I'll Even Spare You the Catastrophes Involving Bodily Fluids

Everyone in the house got sick last weekend. This is pretty much the worst thing that can happen because little people are a challenge on a good day. Throw in fever and aches and pains and coughs that they can't wrap their fevered little minds around and it's like trying to reason with a grizzly. Throw in potty training? It's like giving that grizzly a stun gun and telling it to go after Mama Bear.

Yes. The weekend really was that bad.

Avery kicked things off. And her attempts at infecting Owen, including chewing on teething rings and sharing, and coughing within an inch of his face, worked wonderfully and he started getting the sniffles too.

Poor little buddy.

So Monday rolled around. And I thought things would surely look brighter. After all, it couldn't get worse. Couldn't get worse than 103 degree fever. Couldn't get worse than Owen up practically every hour. Couldn't get worse than spending half the day in the bathroom with an Avery who will sit contentedly on the potty for an ETERNITY and then will pee the very second she stands up.

Everyone was feeling less feverish but still crummy. But bright spot: I had an appointment with the appliance repairman who was supposed to fix our refrigerator! The top shelf or part thereof had broken, thus we no longer had the shelf nor the drawer that houses all of our very important cheese. So the repairman shows up, I hear drilling, I hear fixing. He tells me that he fixed the side support for the shelf, but "this front part isn't covered...we'd have to order a whole new shelf to fix the front." I'm like, OK. Well, as long as it's fixed, I don't really care if there is this plastic part around the shelf itself.

He leaves. And I go to put the drawer back in. And the problem is exactly the same as before he showed up. The side support pulls away from the shelf; drawer not supported at all.

Problem, unresolved. I'm gonna need some of that Cool Whip.

I go outside to confront him Jersey-style and he sheepishly says, "Yeah...see, that front part supports everything...I was afraid of that...I'll have to get you a price on the part because it's not covered."

Yes. He did in fact admit to "fixing" my refrigerator when he knew it wasn't fixed in any way, shape or form. And 2) What good does spending $100 on a warranty do if it doesn't cover anything? My brain kind of exploded.

But I carried on with my day! I persevered! No appliance repairman with a shoddy work ethic will ruin my day!

So Avery naps, I deal with a couple of Owen "mishaps," and I take advantage of a napping Avery and do a video for work. I'm thinking I can still win here. I have the afternoon planned because I must go to the grocery store. I'd been putting it off because of the issue with the fridge, but it could be procrastinated no longer.

And then Avery gets up from her nap. And this is the mood I get.

And then I eat a cracker. Because sometimes mommy wants a cracker too. And I get this:

 

 Because if this isn't a totally normal reaction to someone eating a cracker, I don't know what is.

But even in the face of...this...I fail to give up. Because there are groceries to be bought! Must buy the groceries!

So I convince Avery that the grocery store is the most! fun! ever! and get her in the van. I grab Owen's car seat to load him up. And fall so incredibly hard right on my ass at the top of the stairs.

I had Owen in front of me and my purse on my right shoulder. As I was heading down the stairs, my purse got caught on the doorknob, yanking me back as I started down. All of a sudden I was on the ground (a common theme for me), Owen's car seat was on my leg, and Owen was looking at me totally unimpressed.

I would like to say that only my pride was injured, but it kinda hurt to land with a 20+ pound car seat on my knee.

My knees are always knobby, but the bruise isn't usually there.

Believe it or not, I still had the grocery store trip in me. Avery yelled the whole way there that she wanted out of her car seat, yet I refused to call the day a total wash. I get to the store and realize that I'd forgotten the baby carrier, so I wouldn't be able to strap Owen to me. This meant that he would take up the whole cart and Avery would take up the whole front basket part of the cart. Even here I'm like, Nope, DOING THIS THING. I will just pack as much food as possible around both of the kids!

I get Owen in the cart. I get Avery in the cart. Then Avery pulls her best diva "Oh helllz no" and starts trying to stand up in the cart. This is finally when I'm like "Oh hellz no" myself. Because I will put up with a lot in a day, but I apparently draw the line at dragging two kids through the grocery store when one of them wants to holler about their wish to escape the whole time and just might jump out for real. So I loaded them right back up just as quickly as I'd unloaded them.

Then we went to the park where Avery behaved like a normal human and I managed not to injure or maim myself further.

I did finally make it to the store after the kids went to bed. And got home to discover that in my feeling like a world conqueror for getting my work video done, I'd totally forgotten that I still had writing to do for the next day. A case of the Mondays? I think it qualifies.

Seeing Double

Is it cool to dress like your kids? Because if so, I'm the coolest.



I don't think it's a good thing that I dress like a 2-year-old girl AND a 6-month-old boy. Although, at least I'm wearing makeup for picture two for the first time in, oh, 159 days or so.

2-Year-Old To-Dos

They don't look completely crazy because you might try to send them back. Just kidding. HA. HA.

The to-do list in a 2-year-old's brain must go a little something like this:

Eat
Watch Elmo
Torture parents
Tantrum
Be adorable
Watch Elmo
Eat
Say adorable things
Torture parents
Beg for more food
Kiss Owen
Bring out toys while mommy puts toys away
Tantrum
Bring out more of the cuteness
Act like I'm going to climb out of the crib
Go all the way upstairs, faster than daddy, get in Owen's room, shut the door behind self, poke Owen in the face
Tantrum
Watch Elmo
Torture parents
More cuteness, must balance torture
Poke Owen in the eye
Eat
Not enough Elmo today: Request more Elmo
Make sure that toys with multiple parts are never in the same place at the same time
Beg for more food
Torture parents at 2 a.m.

This list? Proves how smart 2-year-olds are. Because they know when they are little demons, they must make up for it by being heartbreakingly adorable. There is just enough cute to balance out all of the torture.

Avery has had a few nights in her life where she ramped up the regular torture that is "Garden Variety Waking Up The Parents At Night" with "Must Freak Out and Make Everyone Miserable." We're talking all out tantrums. We survived two nights in a row a few months back, and then last week, here we go again. After Alan fell asleep on her floor one night just to get her to calm down, I refused to cave the next night. I tried to reason with her, I fought with her for an hour to try to get her to please shut up so as not to wake Owen up. She just kept yelling about her dolly, Golly: GOLLY GOLLY GOLLY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY GOLLY! GOLLY MOMMY!! GOLLY MOMMY! GOLLY GOLLY GOLLY!!! An hour, folks. I would ask her what she needed, what on earth she needed from her doll, and she would WHISPER. Just to mess with me. I swear, I thought I was going to choke her doll out. At one point I was squeezing it so hard that I was surprised I didn't squeeze the stuffing out. She finally snapped out of it once Owen started, inevitably, crying, and she went back to sleep.

You'd think that in the middle of the night, maybe she was afraid! Maybe she had a nightmare! You'd like to give these people the benefit of the doubt but BE NOT A FOOL. Because then. Putting her down for bed the next night? Oh oh OH.

Avery's bedtime routine, I may have mentioned, is elaborate and we tuck in hands and feet and kiss dolls and make sure all is just right so she can peacefully drift off to sleep. She never gives us trouble at bedtime, so the night after the crazy tantrum, she decides that bedtime shouldn't be too easy on me either. I go through the routine and soon after I leave the room she's hollering Golly, Golly. Holding up her doll. GOLLY GOLLY GOLLY MOMMY GOLLY GOLLY. I go in, hug, kiss, tuck. Leave. Repeat. Repeat.

After going back into her room several times over 15 or so minutes, she starts making more ridiculous requests. She wants Golly to kiss Tigger. No. Then she wants to sit in the chair. No. Then she wants me to sing the ABCs. As I start to sing the alphabet, I start laughing. Because, seriously? I'm doing a dog and pony show to get this girl to sleep. She's messing with me. She's seeing exactly what I will do. And she's loving it! She even said at one point "Avery laughing." Because yes, Avery you should be laughing at your idiot mother.

She looks cute until it's 2 a.m. and she's screaming about that doll for no reason.

So I left and called my mom so I wouldn't go back in the room. (Alan was at a work dinner.) She confirmed I am an idiot. And Avery eventually went from yelling GOLLY to being out like a light.

The next night at midnight? After figuring out GOLLY didn't work for her, she started screaming OUT MOMMY OUT OUT OUT MOMMY OUT MOMMY OUT OUT OUT. After checking on her the second time, she started requesting that I rub her tummy. Knowing she didn't have a tummyache she was just GETTING SMARTER, Alan and I let her yell RUB-A TUMMY until she passed out after five minutes or so. Alan and I were just glad that her requests were making more sense.

Cry it out? No. I was never able to really get on board with that. But you can GOLLY until you're blue in the face, Avery Anne.

He's Happy and He Knows It

Sometimes a good giggle happens when you're dressed in your sister's shirt. Them are the breaks. Also, love his face at the end.

Improvising

I'm wearing a girl's shirt that is much too big. And no pants. And I'm ticked. Read on.

We joined a gym with child care. Just saying that makes me feel like a NJ housewife. Which I'm not! Because in addition to websites that I feel like I can barely manage to contribute to these days, hello, book! This book. Pre-order yours today! For real. I'm not even kidding if you read this blog you better buy a copy thank you.

Aside from the outdoor pool, the selling point to the gym was the whole child care thing. Someone to keep the kids out of trouble for an hour or so while I work out, the only possible way I have time to work out? But strangers (gasp!) and other children (gasp gasp!)? And more importantly, NO MOMMY!? This is a recipe for tears (Avery's) and much anxiety (mine). We've been going regularly for at least two months now and the only times I haven't been called back to the daycare were once when I didn't hear the intercom, which doesn't count as success, obviously, and another time just last week when she finally made it longer than 20 minutes without being hysterical.

Hysterical isn't the word I use. It's the word the pros use. A good report? "She wasn't hysterical the whole time." That's a good day.

It really is getting better, although she's a demanding customer. Mornings are pretty chaotic at the gym because of all of the workout classes that we Jersey housewives (try to (yes, they will walk into a packed cardio class with a sign with your name on it if your child is inconsolable for more than 10 minutes)) attend, but afternoons are quieter. So I've been going in the afternoons so she can get a little extra staff attention. She demands staff attention. Whenever I return, she's being carried by the staff. If they make a move to put her down, they hear about it. It was the day when there was enough staff to watch the other children and an extra one to carry Avery that I didn't get called back to the child care center.

The pure relief on her face when I return is heartbreaking, but she really is getting better. We usually go swimming after her 10 or 20 minutes of hysteria is up, and she's no longer freaking out as much when we go back to pick up Owen, who is usually happily swinging in a swing. She's not requesting that I carry her all the time when we set foot in the room. Most of the time, but not all. These are baby steps that give me hope.

The funny thing is that she's super friendly and the biggest ham once she's comfortable somewhere. A party next door? She was a riot and made friends with everyone by the end of the day. But upon our arrival? Wouldn't budge from our laps and would close her eyes, which is her coping mechanism for avoiding someone or a situation that makes her nervous. (Also, hilarious. We can still see you, Avery!)

But the one day that I got back to the daycare after 30 minutes with no call, I had to check to make sure I hadn't inadvertently missed the intercom announcement. So Avery and I headed to the pool. After playing and splashing and hollering "Excuse me, kids" to kids across the pool who were playing in HER fountain, we were about to get out. And I saw a daycare staff member heading my direction.

And I just knew that the day Owen needed my attention had come. In all this time, he'd never been hungry. Or fussy. Or in need of a diaper change. This was it.

"Sorry to bother you...but Owen pooped...it's all up his back."

Of course. As Avery and I scrambled to get dried and dressed, I did a mental inventory of my gym bag. The diaper bag was all the way out in the car. And it had a 3-month size onesie that I knew he wouldn't be able to squeeze into on even his thinnest day. And of course I didn't have anything for him in my gym bag. But Avery does have a stockpile of like five swimsuits that I carry, one of which is a swim shirt. After considering putting him in the flower swim shirt, I remembered that Avery's shirt was blue. It had flowers, but at least it was turquoise, not pink. (Not that it freaking matters but still.) So we got back to the nursery and got Owen all changed and into Avery's pretty shirt.

I forgive you Mommy!

I'm not the most prepared mom on the block. And yes, he is still wearing Avery's shirt in these photos even though we were home for hours when they were taken. But I was still wearing my swimsuit, so at least you're dry, Owen.

Avery is 2!

Happy Birthday to my dear sweet little Avery! Our tiny baby is now such a big girl.


We celebrated over the weekend, and you would have thought she had turned 21 instead of 2 because of how tired we were by Sunday night. We stayed up pretty late on Saturday night because our neighbors had a barbecue, and even though we got home fairly early, we had a lot of celebratory preparations to do. We were up until well past midnight, assembling a play kitchen and decorating a cake.

What's cuter than a daddy decorating a butterfly cake for his daughter? Only the daughter, I say.

The cake turned out adorably. I was the idea guy and Alan took over in decoration execution, thankfully. There is a reason I'm a writer, not an artist, after all.


Avery came downstairs on Sunday morning to her kitchen set assembled in the living room. She was so excited she got a little shy about the whole thing. After getting picked up by Alan and then hopping onto the couch, she ventured over to the kitchen...and didn't leave it for 30 minutes.

Hey Marti, make yourself comfortable in an otherwise adorable photo op.

She loved all of her presents. She got lots of goodies beyond her kitchen.

This picture makes my heart hurt.

A new friend to love. (Thanks Cindy and Ronnie!)

We had to enjoy the fruits of our labor, so there was cake to be eaten!


Owen, of course, had to party it up too.


At 2 years old, Avery is becoming her own little person. She's becoming quite the chatterbox, and she repeats everything. And you never known when she'll pull something out of her brain. At the barbecue, she randomly told someone "Puppy puked" because Marti had been sick the other day. She got too close to the street recently, which she knows is "very dangerous" and preempted my safety talk by saying "Avery Anne" like I do when she's in trouble.

She loves reporting on Owen's activities. Owen awake, Owen laughing, Owen kicking. When she wants him in the bouncer or jumper or off my lap it's "Owen-uh Owen-uh bouncer bouncer/jumper jumper" or "Owen down." One time Owen was crying and she revisited the pipes she's scared of: "Owen crying pipes." She's adding "very" to things, which is funny. She'll point to the street and say "very hurt" or "very ouchy."

We're painting our kitchen cabinets, a months-long process, and she knows that Alan is sometimes downstairs working on them. The other day: "Daddy painting cabinets...puppy painting cabinets...no, that's silly."

Counting is hilarious. She'll now consistently count to 10, but after that it gets interesting. "Eleven, uh-twelve, uh-poorteen, uh-sickeen." A recent hilarious run through the alphabet: ABCDEFGHIJK apple bike, QRSTUVW bike Y and Z, now I AB EFGHIJK apple bike, Yay!"

Some of the cutest words? "Mazagine," pronounced with the z and g swapped. Muskic. Hungry is still "hoo-awwn-gry" and she's always hooawngry. Most people list the few foods their kids will eat; I can list the few she won't eat: tomato, olives, cucumbers, unseasoned chicken, potato salad. Miss Opinionated now wants me to "move mommy move" if I'm at all in her way...or she wants to climb on me and not let me leave her sight. It's anybody's guess at any given moment.

She loves swimming and when someone splashes her at the pool? "Bad kids." When a kid is in her way? "Move kid." (And we're now teaching "excuse me.") She's also very particular about her bedtime routine. She must have her blankie and her "second blankie." She requests that the air conditioning be actively blowing ("A/C on, nice and cool"), so I don't know how she'll take it when we turn it off when it cools down. Her dolly, Golly, must be tucked in, as well as her hands and feet. It's like we add something new every night.

Some more recent faves of our funny girl.




Instead of parroting back everything we say, she's now starting to respond properly and has just now started saying "no" to things as you'll see in the video below. When she really doesn't want to do something? "No please."

Hooping it up.

It's been a wonderful ride over these two years. Avery is really becoming her own funny little person complete with her own opinions and quite the personality. Stay awesome, little Aves.

Sound Effects

Owen: Fingers yummy, nom nom.

Avery: What a pen sounds like drawing on shelves.

Me: What a mom sounds like discovering a pen drawing on shelves.