second and third Thanksgivings. I promise to do a general bloggy type updatey thing early this week but for now I’ll just share a little moment from our long Thanksgiving weekend.

We took the kids to see Tangled Friday evening which I don’t think got great reviews but I thought was really good. So did my kids but take that with a grain of salt because they’ll say just about any movie is good when you put a tray filled with pop, popcorn and fruitsnacks on their lap. I always wondered why Disney never monetized Rapunzel. I know in its original form it is a dark story but if they can make Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid into a light-hearted family film, then Rapunzel shouldn’t be all that challenging. Nevertheless, I’m glad they waited because although the music was sort of meh, the plot was cute and it was overall pretty hilarious. It made me see frying pans in a whole new light, which is good since I’ll probably never utilize one for its original purpose.

I know I’ve said it before but I love, love, love that we can take these two to movies together. Keaton was pretty darn good at sitting still and didn’t even have to go potty once. Seeing how excited they got in anticipation of the feature film as we sat through 49.2 previews and watching them react to the funny parts is honestly one of the biggest perks of being a parent. Being able to share an experience, a moment that lives outside of all of us is beyond cool.

The absolute best part of the whole thing actually happened before the movie even started. We had just settled everyone in their seats, the previews had finally ended and the lights when from dim to black. Then this animation sequence came on:

And our son, who only has one volume on his voice {read:LOUD} says with incredulaty to the completely hushed theater: “HEEEEEY! Why is Micky Mouse up there in his underware?!”

He got a few good laughs, ours included.

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“Mom, do you want to play a rhyming game with me?”

“Sure! How do we play?”

“You say a word, then I say a word back that rhymes with it, and we go back and forth till we can’t think of anymore rhymes. Then I get to pick a word.”

“OK. Chair!”

“Bear”

“Fair”

“Glare”

“Nair”

“What’s Nair?”

“It’s this goo that you put on your…you know what? Nevermind. You pick a word.”

“OK! Tobacco.”

“WHAT.”

“Tobacco.”

“What kind of a…where did you hear that word?!”

“At school. From Sam.”

“And what is Tobacco exactly?”

“It’s, um, a kind of truck.”

“A what? A truck?”

“Yes. With a smokestack. Like a digger machine. Now say a rhyming word!”

“Mofacco?”

“Not a word, mom. You lose.”

Internet, I think I was just hustled by a 5 year old.

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