Toilet Paper

How is it that an otherwise rational, 33 year old woman can be brought to the breaking point by a roll of toilet paper? Granted, this was about the 15th time I'd had to have the conversation - calmly - about how we do not spin and spin the roll until we have a toilet paper mountain next to the toilet. Maybe that was it, the calm part. I faked being calm long enough that all of my little bits of frustration added up into one Super Nanny time out spot for Mommy.

That is all I can come up with to explain why I could hear myself saying things like, "If you keep unrolling all of the toilet paper, we are not going to be able to buy any more dolls, EVER, because we will have no more money. We will have spent it all on new toilet paper!", yet could do nothing to stop myself.

This is the hard thing about parenting my monkey. Any other kiddo that has a firm foundation can be placed into time out and then can move on. Not my lady. She called me into the bathroom and flashed me the biggest grin - she thought it was just the funniest thing that she had built a tower of paper product. To parent my child, I was supposed to smile, laugh, and then remind her to please not do that anymore. To my credit, that's what I did the first 14 times.

Perhaps it was finally my fear that kicked in. If she kept doing that to our toilet paper, there were only two possible outcomes. 1) In the dead of the night, I would reach for a piece of toilet paper and would be left hanging, or 2) Our crazy toilet paper eating dog would eat the whole pile and then I would be the one caught without a bag as he hunched down for a toilet paper nunchuck drop right in someone's front yard.

On tomorrow's to-do list: Go by Costco. Pick up industrial sized package of toilet paper. Hide on top shelf.

Differences

Oh man, we semi-avoided a potential catastrophe yesterday. We got into an elevator with a man who was holding a cane. Ana stopped dead in her tracks and stared...and stared...and stared. We couldn't have been on the 3rd floor, no, we had to be on the 10th floor.


Hey Man, is that a wand?
No, it's a cane. It helps me walk.
Oh, it looks like a wand.
Huh. I guess it might, but it's a cane. It just helps me walk faster.
Oh, that's cool!
(Whew!)


We then exited the elevator, walking wide for a gray-haired woman who was trying to push her way on.


Mom! That lady's old!


Luckily the doors closed on the woman's startled face.

Wading

My people went away yesterday morning to give me some time to research and book a trip. Scott took Ana down to the creek by our house to go wading, swimming, and good old mucking about.

I sent one adult and one kid off, but I got two grinning kids back. The adult was able to cast off his cares when he saw how much joy Ana got from being in the water. They came back with stories of a frog, a big "mermaid rock", and a "furry, wet, stinky" dog named Toby.

There is something about being in nature that soothes the soul like nothing else can.

The Dress

What was I thinking letting Ana see her flower girl dress? Okay, I did need to make sure it fit, but it would have been wiser to hold it up to her sleeping body. She is now obsessed:

Mom? Can I put it on now?
No, Sweetie. Only at the wedding. We only put it on to make sure it fit and to practice being a flower girl, but we can't get it dirty.
But Mom, the mailman needs to see it. He hasn't seen it yet! And Simon, Olivia's guinea pig!

Lord Help My Cousin

Dear God,

Please help my cousin Kim to have a good wedding in November. As you know, Ana has been asked to be her flower girl. Lord, Ana's dress came yesterday in the mail, so we tried it on and did a bit of "practicing". I promise that I did not teach her to walk in that swishy way. I also did not teach her to randomly stop her procession down the aisle to throw in a curtsy. And, last but not least, I had nothing to do with her habit of saying "I do!" as her victory cry signaling that she has reached the end of the aisle.

Lord, if you could help me with any of this, I would be eternally grateful. So would Kim.

Kid-proofing

I am seriously putting a lock on my underwear drawer. Unbeknownst to me, Ana raided it again yesterday morning. It was unbeknownst to me because she picked out a lacy black pair, then wrapped it around the black headband she was wearing. Further proof that I have no powers of observation - but I will say that the color match made that a tricky one - for anyone.

It became "known" to me when her therapist slipped the panties to me at pick up.

New Therapist

"I don't care about being perfect, mama. I just want to be Anna"

Today was Ana's third appointment with her new therapist. I think this guy is going to be good - we actually had a "breakthrough" of sorts. Ana actually started talking a bit about Russia. She said that she had to be "perfect" so that she would be a "good kid" so that "her mom would want her". Just about broke my heart.

She sometimes likes to play that she is a baby growing in my belly. If only she knew how much I wish that were true. I would tell her a thousand and more times a day just how much she is wanted and loved. Can you imagine the weight that she is carrying at only 3 years old?

I share this with you because you are along on our journey. It's a funny journey, sure, but most of all I hope that it will be a journey back to Ana's potential self. Back to the free-spirited, full of confidence and joy self that she was meant to be. Back to a self that can rejoice in imperfections, because even her imperfections are perfect to us. No, especially her imperfections are perfect to us.

Sin City

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Is it too much of a stretch to say that this means that I should have stayed in Vegas? I am thinking it would have been a good idea.

Milady has been regressing...BIG TIME. Having us go for a couple of days was stressful to her and she has been waking up multiple times a night for the last week. This has not helped my new found revelation that I am not as young as I think I am. Face pillow creases from leaning over the bed and holding her hand through the night (she has been sleeping on a cot in our room) does nothing for my "glowing" skin.

I stared formulating my theory about Vegas during one of our recent role plays. Ana now likes to play "Begas", which means we role play being Mommy and Daddy picking out a present for her in the gift shop. Just to combat the repetition boredom, I have added in the part where Mommy and Daddy play roulette and win millions. Oh, and I look like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, sans the pillow creases of course.

Pre-reading

Is something I should learn to do. I should also learn not to judge a book by its cover. In my defense, a title such as I'll Always Love You seems innocent enough. Especially if the picture on the cover is of a boy hugging his dog. But, that's exactly the kind of book that will end up biting you in the bum.

I started realizing something was going wrong about a third of the way through when I finally clued in to the fact that, up to that point, the book was written completely in past tense. Sammy used to love to chase squirrels. Sammy used to love to dig.

Soon I found myself saying things like, The kids are crying because they want Sammy to go to the park with them but he just feels like lying there and taking a nap.

The truly low point came with my next line - Now they're crying because they are looking at that big pile of dirt and wishing that Sammy was there with them because they know how much he likes to dig, but he was too tired and decided to stay home.

I hid the book from Scott because a) his ad-libbing skills aren't up to 3 year old speed and b) I knew I'd hear some sniffling (his) over the monitor.

Stand-up

I now know why I am not a stand-up comedian. Well, besides the fact that I am only funny in small, random spurts. It is because I possess a negative ability to think on my feet. That is worse than no ability to think on my feet, for those of you who were wondering. I also have a terrible sidekick that can't keep a straight face - I am referring to Scott.

Ana, who was avoiding bedtime by claiming a fear of tarantulas: Mommy, the hairy tarantulas bite.
Moi: Yes, they do, but you don't have to worry about them.
Ana: Why?
Moi: Because, they won't bite you.
Ana: Why?
Moi: Because, they live far, far away.
Ana: Where do they live?
Moi: Uh, in Canada. They can't come here. That is so far away that they would have to take a plane. Canada is very, very far.
Scott: Snort. Snort. Snort. I guess that's why they're hairy - to protect them from the Canadian snows. Snort.

Zip It

Must. Must. Must remember my muzzle.

Just joking around with Ana when she said she couldn't reach the end of the toilet paper, I said - ONCE - "Sounds like a personal problem to me."

If you've been with me long enough, you know where this is going. Conversation with her therapist's daughter who was playing with her today:

Darling Daughter: I don't know how to talk like Jasmine. Maybe we could play something else?

Ana: That's your personal problem!

Ru-Roh.

Selfish Post

This post is totally about me, hence the selfishness - nothing child-related whatsoever. I am confessing something to assuage my guilt. I was a bit crabby night before last. Okay, maybe more than a bit.

Well, to make up for it, I found a peace offering for Scott and had it waiting for him in the fridge when he got home yesterday. Luckily he too has a sense of humor or it could have turned out a lot differently than I was hoping...

Not That Again!

When Ana was a wee sprite she was interested in the life under my shirt, boring though it may be. "Bee-boos!" she would shout out, most often in public, God love her.

It appears that her interest has been rekindled. Luckily we are not verbalizing our findings as in the past, but it is still distracting to see a woman toting a large three-year-old who is lovingly patting her upper shirt.

"When I'm a big sister, I'm going to have some of those."

(No excitement, please. She always talks as though big sisterhood is imminent.)

Phone Chats

We called home multiple times from Vegas to check on Ana. The calls had varying degrees of success - sometimes she wanted to chat, other times she was too busy playing with Nana.

My favorite call came during one of our training sessions - I was trying to talk softly from the corner of the room. Of course, Ana wanted to know why I was whispering so I explained that the teacher was talking and I was trying to be quiet. Wrong thing to say because Ana then insisted on talking to the teacher.

Channeling my inner Mary Poppins I said, "Oh, hello dear! Are you Anastasia? Are you having a nice time with your Nana?"

My girl is no fool. "Mommy, you are just pretending. I can't talk to you right now, you are too silly. Goodbye."

Hmmm... an actress I apparently am not.

Heaven Part ?

You would think I would learn. You would think I would catch on to how not to traumatize my child. Yet I don't. I am not holding out much hope for myself in this area. Poor child.

We have twin 11 year olds next door that are out of school for the summer. Twin girls on break = Alison on break (at least in my mind).

The girls stopped over to talk about coming over to play with Ana from time to time so that I could get some stuff done around the house, maybe make a non-ADD phone call, things like that. Ana asked me what I was talking about, so me being me I said, "The girls are going to come play with you sometimes so Mommy can get things done. You will have so much fun and I will be in heaven!"

I only realized the error of my ways when her little face took on a look of sheer terror. Oddly enough none of my parenting books has a chapter on How to Convince Your Child That You Are Not Actually Dying, but Instead Are Just Sticking Your Size 9 Foot In Your Mouth. I'm thinking that's a real missed opportunity there.

Brief Hiatus

Nokay will be on a brief hiatus as Scott and I will be in Vegas for a parenting conference. Hmmm... wonder how we selected that particular conference?

See you again on Monday.

I Am My Own Hero

I blew my own mind today with my bravery.

There was a 2-inch roach in our bedroom (not exaggerating here) and I trapped it and threw it outside. I do not do roaches. I also do not do roaches without screaming, but I did. Okay, that is exaggerating. I did scream. Lots. I think I also grunted.

The point is, I caught it and threw it outside. I managed to smile the whole time to show my anxiety-prone darlin' that "roaches are our friends. There's nothing to be afraid of." I don't think she was buying it, what will all of that grunting and screaming going on, but I thought I was pretty convincing compared to my usual roach routine.

Chill

I really have to stop speaking. I am getting busted by Ana quoting me on a regular basis lately. She uses things I say, but somehow they sound different coming out of her mouth.

To her therapist who was having trouble taking off Ana's shoes:

Chill. Relax. Take a deep breath. You can do it. Just chill. It's not a big deal.

Giving Thanks

We had a scare this morning. I was opening some floor length curtains and discovered a key jammed into an outlet plug. We had stopped putting those plastic covers on the outlets because we figured we were past the baby stage where she might accidentally stick something in there.

I guess it's a little like the s-e-x talk - you know they're going to learn about it, but you still need to have the talk anyway. Why I didn't think about having the don't cram tiny metal objects in the outlet talk is beyond me, but I'm so thankful Banana was being watched out for.

Consider me as your public service announcement. This is Alison's brain. This is Alison's brain on toast.

Signs of Aging

"Shhhh, Cooper. Mama's resting her eyes, just like in Church."

1. Your parents keep your child for the night and you are in bed by 10:20...reading.

2. You can't think of the names of things like you used to:

Me: What's the name of those shirts that they wear in Hawaii?
Scott: Uhh...Hawaiian shirts???

3. You can no longer pretend that those are "blond" hairs - there are too many clumped together to get away with that one.

4. You can't even stomach the idea of P5X, much less P90X.

5. You can no longer remember lyrics to your own music, but instead wake up in the morning singing: Feed the birds, tuppence a bag, tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag (Mary Poppins)

6. You tell your daugher things like: I AM pretending! I'm pretending like I'm sleeping here on the floor while you talk to your dolly.

Funny Guys

There is a short list of greatest-of-all-time comedians. C'mon. We all know the list (just smile and nod at said list):

1. Eddie Murphy
2. Steve Martin
3. Richard Pryor
4. Jerry Seinfeld

and...

5. Cooper-the-Dog

That's right - we have one of the funniest guys on the planet, furry or not, living in our house. The way he scratches his side is hilarious. When he rolls over, you think you're going to wet your pants. And his latest trick - the bit where he starts to drag his bum across the carpet, causing Mommy to yell at him and pitch him outside, will send you into hysterics. Ah, that Cooper...

Fancy

Wait! Don't take the picture yet! I'm not fancy enough!


No, Honey. I think you are. I think you are.

A Greener You

Ana has some recommendations for treading more lightly on the Earth:

1. If you do not pull off a bit of toilet paper, but instead unroll it enough to where it will reach, after you wipe you can leave it dangling so that someone else can use it the next time.

2. If you do not like the food that is in your mouth, don't waste it. You can spit it in your hand and then sneak it on to your parents' plate.

3. If you have picked your nose, don't waste. Spread the love by spreading your goodies.

4. If your mother has made you a muffin from scratch - something she never does because it is ridiculously hard for her - don't keep it to yourself. Drop your entire breakfast piece by piece from your stroller "to the little birdies". Act very surprised at her irritation when you are busted. Especially good is if you tell her you are starving, the farthest point from home in your walk.

5. Love all of the little creatures - especially pill bugs. Love them up until: "This little guy is resting. Why is he resting so much?"

6. Tell God every day, "Thank you for the nature! I am a hooman, so I am nature! I am like a deer and the beautiful sunset!" Darn straight, you are.

Making Friends Part ?

I have been making lots of 3-5 year old friends lately. It hasn't been easy, let me tell you. That age group is a rough crowd. I have been trying to get an in because Ana requires some assistance in making the first move and in seeing the other side as friend not foe.

I have to be honest, I can see why she can get confused. I tried to make friends yesterday with a little girl that I'll just call Bertha, as I think her personality was just about as sparkling as that name (a preemptive sorry to all of the Bertha's out there that are now composing hate mail to me).

I smiled, she frowned.

She's looking at you mean, Mommy!

"Hi, Friend!" I tried.

"I'm not your friend," says Bertha.

"Would you like to be?"

Scowl, frown, and a possible low growl.

From now on I'm just approaching kids that have Hello Kitty or some other friendly looking creature on their shirts. I know, it's profiling, but I'm scared. Have you seen how sharp their little teeth can be?

Party Attire

We went to a birthday party yesterday for two adorable twin girls. I had asked Ana to pick out a dress, but she had another look in mind.

She came into my room announcing that she was ready to go!

On her body: 1 wrap around towel thing (mine)
On her arm as a "purse": 1 pair of somewhat skimpy underwear (mine - was reminded that I even owned them!)
On her head: 2 bows, 4 headbands, 1 necklace (mine) being worn as some kind of adornment, 2 crowns
On her feet: 1 plastic Cinderella shoe and 1 plastic Sleeping Beauty shoe

That idea of letting her wear her get-up to the party so that she would learn from her embarrassment flashed through my mind for a moment. However, the only one embarrassed would be me - me and my skimpy underwear.

For obvious reasons, no picture attached!