Happy Mother's Day!

I hope all mothers out there are having a wonderful day being pampered and loved! I didn't get in so much on the pampering, but I'm feeling the love.

Abigail likes to use new words and phrases she learns ad nauseum. My husband and I like to take advantage of this to teach her cute (often holiday-appropriate) things to say. I spent the weekend teaching her to say Happy Mother's Day, which she sometimes confuses with Happy Birthday, but she's only 2, so that's pretty good.

The result: I've heard lots of "Happy Mother's Day" (and some Happy Birthday) from my sweet little girl today, often followed by an even sweeter (sloppy) kiss on the cheek.

We're going to call grandmas later today after naptime to share some of that love.

What a wonderful Mother's Day.

What are some of your favorite Mother's Day moments?

Posted by: Tamara on 5/11/2008 at 3:35 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Serving time in the penalty box

Being a huge hockey fan, I can't help but notice a similarity between hockey's penalty box and the corner we banish our children to for "timeouts" when they need to be punished.

If a hockey player gets whistled for an infraction, such as slashing or interference, they're sent off to the "sin bin" for the next two minutes. Once that time has elapsed or the opposing team has scored a goal during the man advantage, he can rejoin his teammates.

Likewise, whenever Maura or Ramsey misbehave, they're sent off to our household version of the penalty box. Like hockey players, my kids don't enjoy their routines being interrupted, and they can't wait to rejoin the action once their penalty time has elapsed.

I know penalty boxes aren't necessarily meant to serve as a deterrent to hockey penalties, but weren't "timeouts" designed to eventually curb a child's wayward behavior? I thought once they were issued a few timeouts that they would start behaving better.

Maybe I have to be more patient, because, right now, my daughter draws more trips to our penalty box than an NHL goon. And her baby brother is not far behind. The only ice they seem to be skating ice is really thin.

Maybe a new form of punishment is in order. Perhaps it's time to start throwing flags or whistling fouls.

Posted by: Rick on 5/10/2008 at 7:35 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink

Just another day at the zoo

Our family home is tucked into the great woods of Northwestern Wisconsin. So, like most Northlanders, we see our fair share of wildlife ... mostly birds, squirrels, deer, raccoons, skunks, fox, bears, wolves, coyotes and the occasional porcupine.

It's nice to live amidst such critters, but after nearly eight years of fine country living, seeing a bear meander through the yard doesn't bring the same excitement it used to.

Unless you're a 2-year-old boy. Whenever our son, Ramsey, looks outside and sees animals, he reacts as if he just walked into the world's most exotic zoo. Whether it's watching the birds come and go at our feeders, or spying on the deer grazing on our lawn, he reacts wildly -- pointing, knocking so hard on the window that you swear he's going to break it, and babbling on and on about the wildlife outside.

As far as he's concerned, it's better than Animal Planet. If I could add an orchestra score and some narration, I'd have the perfect animal show for Ramsey.

And if he ventures to the window and nothing much is going on outside, that's OK, too -- he'll either wait or check back repeatedly until there's a creature to watch.

It's fun to watch pure joy flow out of him while watching our friendly neighborhood animals. Sometimes I wish I could return to those days when everything was new and life presented exciting wonders by the hour. I hope he never loses that joy and wonder as he grows up.

Posted by: Rick on 5/09/2008 at 10:32 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink

Taking the tiniest of steps forward

Here we are, nearly one week into potty training, again.  This time it almost seems to be sticking.

We've had success with No. 1 in the potty six times in six days, two of them today, and two others of those at her instigation and not just the every-half-hour check. And we've had success with No. 2 in the potty 1/2 time. (She told me she had to go, then started doing so, but got put on the potty in time to finish.)

It's hard not to take these successes and say, "By gosh, she's got it. Let's hide all the diapers!" But for every "win" we're still having two or three "failures" where she forgets to tell us she has to go until it's too late or just doesn't even think it's important enough to mention. Especially if we're playing outside in the yard.

I know everyone learns to use the potty eventually, but it's hard to be an agent of that change when it's slow going. Plus, patience is a virtue of which I have a very short supply.

It's also hard to lose mobility. Abigail and I like to go places: library, grocery store, movie store, the park. Now I don't want to get more than a half a block from home because I know as soon as we get much farther away, but before we are anywhere near a bathroom, she'll have to go. It's hard for both of us to get used to mornings at home when we are used to being on the go.

Posted by: Tamara on 5/08/2008 at 6:30 PM | Comments (2) | Permalink

What is it about little boys and big trucks?

It happened when I wasn't looking. Just when I thought my son might be immune -- it came out of nowhere.

Ramsey has officially been bitten by the "Big Truck, Big Tractor" bug.

Some of his favorite toys are Matchbox Cars, his favorite books have either fire engines, tractors, semi-trucks or backhoes as the main characters and you can't take him for a ride in the car without him pointing and squealing in delight at every bus, semi, dumptruck, SUV, RV and combine that rolls on down the road.

OK. It's not a big shock -- Most little boys dig those sorts of things. But what I have found interesting is that neither my wife nor I really pushed those sorts of things on him. He just sort of "discovered" those things on his own -- which is kind of neat.

The only problem is that every time he goes outside, he guns it straight for our hibernating rider mower. He loves to climb into the seat and make believe he's riding it. How I'm ever going to get the lawn mowed this summer is beyond me. I'll have to cut it while he's taking his nap.

Now if only I could teach him how to mow the lawn, I would love to give him that chore for the summer.

Posted by: Rick on 5/07/2008 at 9:29 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

First-borns, beware!

I found this story as I was surfing around MSN.com on Monday (it's even got a Duluth tie).  I was a first-born.  I agree that my little brother had it way easier than I did.  He had the added benefit of being a boy, which we all know equals more latitude.  :-)

Share your experiences as the first-born; did you experience higher parental expectations?  What about you later-borns?  Were you able to surf along a little easier because of the path your older sibling(s) smoothed for you?

Posted by: Tamara on 5/06/2008 at 6:10 PM | Comments (2) | Permalink

Ouch!

There was a lot of pain at our household this past weekend. 

My husband complained of general aches and pains, specifically his lower back, after a weekend of paintball practice.  He just can't keep up with the 20-year-olds like he used to.

Abigail got overconfident in her stair-descending skills and took a tumble from the third step from the bottom when she tried to run down the steps.  She got a smallish bump on her head and lots of kisses from Mommy and Daddy to make it better.

But I got the doozy. 

Abigail and Daddy decided to wake Mommy up on Sunday morning.  All was well until Abigail got a little too bouncy and bounced her head, SMACK!, square on into Mommy's nose.  I don't know how boxers and ultimate fighters do it, because getting punched in the nose (especially with a toddler's solid skull) hurts!

A 10-minute bloody (gushing) nose and a few choice, unprintable words later and things seemed to be getting better.  My nose isn't crooked, and I can breathe through it (even better if I remember to spray a little Afrin in).  I don't have any visible bruising on my face, even though my nose still hurts if my glasses slide down too far.  I don't think it's broken.  I don't know for sure, but if my dull, nagging headache and the tenderness don't recede in a few days, then I'll call my doctor to find out for sure.  Until then, I'll just stick with the ice and ibuprofin.

Posted by: Tamara on 5/05/2008 at 1:03 PM | Comments (2) | Permalink