The Dirty Thirty

I know women aren't supposed to talk about their age or their weight, but here's something I want to talk about.

I am going to be thirty in exactly one week.

Thirty. 3-0. Three decades. Like, get the black balloons that say "over the hill" ready and send me a pair of orthopedic shoes.

I'm not one to really care about age, but as the big day gets closer and closer I get uncomfortable. I'm starting to feel like 30 isn't young anymore. I remember watching the episode of Friends where they all turn 30 when I was in college (I was 21. The last official cool birthday, by the way). If you've never seen it, they all have pretty hilarious reactions to turning 30. Monica gets really drunk, Joey cries and begs God not to let them turn 30, and Rachel re-evaluates her life and realizes she needs to break up with Tad. I'm forgetting how everyone else reacts (it was 9 years ago and I am apparently getting old), but basically everyone has a quarter life crisis. When I first saw the episode, I felt like 30 was so far away, and it seems like I blinked and it's here.

Yet when I was 21, I dreamed about having what I have now. I always wanted to be married and have babies. I realize that I probably set the feminist movement back about 30 years but I've never been one to care about that. I was shocked that my twenties turned out the way they did. Met handsome man at 22, married at 23, baby number 1 at 26, baby number 2 at 28. Now I've had a (short) career, I'm married to a wonderful man and have 2 beautiful little girls. I'm truly a blessed woman. There was a running joke when I was growing up that I'd be a barren crazy cat lady (my family has a weird sense of humor) so when I look back, I'm pretty flabbergasted to see how everything ended up.

But on the other, extremely vain hand, I'm sad to be bidding farewell to my twenties. I met someone once who said she could tell I was in my late twenties because I was "getting the lines around my eyes" (I kept Oil of Olay in business that year) and, although I haven't found any yet, I check for grey hairs every night. And doesn't your metabolism slow down at 30? Because I was really thinking how awesome it would be if I could eat LESS. And I'm also sad that the exciting, new parts of life that happened in my twenties are kind of over, you know? Like I've had the wedding, the babies, the new houses and now what's next? I guess my thirties will be the time for settling in and getting comfortable. I don't know yet if that's cozy or monotonous.

All this to say, I'm obviously conflicted about hitting the big 3-0. For my quarter life crisis, I've decided to train for a full marathon next year (so hopefully I will live to see 31). Have you turned 30 yet? Did it freak you out?

Preschool Blues

Captain Destructo just turned 3 (help me, Lord). While I am celebrating the fact that she can now USE THE POTTY and do other exciting things such as insist on leaving the house wearing a dress, a tutu, 2 bracelets and a tiara, I am also realizing I need to start making a decision about preschool.

I don't know about you, but I don't remember preschool being such a big deal when I was little. I went when I was 4, but only because my mom taught there and needed something to do with my sister and I. We went to half-day kindergarten and we were fine. In fact, my kindergarten teacher wanted me to skip kindergarten. Booyah. Who was a tiny genius? This girl.

Anyway, it seems like there are 2 schools of thought on preschool around my area now. (1) Send kids to preschool, which has 2 sub categories: (a) send kids for a few half days a week, and (b) send kids full time.
(2) Homeschool preschool.

Maybe I'm terrible, or lazy, or whatever, but I really want to do none of those things. As September gets closer, I start getting itchy and stressed when I think about it. Captain Destructo is sweet and kind, and while she is a handful sometimes (particularly coupled with her wild child sister), I'm in no rush to send her off. This may be predicated by the fact that she turned 3 and said "I can't be 3, I don't want to go to preschool." And as for homeschooling preschool, despite the fact that I can't imagine how it would go trying to teach anything structured with our 1 year old wild child running around, I just don't know if I see the need to force her to sit down and do school work at this age. And then if I homeschool, I will have to grow my hair super long and wear long dresses and start making my own laundry soap, right?
But on the other hand, there's this worry that I'm doing her a disservice. If she gets to kindergarten, and the other students have had 2 years of preschool, will she be behind academically? Or worse, will she be totally overwhelmed by being in kindergarten for 6 hours a day and miss her mommy and cry and I won't be there and it will be terrible?

So that's where we are. Right now I'm pretty sure that she will stay with me next year, and maybe we'll do some academic type stuff, but maybe not. I'm going to keep having playdates and Bible class so she's around other kids, and pray that that's enough for her.

What do you do about preschool?

To New Baby on Her First Birthday

Dear New Baby (also known as Wild Woman, Stinkerpoo, Ladybug or just Miss),

I cannot believe you're a whole year old. I remember discovering I was pregnant with you. It was a sharp contrast to being pregnant with your sister. With you, I watched the stick turn to a plus sign, asked your daddy for confirmation, looked over at your sister and immediately felt guilty for ruining her life. But you didn't ruin it, did you? I am proud of you and Captain Destructo for many things; one of them being that you love each other so much. It makes me so happy to see you shriek at each other, play together, and laugh with delight when you wake each other up in the mornings.

You've been full of energy since before you were born. Though no one believed me, I swear I felt you flutter at 9 weeks. Crazy thumping soon followed. When you were born, you rolled (off the bed, oops!)at 2 months, crawled at 8, cruised at 10, and thankfully are holding off on walking for a bit. You have a mind of your own, too. When I tell you "no," you like to shake your head "no" at me, and then smile as you continue to do what I asked you not to do.

It's funny that I was so excited to be done with the baby stage, and now I'm so sad thinking that it's almost over. Your chubby little belly is starting to shrink now. When I pick you up, you are starting to lurch out of my arms, and you're starting to lose that sweet diaper cream and spit-up scent. Though I'm glad that you sleep through the night now, I will miss having a baby. On your birthday, I will give you your last bottle, and I will probably cry a little as I watch you bang your little fist on my chest and scratch at my nose. I will miss our snuggly times that I know will only get fewer and farther between as you grow. I am so proud of you and the little toddler you're turning into. Don't grow any faster.

I love you,
Mommy

The Thrilling Threes

Captain Destructo is 3! She had a birthday this week, and it was filled with princesses, homemade cupcakes (because I will become Betty Crocker. Oh yes.), and balloons. It's funny that I spent her whole first year dreading her 2nd birthday, and her whole second year going "hey! This terrible two stuff is nothing! I am super mom!"

And then she turned 3.

I started noticing a few subtle changes in her behavior a few weeks ago. She slowly is morphing from sweet little toddler into sassy opinionated preschooler (who is still sweet sometimes) and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Here are my observations about age 3.

"I'm not a baby, not yet a big girl."
3 is sort of this weird place between toddler and preschooler. And therefore I feel it's time to call an end to the baby stuff, like using a pacifier (not that Captain Destructo uses one still. Just this other mom I know. By the way, if anyone could offer tips on getting a 3 year old to lose the binky, just let me, I mean her, know). Also, it feels like 3 is the age when your kid really should be potty trained. 2 is still young, but 3 means time to get trained. No pressure.

Save the drama for yo' mama.
Dear God, the drama. It's like being stuck on a perpetual episode of General Hospital. Here are 2 actual conversations from this morning.

CD: (hysterical screaming)
Me: What?! What's wrong?!
CD: I wanna paint my toenails!!!

CD: NO!!!!! DOLLY WANTS TO SIT IN THE CHAIR, NOT ON THE FLOOR!!!!


Seriously, what is adolescence going to be like at this rate? It's 20 minutes of hysteria followed immediately by giggles of laughter.

I do it myself.
Independence is a good thing. We spend all of babyhood trying to get them to sit up, crawl, eat, and walk on their own. And then they really get independent and we miss the times where they sat quietly in a crib. Captain D is currently the master of getting dressed by herself. The problem is what she picks out, independently, to wear. I used to look at toddlers in the grocery store, dressed in capes and crowns, and wonder who let them out like that. Then Captain D started with the putting on tutus and tiaras and insisting on wearing them in public, and honestly it was just not worth the effort to make her change. I don't love that she wears glass slippers and five necklaces to Target, but that's the least of my worries.


There are lots of good things. The other day she said the most wonderful sentence I've ever heard:
"Mommy, I not want to poop in my underpants anymore." And a beam of sunlight poured from the sky and a choir of angels sang.
The containing of bodily functions is a great part of turning 3. Just like the sweet cuddles, the singing, and the creativity. There are lots of wonderful things about having a 3 year old.

And in just 363 days she'll be 4.

Song Stylings of Captain Destructo

So Captain Destructo is fixing to turn 3. Along with the not so wonderful things to come with this (probably will write a full post on this, but a little preview: the tantrums, the pickiness, the refusal to take naps, the asking of the questions, and the insistence on wearing crown jewels to the grocery store) comes the ability to sing along. We are a singing house, so I love it that Captain D likes to sing along with me. Here are her top 5 hits.

1. Over the river and through the horse, Elmo has to go...Elmo has to go...Elmo has to go-O!

2. Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day it's Cinderelly. Do the washer and the cleaner, and every doer things!

3. Mama Miel. Here I go again. Ah ah. How uh I uh missed you.

4. I got da moves like Jack-a. I got the moves like Jack-a. I got the mooooooooves like Jack-a.
*True story: She sang this at the post office and the worker said "wow. Kids just listen to anything nowadays."

5. Jingle Bells, jingle bells, all the way to Bible Class.

Happy Almost New Year!

Happy Almost New Year to all of you! I personally have big plans for New Year's Eve. My hubby is making hot toddies, which means I will be asleep within 10 minutes of finishing said hot toddy, and wake up at midnight cursing all the dang kids setting off the dang fireworks and pray they don't wake up my kids. Should be a good time.

I'm not one for setting New Year's Resolutions. I set the "lose 5 pounds" resolution for about 15 years, and finally just gave up. This year, I have a few things I'd like to work on in 2012, seeing as how I (knock on wood) will not be pregnant or have a newborn and will thus be slightly more functional than I was this year. Here's a quick round up of what I'll be working on.

1. Keep the house somewhat cleanish.
I've been checking out the Fly Lady website (google it, for some reason blogger's hyperlink isn't working. Either that or I'm a moron) and it seems manageable to me. I fear that the solution to my messy house will be getting rid of a lot of toys (grownup and kid) which will probably make me unpopular in 2012.

2. Get dressed every day.
How sad is this? Sometimes I take a shower and put on makeup, and then put sweatpants on. And by sometimes I mean pretty much every day. I rationalize that I'm not going anywhere anyway so what's the point in real clothes? But then when I was at my parents' house I feel all shlumpy hanging out in sweatpants when they were, you know, dressed and whatnot. So I started wearing real clothes and felt so much more human. It was empowering.

3. Not worry so much.
I'm a total spaz worrywart. Literally right now I scratched a mole that was itching, and then I googled "itchy mole" and now I'm pretty sure I'm dying. But most of my worrying is kid-directed. But before I stop worrying, let me run a few things by you and you tell me if they're troubling.
-Captain Destructo still poops in her underpants everyday. Every. Day. And she's going to be 3 in 3 weeks. And also I started potty training her when she was 18 months old. So that's 18 months of me sucking at potty training. Is that bad?
-New Baby won't sign. She can do things like point to her head and shake her head no when asked, but she won't do the sign for more. Instead she just shrieks like a howler monkey when she wants more food. I feel like one of those toy monkeys banging her cymbals together when I'm trying to get her to do it, but she just looks at me and laughs. So I'm thinking she's either (a) completely thinking that I'm a moron and refusing to do it out of spite, or (b) just doesn't get it.
-Seriously, the itchy mole thing. Am I dying?

So that's it, friends. Are you making resolutions this year?

The One With All The Toys

So Christmas is upon us again. And every year, I end up with Charlie Brown-style indignance to the materialism the holiday brings. "Who would spend all that money on inflatable Santas? Do they know how many needy children that could feed?" I scoff, while straightening my angel wings and my halo. I decorate our tree with some candy canes, slap a wreath on the front door and sit on my chair of self-righteousness, proud that I am above all the materialism.

And then it's time to buy the presents.

Here's my thing with toys. I get super excited to buy new toys. Pretty much as excited as my kids are, for about a day, and then they forget about said new toy and I trip on it in the middle of the night and I morph into The Hulk..."RAWR!! WHY DO WE KEEP BUYING ALL THESE TOYS!!" But then I forget how much I hate toys and see something fun and the cycle starts all over again. I have kept most of Captain Destructo's old toys, since New Baby is 2 years behind her and I keep thinking we will reuse all of the toys. But now I have baby toys, early toddler toys, older toddler toys, and Sesame Street toys. Add to that the fact that Captain Destructo is suddenly over Sesame Street and very very into Disney Princesses, and it's like a freaking Toys R Us in here.

Back to Christmas. I love seeing my kids open their presents as much as anyone, but the thought of all those new toys in my house makes me cry a little. As in most aspects of motherhood, I'm torn between teaching my kids humility and simplicity and giving them wonderful Christmas memories. (Although New Baby is only 9 months old. And let's face it, she's just going to eat the wrapping paper.) On one hand, I'm excited to see Captain Destucto open the Princess dolls she wanted. On the other, I know she'd be just as happy looking at the pictures of Princesses in the Toys R Us catalog that she's been carrying around since Thanksgiving. My solution this year is to give all of the old toys away, so that in my mind, it's kind of like I'm not buying more crap for my kids, I'm making a way for us to make a big donation to charity. In a month, Captain Destructo will turn 3 and I'm going to have to deal with all the toys all over again. At which point I'll be reaching for the leftover eggnog and crying into my pillow.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.