In honor of Global Epilepsy Awareness Day

Living with epilepsy, a mother's view.

Epilepsy is:

• Hesitating to let your child go out to play, for fear of a head injury either causing or sustained by a seizure.
• Waking up in the middle of the night to check on your child, multiple times a night, because her seizures often occur when she's asleep.
• Always having an inkling of fear when she's at school, wondering if the teachers and nurses would actually do the correct thing in the event of a seizure, or if they'd end up injuring her instead.
• Having to say "No" to sleepovers, including summer camp and birthdays of friends due to needing to send meds, and fear of embarrassment on her part because during seizures she wets the bed. 
• Having to say "No" to sleepovers hosted here, due to fear of embarrassment on her part because during seizures she wets the bed.
• Monitoring every single thing eaten, because certain ingredients are typically seizure triggers. Aspartame and Splenda specifically.
• Disgusting-tasting meds that make her gag, twice a day, every day. 
• Not KNOWING all of your child's seizure triggers, making things like long car rides akin to rolling dice.
• Watching your child be confused and frightened after a seizure, sometimes for hours, sometimes for more than a day.
• Knowing every day that that is the day your child could die, because every seizure has the potential to be fatal.

Epilepsy is not:

• Your child being possessed.
• Your child acting out or misbehaving. 
• A failure on your part.
• Something you can prevent.
• Something you can protect against.
• Something you, or anyone else, can cure.

THAT is Epilepsy.

On babies (and mamas) who others think shouldn't be.

We all know I was an accidental mommy. My pregnancy with Kinder Major was flawless, and even enjoyable.  It could be argued, though, that I wasn't meant to be.  Moments after delivering a beautiful, angry red-haired little girl, I began to bleed uncontrollably.  I was so tired.  All I wanted to do was sleep off the pain I was in as I bled and bled.

But they fought me, and my mother fought me, and I stayed awake.  I stayed here for my baby.  I stayed here because I wanted to be, whether the universe wanted it or not.

Things with Bug were not so peaceful.  A sub-chorionic hemorrhage during my first trimester. Hit by a car second trimester.  Third trimester, pre-eclampsia, fetal distress, premature birth by induction.

I call him the little engine that could.  In spite of all of those things, he persevered.  He was the little fetus that could.

I hemorrhaged again after his birth, and again I wanted to just sleep.  This time I sent my mother away, instructing her to never leave the side of my baby, my little boy blue, not breathing, not stirring.

We danced with fate, the three of us.  Plenty of people who have heard our stories comment on how we, in one form or another, shouldn't be.

I believe they're wrong, though.  Our existence, and the way we fought to be a family, us three, makes life all the sweeter.  It makes it worthwhile to be.

Through the looking glass

I wish the world could see my children through my eyes. I also wish that I would remember I feel this way when I'm frustrated or tired.

I posted that on my facebook this morning, and I found myself repeating it over and over like a mantra alll afternoon.


What to do when a child's behavior is off and completely out of control, and out of THEIR control?  How to hold one's tongue and exasperation whilst said child bounds across furniture in a fervor of frenetic energy she has no idea how to control?


This is the medication rollercoaster that I spoke briefly of last post.


So what to do?  How do I help her cope?  How do *I* cope?  There is no warning label that states that I may become frazzled and frustrated with directions on how to reverse the reaction.  There are no wiki-how's on curbing my tongue or her behavior.


Here's what's worked for us so far:  Cuddling.


Lots of cuddling.  When she looks like she's going to shake out of her skin, we sit down for a hug.  When I'm in tears over burning dinner and shouting at her to get off the back of the couch, we sit down for a hug.


Talking it out.  Kinder major is extremely sensitive and understands that some of this is out of her control.  It's therapeutic for her to hear my words when I say that  I understand that she can't help it sometimes.


Space.  Sometimes we just need to walk away from eachother.


At the end of the day, though, we cuddle under the blankets and I do whatever I must between snack and story to make my beautiful children laugh, and I remember why I want the world to see them as I do.  They're brilliant, funny, beautiful little beings.


I'm so blessed to be their mommy.

Funk-be-gone!

So.  It's well past time for me to pull myself up by my bra straps and get out of this funk.

Mind, it's not really a funk about him, though he plays a part in it.  It's more a culmination of being in limbo again as far as where my life is going and what I'm going to be when I grow up, the children and their health and well being, and dissatisfaction with my personal life.

Right now I have an awesome job.  It's nothing fancy, it's sure as hell not glamorous, but it's something I can do and do well, to the point of going home *happy* knowing that I've completed my tasks to the best of my ability, and I truly did an excellent job.  However... there's always a however, it's not something I can or will do for the rest of my life.  I want more.  I want to know that I'm not just doing my job, I'm helping out in the world.  This job could lead to that job.  More limbo, though, as it'll take me quite a bit of time to get there.  I want it, though.  Good god, readers... I want it so much it hurts.  I just don't quite know how to go about finally getting it.

The children are well overall.  Kinder Major has been diagnosed as epileptic, for official and all.  We're on the medication rollercoaster now, and it's wearing me out.  Kinder Major doesn't particularly like the ride, nor does she like the fact that I now watch her like a hawk for signs of seizures.  Helmets are more strictly enforced, and there are days when I'm hesitant to even brush her hair.  She's missed a fair bit of school over this, as well.  I'm keenly aware that it could be worse, though, so I'm thankful daily that it's not.

Bug is doing alright.  Health wise he's perfect, it's his development that I worry for.  I cannot count the number of times I've been asked if he is autistic.  He's not.  He communicates, but doesn't talk, per se.  He has words, but they're still not crystal clear, and most people cannot decipher them, and mistake his speaking for babble.  He also signs to us, and does a good job at it.  He understands EVERYTHING, and is the most social, happy little man.  That doesn't keep me from worrying that he's developed a fibroid in the communication center of the brain, though.  I haven't brought it up to neuro yet - I've been sitting on it, trying to decide if I'm just being a worry wart or if there may be something to the idea.  I'm still unsure.  I wish I had some sort of magic 8-ball for him.

My personal life. Ooooh my personal life.  As you know, Pater Pueri and I have split.  That has left me sad, but I refuse to pine over him, and I'm pretty well moved on.  What makes me sad is that we had this life planned out, we told Kinder Major all about our plans, and now it's been snatched out from under her.  She's left angsty, and I'm left seething over her unhappiness.

As far as what I'm doing now that I'm a free agent... well, I'm looking but not looking hard.  I'm leaving myself open to the universe and whomever may come along. It's interesting to allow myself to openly admire and flirt with another person again, after so long of not being able to, or not wanting to.  It's kind of nice to think about making plans with someone just to get to know them.  While I'm enjoying things, I'm still somewhat intimidated.  I never dated well.  Just ask any of my high school flings.  I wasn't about the dating so much. =P

So that's our lives right now, world.  How are yours?

Bridging the gap: When blending families spans space and time

I posted over at Tales of an Unlikely Mother recently about the art that is blending the American family these days.  Now, here, I'm going to throw around some ideas for bridging the gap when moves, both physical and emotional, occur.

We have just learned that the beautiful Blueberry Nights will be leaving us for the other extreme of the country in a few short months.  We were aware the move was occurring, just not that the time window had become so small.

So what now?  We've worked so hard to make a strong beginning with our ragtag little family.  It seems almost as though we're being rent asunder in this moment, as the emotions that ride high on the entire situation are as volatile as the jet fuel that will take her 12 hours from us by air.

We're not, though.  We have a strategy, a plan, and a philosophy.  And we're going to share it with you.

Like blending the family to begin with, we start with an open mind, and when we're calm we acknowledge that there may be good opportunities present for our wee Blueberry Nights when she leaves with her mother.

We set up a fund to ensure that airfare one way or the other will not be an issue.  Obviously this is something that is fluid, and a backup.  Backups are your friend, though.

We talk with the children and let them know that they're not "losing" their sister, only that we're saying "See you later!" for the time being.  Never, ever, ever, ever discourage hope in your other children.  Kinder Major is working through some serious grief over this, and it's crucial to her well being that she understand that this does not mean she will never see her sister again.  It is also an unbreakable rule that the step in question not be bashed in front of the children, whether you agree with the separation or not.

Depending on how old your children are, they may understand that there was little choice in the matter, which is where we are with Kinder Major right now.  She finds herself angry at StepMC, and while I do not contribute to her sentiments in spite of having concurrent ones, it's important for her to be able to work through that anger, and not feel like her emotions have been belittled.  It's a frighteningly delicate line to toe, and one made twice as fragile by our own emotions.

PLAN.  Involve the siblings in planning how it will go when their other sibling(s) come home.  Kinder Major has thoroughly enjoyed and found joy in planning how Blueberry Nights' side of the room will be decorated, and how she plans to cook a day of celebratory meals in her sister's honor when she comes home to us again.

Talk about the other sibling.  Don't hush hush it with the "out of sight, out of mind" philosophy, as that only leads to bitterness and resentment later.  Keep photographs, encourage laughter, allow tears, and roll with the punches.

Skype/gVideo/iPhone face time/whatever - and often!  There's nothing to say that the siblings can't do the same as they did when blending the families to begin with.  Let them talk as often as they want and time allows.  Set up those live feed at ballet recitals and plays, the soccer games and scout ceremonies.  Including the long-distance child and likewise, offer availability to be included.

As adults, decide on a family dynamic.  Ours is "seamless."  One word.  Blueberry Nights will step off that plane and into our home like she never left, with hugs and kisses from MamaAccidentally, a snack, and a good book for an afternoon story.  Pater Puerii will have his just-them time with her like he does with his other two children, and we will step in sync back into daily life as a family.

Lastly, the exact same philosophy that you took up when the family came together to begin with: Love begets love, and softens even the stoniest facades.  Love, the true love of a family, can be felt a world away, let alone a mere country.  Love hard, love freely, love often.  It can only do everyone involved good.

Nobody puts Baby in a corner (campsite!)

First time primitive camping with an 18 month old and a six year old.  Tips? Troubles?  Mama has done the alone-in-the-woods-with-a-mechanical-pencil-and-some-rubbing-alcohol type stuff, but I've never done it with the kids.  I find myself somewhat trepidatious, even though I have decent wilderness skills.  I've never had to use them with the kids, though, and well... Accidentally Mommy would prefer not to rock the boat and end up Accidentally Needing Them.

Please... discuss in comments!  I'm sure everyone has an anecdote if nothing else, of their own.  

Wordless Wednesday: Tooth Fairy Finally Visited.

Wordless Wednesday: Re-connect. Starring Kinder Major, Bug, and Little Blonde.

The one where she gets all teary...

My baby starts kindergarten in the morning. I am busily gathering together the last minute necessities - re-packaging her peaches so she can open them up, chilling her apple juice, making sure her jacket and backpack and lunch box are labeled, jotting down the things I need to remind her teacher of when I meet her tomorrow.

I can't believe she's this old. I can't believe five years has gone by so quickly. My beautiful baby has morphed into my beautiful little girl, and in the next blink of my eyes she will be my beautiful big girl and eventually my beautiful adult daughter.

I don't want the time to go. I want to hold her close to me while she's still small enough to fit on my lap, and whisper in her ear for ever how much I love her more than life. I want to always keep her safe in the same way I did when she was tucked away inside of me, nurtured by the very essence of my being.

I can't, though. I must put away my tears and nostalgia and my fear of change and instead dust off my confident smile. I must soothe her trepidations with assurances that I will be there the moment the bell rings to scoop her into my arms and tell her how proud I am of her for being herself.

I don't want her to go.

On learning styles and life lessons.

You know, there's a WHOLE lot of talk of "creating a critical thinker" when it comes to nurturing young children.

I'm of two minds on this.  On one hand, I agree that yes, we should encourage our children to think critically, and nurture their analytical skills while they're so open to it and so naturally curious.  On the other hand, though, I don't think that every moment of your child's life should be spent teaching some sort of lesson or thinking skill.

I take great issue with mothers who sneer at me when I respond "she wasn't" to questions like "how high was Kinder Major counting when she was two?"

Kinder Major showed a great right-brain preference from a very early age.  She was drawn very strongly to music and color, and showed a vested interest in coloring and painting by 11 months.  I nurtured that creativity.  Instead of teaching her counting and numbers and her alphabet at such a young age, I taught her color names and allowed her to play in paint and with crayons.  We colored on "her" wall next to my bed at night.  We read books together that were filled with color and texture, we sang and listened to music of all kinds, we danced and played with blocks.  As she continued to develop cognitively, she proved to have a knack for engineering based on aesthetics.  Again, I nurtured that.

A big part of attachment parenting is *knowing* your child and nurturing their innate abilities.  I don't feel that forcing "critical thinking" education on a child that doesn't learn that way is following that facet of APing.  I believe that every child is different, and should be nurtured as such.

Now, please don't interpret that to mean "don't encourage curiosity and awareness" - that's not what I'm saying.  What I AM saying, though, is don't bully your pediatrician into making a referral for speech and occupational therapy for your 18 month old because they haven't learned their entire alphabet yet.  (True example.)  Don't fill your child's day with structured learning, either.  Allow your child to grow at their own pace, and to be a child, especially if they are still on the variable line between late infancy and early toddlerhood.  Hell, even later toddlers.  Allow them to be them, and allow them to grow as they will.  Our children are not meant to be clones, nor are they meant to be programmed to fit our personal agendas on what we feel the perfect child should be.  They are their own person, and should be allowed to grow as such.

That is a life lesson that we all need to learn as we grow with our children.  Likewise, we should apply the same concepts to ourselves, since respectively, most of us are infants in our parenting lives.  We need to remember that we are all different, and allow ourselves to grow as we will, instead of as someone else (or even our pre-child selves) think we should.  We need to have confidence and faith in ourselves that we will thrive, and only with that confidence will our children form their own.

<3

Dem Boobs, Dem Boobs, Dem... Dry Boobs.

My boobs have been having an identity crisis lately.  It's a pretty significant one, I think.  The subject comes up daily, sometimes multiple times a day.  I try to avoid them, so that I can avoid that uncomfortable silence that inevitably follows their twin chorus of "Hi, we're your boobs, and we're having an identity crisis."  Seriously, how do I respond to that?


Complete avoidance is impossible, though.  Our interactions are something like this:

Me:  Hi boobs.  How are ya today?

Boobs: We're sad.  Look, we're looking down at the floor with our pointy nipple-eyes.  We're having an identity crisis.


Me:  Oh?  *uncomfortable silence*  Uhh... Umm... Why?  You're boobs.  Don't you generally do... boob things?  Like hang out?  I try not to put you in a bra, so you've got way more freedom than most of your other boob friends.


Boobs:  Yeah, we know.  And really - we appreciate that freedom.  Our problem is that we're dry.  


Me:  Oh, well I can fix that!  Here, have some nourishing lotion with vitamin E!


Boobs:  No, not like that.  See, we see you feed the baby, and we know that the milk you're giving him isn't from us.  Because, you know, we're dry.  This is the fault line for our shattering identity earthquake.  We mean, logically we know that you're giving him artificial milk because you're taking a couple of medications that you really can't go without right now, but we feel cheated.  We dried up suddenly and traumatically, and we're quite upset about it.


Me:  Oh.  Yeah, I can totally see that.  Oh look, brain and conscience are here!  Let's get them in on this discussion!


Brain:  Hey Boobs!  Lookin' good today, ladies!  You've got some super-hot circulatory action goin' on.  No worries, you can totally thank me later.


Boobs:  *stares*  Really, Brain?  Really?


Conscience:  So, I totally didn't mean to eavesdrop, Boobs, but I heard everything you said, and I'm right there with you.  I feel SO GUILTY about all of it, your drying up and Jackie taking meds and Brain just being brain... it makes me want to cry.  I even feel guilty about the fact that Leg went off and got herself broken, which is why you dried up to begin with!  It's totally ALL MY FAULT.


Brain:  Oh shit.  Look at what ya'll did.  Conscience is crying now.


Me:  Okay, hold it.  This is not going to turn into a three ring circus.  Brain, do you have anything useful to contribute?


Brain:  Well, that depends.  I do, out of deference for Boobs, go ahead and automatically make their pointy nipple-eyes hard every time the baby cries, as well as make them ache.  You know, 'cuz they're boobs.  That's what they're made for, amirite?


Me:  Right on.  You just keep on keepin' on.  Not like any of us could persuade you to do otherwise.  Conscience, is there any reasoning with you on this one?


Conscience:  No.  *sobs*  I'M SO SORRY ABOUT EVERYTHING!  I DESERVE TO DIE IN A FIRE!


Me:  *mutters*  Drama Queen.  *looks at Brain*  Can you take her out of here?  I'll deal with you guys later.


Boobs:  Now do you understand, though?  We're boobs.  We were put on your body primarily to nurse your offspring.  Sexual pleasure and looking awesome are just fringe benefits.  You let us do our job briefly, and then it was abruptly and traumatically taken away from us.  Now we're bereft.  What are we to do?


Me:  Oh.  Well, I... uh... *clears throat*  I'm really sorry.  I... I got nothin' else.  Can I offer you that nourishing lotion with vitamin E as a consolation prize?


And with that, my friends, my Boobs simply shake their heads sadly and wander away, until the next time I feed the baby.  Then the cycle starts all over again.

Logically, I know that relactation is not one of my most brilliant ideas.  Oh, I have no doubt that I could achieve it - and fairly easily, at that.  But what would it accomplish?  I would need to wean off of three different meds, and risk at best some very painful and at worst some very dangerous consequences.


Bug, I suspect, couldn't really care less.  There's still ample bonding and skin-to-skin during feedings.  Also, he's leading himself to solids, so it may be a non-issue here very shortly.  Health-wise, it's a non-issue completely.  


So where is the sense in all of this wistfulness and mourning over our lost breastfeeding relationship?  Why can't Boobs just suck it up, rub some dirt in it, and move on?  Why can't Conscience just get over her guilt?  Why can't Brain stop leading the mutiny on the bounty?


Because - breast is best.  For all parties involved.  People will try to placate us with "Well, at least you got *some* breastfeeding time in," but that won't help.  I don't disagree, and I *AM* thankful for the time we had.  But I would be a dirty liar if I said I didn't wish with every bottle of formula I make that it had been longer.  That we were still doing it today.

I learned to forgive myself with Kinder Major - she wasn't breastfed at all.  I will learn to forgive myself with Bug, too.  It's just going to take time.  Time, and a lot of "why relactating isn't a good idea" talks with Boobs.


Ladies, don't take your Boobs for granted.  And for those of you who haven't/can't/didn't (for whatever reason) breastfeed who are having similar talks with your Boobs... well, best of luck to you.  I hope you can make more headway with yours than I have with mine.

Wordless Wenesday: Singin' (and dancin') in the rain!

Hump Day Happiness

I'm just all sorts of meme today, it seems.

Truth be told, I'm having a crap day.  As I was sitting here, wallowing in self pity and tea, I saw that Naomi over at Under The Yardarm started a McLinky for Hump Day Happiness.  (Go to her blog to enter and read.) Then I clicked through them, and realized that the time for wallowing was done, and I needed to quickly remember why life doesn't suck.  Then I needed to post it for ya'll to see, share, and perpetuate the meme.

So, here we go.  Happiness on this humpday is...

• A baby who smiles, in spite of getting two teeth in within 24 hours of each other.
• A daughter who is so empathetic and kind that she doesn't hesitate to say to the cashier at the grocery "You look like you have a sad face.  Please don't be sad, I love you!" at five years old.
• Knowing that I have a bottle of wine chilled and waiting for me as a reward if I get my homework done in a timely fashion tonight.
• Amazing, supportive, friendly people like you to surround me, and remind me that I'm not alone.

Wordless Wednesday: Front (rose/flower) garden, 2010

Make-up Monday!

Okay, so we've had Bloggers in the Buff - a day when we revealed our "true" selves to the internet, bared all of our wrinkles and imperfections for all to see.

I'm not ashamed to say that I am "in the buff" pretty much every day.  It's rare to see me in a picture where I'm actually wearing "nice" clothes, have my hair done, or have make-up on.

Because I feel that those things are also a facet of my personality, I propose this:  For those of you who are like me and rarely get to show off your "cleaned up" side, go ahead and post it today.  Don't guilt about feeling vain for it, because you're not.  You deserve to show off that side of you, and no one will judge you for getting made up specifically for this.  Technically, I'm prompting you to do it because I think you deserve to feel pampered for a few minutes (Yes, I'm projecting here,) but we'll say it's in the name of the Meme, just for further justification. :)  I'll show you mine if you show me yours!

So, here it is: Makeup Monday.  I'm going to cheat and post the pictures I took of myself this weekend.  I had a wedding to attend, and damn did my makeup look fabulous! I even did my manicure myself, and I wore the single cutest pair of shoes ever.

And, here's Kinder Major, since she was so pleased with her dress and hair, too!

Caution: Imaginations at play!

So, Kinder Major has had a recurring case of Strep for the past month or so, which means there's been a lot of time spent hanging out and relaxing while we work through symptoms, antibiotics, and mandatory time out of school.

During this time, I've noticed a huge cognitive leap in her.  Her imagination has suddenly taken off!  Not that she didn't engage in imagination play before - she did.  It was definitely limited to tangible concepts, though.  Playing with dolls meant that they were locked into familial roles, blocks were objects she saw every day, and reading story books was less imagining what was going on with the characters in the pictures and more reciting what she remembered from when I read the story to her originally.

This past month I have seen her explore new territories like never before.  Dolls now have many different roles, from family groups to movie stars and explorers of space, sea and jungle alike.  Story books are read with elaborate tales surrounding the illustrations.  (We're working on reading and spelling.  For now, I listen as she makes up her own stories.)  Blocks and legos are used to make submarines, rocket ships, fairy houses and fantastical vehicles for monsters and pets.  Every day items are used to invent and build, often to my consternation when it involves rolls of toilet paper being unrolled, or booby traps of duct tape and paper clips.

She "writes" letters full of nonsense letters and numbers strung together, mixed in with the words she knows how to read and write. She makes cards for any and every occasion, she decorates and adorns with pleasure and an artistic freedom that every artist I know would be colored green with envy by.

Outside time is spent planting 100 foot bean stalks and mixing witch's brew out of leaves and mud.  She climbs trees and pretends they are her pirate ships and she is the captain.  When she's dirty and covered in the evidence of her play like chalk dust, she becomes a zombie or a mummy, intent on sucking out brains and tickling to death.  (Gotta love my horror baby.)

In addition to her imagination, she has an appreciation for concepts that most children at her age have yet to comprehend.  For Mother's Day, her teacher engaged the class in a project of appreciation to send home to the moms/caregivers.  Each child drew and colored a picture, and then the children sat with the teacher or one of the helpers and dictated why they love their mothers.  Kinder Major's teacher pulled me aside after school on Friday and thanked me.  My face must have been openly bemused, because she hurried to explain that Kinder Major was the only child in the class to list the reasons she loved me as something other than the things I've bought her or places I've taken her.  Instead, her reasons for loving me were the various things I've taught her and the fact that I love her "forever and ever as much as all the world."  I couldn't hide the tears that came to my eyes.

It's so awesome to me to watch her grow as a little person, to see her mind evolve with her body.  Yes, it's oftentimes bittersweet, but sweet is the key word.  She is a kind-hearted, happy child who knows that she is loved and has support in everything she wants to do.  As long as she continues to feel this way, I will be re-assured that I am doing right by her.

She's right.  I do love her, forever and ever and as much as the whole world.  She IS my world, and I'm so very lucky to be her mommy.

Shoutout to parents of more than two!

I just wanted to make a quick "You're my hero" post for those of you who have more than two little Vagina Pirates. 

Meet Snow White: 

Snow White is my beautiful, wonderful, AMAZING Niece.

I used to watch Snow White regularly through the week, and then there was the whole end-of-pregnancy disaster, which turned into sick baby disaster, which was then The Great Leg Incident of  '10.

Now that I'm walking and almost back to normal again, I'm back to taking care of Snow White during the day, which is AWESOME.  I love her to death - as much as my own two - and she and Kinder Major really are like sisters.  Right down to the "Mom, she hit me!" part, in fact. =P

Anyways, today was the first day that I really did more than pack the two little ones up, pick up Kinder Major from school and then come back home.  We ate lunch (IN the restaurant,) hit up the bank and did a quick grocery shop.

This was significant.  VERY significant.  I only have one carrier right now (an Ergo,) that Bug goes in.  Which means that I actually CARRIED Snow White when she needed it.  (She wears footie pajammas almost 24/7 these days, due to a suspected skin condition called Ichthyosis, which causes scaly skin production, severe itching, and in some cases a lack of sweating.  She's a very dilligent scratcher, and will scratch herself bloody if allowed.  So, to thwart her attempts to skin herself, she wears 100% cotton footies.  Which means shoes don't fit well.  Which means lots of carrying when we're out in public.)  ANYWAYS.  Everyone was extremely well behaved, but we all need a nap now that we're home. ;P

My point is that I have a newfound respect for mamas/papas who do this 24/7, every day, in all circumstances, multiple times a day.  I'm fairly certain things will get a little less hairy when we get into a groove, but wow.  Today was certainly eye opening. ;)

Kudos to you guys!  I would totally give you each a cookie if I wasn't about to land face-first on my couch, dead. ;)

School's Cool!

So, I think I may have broken Kinder Major's brain today.

See, we're having these disagreements about school.  She *LOVES* her pre-school.  Loves her teacher, loves her classmates, loves it.  DOES NOT love the idea of moving on to Kindergarten, though.  Especially since there's zero way that she can stay with her current friends and teacher.  Our conversations about it go something like this:

"Mommy, I don't NEED any more school.  I know my letters and my numbers and I know how to draw and write and color.  I don't NEED anything else."


"No, Kinder Major.  You never stop learning in life.  That's a beautiful privilege you have available to you, and you're going to make the most of it.  Besides, mommy is too unorganized to homeschool you."


"But MOOOOOMMMMMYYYYYYYYY, I DON'T WANNA GO TO KINNERGARDEN!!!!!"


*insert eyeroll and subject change here*

Today, however, it was a bit different.  Mainly because she asked me while I was working on some homework, but a smidge of it was just to see what happened.


"Mommy, I don't NEED any more school.  I know my letters and my numbers and I know how to draw and write and color.  I don't NEED anything else."

"Kinder Major, you WILL be going to Kindergarten.  Mommy goes to school.  I'm in school right now.  As a matter of fact, I should be doing my homework instead of giving in to this potential argument with you."


"But MOOOO--- what?  You're not in school, you're at home with me."


"Yes, I'm at home, but my teacher and my classes are all on the internet, so I can be doing school work and learning while I'm at home with you."


"Oh.  *peers at laptop screen with great scrutiny and deep thought*  Does your teacher let you go outside?  Do you have Big Toy day?  Do you sing and learn sign and spanish and have snack?"


"No, I don't get to do any of those things."


"Oh.  *more deep thought* Could I go to school on the internet?"


"Sure you could.  Do you think we should ask about doing that instead of going to Kindergarten?"


"*horrified look*  NO MOMMY!!!  I'll go to Kinnergarden.  I would miss going outside and playing ball and having big toy time and eating snack and making new friends.  You don't get to have fun like that and that's unfortunate.  *runs off to play outside*"

This, dear readers, is where you see a big, fat, smug grin on AccidentallyMommy's face.  At the risk of jinxing it, I do believe I will say with unflagging confidence in regards to the Kindergarten battle:  I.  Win.  :D

Stay tuned, however, for when this inevitably backfires on me.  It's parent-hood... this shit always backfires. ;P

Gratuitous photo post.

Ecstatic that it's not lost!!!

I shared with ya'll the ooey-gooey-birth-picture from Bug's birth, where he's on my chest, but didn't share Kinder Major's.  It's a photo of her at the moment she was caught.  I didn't share it because honestly, I thought it had been lost to the sands of time.  Or a harddrive crash a couple of years ago.  Sands of time is more poetic though, so we'll go with that.

I was rummaging through the cavernous depths that is my "sent" folder in gmail, and holy shit, I found it!!!!  I could absolutely dance a jig.

Behold a freshly cooked, 10 lb, 21.5" long Kinder Major under the jump!  (NSFW)