Lawyer Mama

Barney Is The Devil

I hate Barney.

All that "I love you. You love me. We're a happy family..." crap makes me want to hurl something at the TV. I know kids love him but I was determined that we would not be Barney lovers in this house.

You'll be happy to know that if you prime and brainwash educate your children from birth, providing intellectually challenging activities and carefully selecting developmental programs, you can mold your children in any way you like.

For instance, if you tell your children from birth that "Barney is the devil," immediately change the channel if anything Barney or Barney-related comes on TV, and steadfastly forbid your children to wear the color purple, this will be the result:

"I heart Barney, Mommy."

Frack. Back to the drawing board.

Barney Is The Devil

I hate Barney.

All that "I love you. You love me. We're a happy family..." crap makes me want to hurl something at the TV. I know kids love him but I was determined that we would not be Barney lovers in this house.

You'll be happy to know that if you prime and brainwash educate your children from birth, providing intellectually challenging activities and carefully selecting developmental programs, you can mold your children in any way you like.

For instance, if you tell your children from birth that "Barney is the devil," immediately change the channel if anything Barney or Barney-related comes on TV, and steadfastly forbid your children to wear the color purple, this will be the result:

"I heart Barney, Mommy."

Frack. Back to the drawing board.

I. P. Freely

I have new photos up on Lawyer Mama Dabbles. I've been having fun with my new toy!

**************

In early December, my friend Lauren and I took H&H and her Pumpkin down to the Yorktown pier for some fun. I've blogged about it and posted photos a couple of times, but I've been holding out on you. You haven't heard the good stuff yet.

Nearly every time that Lauren and I venture out for some fun, we end up exhausted and frazzled or I do something brilliant like marinate the baby in rum. But, hey, at least I get some good blogging material.

Our trip to Yorktown didn't disappoint.

First, Holden kept trying to kill himself on the rocks of death. He would not stay off of them, even though his little feet kept getting trapped between the rocks. Holden is a climber. It's just what he does. He was frustrated beyond belief that he could not climb and he punished me by hitting, kicking, scratching and screaming. (Just for good measure, in case anyone in a 5 mile radius missed the injustice of it all.)

Then, up on the safe (we thought) pier, Holden found another way to do bodily harm to himself. See that little opening in the rail? It leads out to a little 4 inch wide ledge with nothing but water and rocks below. Guess who squished himself out there?

You know my husband is entertained by my blog because, upon hearing this, the first thing he asked wasn't, "Wow! Was he OK?" No. It was, "Did you get any PICTURES of it?!"

(For the record, I was too busy restraining my child from jumping off the ledge. Why am I seeing recreational cliff diving in my son's future?)

After that narrow miss, we decided to let the kids loose on the beach to run. With, of course, the appropriate threats of death if they put so much as a finger or toe in the water.

Do you think those threats worked on my little Hurricane Holden? Nope. He just walked right in and would have kept going.

Cold water? In December? Sounds like fun!

Holden's little dip in the water earned him a one way ticket to his stroller and a trip back to concrete. Unfortunately, once I was tethered to a stroller, Hollis took the opportunity to disappear with the Pumpkin. Seriously, we couldn't see them anywhere. I started panicking and screaming their names. Luckily, some people walking by let us know that the kids had run around to the other side of the bathroom building. Damn those kids!

So then the Pumpkin and Hollis earned a ride in the stroller. Since I hadn't brought my double stroller, Lauren forced them to sit together in her stroller. While we shopped. The kids were not happy.

Tough tiddlywinks, boys.

This is what happens when you scare the crap out of Mommy, boys.
It only gets worse. When you misbehave in your teens, Hollis, you'll earn a trip lingerie shopping with dear old Mom.

After our shopping trip the boys' punishment, we decided it was time to pack it in and go home. We headed to the car. Of course, the moment I started buckling Holden into his car seat, Hollis had to pee. Lauren asked me if Hollis had peed in the trees before.

Well, we weren't anywhere near the restrooms at this point, so I fully intended to take advantage of having a child who can pee standing up. He learned how to water the weeds as soon as that diaper came off for good. The parking lot was surrounded by these big bushes, so I figured we could sneak in one and drench the dirt in no time. Plus, Hollis is terrified of the "scary potties" with automatic flushers. (Are the people who designed those things sadists? Because they've clearly never potty trained anyone.)

I tossed back a, "Sure, he does it all the time," and then told Holden, "I'll be there in a second."

Can you see where this is going?

Lauren came around the other side of the car to get the Pumpkin in the car, while I finished up with Holden. We both turned around to check on Hollis at the same time only to find him naked from the waist down and assuming the pee stance right beside the car. He'd removed his shoes, socks, pants, and underwear completely. (What can I say? He doesn't like to dribble on his clothes.)

So, of course, a minivan full of women and girls pulls up across from Hollis and starts emptying. At this point I was laughing so hard I could hardly get out of the car. But I pulled myself together and tried to redirect Hollis to the lone scraggly little tree in the parking lot in a median beside the car. Hollis tried it out, but he didn't like the mulch on his feet, so back on to the concrete we went.

Hollis then asked, "Mommy, can you help me aim?"

I was thinking, "Oy. Kid, you're killing me. Don't you realize that adults can get arrested for stuff like this?"

So, I crouched down beside my naked child in the middle of a public parking lot with God and everyone walking by to see the show, and helped him aim. He was getting a little gun shy so I asked, "Hollis, are you going to pee?"

Hollis replied, "It's coming, Mommy."

Five seconds later still nothing and I said, "Hollis, are you going to pee?"

Hollis replied, "It's coming, Mommy."

Thinking I have the only 3 year old in the U.S. with a prostate condition, five seconds later I said, "Hollis, are you - "

"It's coming, Mommy!"

"ok.

Sorry, sweetie."

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I helped Hollis get redressed and got him in the car.

What was Lauren doing, you ask?

I think she was looking for a spare diaper in Holden's bag because I'm quite sure she peed herself while rolling around on the ground laughing.

At least I had the foresight to warn Lauren I was soooo going to be blogging this. Hollis is lucky I didn't have the foresight to take pictures.

I. P. Freely

I have new photos up on Lawyer Mama Dabbles. I've been having fun with my new toy!

**************

In early December, my friend Lauren and I took H&H and her Pumpkin down to the Yorktown pier for some fun. I've blogged about it and posted photos a couple of times, but I've been holding out on you. You haven't heard the good stuff yet.

Nearly every time that Lauren and I venture out for some fun, we end up exhausted and frazzled or I do something brilliant like marinate the baby in rum. But, hey, at least I get some good blogging material.

Our trip to Yorktown didn't disappoint.

First, Holden kept trying to kill himself on the rocks of death. He would not stay off of them, even though his little feet kept getting trapped between the rocks. Holden is a climber. It's just what he does. He was frustrated beyond belief that he could not climb and he punished me by hitting, kicking, scratching and screaming. (Just for good measure, in case anyone in a 5 mile radius missed the injustice of it all.)

Then, up on the safe (we thought) pier, Holden found another way to do bodily harm to himself. See that little opening in the rail? It leads out to a little 4 inch wide ledge with nothing but water and rocks below. Guess who squished himself out there?

You know my husband is entertained by my blog because, upon hearing this, the first thing he asked wasn't, "Wow! Was he OK?" No. It was, "Did you get any PICTURES of it?!"

(For the record, I was too busy restraining my child from jumping off the ledge. Why am I seeing recreational cliff diving in my son's future?)

After that narrow miss, we decided to let the kids loose on the beach to run. With, of course, the appropriate threats of death if they put so much as a finger or toe in the water.

Do you think those threats worked on my little Hurricane Holden? Nope. He just walked right in and would have kept going.

Cold water? In December? Sounds like fun!

Holden's little dip in the water earned him a one way ticket to his stroller and a trip back to concrete. Unfortunately, once I was tethered to a stroller, Hollis took the opportunity to disappear with the Pumpkin. Seriously, we couldn't see them anywhere. I started panicking and screaming their names. Luckily, some people walking by let us know that the kids had run around to the other side of the bathroom building. Damn those kids!

So then the Pumpkin and Hollis earned a ride in the stroller. Since I hadn't brought my double stroller, Lauren forced them to sit together in her stroller. While we shopped. The kids were not happy.

Tough tiddlywinks, boys.

This is what happens when you scare the crap out of Mommy, boys.
It only gets worse. When you misbehave in your teens, Hollis, you'll earn a trip lingerie shopping with dear old Mom.

After our shopping trip the boys' punishment, we decided it was time to pack it in and go home. We headed to the car. Of course, the moment I started buckling Holden into his car seat, Hollis had to pee. Lauren asked me if Hollis had peed in the trees before.

Well, we weren't anywhere near the restrooms at this point, so I fully intended to take advantage of having a child who can pee standing up. He learned how to water the weeds as soon as that diaper came off for good. The parking lot was surrounded by these big bushes, so I figured we could sneak in one and drench the dirt in no time. Plus, Hollis is terrified of the "scary potties" with automatic flushers. (Are the people who designed those things sadists? Because they've clearly never potty trained anyone.)

I tossed back a, "Sure, he does it all the time," and then told Holden, "I'll be there in a second."

Can you see where this is going?

Lauren came around the other side of the car to get the Pumpkin in the car, while I finished up with Holden. We both turned around to check on Hollis at the same time only to find him naked from the waist down and assuming the pee stance right beside the car. He'd removed his shoes, socks, pants, and underwear completely. (What can I say? He doesn't like to dribble on his clothes.)

So, of course, a minivan full of women and girls pulls up across from Hollis and starts emptying. At this point I was laughing so hard I could hardly get out of the car. But I pulled myself together and tried to redirect Hollis to the lone scraggly little tree in the parking lot in a median beside the car. Hollis tried it out, but he didn't like the mulch on his feet, so back on to the concrete we went.

Hollis then asked, "Mommy, can you help me aim?"

I was thinking, "Oy. Kid, you're killing me. Don't you realize that adults can get arrested for stuff like this?"

So, I crouched down beside my naked child in the middle of a public parking lot with God and everyone walking by to see the show, and helped him aim. He was getting a little gun shy so I asked, "Hollis, are you going to pee?"

Hollis replied, "It's coming, Mommy."

Five seconds later still nothing and I said, "Hollis, are you going to pee?"

Hollis replied, "It's coming, Mommy."

Thinking I have the only 3 year old in the U.S. with a prostate condition, five seconds later I said, "Hollis, are you - "

"It's coming, Mommy!"

"ok.

Sorry, sweetie."

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I helped Hollis get redressed and got him in the car.

What was Lauren doing, you ask?

I think she was looking for a spare diaper in Holden's bag because I'm quite sure she peed herself while rolling around on the ground laughing.

At least I had the foresight to warn Lauren I was soooo going to be blogging this. Hollis is lucky I didn't have the foresight to take pictures.

From the Mouths of Babes

I was cleaning out old draft posts and I ran across this gem that I failed to publish for some reason. So I updated it and here you go!

It's amazing what kids pick up. Hollis and Holden are rapidly gaining the skills necessary to maneuver in our world.

Conversational skills

My 2 1/2 (2 1/2 when I wrote this, now 3) year old has recently become a parrot. While I'm thankful he hasn't picked up any of the big 3 - shit, fuck, or damn - he's still got quite a colorful vocabulary. Recently heard from Hollis:

"For Christ's sake!" (OK, I admit it. This one is totally my fault.)

"For the love of God, man! Get a grip!" (OK. Also my fault.)

"Doofus!" (Yep, me again.)

"Mommy/Daddy, you're stinky." (We must make an effort to shower more on weekends.)

My kids are also working on their future parenting skills. Here are a few tools in the parenting box that they've mastered already:

Guilt

LM: "Sweetie, where did you get that bruise on your leg?"
Hollis: "You dropped me in the street, Mommy." (Insert accusing tone here.)

LM (on computer) (again)
Holden: "Computer off, Mommy!"
LM (in surprise): "OK, sweetie."
Holden: "Now!"

Upon LM leaving the room to pee, Holden: "Come back, Mommy! Come back!"

Manipulation

Hollis to T: "Can I have this candy?"
T: "After dinner."
Hollis to LM in another room: "Open this, please?"
LM: "Where did you get that?"
Hollis: "The kitchen. Daddy said I could have it."
LM (cursing T under breath) opens candy for Hollis.
Hollis runs back to kitchen to eat candy.
T to Hollis: "Didn't I tell you to wait until after dinner?"
Hollis: "Mommy opened it for me."
Later, T to LM: "Did you give him that candy?"
LM: "I opened it for him. He said you said he could have it."
T: "I did. After dinner."

We both pondered our conversations with Hollis and realized that he had not technically lied to either of us. Score: Hollis 1, T & LM 0.

Discipline

LM to Hollis: "Do you want a time out?"
Hollis: "You're not the boss of me!"
LM: "Actually, yes, I am."
Hollis: "Well, I don't like it!"

Hollis: "Can I have that toy, Mommy?"
LM: "Not right now, sweetie."
Hollis (whining): "But I need it!"
LM ignores Hollis
Hollis: "You're bad, Mommy!"

At least I haven't heard those dreaded three words yet: "I hate you."

***********
I also have to thank Mary G. from Them's My Sentiments for the ROFL award she gave me for this post. Mary is a (somewhat) new blogger, but you'd never know it. She was born for this community and is one the most talented writers and supportive bloggers I've ever run across. Thanks again, Mary!

From the Mouths of Babes

I was cleaning out old draft posts and I ran across this gem that I failed to publish for some reason. So I updated it and here you go!

It's amazing what kids pick up. Hollis and Holden are rapidly gaining the skills necessary to maneuver in our world.

Conversational skills

My 2 1/2 (2 1/2 when I wrote this, now 3) year old has recently become a parrot. While I'm thankful he hasn't picked up any of the big 3 - shit, fuck, or damn - he's still got quite a colorful vocabulary. Recently heard from Hollis:

"For Christ's sake!" (OK, I admit it. This one is totally my fault.)

"For the love of God, man! Get a grip!" (OK. Also my fault.)

"Doofus!" (Yep, me again.)

"Mommy/Daddy, you're stinky." (We must make an effort to shower more on weekends.)

My kids are also working on their future parenting skills. Here are a few tools in the parenting box that they've mastered already:

Guilt

LM: "Sweetie, where did you get that bruise on your leg?"
Hollis: "You dropped me in the street, Mommy." (Insert accusing tone here.)

LM (on computer) (again)
Holden: "Computer off, Mommy!"
LM (in surprise): "OK, sweetie."
Holden: "Now!"

Upon LM leaving the room to pee, Holden: "Come back, Mommy! Come back!"

Manipulation

Hollis to T: "Can I have this candy?"
T: "After dinner."
Hollis to LM in another room: "Open this, please?"
LM: "Where did you get that?"
Hollis: "The kitchen. Daddy said I could have it."
LM (cursing T under breath) opens candy for Hollis.
Hollis runs back to kitchen to eat candy.
T to Hollis: "Didn't I tell you to wait until after dinner?"
Hollis: "Mommy opened it for me."
Later, T to LM: "Did you give him that candy?"
LM: "I opened it for him. He said you said he could have it."
T: "I did. After dinner."

We both pondered our conversations with Hollis and realized that he had not technically lied to either of us. Score: Hollis 1, T & LM 0.

Discipline

LM to Hollis: "Do you want a time out?"
Hollis: "You're not the boss of me!"
LM: "Actually, yes, I am."
Hollis: "Well, I don't like it!"

Hollis: "Can I have that toy, Mommy?"
LM: "Not right now, sweetie."
Hollis (whining): "But I need it!"
LM ignores Hollis
Hollis: "You're bad, Mommy!"

At least I haven't heard those dreaded three words yet: "I hate you."

***********
I also have to thank Mary G. from Them's My Sentiments for the ROFL award she gave me for this post. Mary is a (somewhat) new blogger, but you'd never know it. She was born for this community and is one the most talented writers and supportive bloggers I've ever run across. Thanks again, Mary!

Vocabulary Builder

Folks, I can't thank everyone enough for your kind comments and thoughtful emails after my post about Hollis starting school. I didn't think the idea of school would be so hard. Hollis has been in full time daycare since he was 4 months old. But just thought of SCHOOL makes me all teary and emotional. So thank you, again, for your sweet words.

Despite my emotional fragility, I'll be around a bit less for the next couple of weeks. My hubs is in Korea for the next 3 weeks, my mom is visiting, my dad will be here next week, my mother-in-law next weekend, and then some good friends will be here over the Labor Day weekend. So please be patient with me and my lack of commenting. Hollis starts school right after Labor Day, so I'm sure I'll need y'all to hold me while I weep.

My 19 month old learned a new word in the car with me this morning.

"Fuckhead!"

Lovely.

In my defense, the asshat in the truck did cut me off. And what was up with those over sized tires? Why doesn't he just make up a bumper sticker clearly announcing his inadequacies in, um, ... other areas?

Vocabulary Builder

Folks, I can't thank everyone enough for your kind comments and thoughtful emails after my post about Hollis starting school. I didn't think the idea of school would be so hard. Hollis has been in full time daycare since he was 4 months old. But just thought of SCHOOL makes me all teary and emotional. So thank you, again, for your sweet words.

Despite my emotional fragility, I'll be around a bit less for the next couple of weeks. My hubs is in Korea for the next 3 weeks, my mom is visiting, my dad will be here next week, my mother-in-law next weekend, and then some good friends will be here over the Labor Day weekend. So please be patient with me and my lack of commenting. Hollis starts school right after Labor Day, so I'm sure I'll need y'all to hold me while I weep.

My 19 month old learned a new word in the car with me this morning.

"Fuckhead!"

Lovely.

In my defense, the asshat in the truck did cut me off. And what was up with those over sized tires? Why doesn't he just make up a bumper sticker clearly announcing his inadequacies in, um, ... other areas?

Just Call Me "Grace"

Edited to add - Don't forget to listen at 10pm tonight!



************************

The week before Little H was born, I fell down in the hospital parking lot. I was 8 months pregnant, a little awkward, and I refused to stop wearing heels. Hey, I'm 5'2", people, I need all the help I can get!

Anywho, I'd been walking out to my car after one of my twice weekly biophysical profiles at the hospital (ah, the joys of high risk pregnancy), and I went down like a rock. Onto my knee. I was wearing a skirt. Ouch.

I wish I could blame it on that stretchy ligament thing that happens to pregnant women, but I'm generally a klutz even when I'm not knocked up. I once fell down while standing still in a hallway talking to a co-worker.

Seriously.

I may be one smart cookie, but apparently I can't stand and talk at the same time.

So, when I went in for my conveniently scheduled c-section a week after my parking lot fall, the nurse took a look at my gruesome knee, asked me how it happened, and then promptly clipped a hot pink band around my wrist.


She told me that it's used as a warning to the staff that I'm a habitual faller.

Me: "You mean it tells everyone that I'm a klutz who can't be trusted to walk to the bathroom by herself or say, handle an innocent newborn?"
Nurse: "Yeah. Pretty much."

Well, I was allowed to handle Holden, but they did slap a nice matching sign onto my hospital room door.


When my perinatologist saw it, she told me that they usually only put it on the doors of little old women who've just broken a hip.

Great.

Just get me one of those LifeCall buttons and call it a day. Although, for the record, I've never seriously uttered the words, "I've fallen and I can't get up."

"We're sending help immediately, Mrs. Fletcher!"

Since then, I've managed many spectacularly embarrassing falls, but none of them were particularly memorable. It happens so often, you see, that the scars on my knees all sort of blend together.

Fast forward to last weekend.

T and I took the H's to the Botanical Gardens to see my picture and to let the little heathens run amok for awhile. The children's garden tuckered them out nicely, so we hopped on the tram for the ride back to the car. When we got off the tram, I attempted to sit down on a low retaining wall while hubs went to get the car.

I was holding Holden.

You can see where this is going already, can't you? Yup. It will be a miracle if the child makes it to adulthood.

I fell down right by the wall.

T said it was a rather graceful fall and complimented the way I cupped Holden's head and rolled onto my back like a turtle. Whereupon I laid there like a half-dead cockroach, kicking my legs and yelling at T to take the baby.

Unfortunately, despite my cradling of Little H, I managed to slam his right arm into and down the wall on my way down. There was a lot of screaming. Most of it done by me. "He hit the wall! OMG! He hit the WALL!"

Are we seeing a pattern here?

Holden is fine. His arm is a bit scraped up, but I think I have a few more gray hairs.

And I'm no longer allowed to carry the baby unless he's encased in bubble wrap.

I just hope poor Holden hasn't inherited my grace and poise. If so, the poor kid is doomed.


Oh yeah, that lovely "I'm a klutz" sign up above? My husband asked if he could take it when we left the hospital. It hangs on our refrigerator door.

I love you too, dear.

Just Call Me "Grace"

Edited to add - Don't forget to listen at 10pm tonight!



************************

The week before Little H was born, I fell down in the hospital parking lot. I was 8 months pregnant, a little awkward, and I refused to stop wearing heels. Hey, I'm 5'2", people, I need all the help I can get!

Anywho, I'd been walking out to my car after one of my twice weekly biophysical profiles at the hospital (ah, the joys of high risk pregnancy), and I went down like a rock. Onto my knee. I was wearing a skirt. Ouch.

I wish I could blame it on that stretchy ligament thing that happens to pregnant women, but I'm generally a klutz even when I'm not knocked up. I once fell down while standing still in a hallway talking to a co-worker.

Seriously.

I may be one smart cookie, but apparently I can't stand and talk at the same time.

So, when I went in for my conveniently scheduled c-section a week after my parking lot fall, the nurse took a look at my gruesome knee, asked me how it happened, and then promptly clipped a hot pink band around my wrist.


She told me that it's used as a warning to the staff that I'm a habitual faller.

Me: "You mean it tells everyone that I'm a klutz who can't be trusted to walk to the bathroom by herself or say, handle an innocent newborn?"
Nurse: "Yeah. Pretty much."

Well, I was allowed to handle Holden, but they did slap a nice matching sign onto my hospital room door.


When my perinatologist saw it, she told me that they usually only put it on the doors of little old women who've just broken a hip.

Great.

Just get me one of those LifeCall buttons and call it a day. Although, for the record, I've never seriously uttered the words, "I've fallen and I can't get up."

"We're sending help immediately, Mrs. Fletcher!"

Since then, I've managed many spectacularly embarrassing falls, but none of them were particularly memorable. It happens so often, you see, that the scars on my knees all sort of blend together.

Fast forward to last weekend.

T and I took the H's to the Botanical Gardens to see my picture and to let the little heathens run amok for awhile. The children's garden tuckered them out nicely, so we hopped on the tram for the ride back to the car. When we got off the tram, I attempted to sit down on a low retaining wall while hubs went to get the car.

I was holding Holden.

You can see where this is going already, can't you? Yup. It will be a miracle if the child makes it to adulthood.

I fell down right by the wall.

T said it was a rather graceful fall and complimented the way I cupped Holden's head and rolled onto my back like a turtle. Whereupon I laid there like a half-dead cockroach, kicking my legs and yelling at T to take the baby.

Unfortunately, despite my cradling of Little H, I managed to slam his right arm into and down the wall on my way down. There was a lot of screaming. Most of it done by me. "He hit the wall! OMG! He hit the WALL!"

Are we seeing a pattern here?

Holden is fine. His arm is a bit scraped up, but I think I have a few more gray hairs.

And I'm no longer allowed to carry the baby unless he's encased in bubble wrap.

I just hope poor Holden hasn't inherited my grace and poise. If so, the poor kid is doomed.


Oh yeah, that lovely "I'm a klutz" sign up above? My husband asked if he could take it when we left the hospital. It hangs on our refrigerator door.

I love you too, dear.

Divide and Conquer

In the car on our way to the beach last weekend, (Yes, we spend a lot of time at the beach. And yes, I managed to avoid basting the baby this time.) Hollis proclaimed that T is, "My Daddy," and, "Brother has Mommy."

Ouch.

Hit Mommy where it hurts, why don't you?

Yes, it hurts a bit whenever your child shows a preference for the other parent, but I have to admit there's a grain of truth in Big H's ownership proclamation.

When Little H was born, T and I had a divide and conquer approach to parenting. T was usually the point man for Hollis and I, the nursing cow, had Holden attached to me 24/7. I guess a little of that is expected when a new baby comes along. But still, I made special time for Hollis and took him to swimming lessons and even left Holden with our sitter a few times so I could have some Hollis-Mommy bonding time. And I've continued to try to spend time alone with each of my boys when I can.

Hollis, while introverted and reserved like me, has had an aloof and independent air about him since he reached toddlerhood. He's never really seemed to constantly need me the way Mr. Clingwrap Holden does. I assumed that once Holden got a bit older and stopped nursing, he would be more like Hollis. He'd want to do things on his own without parental interference or help. He would demand his independence the way Hollis did.

I'd forgotten the rule that No Two Siblings Shall Ever Be Alike.

Holden's little personality is still starting to emerge, but already he is about as different from Hollis as he can be. He's about as different from me and T as he can be.

He's outgoing. He's fearless. He's stubborn. (OK, maybe I am a bit stubborn too.) Nonetheless, Holden is not going to be a Follower of Rules like Mommy, T, and Hollis.

But he needs me. He clings to me. If I walk into a room, he wants to be held by me. He wants me to be actively involved in his play. He wants me to chase him, to show him how things work, and to be by his side. All of this in a way Hollis has never demanded.

Writing this down, I'm starting to realize the error of my ways. Hollis, because of his personality, will never demand anything of me in quite the way Holden will. I, of a similar personality, should know this. But when I hear "go away, Mommy" or "I do it, Mommy" from Hollis and "Up, Mommy," or "epp me" (help me in Holden-speak) from Holden, I give what is asked without question.

This isn't to say that I don't spend time with Hollis or that I don't snuggle Hollis or read to him or love him as much as Holden. Ah, I don't know where I'm going with all of this angst. The end result is that I like being needed by Holden. Perhaps at times I find it cloying, but for the most part I adore it.

T and I are making more of an effort to mix it up. A few weeks ago I took Hollis to the beach while Holden helped Daddy around the house. Every few nights we'll switch who does the evening routine for each child. And when Hollis makes a comment about how I belong to "Brother" I spend a few extra minutes chasing him around and tickling him after bath time.

Because I love Hollis, that sometimes sweet and sometimes solemn little boy of mine. He's so much like me.

Then last night, T and I were engaged in some horizontal parenting from the couch while the kidlets played before bed. Hollis crawled up on me and joined in the snuggle. He put his little head on my chest and said "You're my Mommy."

That's right, kiddo. I'm your Mommy.





*****************
Don't forget, Julie should have her Hump Day Hmmm list up tomorrow. This week she asked us to tackle our feelings upon waking from a 20 year coma like that poor guy in Poland last week. This is a really intriguing topic, but I just can't tackle this one. I tried and my attempt was just too horrible to post. And I have low standards. So, I apologize for not participating in this one, Julie. But I look forward to the next.

Divide and Conquer

In the car on our way to the beach last weekend, (Yes, we spend a lot of time at the beach. And yes, I managed to avoid basting the baby this time.) Hollis proclaimed that T is, "My Daddy," and, "Brother has Mommy."

Ouch.

Hit Mommy where it hurts, why don't you?

Yes, it hurts a bit whenever your child shows a preference for the other parent, but I have to admit there's a grain of truth in Big H's ownership proclamation.

When Little H was born, T and I had a divide and conquer approach to parenting. T was usually the point man for Hollis and I, the nursing cow, had Holden attached to me 24/7. I guess a little of that is expected when a new baby comes along. But still, I made special time for Hollis and took him to swimming lessons and even left Holden with our sitter a few times so I could have some Hollis-Mommy bonding time. And I've continued to try to spend time alone with each of my boys when I can.

Hollis, while introverted and reserved like me, has had an aloof and independent air about him since he reached toddlerhood. He's never really seemed to constantly need me the way Mr. Clingwrap Holden does. I assumed that once Holden got a bit older and stopped nursing, he would be more like Hollis. He'd want to do things on his own without parental interference or help. He would demand his independence the way Hollis did.

I'd forgotten the rule that No Two Siblings Shall Ever Be Alike.

Holden's little personality is still starting to emerge, but already he is about as different from Hollis as he can be. He's about as different from me and T as he can be.

He's outgoing. He's fearless. He's stubborn. (OK, maybe I am a bit stubborn too.) Nonetheless, Holden is not going to be a Follower of Rules like Mommy, T, and Hollis.

But he needs me. He clings to me. If I walk into a room, he wants to be held by me. He wants me to be actively involved in his play. He wants me to chase him, to show him how things work, and to be by his side. All of this in a way Hollis has never demanded.

Writing this down, I'm starting to realize the error of my ways. Hollis, because of his personality, will never demand anything of me in quite the way Holden will. I, of a similar personality, should know this. But when I hear "go away, Mommy" or "I do it, Mommy" from Hollis and "Up, Mommy," or "epp me" (help me in Holden-speak) from Holden, I give what is asked without question.

This isn't to say that I don't spend time with Hollis or that I don't snuggle Hollis or read to him or love him as much as Holden. Ah, I don't know where I'm going with all of this angst. The end result is that I like being needed by Holden. Perhaps at times I find it cloying, but for the most part I adore it.

T and I are making more of an effort to mix it up. A few weeks ago I took Hollis to the beach while Holden helped Daddy around the house. Every few nights we'll switch who does the evening routine for each child. And when Hollis makes a comment about how I belong to "Brother" I spend a few extra minutes chasing him around and tickling him after bath time.

Because I love Hollis, that sometimes sweet and sometimes solemn little boy of mine. He's so much like me.

Then last night, T and I were engaged in some horizontal parenting from the couch while the kidlets played before bed. Hollis crawled up on me and joined in the snuggle. He put his little head on my chest and said "You're my Mommy."

That's right, kiddo. I'm your Mommy.





*****************
Don't forget, Julie should have her Hump Day Hmmm list up tomorrow. This week she asked us to tackle our feelings upon waking from a 20 year coma like that poor guy in Poland last week. This is a really intriguing topic, but I just can't tackle this one. I tried and my attempt was just too horrible to post. And I have low standards. So, I apologize for not participating in this one, Julie. But I look forward to the next.

Divide and Conquer

In the car on our way to the beach last weekend, (Yes, we spend a lot of time at the beach. And yes, I managed to avoid basting the baby this time.) Hollis proclaimed that T is, "My Daddy," and, "Brother has Mommy."

Ouch.

Hit Mommy where it hurts, why don't you?

Yes, it hurts a bit whenever your child shows a preference for the other parent, but I have to admit there's a grain of truth in Big H's ownership proclamation.

When Little H was born, T and I had a divide and conquer approach to parenting. T was usually the point man for Hollis and I, the nursing cow, had Holden attached to me 24/7. I guess a little of that is expected when a new baby comes along. But still, I made special time for Hollis and took him to swimming lessons and even left Holden with our sitter a few times so I could have some Hollis-Mommy bonding time. And I've continued to try to spend time alone with each of my boys when I can.

Hollis, while introverted and reserved like me, has had an aloof and independent air about him since he reached toddlerhood. He's never really seemed to constantly need me the way Mr. Clingwrap Holden does. I assumed that once Holden got a bit older and stopped nursing, he would be more like Hollis. He'd want to do things on his own without parental interference or help. He would demand his independence the way Hollis did.

I'd forgotten the rule that No Two Siblings Shall Ever Be Alike.

Holden's little personality is still starting to emerge, but already he is about as different from Hollis as he can be. He's about as different from me and T as he can be.

He's outgoing. He's fearless. He's stubborn. (OK, maybe I am a bit stubborn too.) Nonetheless, Holden is not going to be a Follower of Rules like Mommy, T, and Hollis.

But he needs me. He clings to me. If I walk into a room, he wants to be held by me. He wants me to be actively involved in his play. He wants me to chase him, to show him how things work, and to be by his side. All of this in a way Hollis has never demanded.

Writing this down, I'm starting to realize the error of my ways. Hollis, because of his personality, will never demand anything of me in quite the way Holden will. I, of a similar personality, should know this. But when I hear "go away, Mommy" or "I do it, Mommy" from Hollis and "Up, Mommy," or "epp me" (help me in Holden-speak) from Holden, I give what is asked without question.

This isn't to say that I don't spend time with Hollis or that I don't snuggle Hollis or read to him or love him as much as Holden. Ah, I don't know where I'm going with all of this angst. The end result is that I like being needed by Holden. Perhaps at times I find it cloying, but for the most part I adore it.

T and I are making more of an effort to mix it up. A few weeks ago I took Hollis to the beach while Holden helped Daddy around the house. Every few nights we'll switch who does the evening routine for each child. And when Hollis makes a comment about how I belong to "Brother" I spend a few extra minutes chasing him around and tickling him after bath time.

Because I love Hollis, that sometimes sweet and sometimes solemn little boy of mine. He's so much like me.

Then last night, T and I were engaged in some horizontal parenting from the couch while the kidlets played before bed. Hollis crawled up on me and joined in the snuggle. He put his little head on my chest and said "You're my Mommy."

That's right, kiddo. I'm your Mommy.





*****************
Don't forget, Julie should have her Hump Day Hmmm list up tomorrow. This week she asked us to tackle our feelings upon waking from a 20 year coma like that poor guy in Poland last week. This is a really intriguing topic, but I just can't tackle this one. I tried and my attempt was just too horrible to post. And I have low standards. So, I apologize for not participating in this one, Julie. But I look forward to the next.

Divide and Conquer

In the car on our way to the beach last weekend, (Yes, we spend a lot of time at the beach. And yes, I managed to avoid basting the baby this time.) Hollis proclaimed that T is, "My Daddy," and, "Brother has Mommy."

Ouch.

Hit Mommy where it hurts, why don't you?

Yes, it hurts a bit whenever your child shows a preference for the other parent, but I have to admit there's a grain of truth in Big H's ownership proclamation.

When Little H was born, T and I had a divide and conquer approach to parenting. T was usually the point man for Hollis and I, the nursing cow, had Holden attached to me 24/7. I guess a little of that is expected when a new baby comes along. But still, I made special time for Hollis and took him to swimming lessons and even left Holden with our sitter a few times so I could have some Hollis-Mommy bonding time. And I've continued to try to spend time alone with each of my boys when I can.

Hollis, while introverted and reserved like me, has had an aloof and independent air about him since he reached toddlerhood. He's never really seemed to constantly need me the way Mr. Clingwrap Holden does. I assumed that once Holden got a bit older and stopped nursing, he would be more like Hollis. He'd want to do things on his own without parental interf