I have this evil cold that was given to me by my dear, darling children. Of course, they get a cold and keep running. I get a cold and I want to bury myself beneath a pile of blankets in my over-A.C.'d house, with a stack of magazines and a big bowl of chicken soup. So, because I don't have an original thought in my head right now, other than, "Nyquil! Now!" here's a little wrap for you of the past couple of weeks.

Our vacation: Did you know we went away? No, you didn't because I oh-so-cleverly scheduled a post for while we were gone, just to keep you entertained (wasn't that nice of me?). We took our third--and final (boo hoo!)--trip to the Wildflower Inn in Lyndonville, Vermont. It was as heavenly as ever and the kids loved going to "camp," Adam and I loved having alone time, and it was nice to escape computers and work and room parent assignments and all that other good stuff. This is only our last year because the program we go to is for babies, toddlers, and preschoolers. And we'll have but one preschooler next year.

The highlight for Pie was definitely her counselors. Oh, she found one who she fell in love with. Pie came back to the room on Tuesday afternoon.


Pie: I asked my counselor to paint my nails.
Me: What did she say?
Pie: She said, no. She said, ask your mommy.
Me: Does your mommy let you paint your nails?
Pie: No.
Me: When does Mommy say you can paint your nails?
Pie: When I'm three.
Me: And how old are you?
Pie: Two.
Me: Right, two. So no painting nails.

Of course, Miss Thang comes back very proudly from dinner, showing off bright purple-y nails.


Pie: Mommy, look!!
Me: What did Mommy say about painting your nails?
Pie: Mommy said no.
Me: And what did you tell your counselors?
Pie, with absolute innocent glee: I told them YES!

How could I get angry with that joy? We had a little to-do today when I went to paint her (toe)nails for the 4th of July. But I'm talking about the relaxation of vacation, so we'll just not go there now. And it was relaxing: swimming, kayaking, massage, dinner sans kids, hiking, hot tub, swimming, batting cages (for Adam and Doodles), goofing off on the tennis court (for me and Pie), drinking, and a general good time was had by all.

Boot camp: Ever done anything like say, oh, skiing, and there's some person who has the top-of-the-line everything--the professional goggles, the killer skiis, the aerodynamic skiing outfit--but is clearly a completely novice who doesn't know he should point his skis down the hill? That was me, today. Boot camp went on a bike ride and I still had all my gear from back when I biked almost seriously. Back when riding was something I spent entire weekend days on; when I rode to work, from work, and then tossed in an extra ride at the end of the day just for good measure; back when I had money to burn and a Bianchi road bike.

I still have all that stuff. But do I have the biking body that I did in 2002, which as far as I can tell, was the last time I was on a bike? Again, let's not go there. A friend was kind enough to do a tune-up for me on my hybrid (no way was I going with the clipless pedals of my road bike), but I showed up in my little biking shorts and my cute purple biking jersey. Thank goodness I left the fingerless gloves and groovy glasses at home. Because, man, are they wrong. You can totally forget how to ride a bike. "Wait, wait!" I kept asking. "I don't remember! The bigger gear for going up the hills? Or down?" It was humiliating. But fun. And who knows? Maybe I'll start biking again. Once I remember definitively what the big gear is for.

Movies: I've been working my way through the suggestions everyone gave me for flicks to watch (still open to more! Always welcome a good movie recommendation). But I want to give a particular shout-out to Lionness, because a movie she suggested, The Bubble, is one of the most thought-provoking movies I've ever seen.

My birthday: Adam outdid himself. I didn't think he could do it, but he did. Got me my own personalized bowling shirt. Had my sister come up to surprise me. Arranged for his brother to babysit. Rented a limo "happy bus." Stocked it with friends and beer and champagne. Took us all to Jamaica Plain for bowling and food and booze and cake at the Milky Way. And you know what? For once, I don't have a single snarky thing to say. It was perfect.

And with that, I'm off to find the Nyquil. Ah, happy Nyquil. How I missed you all those years. Welcome home.

Labels: adam, birthday, me, pie, sporty mom, vacation

Adam: Doodles! Get upstairs and get dressed!
Doodles: I can't! Pie and I are in space!
Adam: Now!

Doodles and Pie get dressed. They head back downstairs.

Doodles: We're going on a mission!
Pie, following him: Yeah, we're going to get married.

If that doesn't sum up their personality differences, I don't know
what does.

Labels: doodles, pie

Part One
We hit the local thrift shop and Pie immediately gravitated toward a particular book,What Is a Princess. The last spread of the book reads, "And princesses live happily ever after" with the final page a picture of Cinderella in her wedding dress with her prince (in all fairness, it also tells that princesses are smart and brave as well). Pie declared it a good bedtime book, "because it's such a good story." But it prompted this bedtime discussion:

Pie: Is Cinderella getting married?
Me: Yes, she is.
Pie: Can I get married?
Me: When you're a grown-up, you may get married. But only grown-ups get married.
Pie: Can I marry Daddy?
Me: No. I'm afraid Daddy is already married to me. You can marry someone else.
Pie: Who can I marry?
Me: You'll grow up and fall in love. And that's who you'll marry.
Pie: I can marry a man?
Me: You can marry a man. Or you can marry a woman. You'll marry another person.
Pie: I'll marry another person?
Me: Yes.
Pie: I want to marry a man.
Me: Okay.
Pie: I want to marry Daddy.
Me: Sorry. I already married him.
Pie: Can I have a baby and get married?
Me: Sure! Most folks do it in the other order, though. They get married and then have a baby.
Pie: I want to have a baby and get married.
Me: Okay.
Pie: Will you hold it?
Me: What?
Pie: Will you hold the baby? When I get married?
Me: Sure.

This feminist mommy is sure trying to be supportive, but no one told me it would get so political so young!

Part Two
Friday night dinner conversation:
Pie: Mommy, when I'm big, can I marry you?
Me: I'm 'fraid not. I'm already married.
Pie: Can I marry Doodles?
Me: You really can't marry anyone who's related to you.
Adam: You can marry [he lists two boys from her school] Alberto or Englebert!
Me: Or you can marry Marvin. Or Angela or Jasmine!
Adam: Right, this is a progressive household.
Pie: I can marry Jasmine?
Me: Sure!
Pie: I want to marry Jasmine!
Me: Okay!
Doodles: That would be good. Because if you marry Jasmine, then there could be two mamas to have babies.
Pie: Can I wear a dress?
Doodles: Silly, you have to wear a dress when you get married!
Me: Actually, you don't. But, yes, you may wear a dress.
Pie: My fourth of July dress?
Doodles: That won't fit you by then!
Me: Yes, you may wear your fourth of July dress.
Pie: Can we dance?
Doodles: You always dance at weddings.
Me: Yes, you may dance.
Pie: Dance! And I marry Jasmine.
She goes back to eating her cookie, happy that one of the major decisions of her life are complete.

Labels: girly girl, pie

I'm at that point of parenthood where when my son asks at 1:11 in the afternoon if he can take off his clothes so he can marry his sister, I don't even look up when I say, "Sure."

I also say ridiculous things like, "I've told you! No shoes upstairs on the carpet! I want to keep this carpet clean! Now go downstairs while I finish cleaning your pee out of the rug."

Pie's new thing: "When I'm big..." All of these uttered at random within the past four days: "When I'm big can I drive?" "When I'm big can I paint your toes?" "When I'm big, can I have coffee?"

The most popular song these days for naked tushie dancing is Cake's "The Distance." Pie calls it "the flag song" and she holds a plastic Israeli flag left over from Yom ha'Atzmaut as she listens. The second "the flags go up" is sung, she raises her little flag, giggles, and says, "Play it again." The other day, I heard Doodles explaining to his friend what the song is about: "This song is about someone riding a horse and he lost his cup."

Do you remember way back when on game shows when one of the prizes offered was a shopping spree? Someone would have ten or fifteen minutes to run through a store and throw as much stuff as s/he could into the shopping cart. Well, that's what shopping has become like for me. I went to TJ Maxx today to make a return, and as I'm desperate for some new summer togs, I decided to check out the clothes. The other problem was, I had Thing One and Thing Two with me. Thing Two in particular was a bit trying. I didn't have to worry about losing her--her ear-piercing screeches ("Aieeeee!") as she ran from one end of the store to the other was as good as any homing device.
Me: Pie, stop running. Pie, use your walking feet. Doodles, tell your sister to get back here. Pie, get back here. Pie, use your indoor voice. Pie, walking feet! Pie, you are going to lose your playdate if you don't get over her right now! Doodles, go get your sister.
Meanwhile, I'm walking through the aisles, grabbing anything that looks remotely interesting and remotely in my size and tossing it over my arm. God forbid I hold anything up to me, never mind even try it on.
Pie: Mommy! Is that for me?
Doodles: No, Pie. It's for Mommy. It's all for Mommy.
Pie: Buy me something! Buy me something!
Me: You'll get stuff for your birthday!
Doodles: Mommy can I get--
Me: No.
Doodles: But--
Me: No. For your birthday.
Pie: Mommy! Mommy! MOMMY! Look! LOOK! They have PRINCESS PAJAMAS! Mommy, can I have princess pajamas? I want princess pajamas. Can I have princess pajamas? Please? Please? Please? Puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeeease? Can I have princess pajamas? Can I?
Me: For your birthday.
Pie: Can I have them Right Now?
Me: No. For your birthday.
Pie: I want princess pajamas. Can I have princess pajamas? Please? Please? Please? Puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeeease? Can I have princess pajamas? Can I?
Me: For your birthday.
Pie: Okay. For my birthday.
Me: Good girl.
Pie: For my birthday. Can you buy them now?
Me: No!
On my arm is very random assortment of clothes. I pay for them as my kids threaten to bring down the rope barriers holding up the aisles. Suddenly, I hear another screech.
Pie: Mommy! Mommy! Look at the backpacks! Look, Mommy! Hannah Montana backpacks!
Doodles, excited: She's right, Mommy! Hannah Montana backpacks.
I halt. I turn to Pie.
Me: How the hell do you know who Hannah Montana is?
Pie shrugs. I turn to Doodles.
Me: How does she know who Hannah Montana is?
Doodles shrugs: I don't know. But you know, she's a real person! She's a real concert singing person.
Pie: Yeah! A concert singing person.
Me, mumbling, as I hand the credit card to the sales clerk for a pile of clothes that I'll more likely than not be returning: She knows Hannah Montana.
We retreat to the car. I swear not to shop with them again. Not at least until these clothes need to be returned and I still don't have anything to wear.

Labels: doodles, girly girl, pie

I find it hard to post when Adam's out of town--as he is again. Normally, throughout the day, when I'm supposed to post, I think, "I can blog about X. Maybe I'll blog about Y." But when Adam's gone, only one thought runs in my head, all day, the constant refrain, starting at 7 a.m.: "Only twelve hours till they go to bed. Only eleven hours and forty-three minutes till they go to bed. Only..." And then when it's finally the magic hour, we are inevitably running behind because it always takes 27 minutes longer to get anything done than I think. And then, once they're finally in bed, I have to convince them to sleep. When that's finally done, I think, "Hmm, blog? Or that case of wine Adam bought last weekend?" I'll sit here and blog till the wine kicks in.

Today was Pie's last day of preschool for the year, and tomorrow is Doodles's last day of preschool... forever. We had his "kindergarten chat" yesterday and the chat itself--with one of the teachers--went just fine, but when he saw all the "big kids," he totally froze up. I felt so bad for the little guy. Adam and I talked about holding Doodles back from kindergarten, but he's clearly ready to go. And even if we held Doodles back three years, well, he'd still be the shortest kid in the class. That's just the way genetics work, kid.

I had this angsty moment, as I got all worked up about the last day of preschool, the end of toddlerhood, the beginning of kindergarten, and then it hit me... I'm going to be having these angsty moments now for the rest of my life. There's always going to be that next big thing they grow out of/into. First day of kindergarten. First time they have a sleep over. First time they have a crush. The last day of elementary school, middle school, high school.... Getting ready for camp, college, first day of work. The first time they travel without me and Adam. Some of the milestones, I won't even be aware that it's the last time, until the pangs hit me in retrospect. The last time they're small enough for me to carry. The last time they crawl into our bed at night. The last time they cuddle down and beg me to read them a story.

So, I'll just do what moms have been doing for generations. I'm going to pour myself another glass of wine.

Labels: doodles, pie

Me: Pie, do you know what your shirt says?
Pie: What?
Me: It says, J-A-S-O-N. And here it says V-A-R-I-T-E-K. Do you know what that spells?
Pie: What?
Me: It spells Jason Varitek. He plays for the Boston Red Sox!
Pie [giving me a look]: And he's captain, too.

Let me tell you, I didn't teach her that!

Labels: baseball, pie

End of school year time. I'm up to my ears in projects for the preschool. I should be sleeping--I miss my sleep--but I'm too anal not to do these projects right. I'm also about to have my hands full of children. However, the prospect isn't as daunting as it seemed even a few weeks ago. Pie and I have come to some sort of unspoken agreement, and it seems to be working. (Does blogging count as speaking? If so, then it shall no longer be unspoken.) Basically, I let Pie get away with whatever she wants, and she no longer makes my life a living hell. For instance, we're skipping the "sleep in your own bed" charade. Pie goes directly to our bed, do not pass go, do not collect $200. In order to avoid jealousy, Doodles beds down in a sleeping bag on the floor of our room.

In return, I've had three--yes, three!--days of no diapers. That's right. Pie declared on Monday, "No more diapers for me, Mommy." And she's been an underwear girl since. Few accidents along the way, but nothing too serious. She's also getting much better about actually speaking to me (as opposed to grunting and temper tantruming) so we have conversations in which I can understand what she wants. She's gotten uber-polite about all sorts of things ("Mommy, thank you for getting me dressed." "Mommy, thank you for putting a towel down for me to sit on" [that last one when I didn't want to risk my chair for the sake of her underwear]).

And she and Doodles are getting along as well as ever. He's erupting into kid, and as such is giving me more grief as Pie gives me less, but overall, he's workable. There are certain things he wants that I control (TV, computer time, bike riding time, playdates), so he's willing to work the system. He's taking lots of "big kid" leaps--besides losing the training wheels, he can now tie his own shoes, read a simple book, jump into the pool without freaking, and he's attempting more foods on his own.

I've been so focused on the progress of Doodles--end of preschool, getting ready for kindergarten--that it slipped my mind until this morning that Pie is about to leave toddlerhood. She'll be an honest to goodness preschooler in a few months. Which is great. Because it means that I'll have a preschooler and a kid sleeping in my room. That's progress. Right?

Labels: doodles, pie, sleep

I know I have a tendency to complain about my children a lot--probably because they give me so much to complain about and I'm not really one to get all sappy on folks. But humor me a moment while I kvell a moment. Last Saturday, my sporty little Pie had her first ice skating show. Her coaches had approached me about her participating last fall, and I hemmed and hawed without ever actually saying no, which they took as acquiescence. I had real reservations about letting her skate in a "competition" (at her level, Tot 2, it's not actually a competition plus she skates the whole program with her coach, so she's not alone on the ice) but she so enjoyed working on the program with her coach, I figured, "Hey, why not?"

For weeks she's been talking about the show, and it was only heightened when I borrowed a skating dress for her. "Time to wear dress?" she'd ask. "Time to go ice skating?"

Saturday finally came. We put her in her outfit, and pleased as punch we headed for the rink. It was overwhelming. It was a serious show with two rinks worth of skaters going on, and lots of noise, crowds, and cheers. Pie took one look around and her eyes went wide. I took her into the locker room, where not even Doodles was allowed in, and sat her down. At one point, I had to run upstairs to get her helmet (the photo here was taken at the end when her coach took her helmet off specifically for the picture [**Photo upload is down--it will be up when I can get it up]), I left her with one of the coaches--not hers. "Is that okay, Pie?" She gave me a wide-eyed nod. I left fully prepared to come running back at the sound of tears. There were none. I returned to find her just watching everyone. "Hey, Pie, can I take your picture?" I asked. She immediately hopped up, smiled wide, and posed like a champ. Then sat back down and watched the action. Every few minutes, she'd quietly ask, "My turn to ice skate?" and I'd say, "Not yet, sweetheart."

A half hour before she was to go on, she lined up with her coach. "No parents! All parents please return to the seats!" I didn't think they really meant me--Pie was there with a coach who wasn't her own--but they did. "Is it okay if I go upstairs, Pie?" Again the wide-eyed nod.

I go upstairs and flip through the program. Hundreds of events going on. I went through it once. Twice. Pie is the only two year old in the entire show. Finally, they announce her name. Out she goes to the far end of the rink with her coach, just the two of them, looking tiny on the ice. She stands there, and then her music starts. And she skates her little one-minute program (video, for those with the password, is up, but very hard to see). She falls. She doesn't do all her spins. But, damn! She was cute! She got so many cheers. I was so proud of her, and what's more important, she was incredibly proud of herself.

That little Pie. Feisty in all the right places. You go, girl! (Now to return to our regularly scheduled kvetching.)

Labels: ice skating, pie

This past weekend was a big running weekend for me. I went up to Alton, New Hampshire, early Saturday morning to run the Big Lake Half Marathon. Supposedly it's a very beautiful course. I'm not really sure. I didn't fuel up properly beforehand (normally I eat a peanut-butter sandwich and a banana, but since I left the house at 5 a.m. and the race didn't start till 9, my belly got all rumbly before then) and I tried to keep up with my much-faster friends for the first three miles, so by the middle, I was just kind of chugging along without a whole bunch of steam. Much more "I think I can, I think I can," than any speed engine. I did notice some very sweet houses on the lake (oh, how I want a summer home on a lake!), but other than that I was very focused on getting to the end. I did respectably: 465 (out of 1202) and 24 (out of 89) in my division. My chip time was 1:54:47 for a 8:46 pace, which is fine, but not my best. I was heartened to see that if the race were just one and a half months later, I'd have finished 20th in my division (the only reason I can see to truly look forward to turning 40 is that it bumps me up into the next age category).

As a recovery run, I decided on Sunday morning to do the Melrose Run for Women. This is the third time I've run it (fourth I've signed up, but one year the rains were so bad the course flooded and the race was canceled), and it's such a lovely run. My kids talked all week about the race they were going to run, as there's a fun run beforehand. I think Pie was disappointed because the kids' run for the under 8s was only a dash ("too short!" she said after) but she had a blast doing it. And she ran in the right direction this year! Last year was her first time running it and she kind of spun around confused. Doodles of course took off and proudly wore his ribbon afterward. I'm so psyched my kids are into running--I look forward to the day we can do full races together (remember the days, before we were married, when Adam ran with me? Ah, yes. And we were married--what? five minutes--before he announced he hated running and never laced up any running shoes again?). The race is a nice course and it's an easy 3.5 miles. I did a fine job on it, especially after the half: no chips, but my gun time was 27:11.5 for a 7.46 pace. I finished 56 out of 644.

Now I have to figure out my next races. My name is in the lottery for the NYC marathon again. If I don't get into that, I'll run the Baystate Marathon. I have a half scheduled for September, the same day my brother-in-law is getting married (and by pure coincidence, the race and the wedding are in the same town in Maine and the race is in the morning and the wedding in the afternoon. What luck!). I don't want to schedule too many other halfs until I figure out which marathon I'm running . But if anyone wants to meet up somewhere for a race, I'm generally game. The races wear me out, but in a good way, and I'm always up for another one.

Run run run. Of course there is one added benefit: Sorry, Adam. I'm really too tired after those races to put the kids to bed. Can you handle it yourself? Snooooooze.

Labels: doodles, me, pie, sporty mom

Classes at my synagogue are scheduled for 8 p.m. because they want to encourage people to attend the evening minyan. Minyan is held at my synagogue twice a day (morning and night), which is important if you're saying Mourner's Kaddish, because you need a minyan to do so, but sometimes rallying ten people can be a challenge, hence starting classes after minyan.

Minyan's not so bad in the winter, when it's simply the evening service. But this time of year, because it's daylight so late, we suffer through both the afternoon and evening service. So before each class I have this dilemma: Do I go to minyan? Or stay home and help put the kids to bed? Needless to say, I've been a very good Jew lately.

Bedtime has gotten intolerable. Doodles goes to bed as easily as he ever has, but the Pie is just digging her heels in and making life miserable for us. Last night, I left the house at 7:15 for minyan. I know that Adam put the kids to bed at 7:30. I got home from my class at 9:15. And before I even had the door unlocked, I could hear the screaming.

It's this vicious cycle--she doesn't want to go to bed, she's overtired the next day making her more temper tantrum-y and unpleasant to be around, she's so overtired she can't go to sleep well... I've tried increasing naps. I've tried decreasing naps. We've tried putting her to bed earlier. We've tried putting her to bed later. Doesn't seem to matter: We're guaranteed about an hour to two hours worth of screaming (thank goodness Doodles, who shares a room with her, can sleep through it all).

She gets so worked up that she can't articulate what she wants. Sometimes it can be solved as easily as a different train from the train table next to her bed. But sometimes--like last night--it's a guessing game. Do you need a cuddle? Do you need a train? Do you need socks? What do you need?!? And there is no letting her scream it out because it seriously simply won't end.

I have another class tonight. Oh, I'm sorry, Adam. I've got to go early. They really need me for minyan....

Labels: jewish, pie, sleep

Last Friday was a tough day for Pie. Meltdowns at the playground. Didn't want to nap. Didn't want to wake up from nap. Didn't like what was being served. Not happy at the lack of crackers during Passover. By bedtime on Friday, I was pretty much done, and as I'm wont to do, I turned over most of Pie's bedtime activities to Adam (Doodles is easy to get into bed). So, at bedtime:

Me: Tomorrow's Saturday.
Pie: Okay.
Me: That means tomorrow you can inflict your pain on Daddy! Does that sound good!
Pie: [Nodding vigorously] Yes!
Me: You'll inflict your pain on daddy?
Pie: Yes! Pain on daddy! Daddy, take off your shirt?
Adam: Take off my shirt?
Pie: Take off your shirt!
Adam: Why?
Pie: I pain on you. I pain on you!
Adam: What?
Pie: I pain on you. With paintbrush!
Adam: Tomorrow.
Me: Pie, time to go to sleep.
Pie: My eyes are cold.
Adam: So close them.
Pie: No, I need my sunglasses.
Adam: Not in bed.
Me: Okay, Pie, good night!
Pie: No! Hands cold!
Adam: You can get your mittens on yourself.
Pie: A grown-up has to watch when I put my mittens on.

Pie eventually dons her vest, her sweater, Doodles's Lightning McQueen slippers, and her mittens. It doesn't keep her in bed, and it's generally an hour-long process (whether we start at 6 or 9 doesn't make any difference).

Last night and tonight I'm on my own. Adam's in Seattle for work (if you're in Seattle and reading this, don't expect to hear from him. He arrived at 9:30 p.m. last night and is returning on the red-eye tonight. He gives a presentation today and isn't even in town for a single dinner). And I brook no nonsense. So bedtime is just screaming now. Although last night our neighbor, B., came by to sit with the kids as I had a class, and as soon as the neighbor came, Pie demanded a kiss from her and settled down. Looks like B. will be over every night when Adam goes out of town because she's the only one who can get that Pie settled.

Sweet dreams little Pie. Mommy's buying ear plugs.

Labels: pie, sleep

The upsides of two kids just two years apart have proven themselves to be many. They can entertain themselves for a good hour playing hide-and-go-see or--their new favorite instigated by Pie (ugh)--wedding. They share dress-up shoes and games. Doodles is just enough older that he can help out when Pie's being difficult--getting on her shoes or convincing her to eat. But it's not all fun and games.

The main downside, that I can see so far, to having kids just two years apart is we seem to have hit this perfect storm of question asking. Doodles is at the stage when he has a genuine curiosity about, oh, everything, and Pie just likes to hear herself talk. And God forbid they ever ask when I'm at home and can look answers up or demonstrate something. Take this one fifteen-minute stroller ride to the park:

Pie: What are bicycles made out of?
Me: Um, I think mostly metal and plastic.
Doodles: Wood and metal. Bikes have wood.
Me: I don't think many bikes are made of wood anymore. In the old days the were made of wood, but now I think they're primarily metal and plastic.
Doodles: No, I know they're made out of wood and metal. The wood is inside the metal because it's stronger.
Me: Actually, metal is stronger than wood.
Doodles: Why is metal stronger than wood?
Me: Um. Well. It just is.
Doodles: What are houses made out of?
Me: Wood. Bricks. Concrete. Um, I don't know what else.
Pie: What are flags made out of?
Me: Cloth.
Pie: What are cars made out of?
Me: Um, mostly metal and plastic, too, I think.
Doodles: Not wood?
Me: No, not wood.
Doodles: Where do eyeballs come from?
Me: What?
Doodles: Where do eyeballs come from?
Me: What do you mean?
Doodles: Oh, I know. From your head! What makes eyeballs colored?
Me: Um, pigments? I'm not sure.
Pie: Eyeballs! Eyeballs! Where are we going?
Me: To the playground.
Doodles: What are houses made of?
Me: I think we covered that one already.
Doodles: I meant, what are bricks made out of?

There's no avoiding it in the stroller. In the car, though, I have developed the nice little technique of turning the radio up and yelling, "What? I can't hear you! It's so loud in here. Why don't you ask when we get home?"

Labels: doodles, pie

I've been on a conservation kick with the kids. One of my new year's resolutions was the oh-so-trendy "go greener." I'm trying to impart the respect-your-earth values to them, with limited success. Of course, I don't always have the lightest touch. I confess, I've been known to say, "Turn off the water! Fish need that water! Don't kill the fish!" (Which has resulted in Doodles yelling, "Mom! Pie is wasting water! She's killing fish!")

Jumping on the plastics-are-bad-and-will-leach-harmful-things-into-my-children wagon, I decided I was going to order my kids some Sigg bottles. Just this morning, I told each child they were going to pick one bottle that they were going to live with for the rest of their lives. It was going to be their bottle for all going-out purposes and there was no switching or changing minds. Doodles picked out an astronaut bottle. Pie picked out Hello Kitty. The pink one. I found a lovely one for myself. Of course only after my little online search did I discover Hello Kitty is out of stock. So I'm searching for a place where I can buy all three because I'm too cheap (um, I mean environmentally aware!) to buy the bottles at multiple stores. I decided I'd hold off a day or two and see if I could find them locally. But no. Heading out to the playground today, I grabbed their sippies. At the playground:
Pie: I'm thirsty.
Me: Here's your sippy.
Pie: No! I want Hello Kitty! The pink one!
Me: Sweetie, it'll take a little while to get here. It won't be here for a while [and that's only after I order it!]
Pie: I want Hello Kitty now!
I was able to distract her until... bedtime.
Pie: I need my pink Hello Kitty.
Me: You don't own a pink Hello Kitty yet. We just picked them out today!
Pie: PINK HELLO KITTY!
I think I need to get off my butt and find that bottle in stock. With expedited shipping. So much for saving money and packaging.

And then there was the conversation Pie and I had this week:
Pie: I need a paper towel.
Me: For what?
Pie: To clean.
Me: Use a dish towel.
Pie: Nooooo! I need a paper towel!
Me: That's wasteful, Sweetie. Use a dish towel.
Pie: I need a paper towel. I need it, I need it, I need it!
Me: Do you know where paper comes from? It comes from trees.
Pie: [sniffle]
Me: Trees are killed for paper towels. Do you want to kill a tree?
Pie: Yes! Yes! Kill the trees! Kill the trees! [sobbing now] Kill the trees! Need a paper towel!

So now you know what conservation is all about. Dead fish. Downed trees. Pink Hello Kitties. Sent Fed Ex. Hope you all had a more productive Earth Day.

Labels: environmentalism, pie

Some weeks I really have nothing to say, and I have to scramble for something to write. This week there's plenty to write about, and I'm still scrambling for something to write, because Adam's at the Red Sox game, which means I had to put the kids to sleep. I have no patience for putting the kids to sleep. None. Because the ritual goes on and on and on and on...

Today broke 80 degrees. Our house is quite warm. And still Pie needs her slippers, her vest, and her sweater on. Hood up, please. Where are her mittens? Is her watch in her pocket? She needs more trains to sit on the heater next to her. Wipes! She needs two wipes. On the heater. Why? I have no clue. Oh, what! She needs to use the potty. And--damn!--the look of pure sinister when she actually does pee. Finally, she goes to bed. But the whole process takes about forty-five minutes at the end of the day, when I'm done. I mean done. So all rational thought has left me and it's Passover, which means I can't even indulge in a little M&M therapy. Matzah therapy? Just not quite the same ring to it.

[Note: Blogger seems to be having some issues posting images tonight--they'll be here tomorrow]

Labels: holiday, pie

That's it. I must be done. I have nothing left to say because my biggest source of material is no longer cooperating. I don't see how I can continue this blog after this exchange from the other night.

Adam: Time for you to go to bed, Pie!
Pie: Okay. I need to use the potty.
Adam: Really?
Pie: I need to use the potty.
Adam leads her to the bathroom. In a timely fashion, Pie pees in the potty.
Adam: Ready for bed now?
Pie: Yep.
Adam: Let's go say good night to Mommy.
Me: So, no crying tonight, okay. Pie?
Pie: Okay.
Me: Okay what?
Pie: Okay. No crying.
Adam starts to take her up the stairs. Midway up she stops.
Pie: Wait! Mommy, one more smooch.
[Smooch]
Pie: And a hug.
[Hug]
Pie: Okay. Goodnight, Mommy. I love you!
Me: I love you, too, Pie.
Pie goes up to bed. Calls us a couple of times, but not a single tear.

Look, did you see that? Out your window? Yep, pretty sure that was a pig flying by.

Labels: pie

Ah, Shabbat. Every Friday night, Jews all over the world share a peaceful moment with their families as they welcome in Shabbat. Now, we're not very observant Jews. We don't observe the laws of Shabbat. But like many American Jews, we end each Friday with a celebratory meal. Giving of tzedakah. Candle lighting. Blessing of children. Grape juice for the kids, wine for the grown-ups. Homemade hallah (and I have a kick-ass recipe). A lovely, special home-cooked meal, always chicken (and if I decide to deviate, Pie, very agitated, will demand all night, "Where's the chicken!"). A song or two. In our house, it's the one night of the week the kids get a dessert after dinner, Shabbat cookies, which they pick out themselves in the afternoon at our local farm stand. All in all, the Shabbat dinner is a lovely tradition and a way to bring Shabbat peace into the house.

Or, at least, that's what in theory is supposed to happen.

Pie: I want my Dora harmonica!
Me: Okay. Here's your Dora yarmulke.
Pie: No, I want Lightening McQueen! No, I want a grown-up harmonica! Give me that one. You wear Hello Kitty.
Me: Okay, I'll wear the Hello Kitty one.
Doodles: Where's my quarter? I can't find my quarter! I need my tzedakah!
Adam: It's right there under your napkin.
Doodles: Oh. Can I shake the tzedakah box?
Pie: Daddy wear the purple harmonica. My harmonica is falling off!
Me: I'll pin it.
Pie: No! Do it self!
After a three-minute struggle.
Pie: Mommy, put on my harmonica!

Time to start.
Me: What song shall we sing tonight?
Pie: The train song!
Me: Okay.
Me, Pie, Doodles, Adam: There's a train that goes from town--
Pie: NO! You don't sing. Just me and Doodles.
Kids sing three lines. Forget words. Look to me for help.
Time to say the blessing over the candles.
Doodles: How does fire get into the match? Why isn't the candle lighting? Is that candle broken? But how does the fire get into the match?
Adam explains sulfur and striking and all sorts of fun stuff while I struggle to get the candles lit.
Doodles: Okay. But how does the fire get into the match?

Go to bless the children.
Doodles: You blessed her first last time!
Adam: No, actually, I distinctly remember we did you first last time because we were at the synagogue Shabbat dinner. Remember?
Doodles: Oh. I should go first anyway.
Pie picks her nose while we bless her.

Finally we make it through all the blessings. Dinner is served.
Me: Doodles, get your fork out of your nose. Sit down. On your tushie. Pie, that's broccoli. You love broccoli.
Pie: Don't like broccoli!
Me: Fine. Don't eat your broccoli. But eat one of those little trees on your plate, wouldja?
Pie: Okay! [eats broccoli]
Me to Doodles: Eat your dinner.
Doodles: I think I'm going to throw up.
Me [having heard it before]: Go to the bathroom to throw up, please.
Doodles hops down and runs to the bathroom.
Doodles calls out: Can you turn on a light?
Adam does so. After five minutes:
Adam: Why are you taking so long?
Doodles: Now I'm going potty!
After a few more minutes:
Me: Don't forget to wash your hands.
Doodles: I *am* washing my hands!
Adam: Did you flush?
Doodles: Ooops! I forgot to wipe and my pants are already up.
Adam goes to remedy the situation. Returns to the table.

Adam: So, Pie, what did you do today?
Pie: What? No. Tell me about your day.
Adam: I already did. What did you do?
Pie: I went to school. I played dress-up shoes.
Me: What did you have for snack today?
Pie: What? I had Jasmine's snack.
Me: What was it?
Pie: What? Jasmine's snack.
Me: But what did you eat?
Pie: Oh. Cucumber. And.... Cucumber.

Me: Doodles, sit. On your tushie. Facing the table. Do you want to be excused before Shabbat cookies?
Pie: Can I have my Shabbat cookie?
Me: Not till everyone's done eating.
Pie: I want my Shabbat cookie.
Me: Eat your chicken. Doodles, SIT!

Adam: What did you do after nap today?
Pie: What? What? What?
Adam: What did you do after nap today?
Pie: What? [pause] What?
Me: We did something after nap today. What was it?
Pie: Ice skating?
Me: No.
Pie: Um, playground?
Me: No.
Pie: What? What? What? [leans in closer to me and whispers] What?
Me: [whispering back] Did someone come over today?
Pie: [whispering to Adam] Someone came over today.
Adam: Who?
Pie: What? Um, Jasmine.
Me: No.
Pie: E.?
Me: No.
Pie [whispering again]: What?
Me: D and G.
Pie: D! And G!

Doodles waves his hands wildly, coming perilously close to the candles.
Me: You know how you knocked over the iPod player this morning?
Doodles: Yeah.
Me: Remember how angry I got?
Doodles: Yeah.
Me: Knock those candles over and I'll be even angrier.
Doodles: Why?
Me: Well, you knock this over, you could set the house on fire.
Doodles: But that's okay. The firemen will come.
Me: Maybe not in time.
Adam: And then all your toys would burn up.
Me: Like your Leapster! And your Legos.
Pie: [gleefully] And my microphone?
Me: Yep.
Pie: The blue one?
Me: Yep.
Pie: And the pink one?
Me [thinking, What pink one?]: Yep.
Pie: And the white one?
Me [thinking, Okay, there's definitely no white one]: Yep.
Pie: Okay.

Doodles: Is it time for Shabbat cookies?
Me: Eat your dinner.
Pie: Is it time for Shabbat cookies?
Me: Doodles needs to eat his dinner.

Pie, playing with the food on the plate: Who made this?
Me: I did.
Pie: Thank you.
Me: You're welcome.

Doodles: I finished my vegetable. Can I have my Shabbat cookie?
I hand out Shabbat cookies. Doodles devours his. Pie takes two bites and then eats some more chicken.

Two hours later, the kids are in bed. Probably asleep. Can't tell for sure. I kill off the bottle of wine. Sink into a comatose stupor. Swear I'm not going to bother with the trouble next week. Somehow forget that by the time the next Friday rolls around. Wait for the peace to hit. Wait for the peace to hit. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting....

Labels: doodles, jewish, pie

This past week has to have been one of the busiest ones yet. I feel like it was nonstop, and I'm not ready to collapse in a heap at my computer. What have I done? It's all a big blur.

Adam had a night out with friends, I had a night out with friends (hi Elizabeth! It was fun!), I had (have) a job I'm working on, a preschool project that I got suckered into doing, a family Shabbat dinner, a meet-up with a fellow blogger whom I'd never met before but was in Boston for a conference, a women's community Passover seder (no Passover hasn't started--this was a fun, feminist version that involved many tambourines). Throw in some boot camp, a bit o' running, and a zillion chores (dentist appointment? Made. Eye doctor appointment? Made. Camp for Doodles? Taken care of. Car inspection? Done.) and that's what I've been up to.

Oh, and our little trip to New York. But this time for a day. Eight whole hours. Yes, I know how fun that sounds. Surprisingly it was incredibly uneventful and actually quite a success. I almost hesitate to blog about it, because nothing untoward happened.

After not nearly enough sleep, I roused myself from slumber at 5:30 on Saturday morning. Slapped together some sandwiches, woke the rest of the family, and we were on the road by 6:15 a.m. The purpose of the trip was dual fold: My mom has a show up right now at Nohra Haime Gallery (that's it on the walls and on the table in the pic; if you're in NYC go see it--it's up till April 26) and there was a breakfast at 9 a.m. and we thought it would be fun to go to. And then the other reason is it was my dad's birthday (random aside: did anyone else realize that when your parent's age equals the year of your birth, your age will equal the year of his or her birth; so for instance, my dad turned 68. I was born in 1968. And this year I'll turn 40. My dad was born in 1940. Try it--it works).

We made the trip in 3 1/2 hours, having parked and made our way to the gallery by 10 a.m., and my father was dutifully surprised. We spent the morning at the Children's Museum of Manhattan, which was cute but nowhere near the level of the Boston Children's Museum. We had a fabulous deli lunch at Artie's (it's the kind of place that has pickles and slaw on the table for you a la Wolfie's), kids got their subway rides, and then hung out at my parents place. I walked around a bit, hit a flea market. We had cakes from Citarella. At about 6:30 p.m., we put kids in pjs and headed home. Both kids were passed out before we left the Bronx. We were home by 10 p.m.

I wish there was more to tell you. I wish we'd had a meltdown or two or Pie peed somewhere or something, but it was such a manageable trip, I'd consider doing it again.

Labels: doodles, my family, New York, pie

Me: Doodles! I told you! Stop throwing balls in the house!
Doodles: But Pie is doing it.
Me: Pie shouldn't be doing it either. But you're older and you know better.
Doodles: But Pie is telling me to throw balls. And I'm listening to her. Because she's my sister. And I love her.

At the YMCA, while changing out of swimming suits.
Pie, loudly, pointing finger out at another girl: Look, Mommy! She has a v*agina just like me!

The gate is closed on the kids' bedroom door. They're both exhausted and refuse to go to sleep. Pie cries. Doodles resorts to Rickey Henderson methods:
Doodles: Dad! It's Doodles calling! He needs some more water. Okay?

I'm making a hummus on pita sandwich for Doodles.
Pie: What are you spreading on his p*enis?

Pie: Mommy, cuddle me!
Me: Okay, sweetie!
Lots of snuggling. I even sneak in a few smooches.
Me: Ooh, who's my favorite Pie Pie? Who's my favorite little girl?
Pie: Me!
Me: And who's your favorite mommy?
Pie [with great big, soft, baby eyes looking up at me]: Daphne! Daphne is my favorite mommy! [Daphne is her friend A's mother]

Just this afternoon, we saw the mom and daughter playing outside, so we went over to play. I'm talking to the mom. Pie runs over from the swing set, with a big grin on her face.
Pie: Mommy?
Me: Yes, Pie?
Pie: Mommy, go home! Go home now!

It's good to be loved.

Labels: doodles, pie

Random things said to children on a Sunday night:
Pie, we don't put artichoke leaves on our ears. Pie, seriously. Pie, get the artichokes out of your ears now! Pie, you can't hide artichoke leaves in your hair, either. Pie!

No, Pie, you cannot sleep with your shalach manot.

Me: Doodles, you can't celebrate both Purim and Easter. You have to pick just one.
Doodles: Okay. I'll celebrate Easter.

Questions asked in the car on one thirty-five-minute ride from home to ice skating:

• Why does your shadow follow you?
  
• Why do babies wake up at night?
  
• Why do moms wear bras?
  
• What is that song about? [Song on radio: "Cruel to Be Kind"]
  
• Why is the world going to stop and melt? [Song on radio: "I'll Stop the World and Melt with You"]
  
• Why did the pharaohs get buried in the pyramids the Jewish slaves built?
  
• How do they make the pointy part on the top of the pyramid?
  
• Why do people die in boxes?
  
• Then who puts them in boxes?
  
• Some cars, they have DVD players in them, in the top, and the kids can watch them when they are in the car. Why don't we have a car like that?

Thing on shopping list that Adam insisted the Shaw's didn't carry:
Paper towels made out of recycled paper

The thing I bought three packs of the next day at Shaw's--on special! Buy one, get two free:
Paper towels made out of recycled paper

My week in Facebook status updates:

• Jenny is eating all of her daughter's "potty treats." Good thing there's no danger of her daughter using the potty anytime soon. 3:12pm
  
• Jenny is not sure where she's going to come up with a 4T sized king costume by 4 p.m. tomorrow.... 5:27pm
  
• Jenny can freakin' work miracles. 1:11pm
  
• Jenny is making an--ack--princess potty chart. 11:41am
  
• Jenny is laughing at Adam for not realizing that the "C" in YMCA meant it would be closed on Easter Sunday. 7:08am
  
• Jenny can't believe the things she obsesses about. 11:27pm
  
• Jenny would rather be in Paris. Cafe au lait anyone? 5:19am

Things that surprise Adam:
Pie: I want a Cinderella coloring sheet!
Adam: Look, there's one!
Pie: That's not Cinderella! That's Snow White!
Adam to me: She knows the difference between Cinderella and Snow White?!?

My typical Tuesday:

• Argue with Pie about getting into the car.
  
• 8:45 a.m. Argue with Pie about dropping Doodles off at school. No she cannot stay in the car by herself.
  
• Argue with Pie about holding hands crossing the street to go to singalong.
  
• Contemplate a detour to the orphanage.
  
• 10: 15 a.m. Tell Pie she can't order her friend, A, to dance with her, no matter how much Pie wants to dance with A and only with A.
  
• Tell Pie that no, A's mother cannot take Pie to the muffin shop because I am going to take Pie to the muffin shop.
  
• Lose Pie's shoe in the street on the way to the muffin shop, but don't realize that's why she's screaming because she's always screaming.
  
• Sheepishly remove shoe from street when a trucker yells to me, "Hey, your daughter lost her shoe."
  
• Notice teenlike smirk on Pie's face.
  
• Tell Pie that she has to come home with me, she cannot go home with A and her mother.
  
• Argue with Pie about how many pieces her muffin should be cut into.
  
• Consider letting Pie go home with A and conveniently "forgetting" to pick her up--for a week or two.
  
• Reassert with a little less conviction that Pie has to come home with me.
  
• Argue with Pie about taking juice into the car.
  
• Noon: Pick Doodles up from school.
  
• Argue with Pie about lack of snack provided a mere twenty minutes after her juice and muffin.
  
• Drive an extra twenty minutes to make sure Pie falls asleep.
  
• Relax with Doodles. Read a book. Play some Legos. Have lunch. Take a brief nap.
  
• 2:30 p.m. Pie wakes up. Change Pie. Feed Pie. Appease Pie. Pie Pie Pie Pie Pie.
  
• Take kids to swimming class.
  
• Sit alone for thirty glorious minutes.
  
• 5 p.m. Take kids to "Tasty Tuesday" at Whole Foods.
  
• Try to shush kids as they scream at the top of their lungs, "LOOK! THERE'S ANOTHER SAMPLE! GO, MOMMY, GO!!"
  
• Get out of Whole Foods with just two $97 bags full of groceries.
  
• 6:20 p.m. Get kids in bath.
  
• Argue with them about bubbles. "No bubbles!" insists Doodles. "BUBBLES!" insists Pie.
  
• Let them play/fight in the tub.
  
• Tolerate screaming while hair is washed.
  
• 6:45 p.m. Adam walks in. Hand over kids half bathed and hide in the office.
  
• Wonder if Adam could function if I decided to take the summer off to travel and do something that's easier than dealing with Pie, like cure cancer or end poverty.
  
• Spend one and a half hours trying to cajole Pie into bed.
  
• Kids sleep. I zonk.
  
• 9 p.m. Miss the kids. Consider waking them so I can cuddle with them.
  
• 9:01 p.m. Adam blocks stairs to keep me from making huge mistake.
  
• 11:45 p.m. Go to bed after working on top-secret preschool project that is taking way more time than I would have thought.
  
• 11:57 p.m. Set alarm for 5 a.m. Boot camp tomorrow!

Evidence Pie is ready for college:

• She prefers her pizza cold
  
• She's up at all hours
  
• She finds bodily functions hilarious
  
• You can't get that girl off her cell phone
  
• She's a little cliquish
  
• She's perfected the eye roll
  
• She binge eats
  
• She's got the moves

Watch out Dartmouth U Mass Middlesex Community College Blaine Beauty School!

Labels: doodles, parenting, pie

I've read a number of times that kids like boundaries. It helps them feel safe in the world. But no one has demonstrated that more the Pie. We're having a tough time with that monkey, but as she's both two and terrible, I'm hoping this is a phase she will outgrow. Our lives have become one big temper tantrum. The slightest thing will set her off and I'm at a little bit of a loss as to how to deal with it, as Doodles didn't go through this phase till he was three and a half and a little more capable of reasoning. (If anyone has any favorite books on this subject, suggest them, please!)

Anyway, as mentioned, she's in the big girl bed. Which is causing big girl problems. Because Pie has never gone to bed nicely, but at least before, she couldn't get up. Naps are nearly nonexistent unless I have a specific bribe/lie ("Oh, the rules at the YMCA are that anyone in the Seahorse swim class must take a nap before class. If you don't take the nap, the Y won't let you swim. Sorry, it's just the rules!"). But if I don't have that, forget it!

The other night was particularly bad. An hour and a half of top-of-her-lungs screaming as she wandered in and out of the bedroom. Finally, Adam threatened, "If you don't stay in bed, I'm going to put a gate on the door!"

Pie immediately stopped crying. "Want gate!"
Adam: You want a gate?
More screaming, but eventually, "Want gate!" More screaming ensued.

So Adam dutifully went to my office, which is gated off from grabby hands, and took the gate. He moved it to Pie and Doodles's door. Pie took one look at the gate, one look at us, then looked at the gate again. She then walked over to her bed, climbed in, and not another peep from her.

Frankly, I think it was all a big fat ploy for them to gain easy access to my office. Because that's just the kind of devious kids I've got. More power to them.

Labels: pie

Pie loves to "draw." Coloring, writing, whatever. Loves it. But I'm not crazy about her walking all over the house with open markers, so I generally confiscate them quickly when she's done, which doesn't go over so well. Luckily, she's into her Color Wonder markers, so we've found a happy medium as she can keep her own markers. But this causes other problems.

Pie: Mommy, I want to color.
Me: Okay.
Pie: Where my markers?
Me: I don't know. Where did you leave them?
Pie runs off. Comes back.
Pie: I can't find markers.
Me: Did you look in the playroom?
Pie: Not in playroom.
Me: Are you sure? Did you check your backpack?
Pie: Yes. Not in backpack.
Me: Are you sure? Your markers usually end up in your backpack.
Pie: THEY ARE NOT IN BACKPACK!!
Me: Okay, okay. It's just they're usually in your backpack.
Pie: NO! Can't find markers!!
Me: Well look again. I can help you search for them in a minute.
Pie: NO, NOW! I CAN'T FIND MARKERS! I NEED MARKERS!
Full-blown meltdown ensures. A good ten minutes of screaming, with me reminding her, "You get nothing when you have a temper tantrum" and her insisting, "I need markers!" Finally, I walk away and eventually she calms down on her own. Three minutes after that, she bounds cheerfully back into the living room.
Pie: Mommy, I found my markers!
Me: That's great, Pie Pie! Where were they?
Pie [with grin only Pie can deliver]: In my backpack.
Oh. Dear. Lord. That's 2 1/2. What am I going to get at 12?

Labels: pie

On the diaper-changing table (no, that girl is nowhere near potty trained, thanks for asking):

Pie: I'm not feeling [which is Pie's way of saying she's not feeling well]
Me: Oh, Sweetie! What's wrong?
Pie: I want somebody to make me feel better.
Me: Of course, Sweetie! What can I do to make you feel better?
Pie: No, not you! Somebody else.

Labels: pie

And there were three in the bed and the little on said, "Smoosh over!"

Labels: doodles, photos, pie

Adam is in London at the moment, which means the kids get extra TV, extra sweets, and they get to sleep in my bed. Hey, anything to stay on their good side! It wasn't my best night, although Doodles was such an amazingly helpful kid yesterday. Let me get work done. Helped out with his sister. But I did all sorts of brilliant things like put my pizza in the oven... and set the timer for 350. Couldn't figure out why the oven wasn't heating up.

So Pie went to bed last night, eventually, smack dab in the middle of the bed, "Don't touch my pillow!" wearing her Dora pajamas, her Dora slippers, her fleece vest, her thick sweater, Doodles's mittens (they were dry and hers were wet), clutching "Hippo the Patamus" and not one but two board books. It was a cozy night.

Of course this was only after the afternoon when I went to retrieve her from her swim class, and she looked up at me with such disdain and ordered, "Go away, Mommy! Go away."

If only I could, Pie. I only I could.

Only three more nights till Adam was back. Which wouldn't be quite so bad except that he hasn't taught Doodles how to make coffee yet. Caffeine!!!!

Labels: pie

When I was 26, I quit a good job, packed up all my belongings, spent three months driving cross country to reinvent myself. When I was settled in Seattle, I'd sometimes look at my life in wonder and think, "Wow, if I could that, I can do anything."

When I was 28, I spent six and a half months picking kiwis on a kibbutz and then I spent a month and a half idling my way through Eastern Europe. When I survived three weeks in Bulgaria, I really felt it was an accomplishment. "If I could make it through Bulgaria on my own," I thought, "I can do anything."

When at the age of 32 I let my guy friends pressure me into riding a single-day double-century bike ride from Seattle to Portland (previous bike ride length at that point: 16 miles), I can't begin to describe the feeling of elation I experienced when I, alone and tired after fourteen hours on a bike, crossed into Portland, Oregon. "I just freakin' rode my bike two hundred miles!" I thought. "I can do anything!"

When at the age of 36, with a fourteen-month-old son, I completed my first marathon, I thought I was a rock star. Sure, it took me over five hours, but I did it. "I ran twenty six point two miles!" I thought. "There is absolutely nothing I can't achieve."

Last week I pushed my boundaries. I left my kids for the first time, I cross-country skied for the first time, I ran in seven degree weather. You guys all know how macho I felt. I am a freakin' woman of steel.

Until. And then. Except.

Somehow, somewhere, for some reason, I decided it was a good idea to take my two children--my two-and-a-half-year-old toddler and my four-and-a-half-year-old preschooler--to New York City. In a car. By myself. For fun.

I have discovered that thing that I cannot do: I cannot survive thirty-six hours alone with my children.

I am broken.

But let me start at the beginning of this debacle. Doodles has been obsessed with Egypt, pharaohs, and pyramids for a long time now. Remember his birthday party? So I got this great idea (please read "great" dripping with sarcasm) of taking him to the Metropolitan Museum to visit the Temple of Dendur. "Wanna go to New York?" I asked him casually. "YES!!!!" came the resounding response.

Truth be told, I dilly dallied on the whole thing. I checked with my parents (who live in NYC part-time) and my sister (who lives there full-time, but works a hectic schedule) if they'd be around. I checked the weather. Hmmm, looks like snow. I thought about it. And then I realized, "This is a really stupid idea." I basically told everyone we weren't coming. "That's probably a good idea," my parents told me. My mother had foot surgery and has been hobbling around on a cane, not ideal for sightseeing with little ones. My sister would be teaching all day. Both my parents are currently spending a lot of their time searching for a bigger apartment.

Alas, the road to insanity is paved with stupid ideas (that's how the expression goes, right?). On Wednesday morning, I was poking around Priceline. It was a gorgeous morning and I thought, "I can handle this!" so before I could come to my senses: Boom! I've booked us a room for two nights in New York.

That's when the panic started. I called Adam, "What the F was I thinking? I can't do this!"

"Don't go," he said.

"I already paid for the hotel room."

"So what? We can eat the cost if we have to."

But I, for one, am never one to "eat the cost," frugal soul that I have, so while Doodles was at a playdate, I frantically packed us up, sinking ever deeper into a depression over my recklessness. After all, what does a four-and-a-half-year-old ever remember? Take a kid on a thousand dollar vacation to Paris, and what he'll talk about is the bug he found crawling across his shoe at the Parisian playground.

So I sent Doodles off on a playdate and I packed up as fast as I could, trying to anticipate everything they'd need. It would have helped if I had tried to anticipate what I might have needed--in which case socks and deodorant might have made their way into my bag, and yes, I was a wee bit ripe by the end of the trip. Yet I wanted to keep everything to my one bag, their ice skating bag (I had visions of Wollman rink), plus toys in each of their backpacks. And a bag of snacks for the car.

The trip down was pretty uneventful. I picked up Doodles from his playdate and cleared up the confusion ("You're taking him to New York to see the temple where the Jews pray?" I clarified it was where the Egyptians prayed, but he didn't quite believe me). Pie slept for about an hour and a half and woke in relatively good spirits. Doodles was thrilled to get Triscuits--Triscuits!!--from a vending machine. Neither one got at all fussy till we'd already hit the Bronx. Including the one bathroom/vending machine stop, we made the trip in just barely over four hours. Found the hotel with no problem. Parking was just two blocks away. Trip is already a success!

We hop a subway to head to my parents' apartment. Pie utters the comment she is to make every time we get onto the subway, "I LIKE the subway!" and Doodles scrambles for a window seat, despite my repeated insistence that we are underground and there is nothing to see! "Yes there is!" he insists. "Look! A wall!"

Dinner a Benny's Burritos (the West Village one) is fine, although surprise surprise both kids make a dinner of chips. We leave my parents at about seven to head back to the hotel. "I LIKE the subway!" "I need a window seat!"

Out of the subway. Walking back to the hotel. And then it starts. The screams. "I want to go home!!!!" I assure Pie we'll be back at the hotel in minutes. "No, HOME! I want to go home! RIGHT NOW!" For two blocks the munchkin is screaming and she won't be appeased till we get back to the room and I turn on the TV. I make up a lovely nest for them on the floor--they're so excited to sleep on the sleeping bag!--and in three seconds, they've happily ensconced themselves in the bed. So much for spacious living. Of course, Pie is incapable of falling asleep without some tears, and she cries for about thirty minutes, while I lie right next to her, ignoring her as I read my book. It's really the only thing to do.

And then, they're all asleep. It's not easy to sleep with the two monkeys next to me. They end up head to head with each other, all cozied up, and then the next thing I feel is four little feet kicking my side as they're lying perpendicular to me. But at least I can stop worrying about one of them falling out of the bed and I can drift off...

...until 2 a.m. Which is when the screaming started. Did you guys know that there is no toddler-appropriate TV on at 2 a.m.? Really! I know it's shocking. I didn't know how to calm the munchkin who has not only woken me and her brother, but I'm pretty sure is waking the whole hotel. So for an hour, she gets to watch The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. It was the most appropriate thing I could find.

At 4 a.m., she drifts off into sleep, and I'm determined to eat the second night's hotel cost and head back. Yet, at 8 a.m., when everyone is awake, I feel delirious from lack of sleep and think, "We can make it one more night. Right?"

Surprisingly, the day was somewhat of a success. The kids loved the Met. Doodles was fascinated by the mummies and the Temple of Dendur and Pie seemed to enjoy the Degas collection (one of her favorite books is Dancing with Degas). My mother met us for a bit and Tweeds came when my mom left. We had lunch at the museum and when Tweeds had to go to work, the kids and I took a bus down a ways ("I LIKE the bus!") and I let them go hog wild in Dylan's Candy Bar.

Back at the hotel room around 3, and there were no complaints when I let them gorge themselves on their candy and watch PBS. Pie was tired--I didn't bring a stroller out with us--but she revived quickly when presented with chocolate. I didn't revive quite so quickly. The wear and tear of corralling those two through the museum ("Don't touch that! Don't wander off! No, you can't eat in the museum! No I won't buy that! Don't touch! Don't touch! DON'T TOUCH!") took a toll on me and all I could do was let them rest so that I could have a minute of downtime ("Mommy are you going to sleep? No, Mommy!" Pie says laughing. "You have to wake up! WAKE UP, MOMMY!!") We met my parents for dinner again and Pie told them her favorite part of the day was, "I like the Degas," and Doodles told them, "I got to watch TV... during the day!"

On Friday a snow storm was predicted so I wanted to get out of town nice and early. It was nothing major--just two to four inches--but I figured why risk traffic and snow. Of course, by the time we woke up at 6:45 a.m., three inches had already fallen and five to seven inches was expected, so I rushed the kids through their hotel breakfast ("Can I have a yogurt? Can I have an orange? Can I have more cereal? Can I have a bagel with cream cheese? Can I have another waffle?" and "Just a waffle for me. Okay a little cereal. No milk in it!"), and I managed to trudge through the snow with Pie in the stroller, the skate bag around my neck ("Why didn't we go ice skating?" "Uh, I took you for candy instead." "Okay!"), the clothing bag also around my neck, and the diaper bag hanging precariously as I discovered that, no, a $10 umbrella stroller cannot make it through the corner snow banks. But we got back to the car, and headed out in the mess.

The trip home was painfully slow--I skidded a few times on I-95, the snow was so bad--and the kids were edgy. At one point, I'm on the Triboro bridge, looking for signs for the Bruckner expressway. I'm trying desperately to see through the snowy fog and the moron car in front of me doesn't have his lights on, making him nearly invisible. The snow is coming down fast, and I need to make sure I don't accidentally head toward the George Washington bridge. I've shushed the kids as I'm trying to not skid across the road, but I keep hearing a "Mommy! Mommy. MOMMY!" and finally I yell back, "What, Pie? I'm trying to concentrate here," and she asks, "Can you open my window?" and then adds, "Pleeeeaaaase?"

The "No," didn't go over that well. So she then turns to her brother: "Doodles? Doodles! DOOOOODLES! Are you awake, Doodles?" As if he had a choice.

Just over five hours later, we've arrived home. Of course, I needed to shovel my way into the driveway, as the storm followed us, but soon we were inside, ready to collapse. Pictures, by the way, are posted.

Would I do it again? Sure. In three years. With a nanny. And a lobotomy.

Labels: doodles, my family, New York, pie

I love my daughter to death. I know that there's nothing in this world she can't do. But, but, but... Right now she spends all her time, with a notebook and "pencil" (read: pens) in hand, scribbling. All day. All over the place. "I want to draw!" she says and she creates these pages of scribble. "How do you spell your name?" she asks me, Adam, and Doodles, and then she scribbles. "What do you want for lunch?" she asks, taking our order and then she scribbles. She's left-handed, so she has that odd writing hunch as she scribbles. She can sit for a good hour scribbling. She fills notebooks up with these tiny little scribbles. Today we call her Pie. Tomorrow we'll call her Unabomber. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Labels: pie

I cut my finger last week. Not a big deal. A little bloody, but minor. But the thing is it's on my thumb and as such I keep hitting it and it's not getting better, so I've been putting Neosporin on it and stuck a Band-Aid on. Which is kind of like pasting a flashing neon sign on myself that says, "Please, ask me about my cut. Again. And again. And again. And again..."

Pie: What's that?
Me: I cut myself.
Pie: How?
Me: With a knife.
Pie: Why?
Me: Because I was careless.
Pie: So you cut yourself?
Me: Yes.
Pie: With a knife?
Me: Yes.
Pie: Why do you have a Band-Aid? [Repeat ad nauseam]

And then, the coup de grace: On Sunday morning, I got up early and without thinking I grabbed a Band-Aid and stuck it on. It wasn't until it was out of the paper that I realized my error: I had grabbed a Sponge Bob Band-Aid.

Pie: What's that?
Me: A Band-Aid.
Doodles: Is that a Sponge Bob Band-Aid???
Me: Yes.
Doodles: Why do you have a Sponge Bob Band-Aid?
Me: I took it by mistake.
Doodles: I LOVE Sponge Bob!
Me: What do you possibly know of Sponge Bob? You're not allowed to watch it.
Doodles: I LOVE Sponge Bob. Can I have a Band-Aid?
Me: No.
Pie: Can I have a Band-Aid?
Me: No.
Doodles and Pie: I WANT A BAND-AID!

Luckily I was running a half marathon that morning so I only had to deal with the Band-Aid bandits' demands for a mere three hours before being dropped off in Hampton, New Hampshire. I met up with my friends from my boot camp class, although I knew I wasn't as prepared for the race as they were, so I chose not to run with them and ran with a friend from my Saturday running group who assured me she'd be going slowly but still beat me by a good minute (Hi A.M.! Good run!). The race itself was pretty good--not too hilly, nice scenery, lots of the run was on the coast--but the weather wasn't great. Started off chilly, but nice, in the lower 30s. By about mile 8 the rain started. By mile 9 it turned into a heavy snow that kept flying into my eyes. By the end, I was jonesing for both the soup and beer waiting for me. But I did much better than I had thought I would--I ran it in 1:54:34--although I was sore for a good two days after.

Anyway, after the race Adam and the kids and my in-laws met up with me, and we all went out for a nice lunch at the Old Salt. Doodles has made HUGE strides in his feeding group, and he will now eat a fish stick or two, which means our dining options have grown. So we went for lunch where I smell (no showers after the run), Doodles is eating fish sticks, and Pie is trying to choke herself with my medal. Halfway through the meal, I look down and comment to Adam, "Um, my Band-Aid is gone and I have no idea where it is." But the highlight was when Doodles hopped up from his seat and proclaimed loudly enough for the next five tables to hear: "I need to poop!"

Adam quickly shuffles him toward the bathroom, and I can hear him calling loudly, "I have poop inside me! I also have--"

Adam quickly cut him off with "We can talk about it when we get in the bathroom."

So of course, in the bathroom, Doodles completes that thought: "I also have sperm inside me."

(Note, I've tried explaining to him that, no, he doesn't have sperm in him yet, but that conversation has gone nowhere fast.)

So now I'm sore. Doodles has sperm. And, for the record, Adam found my Band-Aid. In the wash.

And no. You can't have a Band-Aid, either.

Labels: doodles, pie, sporty mom

Pie has some very strong opinions... (Contact me if you don't have the password. If I know you--or know of you--I'm happy to give it to you.)

Labels: pie

In case you were wondering, peeing on the bath mat before climbing into the bathtub does not, repeat not, earn you a potty treat. I don't care how loudly you yell.

Labels: pie

When Pie has a temper tantrum, I've learned to just walk away. They come fast, they come furious, they come frequently. Every little thing turns into a temper tantrum. If I walk away, the tantrum will eventually end and things can proceed as they were. Except...

Except...

Except it's no longer just me that Pie has to break. It's not longer me who has to stick with the "When you have a temper tantrum, you get nothing" rule. Because now there is Doodles. And Doodles can't stand to see his sister in distress.

Pie was having a meltdown. I can't remember over what. It could have been a) because I forgot and smooched her b) because she wanted a yogurt and couldn't be bothered to ask me in a normal tone of voice c) because she wanted 2-3-4-5 pencils and I only gave her 1-2-3 and then I took them away when I realized she was using them to write in Doodles's books d) because she breathes or e) none of the above. The rule in our house is, you have the right to have a temper tantrum. But I also have the right to not listen to the temper tantrum so you must do it in the playroom. If you won't do it in the playroom, you will be put upstairs and the gate will be closed until you are done.

So Pie was tantruming. Rather than put her upstairs, I decided to retreat to upstairs, to sit in a chair and leaf through a magazine till she was done. I offered to have Doodles come with me, but he opted to stay downstairs with his sister. Sitting upstairs, I could hear the conversation:

"Look, Pie!" I can hear from top of the stairs. "It's a creepy crawler! You've got creepy crawlers!" (Creepy crawlers being one of Pie's favorite games.)

Pie: Waaaaaaa!

Doodles: Don't cry, Pie! It's okay! It's really okay! Look, Pie Pie! Creeeepy crawlers! There are creepy crawlers on your arm.

I come back downstairs and Doodles pulls me aside and loudly whispers in my ear, "Just give her what she wants!"

A couple of days later, she's having a tantrum because she wants a third yogurt of the day. Those yogurts are so sugary sweet that I of course said no. I retreated to my office while she screamed. Yet, suddenly, the cries suspiciously end. I mean immediately. I of course hurry back to the kitchen where I see the refrigerator open and hear Doodles asking, "Now, what would you like Pie Pie?"

Pie's favorite words are "I can't do it." Walk to the car? "I can't do it." Put on her jacket? "I can't do it." Feed herself lunch? "I can't do it." Yet, on the food issue, Pie's found herself a new sucker. Doodles, apparently, doesn't realize that the girl won't starve if she misses a meal. Hell, she eats about fifteen of them a day (nonstop, all day. "Snack, Mommy!" We set a new record last week. Hard-boiled egg at 7 a.m. Two bowls containing four kinds of cereal with milk at 7:30 a.m. Carnation Instant Breakfast milk at 8 a.m. Strawberries at 8:20 a.m. And then, in the car to preschool at 8:40 a.m., she starts whining as if she hasn't been fed in weeks, "Mommy! I need a snack! Mommy, I'm hungry!"). Last week was no exception. I gave Pie a bowl of mac and cheese. She demanded to be fed. I refuse, walking into the kitchen to get my own lunch. I expect to hear screams, but I don't. And walking back in, I discover why. It's because Doodles is standing precariously on the edge of his chair, leaning across the table to delicately shovel macaroni and cheese into his sister's mouth (quote of the day: "I don't think that one wanted to be eaten, Pie. That's why it fell onto the floor. Because it didn't want to be eaten."). And Pie is happily allowing her brother to feed her.

On one hand, I want to commend him for being such a great big brother. On the other, I want to make him deal with her every temper tantrum if he's going to encourage them. If you're looking for me, I'm hiding upstairs. No. Seriously.

Labels: doodles, pie

That devil has found new and unusual ways to torture me. There's the straightforward approach:

Before nap time, we have debates on whether or not she should change into her pajamas. She wins. Gets into pajamas.:

Pie: I ready for nap.
Me: You're tired?
Pie: Yeah.
Me: That's great! So no crying?
Pie [squinching up face in her Pie way]: No, Sweetie cry.
Me: But you're tired!
Pie: Yes.
Me: But you're going to cry?
Pie: Yes.
Me: Why will Sweetie cry?
Pie: Because Sweetie cry and Mommy and Daddy get sad.
Me: So maybe you won't cry?
Pie: No. Sweetie cry. So Mommy and Daddy get sad.

But then there's the insidious ways she inflicts her sadistic her persecution. Because Sweetie? She's figured out the thing that will get me at the core. The thing that will bring me to my knees. My Sweet Sweetie Pie, my little butterball, my little beauty, well... Sweetie had become Smoochless Sweetie.

That's right. My little one has cut me off from the thing that makes parenting worthwhile: those little pecks of the lips.

I'm not even sure how it started, but it's evolved to this:
Adam: Time to give Mommy a good-night smooch.
Pie: Okay.
Me: It's nighty-night time for Sweetie Pie!
[I lean in. Pie's hand shoots in front of her face]
Pie: No smooch! High five.
And so Pie gets a bedtime high five now.
She got me once when she was procrastinating. Adam came back downstairs.
Adam: She wants her smooch after all.
Pie: Smooch, Mommy!
Pie starts to move her mouth around in the our tradition of "warming up" the mouth for a smooch. I start to warm up my mouth. She leans toward me with a big pucker. I lean in and get within centimeters of her face when she jumps back.
Pie: NO!
The hand goes flying up.
Pie: High five.

If I want to piss her off--which, yes, I occasionally want to do--I give her a smooch. "No!! No smooch! No smooch!" and she vigorously wipes it off. I like to taunt her, "Oh no, Sweetie! You still have a bit of smooch there!" I start wiping her face. "Oh, you missed a spot there!" She starts wiping. "There's still smooch on me!" she'll wail until her face has been sufficiently scrubbed. It's my new form of punishment: Pie, if you don't behave, I'm going to smooch you! Works every time.

Labels: pie

Doodles was having his m