Belly and The Bug

Mr. Big makes me happy sometimes

Hi. My beloved Packers are heading to the Super Bowl. Yes, that's the first order of business on the docket. It fills me with such a ridiculous joy that I can't even put words to it. I. Am. Thrilled. THRILLED! And we're going because we beat the stinky Bears. And one of the biggest Bears fans I know is currently sporting a Facebook profile picture of me in Packer wear with a sign that says "Packers Rule, Bears Drool." It really doesn't get much better than that.

In non-sporting news....

We survived Christmas in Wisconsin. It was cold and white and the girls had the best time ever. They were SO into the holiday. We had gone over what would happen Christmas morning a zillion times: "When you wake up, wake me up and ask if it's morning. If it is, then we'll get up, walk down the hall, peek around the corner into the living room, and see if Santa came." Oh you shoulda seen their eyes light up when they saw full stockings, a giant pink dollhouse, and a pile of musical instruments. It was the absolute best! And, of course, as we moved into the opening of presents, they ripped the paper off with wild abandon. Between us and Santa, they got everything they asked for and so much more. Way more. Way too much more. Maybe they're too young to fully appreciate that, but I'm not. I'm very thankful that it didn't cause us any hardship to spoil them this year. As they get older and want bigger, more expensive stuff, this will not always be the case. I'm enjoying it while I can.

Then we came home. Back to the routine. But I had a little ace in my pocket - a wedding in California that I could look forward to. A quick trip by myself to see old girlfriends, wear a sexy dress, drink too much, dance and dance and dance and dance. It was all I had hoped it would be and more. I hadn't seen some of the other wedding guests in 10 years or more and there was something very gratifying about a) picking up right where we left off and b) being told that I looked better than ever. Shallow? Why yes! But who cares? It was fun. And a nice little ego boost. But the best part? Just hanging with some of my best girlfriends, including the bride. In the limo on the way to our post-reception-but-continuing-the-party party at the hotel, the bride insisted that everyone should sing "To Be With You" loudly and proudly. It's the corny stuff like that that I love - not only that she wanted to sing it but that we all knew all the words. We're dorks. And we celebrated that.... with a lot of booze. The morning came, um, a bit too quickly. Back to reality.

But you know what? Reality is pretty cool these days. Dude and I are doing well. Belly and Buggy are cool kids who keep me on my toes in more positive ways than negative lately. Could life be better? Well sure, but I'm trying to be focused on finding the joy in the little things. Sometimes thinking too hard about things leads to over-thinking which leads to seeing every last nugget of what's not "right." I'm just rollin' with my homeys for now.

Oh dear

Belly likes to hang on the doors in our house. Well, not every door - just the ones with long handles. She opens the door, grabs the handle on either side, and pulls herself up into pull-up position, knees clamped to both sides of the door. She does this all the time. Her upper body strength is crazy - biceps and triceps like little rocks. And she'll do it until she breaks a sweat. Her poor hands are calloused, but she loves, loves, loves it! Who am I to stop her? Funny kid.

The other night I was cooking dinner and Belly was happily hanging on the kitchen door. I smiled at my silly. "Why do you like hanging on the doors so much, Belly?" She lowered herself and said sweetly, "It makes my bottom tingle."

Oh. Great. Sigh.....

Never fear.... I'm still alive!

Bet you thought you'd lost me, eh? It ain't that easy, friends. Fact is that I've been busy and moody and playing angry birds and you probably wouldn't have wanted to hear all the bitching that's gone on in my head anyway (damn birds). So here's a recap of the last few months in no particular order....

The babes are three

My precious little bundles of joy (and sometimes piss and vinegar) turned three on October 27th. We had a party for them at the place where we take circus classes. We flew on the trapeze, ate cupcakes, partook in general merriment. And just like that - they're not babies in the least. Quite honestly, they seem like they're going on five. Or sixteen. And all that dread I had of three? Somehow it seems easier than two so far. Maybe I'm delusional or hard is about to smack me in the face really, really soundly, but I'm liking three. Belly and Bug seem to be more imaginative, understand right from wrong better (even if they're still doing what they know is "wrong"), play together in a way that is more engaged than before... I don't know. Everything is just amped up a little in a good way. AND.........

Diapers be damned!

About five days before their birthday, I said a crappy thing to my girls. Well, it had the potential to backfire in my face and I said it without thinking and fortunately for me, it all worked out marvelously. I said in a very exasperated tone, "You know... only babies and two year olds wear diapers. Three year olds wear panties." They looked at each other. My mind raced - what if they simply were not ready to give up diaps? Or what if only one of them was? Would the other feel inferior? Did I just plant the seed of a lifetime of not being as quick as the other to grasp things? Fuck me. But then Belly repeated to Bug, "Only babies and two-year-olds wear diapers. Three-year-olds wear panties." And Bug said, "We're almost three." I asked if they wanted to practice wearing panties all afternoon. They said yes. And my darlings, that was the end of diapers (except at nap and bedtime). It has been wonderful. Except for one thing - they've taken to mostly pooping during naptime, which means I'm still changing at least one poopy diaper every day. I've been trying to figure out how to change their poop schedule so they'll poop in the toilet. Prunes before bed? I don't know. Anyone have suggestions?

Goth girls

I told the girls they could be whatever they wanted for Halloween. They were "skeleton faeries." They were soooooo goth and scary to other kids their age. I thought the whole thing was hilarious and felt quite proud that my girls stepped outside the princess box.

Some funny snippets

My girls have been saying and doing soooo many funny things lately. Today, for example, Buggy called me "little lady." I asked her where that came from and she said, "Well, you're little and you're a lady." Or when we were talking about Santa coming and I reminded them that he brings presents, throwing in that last year they thought I said "pretzels" and they got both presents and pretzels; Belly said this year she'd like cheese puffs. Buggy would like a trampoline for her dolls. There are a zillion other examples I'm not thinking of at this late hour, but trust me, they are high-larious kids!

I'm feeling more me

This is probably the real reason I haven't been a good little blogger the last however many months. I haven't been terribly happy. I haven't felt like me in a lot of ways. I sorta hit the bottom of that unhappiness and decided it needed to change or I was going to lose my mind. This is not a fun thing to write about but I feel I should because the purpose of this blog is to be my outlet for my thoughts. And I don't want to paint a picture that life is always rosy if it's not. Having kids takes a toll on a woman, mentally and emotionally. It's hard to stay home with them and not have as much mental stimulation as I once did. Sometimes it's hard to feel like more than roommates with your husband when we don't have time to invest in our relationship. It's a little tricky when my family and my husband and my close friends read this blog, though, because I don't want to share everything with everyone all the time. Some things I need to work out for myself. And this has been one of those things. I started going to a therapist in September and he's been wildly helpful to me. Dude has come with me a few times, as well, and is a fan. So.... things are improving. I'm feeling more like me. That's a good thing. And that's it.

More posts coming sooner than later. Promise. Cross my heart and all that stuff.

The talk

I am the child of hippies. And as such, I grew up with a working knowledge of all kinds of things that straighter parents didn't pass on to their kids. Oh I'm sure that Dude's parents explained the physical differences between boys and girls to him at a very young age, but was he privy to a book that explained the differences and showed nude photographic examples of boys and men/girls and women at varying ages? I'm guessing no. Of course, I also thought smoking pot was no different than smoking cigarettes - just something that some adults do. And I'd seen those special cigarettes rolled and felt confident that I could successfully roll one should the opportunity arise. No biggie. It was all cool. Groovy even. But let's get back to the naked thing. I've always thought that I'd be a pro at explaining these sorts of things to my girls. Yesterday, I got my first crack at it.

I've mentioned casually to Belly and the Bug on several occasions that boys and girls are anatomically different. They didn't seem to express any interest in the subject, so it was left at that. But lately? Buggy is veeeerrrrrrrrrry interested in the fact that her daddy has a little something extra going on that's different from what she's got. And since the three of them take a shower together every night, I decided it was time to sit down and have a formal conversation about it.

I set up the bowl of tortilla chips and the juice and invited the girls to sit with me. I asked if anyone wanted to have a talk. Belly's eyes lit up and she said, "YES, Mama!" Buggy said, "Sure! Do you want to talk about Sesame Street?" I suggested that we talk about how boys and girls have different body parts. Buggy gave me a total "whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis" look and Belly crammed about forty chips in her mouth. And so began their first "talk" about this sort of thing. They listened intently (amidst the chip crunching) and interjected thoughts here and there. I felt like it went as well as can be expected when having this discussion with two nearly-three-year-olds.

When all was said and done, I asked, "Any questions?"

Belly: "What letter does penis start with?"

Me: "Penis? It starts with a pa-pa-pa sound. What letter makes that sound?"

Belly: "P."

Me: "That's right."

Buggy: "Okaaaaay. But then, what does hippopotamus start with?"

Yes. Those questions instilled the confidence that I explained things perfectly. They clearly understood and processed their new knowledge immediately. I anticipate that this immediate changing of the subject will be par for the course when we have conversations such as these over the years. Ugh. And there will be so many. I'm dreading the teen years so fiercely already. Assuming we all make it through three....

"Hi. I took some poop out of my diaper...."

Words cannot express how I feel about hearing that statement and dealing with its aftermath. Oh no. Words do not contain enough power for that. If you could see how tightly my teeth have been clenched, then maybe you'd understand.