Two Legs in One Leg Hole

Peanut and the Cuddle Bear started gymnastics two weeks ago. Peanut played soccer last fall (and was excellent, I might add), but when I took her to a gymnastics expo this summer, her face turned pink and her eyes lit up, and she was transfixed as I have never seen. So gymnastics it is.

Normally my policy is "no organized activities before age five." But the Cuddle Bear has become clearly fed up over the years with being dragged constantly to everyone else's activities. Princess's therapist actually suggested I put her in something. I'm not sure why- maybe because the Cuddle Bear was finding more and more clever ways to sneak into the play therapy room? I don't know. So the problem was what to put her in. She can't try soccer until she's 5 1/2, the only ballet class for children that young was at Princess's studio (and if I saw the Big Green Monster at the gymnastics studio, just watch me put someone else in hers), and the other option is "Creative Movement." I have an issue with "Creative Movement," because it cost just as much as everything else, and the Cuddle Bear does enough "Creative Movement" on her own for free.

Fortunately, the gymnastics studio accepts 4-year-olds. There's one on the performance team, even; she looks like a wet noodle. I don't believe that child has any cartilage in her.

After the first session, it became apparent that gymnastics is Peanut's calling. She was focused, she listened to her coach, she memorized every minute muscle detail her coach described. She even stood more maturely. By the next week, she could do a back bend from standing:

Then, on the other end of the spectrum is the Cuddle Bear. The Cuddle Bear spent close to an hour half-heatedly jumping back and forth over a hoop. Why? Because the coach is already onto her and figured out that the Cuddle Bear could do it right if she wanted to.

The Cuddle Bear: "I don't want to do this anymore."
Coach: "Then do it right."
TCB: "I want to do something else."
Coach: "Then do one right."

I think I'm going to like this woman.

The Cuddle Bear- performing a half-hearted hoop-jump:

I don't know what's up with the shorts. I am 87% sure I didn't put them on that way. Apparently pre-cartwheels have the power to shove both your legs through one shorts leg hole.

What Thirty Dollars Can Buy

I neeeeeever pay full price for anything. It pains me, even, to pay less than 40% off. I don't particularly like Halloween, and I've led a staunch war against licensed characters through four childhoods.

So what happened?

I walked past the rack the first time, saying no before the Cuddle Bear could formulate the question, like any good mom. Then I stopped. And went back. I picked it up. I thought, nooooo, that is really irresponsible.

And then I put it in the cart.

Because here's the thing. I knew she would love it, would wear it until it fell off her body in shreds. And, though I'm careful not to do much spoiling because she's my last baby, well, she's my last baby. Next year, she'll be a serious and professional kindergartner, and a lot that I find charming about her now will be charming in a different way, never to return.

So, for you viewing pleasure:

It was worth every penny.

Fighting the Balance of Nature

Everything in nature strives for balance. And apparently the natural balance of my household is five people who use the toilet. Because, of course, just after writing a celebratory post about Princess is the time I discover that Peanut has not been wearing und.erwear.

Why? Because she doesn't have any left.

Friday is usually Kiddo Laundry Day, so in many alternate universes running out of un.derwear would be excusable. It would be excusable in this universe as well, except that in this universe, Peanut has FOURTEEN PAIRS OF UND.ERWEAR.

So, the only conclusion to draw is that she is bringing nature back into balance.

Oddly, I have handled four years of Princess's anti-toilet behavior (mostly) in a stride. But Peanut performing the semi-typical behavior of wetting her pants because she doesn't want to be bothered to stop what she's doing to participate in basic hygiene is making me lose. my..... whatever.

The Und.erwear that Wasn't losing of the whatever happened last night at bedtime. Which, incidentally did not a peaceful bedtime make. This morning when Peanut wanted to get dressed, she asked me for un.derwear. I stared at her. "Peanut, we talked about this last night. You haven't been using the toilet as much as you should so you are OUT OF UND.ERWEAR!!!!"

"But it's morning now."

(Long pause for more staring) "Peanut, how do you think your und.erwear gets clean again? Do you think it dances out of your hamper at night, twirling and pirouetting to Tchaikovsky as it goes, washes and dries itself, and skips back humming a jaunty tune? I DO NOT DO LAUNDRY WHILE I AM SLEEPING!"

Probably a little too sarcastic, I am thinking.

I'll be patiently (cough) sitting two on a potty timer for a while, I guess. Although not at the same time. You can thank me for placing the universe back in harmony.

Something in the Soup

Oh, there must have been something in the soup yesterday; the Cuddle Bear was in full form, I tell you. We weren't even home for more than a few hours, and she managed to feed Jorge a jar of peach jam.

Which he barfed all over my bedroom carpet.


Not to be found until it had crusted over.

And then swim lessons were last night. The teacher moved her down from four floaties to three (and don't think for a second Princess didn't notice, although that's fuel for a different post), because she's so teensy that she actually can't lay on her back with four floaties. So she was tippier, and, like I said, in a mood. She did not stop yapping at Ms. K the entire time she was in the pool. Ms. K had to stop. the. lesson and make all the kids sit up on the side as a result of the Cuddle Bear's not-so-compliant chipperness. At one point, as Ms. K was taking the Cuddle Bear and another beginner across the pool on their backs, I heard the Cuddle Bear chirp, "no, Ms. K! I can do it myself!" Boom! The Cuddle Bear went under. Ms. K brought her back up and said, "no... I don't think you are. I'll decide when you can do it yourself."

Is it wrong for a mommy to about pee her pants in that situation?

So, the rest of the lesson happened, with the the Cuddle Bear yapping away the entire time. The older ladies who participate in the water aerobics class straggled in, and the children got out of the pool. I assembly-lined the towels, and we started to file out toward the locker room. Suddenly the Cuddle Bear stopped dead in front of two ladies. She said to them, eyes wide, "do you know what I have???" They foolishly said, "what?" Before I knew what was happening, the Cuddle Bear dove into her bag, held the contents an inch away from the ladies' noses, and announced

"PRINCESS AND THE FROG PANTIES!!!!!!!"

Theology and the Three-Year-Old

I had a h-uge dizzy spell in the shower this morning. It must have been my sinuses, but it was so bad and lasted so long that I honestly wasn't sure I was going to survive. While laying on the bathroom floor, I slung my bathrobe on myself, slithered to to door, opened it, and weakly called for Josh. He came. The Cuddle Bear came too. And got to see her mother laying on the floor.

Josh got me back to bed, and the Cuddle Bear lay down next to me, stroked my hands, and sang me songs "to make me feel better." Including a very rousing "Joy to the World." As I started to feel better, she said, "Mommy, I know! Jesus can heal you (she's studying John in Bible Study Fellowship)! I'll call him. JESUS!!!!!... JESUS!!!!!...Ok. He's coming now." She looks up at the ceiling.






"Um. Mommy? How far away is heaven?"

I think she felt Jesus was taking his sweet time to come down. In fact, now that I think of it, she may have been using me. Buddy and Peanut were fascinated with the Second Coming starting at that age, and the Cuddle Bear has been expressing her impatience at his timing lately. I'm thinking she thought she could get Jesus to visit HER by asking him to heal ME.

Are no one's motives pure around here? Sheesh.

Princess Shoes? Fairy Wands?

The Cuddle Bear received $5 in cold, hard Valentine's cash. And this is what she selected in a store chock full of princess, fairy, and baby doll gear.










You can see the love and affection for Crocodile flowing throughout her very being. She made him a bed in her room and snuggles with his spiny self at night.


That's my girl!

Santa in the 21st Century

We were out waiting for the bus in the new-fallen snow when Peanut said, "Mom, how can Santa see me?"

Now, I totally respect all the varying opinions on Santaness, but around these parts we've never done a whole lot about him. Buddy is faaaaaar too logical and concrete to have ever bought the concept, even when he was small, and the idea of a man who breaks into your home and eats your cookies seemed a little too creepy in light of my daughters' background, whether or not the intruder leaves you presents. But the older girls came to us Santa in tact, and we certainly aren't going to do anything to disrupt that, either. Princess, under the unfortunate influence of her older brother, is starting to question the whole deal, but Peanut is STEADFAST.

So I said, "hmm. That's an interesting question. What do you think?
Princess (who is involved in every conversation and couldn't hold a conviction to save her life) interjected, "I don't think Santa is real?"
I said, "you're not sure about it."
Peanut (who couldn't not hold a conviction to save her life) got distressed and started yelling, "Santa IS real! He IS! I saw him at school and he was ALIVE, not DEAD!!!!"
Princess backed waaaay up and said, "I think Santa is real?"
I said, "you're not sure about it."
Peanut: "HE IS REAL!!!!!!!!"
Me: "and you are sure about it. So how do you think he sees you?"
Peanut: "He watches me on TV."



(Lest anyone thing I'm still living in Magic Fairy Land, the last time I saw Princess yesterday was while she was busily engaged in informing me that I am a "stupid poopy dumb Dog Mommy," and the first time I saw her this morning was right after cleaning up the place on the carpet outside the bathroom where she sat and peed. But I am so completely bored of this that I don't even want to devote a whole post to it right now. )

Sticky Fingers

Actually, I'm pretty surprised this happened for the first time yesterday, considering the Cuddle Bear is the youngest of four. She's been toying with the idea for quite a while, but has not yet completely pulled it off. She finally did it.

The Cuddle Bear shoplifted.

She and I had gone into a gift shop to buy an item Buddy had been saving for. Then we went to the Social Security office (barely-related note: children adopted out of foster care are at very high risk for identity theft). First, she walked up to the flag and recited the Pledge of Allegiance and sang "My Country 'Tis of Thee." Then, she worked the room and learned everyone's name, age, make of car, and profession. Finally, she sat down next to me and softly patted her pocket with a dreamy and contented look on her face.

"What have you got in your pocket?"
"Nofing."
What is it?"
"Nofing! No peeking. No peeking! No peeking! No Mommy! I said no peeking! NOOOOOOOO!"

It was a shiny, sparkly, bejeweled Christmas ornament. And, by the gift shop price tag, quite a pricey one.

"CUDDLE BEAR! This is not yours! You took it without asking. We'll have to take it back."
"No."
"YES!"

We finished at the Social Security office (new numbers in four weeks) and drove back to the gift shop. The back of the Suburban was unusually silent. We parked.

"I no want to go in."
"I'm sorry. It's not a choice. We're going in. You're going to give the lady the pretty, and you're going to say, 'I took this without asking. It was wrong."

"I no want to say that."
"Oh well."

We went in. The Cuddle Bear bowed her head, extended the arm with the ornament, and walked toward the manager. The manager said, "what do you have there?" The Cuddle Bear's face contorted, and she wailed,

"I TOOK this!"

The manager got down next to her and said, "oh. And you know that's wrong, don't you?"

(snuffle snuffle snort snuffle) "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!!" Tears stream down her face as she sobs.

We went back out to the car with the Cuddle Bear doing the twitchy thing she does after she cries.

"That didn't feel very good, did it Cuddle Bear."
"No. My head felt all shaky inside and I fot I was going to fall down."




Good.

So Much Wisdom; So Few to Pass it To

My four babies are almost exactly 18 months apart. This means that one will finish a developmental stage, and six months later the next one down starts it. It's just enough time to remember how much I did not enjoy that stage. Learning to rhyme, for instance. It starts with nonsense (do gaga and boom-bom rhyme?), moves to related non-rhyming words (do waffles and syrup rhyme?), transforms to a word and a nonsense (do boat and nonoat rhyme?), and ends with your child chanting "scoot, scoot, like a voot" until your ears bleed. Each phase tend to develop during 20-40 minute car rides.

Some stages are even less magical. One of Princess's favorite rad games 18 months ago was to go upstairs and NOT get her pajamas on, then have a fit while I put them on for her and took her downstairs to brush her teeth. Then she would sit in the bathroom and NOT brush her teeth while I read a bedtime story. When I finished she would scream, "but I want a STORY!!! but I want a STORY!!! while I brushed her teeth. She'd scream in bed and kick the walls for a while, and eventually fall asleep. She let this lovely game go about six months ago, I and was so, so very happy.

Enter Peanut. Her motives are a little different. She's working on rad too, but she exhibits it totally differently and must be handled totally differently. Totally fun. Her main thing is impulse control, and that includes a state-of-the-art motor mouth. So last night I realize she has been upstairs a little too long, and I realize I can hear her yapping away. I go up, tell her naked self, "time to brush teeth," and ferry her downstairs while she yells, "but I want PAJAMAS! I don't want to be NAKED." She grabbed her robe, sending the hook flying, and we marched downstairs with me thinking, "sheesh, I didn't miss this at. all."

She never takes things as far as Princess, though, and as she was sullenly brushing her teeth, I took the opportunity to speak to the Cuddle Bear about this recurring situation. "Cuddle Bear, pay attention. In six months you might start wanting to try this too. Look around. This didn't get Princess anything good, and it's not getting Peanut anything good, either. Don't even think about it. Just don't. Two is my limit."

Cuddle Bear turned, looked me lovingly in the eye, and said, "Mommy, I'm going to eat my booger now."

Keeping Up

Both Princess and Peanut are studying penguins in first grade and kindergarten respectively.

It's hard to be the youngest of four. It's hard to be three. It's hard to keep up with the rat race.