the pieces of my life

I want to blog today, I really do. But Sweetie Pie doesn’t want me to. Every time I sit down to type, she perks right up and starts to fuss. I will post eventually today… but it could be closer to tomorrow.

I deserve a freakin’ medal for not hauling back and whacking this old lady. Doodles and I were having A Day. You know it was One of Those Days days. It started with trying to get him out of the house to run some errands at Target.

“Pants off?” he asked, starting to tug at the waistband.

“No, sweetie, we need to go out. Pants on.”

“Pants off!” he now demanded. Luckily the pants have a snap and zipper, as he can get elastic-waisted pants on his own.

This goes back and forth for ten minutes. Desperate I look out the window. Our across-the-street neighbors, ages 3 and 4, are playing outside. “Look, Doodles! Connor and Cole are wearing pants! Do you want to go say hi to Connor and Cole?”

I did manage to get the three of us out of the house. At Target, Doodles was given a choice: “Doodles, do you want to sit in the front or back of the cart?” (I’m wearing Sweetie Pie who is happily drifting in and out of sleep through this whole thing.)

“Back.”

“Okay, but that means you need to sit down. You cannot stand in the back of the cart because it is not safe.”

This is fine and for an entire five minutes, Doodles sits in the back. But then, in the middle of the sheet aisle, Doodles stands.

“Doodles, you need to sit.”

“No.”

“Doodles, you need to sit down or–” Hmmm. What’s my “or” going to be? It’s not to go home, because he’d be delighted with that, and I’m not trekking the three of us back out again when we’re already here.

Doodles looks at me expectantly. “Doodles, you must sit down or you’ll be strapped into the front of the cart. Doodles, you can’t stand. It’s not safe.”

“I want to!”

This goes on for a few minutes before I physically lift the child out of the back of the cart, force him into the cart’s seat, and manage to get the strap around him, all while making sure Sweetie Pie doesn’t get crushed.

As you can well imagine, this did not sit well with Doodles, who proceeded to let out the Howl to End All Howls. It was the Howl Heard ‘Round the World. It was one of those legendary meltdowns that you read about in parenting magazines and horror stories, but never experience for yourself. Doodles is screaming, tears streaming down his face, and I blithesomely push the cart, determined to go about my business.

I’m searching for another twin waterproof mattress pad, doing my damndest to ignore the tantruming monkey strapped to the cart right in front of me, when this older woman looks at me worriedly. Finally, she speaks. “I can give you money if you need it to buy him some food.”

Huh? Does my child look hungry? My roly-poly carb-addicted toddler is quite well fed and it’s hard to miss. Does this woman think that I’m simply starving my child?

“He’s fine, thank you,” I say with as much chill as I can put in my voice. I continue down the aisle but she persists.

“You really shouldn’t let him cry like that,” she tells me. “It will only make him angrier.”

And remarkably, instead of shrieking, “Go f— yourself, you old cow!” I merely seethed, “He’ll be just fine,” and wheeled away to the toy aisle, where three minutes with a noise-making toy calmed him right down.

If any of you are thinking of giving advice to a frustrated mom, let me help you out here. DON’T!!

Whenever the phone rings, I tense up and think, “Who the freak is calling me at this hour?” Doesn’t matter what that hour is, any hour is the wrong time to call me, and I will sound grumpy and cranky even if you’re calling to tell me I won Publisher’s Clearinghouse.

Here’s when not to call us:
6 a.m. to 8 a.m.: Adam is still home from work and he’s watching Doodles and Sweetie Pie while I either grab a quick run and a shower or am trying to make up a little of the sleep deprivation by staying in bed for a few minutes longer. Don’t call then because I’ll either be not home or asleep.
9 a.m. to 10 a.m.: Definitely don’t call then. Because I’m frantically trying to get one or both of my children out the door to some playgroup/music class/playground/gymnastics class, and I’m trying to put Doodles shoes on, but he’s having a meltdown screaming, “I do it self!! I do it self!!” and Sweetie Pie is screaming because I’m not holding her, and I haven’t had any breakfast yet, I’m in dire need of a cup of decaf (which psychologically makes me feel better), and I really have to pee.
10 a.m. to noon: We’re not home. We’re out somewhere. Anywhere. Because if we don’t go out, I will let my toddler watch five straight hours of TV, and apparently, that’s a no-no.
Noon: If you call now, I’ll just ignore the ringing phone, as I’m trying to appease my child who wants the “other yogurt” for lunch, when he’s got the very last yogurt in the house in front of him, and even then I’m ignoring the fact that it’s three weeks past its pull date. I’m trying to eat whatever leftovers I was able to scrounge up while bouncing Sweetie Pie in my other arm, because she doesn’t want to be put down.
12:30 to 1: I’m putting Doodles down for his nap, which requires a fight over whether he’s going to walk up the stairs himself or if I’m going to carry him. If I’m lucky, Sweetie Pie is asleep in her swing. If I’m not, I’ve got her under one arm while I’m dragging Doodles with the other. There’s diaper change, story, and then nap.
1 to 3ish: Sweetie needs to be walked. Back and forth and back and forth. I listen to Doodles over the monitor as he chats to himself, occasionally calling out, “Mommy! Wiggles time!” I mentally will Doodles to sleep and try to soothe Sweetie to sleep so I can get a little shut eye myself. Doodles falls asleep, but Sweetie Pie doesn’t… at least not until five minutes before Doodles wakes up.
3 to 3:20: Repeat of 9 to 10 but in a shorter time frame because I need to get the kids to the playground and it’s getting dark very, very early these days.
3:20 till dark (about 4:30 these days): Not a good time to call. Because I’m wearing Sweetie in my carrier and chasing Doodles who has left the playground to run up and down the hill. I just pray he doesn’t take off for the street before I can get to him and that I don’t do permanent damage to Sweetie’s little head as I try to run with her in the carrier.
dark to 5: I walk us home. Slllllooooowly to kill time. There are many hills. Don’t call me. I’ll be out of breath.
5 to 6: Plant Doodles in front of Wiggles and Elmo’s World (he doesn’t like the rest of Sesame Street). Frantically try to calm Sweetie enough that I can put her down to make dinner. Give up at 5:30 and figure out what I can make that doesn’t involve the stove or oven because I can’t use either when wearing Sweetie in my carrier.
6 to 7: Don’t call, it’s family time! Adam’s home! Get dinner on the table, have family meal, rush through so Adam can get Doodles bathed and ready for bed while I try to clean as much as I can before Sweetie’s fussy hour.
7 to 9 p.m.: Whoops, didn’t make it! Sweetie Pie is a wreck. She’s screaming and needs to be walked and walked and walked. Sometimes this involves a trip outside in fresh air. Sometimes it just involves pacing the living room. While theoretically you could call now, there’s no point, as I can’t hear you over the screaming.
9 p.m.: I want to go to bed. I’m tired and cranky. Sweetie is finally quiet so I take her upstairs so we can both go to sleep.
9 to 11 p.m.: Sweetie Pie alternates nursing and screaming till she finally passes out. I too pass out, knowing I’ll be back up in three to four hours. Don’t call now; I’m trying to sleep.

I tried to figure out if there was a time when I would willingly receive phone calls and there is. Those five minutes when Doodles is happily, finally eating his yogurt and Sweetie is calm on me. If you can find those moments, call me. If you can’t, drop me an e-mail. Only please don’t expect me to reply. At least not in the near future. Because the same day that doesn’t allow me to prop a phone under my ear, certainly doesn’t allow for any activities that would require the use of two hands. Because one of those hands is trying to keep the baby’s head from flopping, while I’m dodging projectile spit up and the other is in a stranglehold on my toddler, trying to keep him from destroying, well, the world.

I realize from here on out I no longer need to think of what to write in my blog. I can simply transcribe the conversations I have with Doodles.

In the car:

Doodles: What time is it?
Me: [startled] What?
Doodles: What time is it?
Adam and I look at each other and shrug.
Me: It’s 1:47
[pause]
Doodles: What time is it?
Me: It’s still 1:47
Doodles: What time is it?
Adam: It’s now 1:48
[pause]
Doodles: What time is it?
Me: It’s still 1:48
[pause]
Doodles: Wiggles time?
Me: No
[pause]
Doodles: What time is it?

At the breakfast table:
Adam: Doodles, what do you want for breakfast?
Doodles: Cereal bar.
Adam: Which cereal bar?
Doodles: Green cereal bar.
[Adam brings out the green cereal bar.]
Doodles: No! Other green cereal bar.
Adam: This is the only green cereal bar we have.
[Minor temper tantrum ensues. I intervene and pull out one of every type of bar we have, which is about seven.]
Me: Doodles, which bar do you want?
Doodles: Other cereal bar! Other cereal bar!
Me: There are no other cereal bars! Do you want Os?
Doodles: No.
Me: Do you want Kix?
Doodles: No.
Me: Do you want Cheerios?
Doodles: No.
Me: Do you want Squares?
Doodles: No.
Me: Do you want to starve?
Doodles: Yeah.
Me [to Adam]: He wants to starve.
Doodles: Starve! Starve! I want starve!
Me [realizing that Doodles is under the impression that “starve” is a type of food, I rummage through the freezer to find some food he hasn’t seen before and find some rugelach, which I warm up]: Here Doodles. [I place the rugelach on his plate.] This is starve. Enjoy it.
Doodles [very upset now, shoves the rugelach back at me]: Other starve!! I want other starve!

Doodles language is growing in leaps and bounds. Some of the recent highlights:

–We sing a song in Tot Shabbat called “Shalom Haverim”, which is a hello song in which we sing shalom to all the kids. And Doodles likes to sing it at home. But he sings exactly what he hears: “Shalom, Halloween. Shalom, Halloween. Shalom! Shalom!”
–Doodles loves his nursery rhymes book. He always asks for the “Humpty Humpty” book.
–He sings “Rainbow Connection”. There’s nothing cuter than hearing him sing, “Rainbows are visions, but only illusions.” I can’t translate the adorableness of his pronunciation, but trust me, it’s way cute.
–He’s speaking in more complex sentences, using up to five words in a sentence.
–We have a house cleaner who speaks Portuguese. As many of you may know, “Oy,” in Portuguese, is “Hello.” Doodles adores our house cleaner and when he heard her say, “Oy,” on the phone, he picked it up. “Oy! Oy! Oy!” he tootled. Who knew our little Doodles would pick up his Yiddish from a Brazilian?
–In the morning, Adam takes care of Doodles. Every now and then, Doodles wakes up very early. “Milk?” Doodles asks. “Doodles,” Adam says, “let’s sleep longer. It’s still early.” And then Doodles proves that he is the master manipulator and says, “Doodles use potty?” which of course gets Adam up and running only to get downstairs and have Doodle flash his killer smile and say, “Milk?”
–Life is now running commentary from him. He’s either telling you about every detail of his day (“Doodles go sleep on pillow!”), he’s making nonstop inquires about the world around him (“What’s that? Who’s that?”), or he’s making his desires crystal (“I don’t like that!” “I want to!” and our favorite, “I don’t want to!” all of course said with a lilting whine).

Hannah brought her new boyfriend over for brunch last Sunday. Hannah is one of my favorite people and I enjoy spending time with her, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she brings me Peeps. My brother-in-law often brings me Peeps, too. I’m quite fond of my brother-in-law as well.

“You have everyone trained! Halloween rolls around and they all think, ‘Must bring Jenny Peeps!'” Adam said.

“I haven’t trained them well enough,” I complained. “Because at Valentine’s Day, fourth of July, Christmas, and Easter, they should all think ‘Must bring Jenny Peeps!’ as well.”

Some of my other favorite people don’t bring me Peeps. And while all favorite people are created equal, those who bring Peeps are more equal than others.

Halloween candy sucks. Big time! They make those packages so tiny! I mean, how are three Whoppers ever enough? Or one bite of a Milky Way? You need to eat about twelve of them to get a meaningful taste. And that’s half the bag. Like I said, Halloween candy sucks. From now on, it’s Costco-sized candy for me!

The differences between Doodles and Sweetie Pie:
–Doodles was an orange on a toothpick; Sweetie Pie is a pea on a tree trunk (Doodles as a baby was generally in the 5th percentile for length, 20th percentile for weight, and 75th percentile for head size; Sweetie’s head size is in the 25th percentile, but she’s in the 90th percentile for both weight and length)
–For Doodles, the swing was the magic sleeping swing of love. For Sweetie Pie, my baby carrier is the magic baby carrier of love.
–By now, Doodles had lost most of his hair; Sweetie Pie’s hair is only getting longer.
–Both were/are into the side of their hands. Doodles sucked on his voraciously until he found his first finger; whenever her hand accidentally strays near her mouth, Sweetie Pie goes to town.

The similarities between Doodles and Sweetie Pie:
–Both had serious hair when they were born.
–Both actively disliked their father at some point (Sweetie Pie currently screams bloody murder when Adam holds her; Doodles used to do the same)
–Neither one could/can stand a pacifier. Doodles wouldn’t put up with it and Sweetie Pie wails and screams every time I come within two feet of her with a pacifier. (Why do I want her to take a pacifier? Two reasons: 1) Current thinking is that sleeping with a pacifier helps prevent SIDS and 2) I hate having my breast used as a pacifier all night.)
–Both were/are the cutest babies ever (sorry to all my mom friends out there, but you know how it is!)

The best thing about keeping this blog is having a written record to throw back into Adam’s face. “Doodles never cried like that!” he said, desperately trying to console Sweetie Pie. (Yeah, remember November 2003?) “Doodles didn’t have any issues with me!” he complains as Sweetie Pie calms down the second he hands her to me. And I can just point to the archives and say, “Um, hello??” Amazing how quickly you forget those first few months. Sweetie Pie’s first few weeks are already a real blur. Time to get on the ball with baby #3. (Do you hear that piercing noise? It’s Adam shrieking, “Nooooooo!”)