Just another day in para ... oh gotta go!

It didn't seem crazy straighten Haven's room. Several nigths in a row I had shoved piles of plastic toys to the side so to avoid punctured feet when he got out of bed. Those piles were growing and climbing my to-do list.

In a frenzy I divided plastic food, plastic pots, potato head appendages and matchbox cars into various baskets. These kids aren't getting this stuff back until they ask, are well supervised and immediately clean it up! I decided idealistically.

Halfway through my reorganization of Haven's toys, I called out, "Maiya, what are you doing?"

"I'm wiping Boots' heinie." Her monkey, Boots, often needs extensive hienie wiping after Maiya herself needs the same.

"Haven, where are you?"

"I'm painting my nails."

Halt to-do list. I ran around until I found my 3-three-old hunched over his white toe nails with a bottle of white-out in hand.

At this point I will note that I have decided that yelling, screaming or raising my voice is not the type of parental practice I wish to further perfect. Like 911, it is to be use strictly in emergency situations and not for general chit chatting. In other words, just the day before I had decided that I would not yell anymore. It's not nice. Nobody likes to be yelled at. I am trying my hand at talking in a calm, cool voice. Should be interesting.

So, instead of letting out the, "what are you doing?!" that was raising in my throat, I smiled, took a breath, and grabbed the camera. I then extracted the white out from Haven's hand and returned it to the junk drawer from which it came (you know, in case he needs to touch up at a later date). Then Haven and I learned that white out does not come out with soap and water.

This is why, when over coffee Danna told me she recently spent four uninterupted hours cleaning her house, I could be nothing but envious (I mean, happy for her).

I never considered the great luxury of completing a to-do list until I became a mom.

Two Maiya Stories

We made a horrible mistake. We let Maiya watch Chicken Run. Well, we let her watch about 10 minutes of Chicken Run, until she was puckering her lips, whimpering, "It's kinda scary, it's kinda scary" in a high-pitched voice. We turned it off, but she still remembers.

She found the Chicken Run case and was walking around the house with it. Processing. I heard her say, "It's kinda scary ... guy not nice ... say stupid ... " and in the most gentle, compassionate voice, "hurt somebody's feelings."

(I told Haven once that stupid is not a nice word and it could hurt somebody's feelings. He has made it his personal mission to correct anyone who uses the word. Maiya has joined the mission.)

So, last night we watched Toy Story 2. As soon as I said, "it's movie night!" Maiya looked at me with a quivering lip and said, "We watch Chicken Run?" No, Maiya, no, you will never have to watch Chicken Run again. We talked about Toy Story 2. She asked "where's Daddy?" I told her he was grilling some chicken. Whoops.

"Chicken Run?!"

So ... would anyone like our copy of Chicken Run?

On to the second story, which exemplifies our parenting skills a little better. Or at least Dave's.

Since she was born, Maiya has had a favorite blankie. She sleeps with it, she chews on it, she adores it. She loves it so much that even though I do sneak it into the laundry, it has a lingering smell. The corners turned colors, so we cut them off. Still, it is much more nasty than cuddly to the outside viewer.

Enter Dave. He found the same blankie on ebay and promptly ordered it. When it arrived I was sure it was the wrong one, as bright pink and soft as it was. But it had the same white edge I vaguely remembered from Maiya's infancy and the same "Thank heaven for little girls" message embroided on a satin square in the middle. I put it in the laundry.

When Dave got home we slipped her original blankie into a good hiding spot and put fluffy blankie on the couch. When she found it she immediately put it in her mouth, backed up, tasted it again, backed up, straighted it out to see the design and said, "What's that?" We told her that was her blankie. She stuffed her face into it, picked it up, and off she went. Success!

Spring Fever

It seems as if I've abandoned this space, but I have always liked abandoned spaces so here I am. In the five months since I last posted, I survived winter. I showed my children how to survive it. On a few, select days, we even enjoyed it. However, winter is a space in time which I am happy to have abandoned.

As beautiful as our neighborhood is in the summer, it is desolate in the winter. There is some beauty in the desolation, but as a stay at home mom (yes, I've accepted the term), loneliness is always lurking. I cannot say that I did not spare a few tears over the mounds of snow we had piled on our little street. I cannot say that there were not a few days we went out when should have stayed home. Strange how Target can become a refuge.

But Spring is here and Hallelujah! Just today Haven and I had peppermint tea and chocolate on the deck. He then played in the sandbox while I reclined in a chair, remembering that I love my life.

I was hired as a therapist. My first interview was in December. I cannot start until "The Board" (read the meanies at the state of New Jersey, one of whom yelled at me just yesterday) approves my "Plan of Supervision" which could take another month, or two, or three. All of that mumbo jumbo to say that it takes a lot of red tape to be a therapist. What I have actually earned is a Masters in Paper Work. So, it could be 6 months from my first interview to my first client.

Maiya has begun to talk to me constantly. Her voice is raspy and she ends most statements with, "right?" like a true Jersey Girl. For example, "That's mine, right?" or "It's time to eat, right?" She can make the tree shake when she screams 'no' and she would spend an entire day throwing rocks into the lake if I had the patience to sit there.

The most significant accomplishment of winter, aside from sheer survival, was potty training. Haven is now a proud user of the potty. We started on New Year's day and were pretty much done - I define success loosely - by Valentine's Day. Be skeptical of anyone who tells you that potty training can take 2 or 3 days. Haven was a good sport and I was too - again defining success loosely. During the process I shed a few tears, but none of them were sentimental for diapers. Haven learned to pee and poop in the toilet and I learned that his successes and failures are not mine.

I have felt rather gleeful on days with nice weather. I will wrap up with a short conversation Haven and I had at dinner:

Me: I had fun with you guys today! I had fun getting you dressed, I had fun going for a walk, I had fun eating lunch, I had fun playing with you [on and on and on] and I'm having fun right now!

Haven, watching me like I'm crazy: ... I not that happy.