Looks can be deceiving

They are cute, aren't they? Cora with her grown up haircut, and Claire with her chubby cheeks. Yes, cute. But don't let that fool you. They are sneaky and devious. I'm pretty sure, what I believe to be a nice hour of sisterly bonding in the playroom, is in fact a planning session for a full-scale attack of naughtiness.

It has to be orchestrated. How can something so spontaneous reek such havoc on my life? Yep. I'm certain they coordinate, have a full set of prearranged signals and have a minute by minute playbook. With that in mind, this is how I believe the other day unfolded. (please note that Mark was out of town, and I had wrecked my ankle in class the day before, so I could barely walk-and because my left knee has yet to completely heal from when I tore my meniscus, screwing up my right ankle was not such a great idea!)

Claire, knowing her part in the plan, began the morning by dumping an entire box of cereal on the kitchen floor (in her defense, she views this as the easiest way to consume the most cereal in the shortest amount of time). Then she spent the remainder of the 15 minutes allotted for dress and prep in the morning in slow motion. She also thought it would be hilarious to take off the socks and shoes and coat I had just put on her. She was holding up her end of the misbehaving bargain quite brilliantly.

But not to be outdone by her younger sister, Cora capped the morning off with a bang (okay so it was more like an explosion, but bang just sounded better). She has had a bit of a cough for the last few days, but has shown no other signs of sickness. I decided she was well enough to head to the gym daycare while I taught my morning class (in my gimpy state it was less teaching and demonstrating, than yelling and ordering). But, out of respect for the other kiddos at the gym who would probably rather not get hacked all over, I decided to give her a dose of cough syrup before we headed out the door.

At this point, everyone was ready to go. Claire had been redressed, and I was just going to syringe a teaspoonful full of the delicious grape flavored cure-all into Cora's mouth and we would be on our way. Perfect plan until Claire flashed the predetermined signal at Cora letting her know it was her turn. So, with a mouthful of sticky syrup, she spit. And spit. And spit. She spit until every last drop of the purple goo had exploded out onto her shirt, her pants, her shoes, my legs, Claire's hair and a good portion of the kitchen floor. Mission accomplished.

Fast forward through a day of similar stunts and we find ourselves at bedtime. I left Claire, fully clothed in a fresh diaper and PJs, jumping on Cora's bed (if you are not judging me yet, here's your chance) while I went to the laundry room to retrieve the bottom half of Cora's favorite PJs (I am certain Cora's insistence on having that particular pair of pants was perfectly scripted; allowing Claire ample time for her next move). I returned to find a now diaperless child peeing, midstream, on top of Cora's comforter. By the time I swooped her up, with serious thoughts of rubbing her nose in it (because I do not have any mangy mutts, I have to trust my fuzzy memory of this odd practice for housebreaking dogs), the fresh urine had soaked through the sheets and into the mattress. Of course.
I re-diapered Claire. Then I stripped the bed down and, using a spare set of sheets and Cora's old comforter, remade her bed. My mistake was transporting Cora's pee-soaked comforter to the laundry room, giving Claire a small window of opportunity to rid herself of her new diaper and poop, yes poop, on the spare comforter.
It was at this point I realized this sort of behavior has become the norm. Because although furious, my thoughts did not immediately go to boarding schools or Googling black market prices for 2-year-olds, but rather I was racking my brain for a 3rd comforter alternative for Cora's bed.

Don't get me wrong. I react, discipline, over-react and over-discipline my children almost daily (case in point, I hurled the medicine syringe across the kitchen after Cora's earlier medicine incident, spreading the remnants across the only remaining clean portion of the kitchen-hey if you can't beat em, join em). So my calmness almost concerned me. Was this an indication of things to come? Had I become so jaded by their antics that a double dose of Claire at her best did not send me into a fit of rage? Or was I just so exhausted by the day's previous helpings of mischief that I didn't have the energy to care.

My vote would be for a little of both. A good night sleep has allowed for some clarity, and rest assured, you will not see me driving the get-a-way car while Cora and Claire tag some building downtown with spray paint they have knocked off from the local hardware store. But, I do think after a few years of typical toddler/preschooler/4-going-on-16 year old behavior, my tolerance levels are a bit higher most days (emphasis on MOST days). Good thing too, because I am sure the plotting and organizing will continue, and I will face day after day after day like the one above.

Chop, Chop

Cora's hair, although long, beautiful and thick, is the source of much contention in our house, mainly because it is long, beautiful and thick. The ear-piercing wails when I attempt to brush, braid or even shampoo her hair, rival that of a colicky newborn. I was tired of the battle, but could not convince her to chop her golden locks.

Yesterday, as I passed a salon while wandering the mall, I had a stroke of genius. They had a sign displayed out front, and Cora was curious about its content. I told her the sign said they were having a special haircut sale, but not everyone was invited. She had to ask the lady at the counter if she could have a "special" appointment. Luckily, the nice stylist behind the counter played along and before we knew it, Cora was sitting high in the chair, rambling on and on about how special she was.

I love the length, and images of blissful, screamless mornings fill my mind. However, my love for the new cut fails to rival that of Cora's absolute adoration for it. She can't stop touching it, telling everyone she sees or shaking her head from side to side, sending her new spunky bob swinging from ear to ear. Seriously, if she had to have a root canal, she would welcome it just so she could show the dentist her new hair!

Hope

"Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America." -Barack Obama

I did not vote for Barack Obama. Don't get me wrong, I have a strong dislike for John McCain as well, but it came down to the flip of a coin. I was not impressed with either candidate. Because I would rather not turn this blog into a political platform, I will refrain from giving reasons. Just know that as November rolled around last year, I was filled with dread.

As a nation, we were hurting. We were (are) in financial turmoil and battling a never ending (and some would argue unnecessary) war. The future looked bleak and many would say, with Barack Obama at the helm, that is still the case. I would beg to differ.

As I watched the inauguration today, I couldn't help but feel hopeful. Am I certain Obama's actions as president will back up his promises of change, no. But, the historical impact of his presidency aside, I have never seen such excitement, such optimism in our country. People are looking to the future with renewed confidence and anticipation, which many have been lacking for so long.

Today speaks volumes about how far we have come as a nation, and it ushers in a new era of hope that I can't help be on board with. Regardless of whom I voted for or why, whether I label myself a Republican, Democrat or neither, I stand behind this president.

A little perspective

I had a post planned for my return. I knew what I wanted to say. It would have brushed on the difficulties I faced yesterday in my attempt to unplug. It would have talked about when it rains it pours. It would have included complaints about trivial things like these:

My car essentially blew up, requiring an absorbent amount of time on the phone with the dealership, a mechanic and a tow truck company. I had to get online to retrieve a phone number from a contact list for a co-worker. My husband had to have directions that had been emailed to me. The New Kids on the Block cruise tickets went on sale promptly at 9 (and then proceeded to sell out w/in hours). Really, of all the days to unplug.

But truth be told, I only got on the computer twice, for a total of 5 minutes (once for the phone number and once for the directions). I did not check my email, touch a blog or log onto Facebook. The TV stayed dark all day. I would say we were successful.

So in a nutshell that is what my post would have said. It would have had a higher word count and probably would have flowed a little smoother, but then I returned to the blogging world this morning and my heart sank. Our friends had lost a child. A beautiful, bubbly, hazel-eyed little girl, ripped from her family much too soon. They had less than 20 months to love her, cuddle her, share her with the world. I re-read their blog over and over, hoping that I had misunderstood. That, in re-reading it, I might miraculously find the words that would bring comfort. My heart ached for them. For their loss. For their helplessness. For the pain that could not be erased.

No, my original post will not do. Sure, I feel strongly that Unplugged 2009 worked. It forced me to get on my hands and knees and build towers with my children. It replaced hours mesmerized by a screen, with hours spent cuddled together on the couch reading book after book after book. It was great for all of those reasons; so great in fact that we will be implementing it once a week. But today, in light of recent events, I cannot help but wonder why it would take a scheduled day for me to partake in the above listed activities.

I take my children for granted every day. I forget to stop and listen to them, or ignore them all together while fixated with so and so's latest post. I know that makes me normal and not a horrible mother, and that my children are loved and taken care of. But, it makes me pause. Yesterday, distraction free, I actually heard them. When they yanked on my arm, eager to share their latest masterpiece, I had nothing pulling me in the other direction, so I followed. And I was reminded that my children are creative and funny. They have imaginations that, when set free, amaze me. We laughed, a lot. And it was a good day.

And I am grateful, endlessly grateful for them.

I hope that today, because there are those out there who do not have this luxury, you will take your kids, your spouses, your loved ones and hug them a little closer. That you too will pause, perhaps shut the TV off for a few minutes, and provide them your undivided attention. I don't mean to sound preachy or cheesy, but if tomorrow brings chaos and frustrations, if those little ones drive us to the brink; the truth is we have been blessed with another day.

Cherish it.

A snowman, a craft, a rash and a bit more randomness

First, if all of my dear blogging friends would cease to post anything new on their blogs until Unplugged 2009 is over so I will have less catching up to do, that would be much appreciated. Thanks in advance. (Wish me luck everyone, as the plug is pulled in a few short hours!)

Moving onward, I began a modified version of this cleanse called the Master Cleanse yesterday. The actual cleanse is 10 days with no food, living on a concoction of lemon juice, water, Grade B maple syrup and peppermint tea. My goal was to make it through 2 days and I very well could have. The hunger pains weren't so bad actually, it was the total lack of energy that was the problem. I could not stop yawning and wanting to do nothing that required moving from the comfort of my couch. So after about a day and a half, I came to discover a few things about myself. 1. I HATE peppermint tea. 2. I HATE grade B maple syrup. 3. I HATE ridiculous cleanses that make you starve yourself. Enough said.

Next, and drum roll please, if you need to get in touch with me between May 15-18, well good luck, as I will be sunning myself on a cruise ship with the New Kids on the Block. That's right, you heard me: A NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK CRUISE!!!!!! I know, I know. I can barely contain my excitement either.

Now how do I top that? Well, I can't, but I have a few pictures I have been meaning to post. So here you have it:

Let's start with some fun in the snow.
Taking the girls sledding (no hills means mommy gets in a great workout!).
I am aware Cora's snow suit is 2 sizes too big; they just outgrow them so fast I decided to outsmart the snow suit! And yes, that is a pizza crust mouth secured with skewers (I thought it was a shine of brilliance!).
And their arm-less snow man.
And some added appendages.

Next we have a picture of a little craft I made for a few of my girlfriends for Christmas (yes, I said "I made" and "craft" in the same sentence-I'm just as shocked as you). Amber is to craft, as oil is to water, so I had to share.
I love this quote!

Speaking of great women, here are two I am quite fond of. My sister, Desi, and Cora made some cute little gingerbread men.
Sadly, they looked much better than they tasted!

And finally, poor little Claire-bear was sick, sick, sick. She had a crazy high fever and a raging case of Croup. Nothing new and nothing that a dose of steroids couldn't fix, but still so unpleasant for her. And after 2 weeks, just when we thought there was a light at the end of the tunnel, this is what we discovered.Luckily, just as mysteriously as it arrived, it vanished the next day. She is still barking occasionally (what's new), and she has been a bit moodier than normal, but that aside, she is back to her normal playful self.

So now you are up to speed. I'm signing off until Thursday. I have begun mentally preparing myself, but I'm sure you will hear all about my adventures when I reconnect (literally).

Unplugged

Lately I have had the desire to pause phone conversations. I have attempted to rewind the radio because I misunderstood a lyric. I have grown so accustomed to that snazzy little piece of technology called the DVR (TiVo, whathaveyou), that I am bothered I cannot incorporate its usefulness in other aspects of my life.

I am not a gadget person. I don't own an IPod, I can't text and I'm not sure what Blu-Ray means. But I find myself addicted to so many other electronic devices these days. I'm sitting in front of one of them now. I could spend (waste) hours upon hours hopping from blog to blog, mindlessly viewing posts and pictures of people I do not know and probably never will. I check my email often, my checking accounts daily and the news/gossip/weather sites religiously.

I also utilize my TV in excess. It not only acts as the occasional (and by occasional, I mean daily) baby sitter, but also as a form of bribery to get my children to cooperate while getting dressed each morning. It also allows me an escape. After the kids have been kissed, hugged and tucked into bed, I plop down, unwind and lose myself in one of my favorite shows.

I don't believe partaking in any of the aforementioned activities is bad or harmful, but I do think I forget how to entertain myself and my children without those resources. So with that said, next Wednesday, I'm pulling the plug.

For a full day, our household will be without TV, the computer and the phone (by phone I mean avoiding LONG phone conversations-taking the call from your child's pediatrician, your mother or your mortgage officer is just fine). I will devote the entire day to non-electric, non-technological fun. It might take me a few minutes to remember the rules to "Mother May I," and I will probably long for a good hour of Top Chef, but I will manage. And I think my girls will benefit from an undistracted mother providing them her full attention.

Anyone else on board for "Unplugged 2009." Mark your calendars: Wednesday, January 14th from sun up to sun down. So who's with me?

Please and Thank You ARE the magic words!

I have been trying to write a post about America's rudeness for a while now. I have written and re-written, scratched one post completely and started over, to no avail. I couldn't make the words flow or convey my exasperation at our country's meanness epidemic (perhaps because every time I completed a paragraph, I realized I too could be accused of the exact thing I was ranting about).

Today, I was online when I stumbled upon this article:
Could We Be a Little More Polite, Please?

I felt it summed up my thoughts exactly, and made me a lot more aware of how guilty I am of unintentional rudeness each day. The article is long (and obviously, you will need to insert "America" when the author refers to "Britain"), but if you have a few minutes, I guarantee they will not be wasted.

So here's to a year of holding doors for strangers, letting the jerk who just cut you off go with a smile instead of a finger and simply saying "please" and "thank you."