Labels: in the news
Labels: life with a bean
Last month I mentioned something about shopping being an addiction in this family. Well, apparently it doesn't skip a generation.
We received the Fisher Price Holiday 2006 Catalog with Miss M's gift and hit the motherload. I spent the better part of an hour answering the questions, "This?" and "That?" (How did they pick that up anyway?) And joined in on several exclamations of "Wow!"
For those of you who don’t know, a Top Five list is a list of celebrities that you get a free pass with. I think Chandler called it the “Freebies”. Your spouse or significant other cannot get angry or hold it against you if someone from your list happens to be in town and happens to want to youknowwhat you.
A friend of ours has “The Victoria’s Secret Models” as the first person on his Top Five list. I’ve unsuccessfully argued that you can’t include a group of people as one spot on your list, but he won’t budge. J’s Top Five is always pretty much the same: Salma Hayek, Kelly Brook (who?), Jessica Alba, Kate Beckinsale and Ziyi Zhang. He has a thing for brunettes, as you can see.
But it’s different now. Now when we talk about it and I imagine that that unimaginable happens, I don’t get the luxury of daydreaming about “What if?”
MB [yelling at the door, whilst tossing laundry down the basement stairs, pulling her hair out of a ponytail and wiping the yogurt/animal cracker crumbs/boogers off her ‘comfy clothes’]: Who is it? I’ll be right there!
[insert annoyingly insane barking Shih Tzus and crying M]
Jake: “It’s me, Jake Gyllenhaal. The one with the dreamy eyes and kissable lips. I’m in town and thought I’d stop by for a quick youknowwhat.”
MB [climbing over ottoman, which is blocking Beans from exiting the great room, crying M clinging frantically to yoga pants]: “Hold on, Jake! I’ll be right there!”
[MB opens door]
Jake [shuddering at the sight of boogers/frizzy hair/yapping dogs/crying Bean]: “Oh…um. I can see that you are…busy. I’ll stop by next time I’m in town.”
Jake [after youknowwhat-ing]: “That was just great. I’m so glad that I happened to be in your town and on your Top Five List.”
[insert bleating baby monitor]
MB [brushing perfectly tousled hair out of eyes]: “Oh. That’s the girls. It’s time to get up and have waffles. Would you like some waffles?”
MB: “Well, that’s what we do. We have waffles and watch Sesame Street and read books. Get up already.”
See. My life is no longer conducive to the Top Five List. I’ve even tried imagining bumping into said celebrities on vacation and can only think of whether or not the hotel childcare is clean enough and free of child predators for me to even think of leaving my girls with them. Can’t do it. J doesn’t have this sort of problem. He has no problem figuring out what he’ll do if by some chance Salma Hayek gets his cell number. Momma Bean who?? I guess it’s a guy thing.
So Jake. Next time you are in the mitten…thanks, but no thanks. This Momma comes with Beans.
Labels: Momma Bean
Labels: Say Cheese
I know, I know. I should be knocking on the nearest wood, I should be biting my tongue. But I’m not. Kids get sick, right? Mine don’t, but normal kids do! In almost fourteen months, I haven’t heard so much as a cough. I should be thankful, but you have to know that this is odd, coming from parents like J and me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not wishing that the girls will get sick. And I am thankful that I haven’t had to endure what some of my friends have. Sick kids are no fun, I get it. And if they are anything like a sick husband, I’ll want no part of it.
I anticipated that the girls would be sick often during their first year of life. They were born a few weeks early and into the beginnings of a Michigan cold spell. Michigan isn’t kind to even its youngest residents in the winter time. It is bitter and it is brutal. And if what I heard was true, from the “lactation consultants” that I had the joy of speaking with during my twenty-four hour magnesium-sulfate treatment following delivery, wherein I was bedridden and incoherent and in a morphine induced nod, I would single-handedly be responsible for my children’s underdeveloped immune system if I could not find a way to produce the wonder drug that is breastmilk. Guess what ladies? Wrong!
When I first met J, we were both sick often. My list included bronchitis, sinusitis, migraines, flus, colds (summer and otherwise). His wasn’t much different, except replace bronchitis with chronic ear infections and take out migraines and replace with vertigo. He was actually taken to the hospital once for the flu. I’ve gotten healthier over the years, and he has too. But given our history, we were armed like soldiers ready for battle. During every weather change, we’d double check nostrils and feel foreheads. Now though, I’m all cocky. Eh, you got a cold? Go ahead, sneeze on her. She won’t get it! See! Kleenex, be damned!
Listen, we’re not careless or anything. I’m not ready to R.S.V.P. for the next Chicken Pox Party and I do carry around a little bottle of Sweet Pea antibacterial hand gel in every diaper bag (yes, I have a few). I’m not asking for trouble people! Really! I’m thankful and all of that.
And I know that this won’t last forever. I know that they aren’t invincible and that one of these days, they’ll catch a cold and I’ll be nursing them back to health. Just please, don’t let it be both of them at the same time. And for God’s sake, please don’t let J catch it too. Because you and I both know that he’ll throw them under the bus for a hot cup of soup, a spot on the couch, the remote control and my undivided attention.
So…who is placing bets on if one of us will catch a cold within the next few weeks? I’m in.
 I am in no way negating the scientific fact that breast milk is, in fact, the optimal choice of mothers for feeding their children. What I am doing is calling out the Nazi-like “consultants” that I had the pleasure of being accosted by while I was helpless and medicated and recovering from major surgery.
Labels: life with a bean
I can't wait for Girly Movie Night. Already, A is showing signs of good taste. Here's what else we'll watch:
- Pretty in Pink
- My Best Friend's Wedding
- The Notebook
- Father of the Bride
- Pretty Woman
- Dirty Dancing
- Girls Just Want To Have Fun
- Sleepless in Seattle
- Gone With the Wind
- An Officer and a Gentleman
- Say Anything
- You've Got Mail
- Steel Magnolias
Labels: life with a bean
It was an imperfect science, the making of that tape. What would only take minutes today to download and burn onto your blank CD used to take days, maybe weeks of painstakingly finding and recording the songs onto your portable tape player. I remember one time when I waited for days to hear a particular song on the radio so that I could record it for my current mixed tape. And I remember cursing the DJ who had the nerve to talk over the closing notes.
Labels: life with a bean
My sisters out-of-state will be furious when I say this: I'm done with cider mills! G&G and I took the girls on Sunday to our local and most popular cider mill for a little cider and doughnuts and some farm animals. As the year have gone by, it has gotten busier and busier at this particular cider mill, growing from just a little farm with a bakery and shop to a full blown commercialized zoo (not an actual zoo...the other definition of a zoo) , equiped with corn maze, petting farm, hay rides and ridiculous prices. The lines to every concession stand and to the actual cider mill went on forever and was well more than a half hour long. I waited in line for almost half an hour to get M something to drink, as she was having a minor meltdown, and I had to come back empty-handed, after wrestling with whether or not she'd be better off out of this place or having her thirst quenched.
M had several minor meltdowns that day, beginning with lunch with the grandparents at Champps and ending with a trip to Target to spend Momma Bean's birthday gift certificate. She's not big on crowds or people looking at her or being confined, plus she was working on a half hour nap. For a bean who will sleep 16 hours a night if you let her, this was not a good thing. I thought that Target would cheer her up, as it always makes her erupt in delightful oohs and ahhs, but she wasn't having any of it yesterday. Not even the annoying singing Cookie Monster stocking could garner a smile from that bean.
A Squared, on the other hand, loved it. What could be better than even more people looking at you and telling you how cute you are? I have a feeling that, if she could talk, she'd respond to everyone's compliments with a resounding, "I know!" (think Monica Gellar...or Momma Bean...) She loved the doughnuts (M did not) and got such a kick out of the petting farm that she didn't seem to want to leave.
Anyway, though I swore to the heavens that I wouldn't return, we'll be back this weekend with Daddy. We also have a date with Miss E. when she returns from her European honeymoon to partake in a little cider and doughnuts with her. Hopefully by then, M will warm up to the idea and everyone else in Michigan will find something else to do!
“Saturday night’s alright…”
- Stumble to bed at around 4:00 a.m. Saturday morning.
- Wake up at around 6:00 a.m. to be to work by 6:30 a.m.
- End shift and leave work at 9:30 a.m. and get back into bed until 11:00.
- Tailgating from 11:30 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. Never make it to a game once.
- Raid the sorority house kitchen for some Ramen Noodles or leftovers.
- Nap until 7:00 p.m.
- Get gussied up and begin pre-party party in our rooms at the house.
- Leave for frat party at 10:00 p.m. Kiss a boy. Dance on a table.
- Stumble to bed at around 4:00 a.m. Sunday morning.
- Wake up by the sunlight streaming into the windows, check the clock, notice it is 9:00 a.m.
- Roll over, kiss new husband, snuggle closer and go back to sleep.
- Wake up again at 11:00 a.m. Shower and get pretty for new husband.
- Late breakfast/early lunch at Koney. He gets a Hani and I get breakfast.
- Go to the mall for a cute new outfit. Have a late lunch.
- Go home and nap until 6:00 p.m.
- Get pretty again for new husband and go out for dinner and drinks with J&A, and maybe a movie or more drinks later.
- Crawl into bed at around 1:00 a.m.
- Wake up by the sound of A chatting to Duckie about her dream last night, check the alarm clock, notice it is 6:00 a.m.
- Lay perfectly still, pretend to be sleeping as husband stirs in his sleep.
- Fall back to sleep.
- Wake up by the sound of A yelling into the monitor, the content of which translates to say, “I know you can hear me, so wake up and let’s start my day!” Check alarm clock, notice it is 7:00 a.m.
- Lay perfectly still as husband stirs and awakens. Pretend you don’t feel him nudging you. Smile as he gets up to get the Bean.
- Hug the Bean, snuggle with her under the covers, try unsuccessfully to coax her back to sleep.
- Avoid disaster no less than three times as the Bean attempts to lunge over the side of the bed while attacking the dogs. Drag self out of bed at 8:00 a.m.
- Spend next ten minutes convincing M that it is breakfast time and that she can’t sleep her life away. Receive grunts and angry glares.
- Breakfast and playtime.
- Naptime for Beans, chore time for Momma Bean.
- Lunch and then off to Costco/Target/Lakeside. No shower needed. Barely any make-up required.
- Attend a child’s birthday party, visit grandparents and pick up carry-out and a movie.
- Dinner at 6:00 p.m. then playtime.
- Bathtime and bedtime at 8:00 p.m., then into my jammies the minute their heads hit their crib.
- Claim best spot on couch, snuggle under blanket, and watch ¾ of the movie. Fall asleep.
- Wake up, blearily check the clock, notice it is 11:00 p.m. Trudge upstairs to bed.
Life is good.
The other day my mother informed me that A will not nap now unless she is rocked. She followed that up by announcing that she had purchased another package of pacifiers, because she always lost the ones J would send with the girls. I had bitten my tongue before when my dad mentioned purchasing them, but this time I let her have it. Mom replied calmly that they could give up the pipe when they were potty-trained. What?!?!?!?
I told her that I had wanted to get rid of the pipes, as we so affectionately called them, at 1 year old, but had been coaxed by J into only letting them have it for bedtime and naptime. I reluctantly agreed and grimaced whenever I noticed that he or anyone else watching them would give them to the girls any other time. This morning, as soon as the girls were out of bed, I popped the pipes right out of their mouths, as I always do. I was met with a few angry cries, the loudest of which was coming from my husband. But quickly, the girls became preoccupied with something else and the only one left protesting was J.
It’s not that I have a big thing against babies/toddlers using pacifiers. I was in the beginning and was furious to discover that J had given our month old babies their first pacifier. But, as a mother of twins, I know all too well that sometimes you just need a break. A little distraction, a moment of peace, and you’ll do whatever you can to get that. Just a second of it. Whether it’s turning on Sesame Street or popping the pipe, I am guilty of it too. I just didn’t want my girls to develop the habit. I didn’t want them to become dependent on it. I didn’t want them to be three years old, in pre-school and walking around the mall with it in their mouths (a sight that I see quite often at our local mall.)
I’m quitting the bottles too, though that’s been much easier and I’m not quite as vigilant about the subject. I started the girls on sippy cups early and they took to the cups fairly easily. J recently wanted to buy more bottles as ours are a year old and beginning to leak. I nixed the idea. Now, the cups and the bottles are interchangeable for us and the girls really only get a bottle at bedtime and sometimes they don’t even get that. At my house. Elsewhere (Mother!!!) it’s another story. I’m sort of okay with this because they’re deriving nutrition from their bottles (and nothing from their pipes.) And a bottle isn’t a quick fix like the pipe is, for both toddler and caregiver. So this is a battle I’m only half-heartedly waging, because I see that victory is in sight.
Next, it’s potty-training. I’m starting at eighteen months, the age I was when I was potty-trained. They’re getting little potties for Christmas from Santa (shhh…don’t tell them) and it’s mostly so that they can get used to them and play with them while I’m in the bathroom. (Momma Bean in bathroom = door open = Beans in the bathroom.) I’m sure there will be inconsistencies there and that I will do battle with a couple of people, but I’m prepared.
I guess I don’t fight it too much because I know that it must be hard for them. The grandparents. They are doing such a tremendous favor for us by watching the girls while we’re at work and being such wonderful and doting grandparents. And because I’ve been told, under no uncertain terms, that they are grandparents and they will not be the disciplinarians that they were for their children and that they’re only responsibilities now are to love and spoil the girls. What more could I ask for?
This: if, by the time the girls are five years old, I’m still finding bottles and pipes lying around the houses, it’s ON!