Update

How's this for my goal of better time management: employ multi-tasking. Right now with the 10 minutes I have before it's time to get Olivia from school, I'm here at the computer checking on all my daily sites...but I am doing it while eating my lunch and while I put Isabel on the toilet upstairs with instructions to perform either of the necessary potty-activities. Priorities!

Oops...time's up.

Milestones and Metamorphasis

Late last week Olivia started complaining that her teeth were hurting. When I looked in her mouth--lo and behold--I found that there was not one but two loose teeth! I was certainly surprised considering that Max didn't lose a tooth until he was 7. But maybe I should have realized that she'd be on an accelerated tooth-loss schedule as she had 13 teeth by the time she turned 1 yr old, whereas Max was nearly 1yrs old by the time he even got his first tooth.

So now she's one tooth down (and the Tooth Fairy one dollar lighter), with the second tooth so wiggly that it's set to come out the next time it meets a hard apple. Losing teeth is like crossing the threshold in to Big Kid-ness, and she's thrilled about it.

Me too, actually. I've been thinking a lot lately about the person that she's becoming. She was quite possibly the most docile and happy baby that ever existed. She, and I'm not exaggerating here at all, was pretty content to just sit in her stroller for the first two years. She was never the kind of toddler that you couldn't take your eyes off for fear that they'd make their way into the laundry room and dump out all the detergent. I don't think that I really ever had to babyproof anything.

But then, she made up for lost time. I hate to admit it, but the next few years (really!) I was unsure about who she was and how to handle her. Oh, yikes, she was so emotional and so darn volatile. It seemed like her main form of communication alternated between screetching or crying inconsolably. I remember one specific occasion when whe was three and I was trying desperately to get her to stop another round of irrational crying and I finally asked her, "Why are you crying?" and she answered, sobbing, "I don't know!" It was a common exercise to carry her out, in full meldown phase, of Primary, or dinner, or a playdate, or just about any other event. Throughout these years I kept internally pleading, "Please, please, please let this be a phase and not her personality!", but I was not feeling so certain about the prospects.

So when her birthday just missed the cut-off for Kindergarten this year, I wasn't sorry at all thinking that it would be good for her to have another year, and hopefully we would be able to get more of a handle on all the drama.

Turns out that turning 5 must have been just the ticket. Over the last few months she's become a completely different person. The meltdowns have all but ceased, she is willing (and mostly happy) to do whatever I ask (and often on the first time!), she is cooperative and supportive, she is the most reliable candidate in the family to share or give up whatever she has in order to help Isabel or Max, and we have started calling her our family's peacemaker. Early in the school year when I questioned her preschool teachers about her emotional state in class, they looked at me like I was crazy and reported that she was nothing but delightful. She looks for ways to show responsibility, she is my very best helper, and she is Isabel's very best playmate--they have become quite the pals. Teaching her has become a joy as she's replaced most of her previous stubborness with a sweet eagerness.

Now I am worried about what Isabel and I are going to do without her at home during the day next year.

Max's party

We haven't given Max a "friends" party since he turned 5, so we thought that this year we'd really better not skip out. We decided to make it an ice-skating party, mostly because the idea of entertaining eight 6, 7, and 8yr-old boys at my house for two or so hours sounded like an exercise in pulling my hair out and coming away having very mean feelings for not only the birthday boy, but for probably anyone who was in the vicinity. Who's just weeks away from giving birth, eh?

It was the perfect solution and we had a really fun time giving the party and being with all the kids. We had all of the boys meet at our house, where Adam played a few outdoor games with them while we waited for everyone to arrive. Then we had some pizza for lunch and Max opened his (very nice!--and wow, I need to do better when buying for other kids) presents.

Then we drove them to the ice rink, where I'm pretty sure that everyone had a really fun time. At least, they all worked themselves pretty hard and were really great sports, regardless of all the booty-falling that was going on. And we had cupcakes at the rink.

That night we kicked back with leftover cake and a family movie party to watch "Mary Poppins," but mostly Max just put together his new Lego sets during the whole thing.

Happy Birthday Max! We love you.

Eight

I have an 8 yr old now.

It's something that somehow I didn't really expect. Everyone says stuff like, time goes so fast with kids...but seriously....he's 8! How did this happen?! Mostly, though, it makes me feel like now I have to start the "real" parenting. It's both exciting and scary--but mostly exciting because he's a really, really nice boy.

One of the greatest things about Max is his extraordinary gift for being able to enjoy just about every situation he's in and everybody he meets. I see this as one of his biggest talents. Sure, he still draws like a 3 year old, but he makes friends as quickly as I can put down an open bag of snack-sized Twix. He has a true joie de vivre.

Recently his class was given a writing assignment where they would each write a letter to another classmate of their choice. Max came home with five letters--half the boys in the class. And what I know about Max is that a huge part of this gift of his personality is that he is completely unaffected by ego or competition. When it was time to plan his birthday party he quickly made a list of 19 kids. I had to force him to pare down the list to eight boys, and you would have thought I was forcing him to eat asparagus.

Speaking of dinner time, I admit, sometimes at the table it really starts to bug that his overflowing exuberance means he can barely keep his bottom on the seat without multiple reminders. Or, last Fall, it did drive me just a little crazy to watch him in soccer and see that he wasn't necessarily playing to excel at the sport or figure out every aspect of how to actually play the game well, but that he was playing to just...well...play. I complained to Adam about my frustration, he pointed out that if I love Max for being so easy-going in so many other aspects, that this is just part of the package.

What it means is that the boy has basically no anxiety.
And that's a birthday present that I hope he keeps getting for years to come.

I Hate Candyland

Candyland has got to be the worst board game ever. EVER! (With Chutes and Ladders a close second for sure.) And anyone who says that they love that game and that it was their favorite as a child obviously hasn't played it anytime as an adult and has replaced all actual childhood experiences with heavy doses of nostalgia.

First, it's mind-numbingly boring. Second, it's mind-numbingly boring. Third, unless you want an emotional disaster, there is no possible way to play with children without having to completely rig the deck. Really, have you ever played this game without every single child participating having to get the Queen Frostine card or else they will completely melt down? In fact, have you ever played without there being a melt down at any point in which someone actually has to go backwards in their progress? So, in order to keep the peace it's only me who keeps getting that darn Chocolate Monster card.....over and over and over.

My kids wanted to play this game the other day and when they asked if I would play with them, I said "yes" and that I'd be green, but that I would need Max to move my player for me and just let me know what was happening because I had to finish up something "important" on the computer first. He bought it. Of course, they couldn't start until after Olivia and Isabel finished crying over who got to be the Red player. But once they got started, because I wasn't directly involved and there wasn't any deck-stacking, there was soon plenty of crying to go around. I should clarify: the players under age 6 were crying at which cards they received and where that put them on the board, where the one who is over 6 who and gets the game, and is ok with taking what comes next in the deck, was yelling his insistence about how it's supposed to be played. Such a pleasant experience for everyone.

I should have put this game in the garbage years ago.

6 More Weeks

There's a little exercise going around on Facebook right now where if you are "tagged" you are supposed to post 25 random things about yourself. I've been tagged a couple of times now (which makes me feel so popular!), but I haven't gotten around to actually writing any of these random, but certainly interesting, things about myself.....like, "I can't cut a loaf of bread straight," or "I'm good at getting laundry folded, but not putting it away," or "I may love avocados more than I love my own children." See, this would be a fabulous list! However, the first item would probably be, "I usually don't get anything done until there's a deadline."

I've been thinking a lot recently about this particular characteristic of mine. I would like to say that it's thanks to it having been January and the traditional focus on resolutions, but blah, blah, blah....that's how I feel about resolutions. No, most likely I've been thinking this way because the whole nesting instinct is starting to kick in. So far this baby is not really getting anything new in the way of clothing or baby equipment (and, poor subsequent, subsequent, subsequent child, he probably never really will), so there's not much to actually nest with. But that's not what's bothering me. What does, is that I'm starting to feel like I need a new handle on order in my life and what I am doing with the time that I have.

I've always worked better when I had only a set amount of time in which to fit certain activities. ie., In college, if I had only 3 hours between class and work to devote to studying, then I was far more likely to have better study habits (and stay focused) than, say, if I didn't have a job and instead had an entire afternoon for studying. So, now, as a stay-at-home-mom when my time and activites are way more flexible, it's easy to get to the end of the day and realize that I never took the ten minutes that it takes to go out and turn the compost but instead spent an hour reading the newspaper or friends' blogs online.

A friend introduced me to the phrase, "Diva of Do-Ahead" and I love the concept, but honestly--it's too ambitious for me. I'm aiming for more like, the Diva of Do-it-when-I-can-and-not-wait-until-I'm forced.

Even if this baby will be dressed like an orphan, he should at least get a mom who has something to show at the end of the day for effective time management (which, though I can't make any promises, hopefully includes my getting better at actually being on time). Like, really, why don't I make lunch for the girls at the same time that I pack a lunch in the morning for Max. But no, instead, at 10 minutes before I'm supposed to leave to get Olivia to preschool, and still need to get them both fed and shoe-d and coat-ed (and probably hair-combed), I frantically start slathering peanut butter on bread all while barking at Olivia to find her shoes and get them on. Then I shove them out the door, only to eat their "lunch" in the car while we get to school. It's not quite right.

So, first things first! Not only did I start keeping a calendar--and sharing it with Adam which helps me keep it up--but then, when there was nice weather a couple of days ago, I took the hour that I had free while Isabel napped and Max and Olivia were at friends' houses, and I vacuumed out the car (and my Mother in Law isn't even coming to visit for 2 more weeks!). Sure, I haven't sorted or put away the bag full of sweaters and boots and books and pencils and Littlest Pet Shop pets that I collected out of the car....but, please, I'm still taking baby steps.

But most importantly, when at Costco yesterday, I deliberately did not buy another box of diapers for Isabel. I have yet to have a newborn without also having a toddler in diapers, and that toddler usually stays in diapers for at least another 6 months. But not this time; not with the new me. I have 6 weeks left before D-Day and only half-a-box of Huggies size 4 left in the closet. Let the training commence!

Wait, this sounds a lot like a deadline..... Old habits die hard, I guess.