We made it...

Charlie and I just survived his first full-fledged, no holds barred tantrum.  I thought we'd had tantrums in the past, but they were nothing compared to this one -- and we made it.

It technically started when Charlie helped himself to some cheese crackers from the pantry after finishing his afternoon snack of jell-o and cheese.  Charlie knows full well that our pantry is not self-service, and I was fairly convinced that he was not starving, so I said no, took the crackers away and told him to stay out of the pantry.  That's when the screaming started. 

Realistically, though, I think the crux of the problem lies in the big transition.  Charlie is in the process of moving up from the Toddler class to the Younger Twos at school -- and he's not too happy about it.  Yesterday he started sobbing uncontrollably when Miss Brenda took him out to play with the big kids, and today he just wasn't himself. 

I have to admit that I thought I would be the one to struggle with this transition -- after all, I'm not ready for him to turn two, and Charlie knows all the kids in the Younger Twos and usually loves new adventures.  I was wrong.  I don't know if it's the bigger room, the different teachers, the regular trips to the potty or just a vague understanding that he is no longer going to spend his mornings with Miss Jo-Jo and Miss Amanda and his afternoons with Miss Brenda and Miss Janet, but he is definitely out of sorts. 

His confusion and anxiety are breaking my heart, but I guess all we can do is power through.  After all, I don't think the directors are going to agree to Charlie staying in the Toddler room indefinitely, nor can I imagine that they'd move his four teachers up just for him -- though a few more days like this and I might be tempted to ask...

Anyway, I am fairly sure that Charlie said "I want crackers" more times in the past 20 minutes than I have said in my entire life -- and I am certain that he said it louder and more shrill-ly than I ever have.  Screaming, sobbing, whimpering, thrashing, begging, swatting...we had all of it.  "I want crackers" briefly switched to "I want jeans on" (no idea where that came from), but quickly switched back. 

Determined not to give in and reward Charlie for his tantrum, I sat with him on the time out bench, moved with him to the recliner, turned on Big Bird and quickly turned it back of upon Charlie's demand.  Basically, for 20 minutes I just sat there and held a screaming toddler -- and it worked. 

Finally, his cries died down and when he asked for crackers I told him that he could have a banana or milk.  He asked for white cheese instead, and I compromised -- once he'd said "May I have white cheese, please."

I'm not convinced that I won this battle, since he still ended up with food.  But I know I didn't lose, since the crying stopped and no one's had any crackers -- plus, maybe he really was hungry and at least he ended up with something healthy.  What's more, right now he's happily shouting "Daddy's here" while slithering out of his highchair buckle.

Now I know what a a real tantrum is, and I just pray I'll be strong enough to make it through the next one, assuming we make it through transition week in the first place...

Date Night

Since witnessing Bob & Donna leave for their Valentine's date on Monday night, Charlie has been begging to go on a date of his own. We had a family date Tuesday night (after dropping the truck off to get new tires) with Daddy at Mustard Seed, and it was such a huge success that I decided to make tonight a Mommy-Charlie date night.

The plan was to dine at Chick-Fil-A, then spend some quality time carousing in the play area, but driving through downtown Charleston this morning I saw a zebra in Marion Square -- yes a zebra! Well, so much for Chick-Fil-A!

I drove on home, finished only my absolutely "critical" tasks for the day and picked Charlie up an hour and a half early. After a quick change into "date clothes" in the backseat, we were headed East on I-26 for our date. 

Apparently, the source of the zebra is the Southeastern Wildlife Expo, which also brought a yak, two camels, a flock of sheep, some goats, and a Scottish Highland named Landon to town for our viewing and petting pleasure! Plus, we got to ride a camel together and Charlie rode a pony all by himself, shouting "Cowboy!" as he went round and round.

We finished the evening with burgers, fries and ketchup! at Five Guys on King Street, and right before going up to bed Charlie looked at me and said, "Ready to go on a date again, Mama!" Sigh...

Yes, perhaps I am setting the bar awfully high for what qualifies as a "good date", but the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that that is exactly what we want.

I see Zebra!

I ride Camel!

Cowboy!

"Ready to go on a date again, Mama"

A Mother's Worst Enemy

Uggghhh... I should know better.  Actually, I do know better, but last night I was sucked in again.

Jason left yesterday afternoon for Daytona, so Charlie and I are having a fun-filled Mommy and Son weekend.  Well, my "fun-filled" son asked to go to bed at 6:45 last night (not too suprising since yesterday was his first day back at school post-bug), but that left me with the whole evening ahead of me.  And while I love to go to bed early, even I can't do 7:00 -- especially when both dogs need to go out around 10:00 to make it through the night.

So, like any other temporarily single mom trying to bask in her evening of no chores and full control of the remote, I poured a glass of wine, turned on the TV and browsed through the chick-channels.  I quickly came across an episode of Dr. Phil, whom I haven't watched in years -- mainly because he's condescending and annoying, but also because I don't have the time (or know when he's on).  Seeing that the episode was about child abductions and the "five things parents should do to protect their child", I settled in to learn.  Huge mistake!

Ten minutes later I was completely enthralled, tears running down my face, horrified by the idea that if I ever let Charlie out of my sight again some monster might take him, and...I can't even go on from there.  Of course, the "five tips" were at the very end of the show, by which time I was so emotionally unstable, that I can only remember number five - to get him a passport (huh?).

Realizing that this whole incident was reminiscent of my Dateline NBC addiction back in my single days (which, by the way, resulted in having to move to a much larger, more expensive apartment just to get off the first floor), I wiped my tears, scrounged a cinnamon roll out of the freezer and switched to Grey's Anatomay -- second huge mistake of the night.

One hour later, I'd suffered through way more personal drama than I want to believe my doctors and nurses are going through when I'm needing care,  a four year old child suffering endlessly in the ER waiting to be put in a a double-leg cast, and a young father dying of an exploded artery (or something) when he went to the emergency room for heartburn.  Uggghhh...  Is nothing safe?

Needless to say, I laid awake in bed bemoaning the state of the world, the dangers and uncertainties and the fact that Charlie was going to have to face all of this without my watchful eye someday.  On the bright side, I didn't worry about break-ins and power outages, but I still woke up with tremendous bags under my eyes at 5:15 -- apparently Charlie's preferrred wake up time if he goes to bed so early.   Can I say "uggghhh" one more time?

Seriously, though, my little blessing did his job this morning.  He woke up in a fabulous mood -- immediately begging me to "pull down yo seeves, mama!" when he saw my short-sleeved t-shirt, demanding to wear his gray sweatpants, spending half of the morning vacuuming and the other half playing with my shoes on the porch, and calling a very tired Daddy in Daytona to shout "I love you, Daddy" over the phone.  My Charlie Bear even out-shined this glorious, mid-February 70 degree and sunny day.

Yes, I still have to figure out how to teach him to protect himself.  Yes, I still have to do to everything possible to ensure that Jason and I live very long, very healthy lives.  No, I cannot go out today and buy a child-leash or a bubble.

But, despite this world's best intentions, the light and wonder and joy still overcomes the darkness -- I just have to be reminded of it sometimes -- thankfully, some fervent prayers and a 23 month old delight work miracles!

I am determined to outsmart the realities of the world tonight.  After Charlie's and my "date" at Chick-Fil-A (yes -- he asked me out on a date!), I'm going to settle in with a good, light-hearted chick-flick -- even if I have to call Jason in Daytona and have him walk me through the Netflix through the Blu-Ray thing.  And if that doesn't work, I'll read or play solitaire or wash my hair or something...no reality or drama for me tonight!

"I love us"

I love commercials.  I have always loved commercials.  My Grandma used to tease me for chattering away during her "stories" then staring with rapt attention during commercial breaks and shushing anyone else in the room.  My whole family used to tease me for running around the coffee table singing at the top of my lungs and trying to "wash that gray right out of my hair" at three years old.

So, it's no surprise that I adore the new Hallmark tagline -- "I love us".  Yes, I realize that Valentine's day is a silly, commercial holiday.  Yes, I realize that Hallmark's marketing folks couldn't care less whether or not people across America love and cherish each other, as long as they buy cards and candy and toys and games and everything else under the sun that can be shaped like a heart or colored pink -- but I DON'T CARE!

Hallmark commercials are right up there with Johnson's Baby Shampoo and that really old Polaroid commercial with the little kids taking pictures of all of the adults who are surprising the grandparents with the refrigerator (I think) for their 50th anniversary -- but the real gift ends up being the pictures the kids took -- sigh...

Anyway, rewind 15 to 20 years and I was your typical (slightly pathetic) teenage girl, pining for a certain boy on Valentine's day (who likely had no idea), watching "romantic" videos on MTV and reading the scrolled messages across the bottom of the screen, hoping that just maybe the boy of my dreams was also pining away for me and had called in and declared his love to MTV.  Ok, more than slightly pathetic.

Despite the fact that I was dreaming of heart-felt professions of love, candle-lit dinners, horse drawn carriages, fancy velvet dreses with puffed sleeves, perfect bangs, gourmet chocolates and roses, what I really wanted was to live happily ever after.

The South Carolina contingent spent Valentine's weekend building forts, swinging, making homemade Valentine's for Charlie's teachers, vacuuming, drinking from a big boy cup, going to church, and cooking and eating lots of simple, yummy food in our very own kitchen -- with some Sweetheart candies and Little Debbie Valentine brownies thrown in.  And for our romantic Valentine's dinner tonight?  Pork loin and Rice-a-Roni at home. 

Yep, for me, happily ever after is belly laughs, blueberry pancakes, Radio Flyer wagons, yoga pants, pony tails, drugstore candy and roses.

I wouldn't trade my "ever after" for one second of teenage Jenny's dreams.  I love us!

Fort Fun!

Louie preparing to take down the fort

Vacuuming

Roses from my boys

Parenting Pop-Quiz

This is for all the parents and future parents out there.  Can you figure out what Charlie is doing and join in before he gets frustrated??

"Aaaaaaah,"

"In-she-shoo"

"Clap hands!"

Stumped?  I certainly was.  Charlie broke into this little ditty last night while I was changing his diaper.  He was absolutely delighted with himself, and I could tell I was supposed to join in, but I was clueless. 

Thankfully, Charlie is not easily frustrated.  In fact, yesterday afternoon on our way home from school he buckled himself in his carseat after about 2 minutes of trying.  With a little encouragement (and assistance -- I had to move his shirt so he could see the buckle), he got it.  The secret was to hold the two sides of the buckle close enough to the tips to aim, but far enough back to have the necessary leverage to push it closed.

Anyway, after about 10 rounds of his new song, I took a stab and the dark and I was right!  So...do you think you've got it?

"If you're happy and you know it,"

"Then your face will surely show it!"

"If you're happy and you know it"

"Clap your hands!"

All three of us have been clapping up a storm since last night...but one word of warning, it's not a good idea to start a round of "In-she-shoo" as you're backing down the driveway, because it's impossible to clap your hands while driving.  We did move on to "Stomp your feet", but it takes considerable concentration to remember to only stomp your left foot, and the back of my drivers seat is now covered with mud and grass.

Nevertheless, it was well worth it.  I had no idea how amazing it would feel to know that a 23 month old is proud of me!

You got it, Mommy!

A Man's Job

There is a new obsession at our house, and it's just as powerful as pancakes, trucks and Big Bird -- Forts!

It started off pretty simple, we would just put Charlie's blanket over his head and tell him he was in a fort or "fork," as he prefers to call it, but over the past week our forts have grown, as has my understanding of the phenomenon.

You see, as a child I loved it when my mom mopped the kitchen floor, because Angie and I could line up the kitchen chairs and cover them with blankets to make a fort -- same basic structure each week, same blankets, same game; tons of fun.

If I were the family fort guru, I would most likely pull out the dining room chairs, or if I wanted something even simpler, scour Amazon.com for some sort of structure that I could just whip out and throw a blanket over on demand.  Tah-dah!  Kind of like manufactured housing.

Apparently, that is not how boys do forts. For boys (whether they be 23 months or 34 years), there is way more to it. The other night when Charlie begged for a fort, Jason actually mentioned that he'd been thinking about it throughout the day and had developed a few plans -- what!? Charlie was thrilled.

To date our forts have utilized the bar stools and couch (a bit risky, as Louie assumed the roof would hold him), the couch, the train and the book basket,  as well as  Jason's recliner, Charlie's recliner and the shutters (the favorite so far), but discussions have included counters, staple guns and various other contraptions.

Thankfully, Charlie was quick to realize that mom had little skill for this and saves the "fort, Fort, FORT!" mantra for Daddy.  From time to time I am invited in, but my primary job is to document the construction for posterity (and future analysis and planning, I am sure).

Old School

Boys Only

I tuck it, Daddy

Reading by the shop light

Eleven Honest Years

Today is my eleven year anniversary.  Not mine and Jason's.  Not mine at CenturyLink (nee EMBARQ, nee Sprint).  Not my mom and dad's.  Mine.

Eleven years ago today I believed me.  While I'm not likely to post any incriminating (aka embarrassing) pictures, I had a very unfortunate adolescence -- bad perms, bad skin, bad glasses, bad shape and worst of all, a bad attitude about it all.

A foodie from birth, I was a cuddly baby, a chubby child and a heavy tween -- so that by the time I started to thin out a bit in late highschool, my perception of myself was extremely skewed and at ten to fifteen pounds overweight, I felt obese.  To combat these feelings I dieted like a fiend in public and ate outrageous amounts of food in secret, and in July of 1993 I managed to make myself throw up for the first time after gorging myself at a baby shower.

It sounds crazy, but that day was something of an epiphany for me -- I thoughtI had finally figured out how to "control" my weight.  I was finally going to be thin (or so I thought) -- the most important quality in the world, the quality that would make me beautiful and charming and confident and kind.  The quality that would make people love me.

For six and a half years my weight and my moods fluctuated, but two things remained constant -- I was a liar and I was completely out of control.  I lied to everyone who knew me: my parents, my siblings, my friends, my coworkers, my classmates, my roommates, my employers, my first boyfriend and strangers on the street -- pretending to be charming, confident and kind when I was bitter, self-loathing and resentful.

I lied to myself every day saying "this time will be the last time" and every few weeks saying  "when I graduate highschool I'll stop," "when Christmas break ends I'll be better, " "when my birthday gets here I'll stop, " "when I find someone to love me I'll stop..." 

In the summer of 1998 I graduated college and jumped into adulthood, but the bulimia came right along with me.  Finally one Saturday morning after eating a dozen Mr. D's donuts, I admitted to myself that unless I fixed this I could never truly fall in love or get married or have a family or have the life I wanted, because I was a liar and I was out of control.  I opened the yellow pages and left a message for Dr. Mimi Zimmerman, an eating disorders specialist in Kansas City.

Despite the confusion of insurance, my refusal to take anti-depressants and my continued need to keep my struggle a secret, over two courses of eight weeks each, Mimi helped me see that my problem wasn't with food, but with my need to be in control of  who I was to myself and to others.  My fear wasn't of being fat, but of being alone. 

In the spring of 1999, after weeks of "incident-free" living, I binged and purged the night before my sixteenth session with Mimi.  I lied to her about my episode, and towards the end of our hour she told me that she didn't think we needed to continue, that my understanding of my motivations was obvious and my ability to deal with the stresses of life had improved.  Mimi said that I was "well", so I was.

For over 6 months I was "well" because Mimi had said so.  That fall in the midst of a painful breakup, a major career shift and other life changes, I started to binge again, and soon after, I started to purge again.  I lost the fight and my confidence.

Through that winter I learned to survive a bruised heart, I learned to play the corporate game and I learned that I could take care of myself.  Then on February 2, 2000 after my nightly binge/purge, I sat on the bed in my little studio apartment and asked myself why I could be "well" when Mimi said I was, but not on my own.  The answer?  Because I believed her.  So, on February 2, 2000 around 8:00 in the evening, I prayed to God for His strength and His guidance, I told myself I was well, and I believed me.

Someone important is obviously missing from the majority of this story-- God.  I have been a Christian since I was a small child, always believing that Jesus Christ was the Son of God, that He lived and died for my sins and that He is the only source of salvation, but for many yearsI chose to ignore God. 

I focused on my physical body and worldly concerns and pushed aside His love and His plan.  I went to church and I prayed during this time, but let's be honest, I prayed to be thin, to be loved and to be happy -- when all along God had created my body exactly how He wanted it, He loved me beyond my understanding, and His joy was right there for the taking.  He waited for me and saved me from my self-centeredness and fear when I was ready to let Him.

A few days later I perched on Jason's desk for the first time and took those very first, all important, baby steps into love.

Eleven years later I am not a liar, because I am worth honesty. I am not out of control because I don't try to be in control. I am not alone because I believe that I am worth the love that I receive from God, Jason, Charlie and everyone else who know the real me and loves her.

I regret my selfishness.  I regret my lies.  I regret all of the wasted tears and pleas and relationships, but I do not regret having suffered from bulimia, because I learned that I am worthwhile because God created me and that I can overcome anything with His help. 

I also learned that those people who seem the most "together" may be falling apart inside and may need my love and patience and prayers more than I could ever dream.

These lessons made me a better wife, daughter, sister and friend and prepared me to be Charlie's mom.

God's Time

This song could be the story of my life.  For all of my dear family and friends who, like me, find themselves wondering why things happen when and how and why they do.  It's not an easy answer, but I guess that just makes it all the more true.

Link:  In God's Time

Daddy Addict

After the weekend we had, I could hardly blame him, but on Tuesday morning I was fairly convinced that Charlie had successfully faked a stomach bug in order to stay home with Daddy.

Our fabulous weekend started early with Charlie staying home on Friday to help me wrap presents before meeting Daddy for a birthday lunch with his work friends.  Despite the fact that Charlie fell asleep on the way to lunch, he eventually perked up and enjoyed his pulled pork sandwich, half of Daddy's french fries and hamming it up for Daddy's coworkers.

Charlie then got to spend Friday evening with "Miss Jennfa" from church while Mommy and Daddy went to dinner and a comedy show with friends, and we definitely have a bit of a crush developing -- all day Saturday we heard, "Jennfa go?" -- too sweet!

The queries about Jennifer were mixed in amongst a cranberry muffin breakfast, helping Daddy open his birthday presents, learning to use the Kinect and Charlie's first trip to the boat show -- his response to which can be described as nothing other than "reverant awe".  Charlie was almost silent for the first hour, gaping at the boats and the people.  After his first bag of kettle corn he came to enough to try to climb into a couple boats and dance his way to a free whistle from the Sea Tow crew.

We capped off a fabulous day with dinner at Hucks on IOP overlooking the Atlantic.  Charlie had Gruyere and Bacon Mac n Cheese and split my pear Panacotta (aka Pear Pudding!) -- our little gourmand!

Sunday was full of church, a pizza party and a movie with his church friends, but we continued Daddy's birthday celebrations into Monday night with a traditional spaghetti and meatball family feast followed by angel food cake and custard and a Kinect track meet with our fabulous neighbors.  Charlie is a firm believer in the extended birthday, just like Mom and Dad.

So, after four days of Daddy-focused fun and adventure, I was suspicious when Jason called me Tuesday morning around 11:30 as I was pulling off Interstate 95 to head west towards Pine Hurst.  Charlie's daycare had just called and he had gotten sick twice, so Jason was en route to pick him up.  My immediate thought was to turn around, but Jason assured me that that was not why he had called -- that he'd even considered not telling me until I was home to avoid that response, but knew I would kill him.

While I would like to be able to say that my response was purely altruistic, and my only thought was of Jason's need to be at his job, to be honest, I love Charlie's sick days -- not that he's sick, but that I have him home with me and in a cuddly mood.  Once I was honest with myself, I gave up the thought of skipping the Sales Kickoff and heading home, after all, I guess Jason deserves a Charlie sick day every now and again, too.

Around 1:30 Tuesday afternoon, Jason texted me, "Charlie is on fire.  Amazing what a nap can do!"  Hmmmm...is my little boy a little faker?  Did he put it together that  since Mommy would be out of town until Wednesday, if he came home he'd get Daddy all to himself?

Well, by 3:30 my suspicions were put to rest...my own tummy started to clench and Jason confirmed via text that his was doing the same.  I managed to power through the rest of my Tuesday meetings and even the dinner that evening, then crawled into my hotel room bed at 8:15. 

By 4:15 Wednesday morning I completely gave up on sleep, got up, checked out and was on the road by 4:35.  My stomach had made it perfectly clear that I was not going to be sitting in meetings on Wednesday, and I knew I'd rather be sick at home than sick in a hotel. 

Apparently, 4:15 was also when Charlie gave up on sleep that night, so Jason was noticably relieved when I walked in around 8:00, while he was cleaning up the remnants of Big Bird, whom Louie had "mistaken" for his own toy.

The three of us spent Wednesday dozing to House Hunters and Sesame Street, eating bland food and making up new games, the highlight of which was a three hour nap from 11 to 1 -- for all of us!  While I would never wish this particular bug on anyone, there is no better way to spend a sick day than with your two favorite boys.

This morning Jason is back at work (hopefully all is going well!), I am up to about 85% and Charlie is still battling a bit of whiny tiredness, but we should all be 100% in time for another fabulous weekend!

Charlie wrapping some of "his" tootsies for Daddy

Testing out Daddy's new Fishing Pole from BaBa and PaPa

Setting up the Kinect

Whoa!  Boats!

Make a wish!

Daddy and Chad running hurdles

Calling Grandma to feel better

(he gets that from Mommy)

Word Games

Old News:  Regis Philbin is retiring this summer
Breaking News:  Charlie is intensively training to take over as host of "Live"

Back in late August when Charlie's vocabulary exploded, Jason and I teased that he was going to be a politician or a talk show host.  Well, it looks like everything's coming together for him to have his own morning show at 2 years old.  The kid is cracking us up -- complete sentences are old news.  He now likes to start conversations with strangers, to talk in paragraphs, and will do almost anything to get a laugh.

We're celebrating Jason's birthday with friends this Friday night by going to an Improv show downtown...if it didn't start at 9:00, we would probably take Charlie and let him try out his routine...he'd bring down the house.

Some of his latest and greatest in context:

"He woofening" - announced anytime a dog barks (live or on TV)

"Mama cookening" - given as play-by-play while I make his oatmeal or toast in the mornings

"How  'bout..." - repeated over and over with his fist to his chin and his index finger stroking his cheek, while he painstakingly picks and chooses the five crayons or five play-doh tools that he gets to use.  Saturday night at Chad and Corrisa's he did this so long that he never even colored!

"Could be Daddy" - any time any phone rings anywhere...even if Daddy is the one who answers it

"Cuppa Minute, Youie" - stated while holding out a hand in the "wait" position when Louie wants out of his kennel, but Charlie is busy gathering Daddy's input regarding which shirt he should wear, the Otis shirt, the blue airplane shirt or the white airplane shirt

"Youie, be wight back" - promised anytime he happens to be leaving a four foot radius around Louie

"I caywee you" - offered when I'm carrying Louie down the stairs in my left arm and Charlie wants to ride in my right arm, followed by "I caywee Youie" and "It ok, Youie" as soon as I scoop him up

"Great bite" or "Great bus" or "Great book" or "Great truck" - used in place of big (must be my Spanish literature background...grande?)

"I fast" - screamed after tucking his hands up under his armpits in preparation to run

"I no fit, Mama" - asserted when told to climb in his carseat yesterday afternoon, following a conversation in which I had told him he looked like he'd grown two inches during the day

"It's flying up high" - shouted while holding his peanut butter toast above his head prior to swooping it into his mouth

"The girls" - used as an answer to the question "Who are you going to see at school today?" after he's listed his teachers, i.e. Miss Jo-Jo, Miss Manda, Miss Bwendah, Miss Janet and "the girls"

And some of the not so greatest:

"Oh my goooosh!" - repeated over and over and over again the past couple of days, because Mommy obviously says it far too often -- ostensibly harmless coming from a 33 year old, but exposed as a useless and somewhat vulgar phrase when coming from a 22 month old

"Damnit" - oh yes, it happened.  Following Louie's millionth accident, Daddy let it slip the other day...luckily it didn't make too much of an impression and has been dropped

And, my all time favorite, a recent discussion on the way home from school:

Charlie: Jack n Jill, Jack n Jill, Jack n Jill...
Mommy: Where did Jack and Jill go?
Charlie: I don't know
Mommy:  Did they go up?
Charlie: Yes
Mommy: Where did they go up?
Charlie: Jack n Jill up the ladder
Mommy: The ladder?
Charlie:  Yeah.
Mommy: Why did Jack and Jill go up the ladder
Charlie:  To get a drink

Buh-boom-cha!

Recognizing the importance of versatility, Charlie is also working on his physical comedy:

I sit top, Mama!

I ride!

I seeping, Youie.

Power Outage 2011

I have to say that it is much less stressful to have the power go out at 5:15 in the evening with a pot of homemade chicken soup on the stove, a fire in the fireplace and your husband playing on the floor with the dogs than it was at 1 AM with Jason in Daytona last year!

Quick thinking had me throw the noodles in the soup within a couple minutes of the blackout, so we were still able to enjoy a "romantic" candle-lit dinner for three...followed by cozy fun and games in the living room until bedtime.  The shutters even kept Charlie's room warm enough to put him down up there -- and with the power coming back on at 8:00 (beating last year's time by 14 hours!), it was just a minor winter-blip in our day!

And best of all, with my new kindle and it's handy-dandy light, I was able to read the evening away until the power came on -- you gotta love technology!

"Boating" by firelight

Painful Lesson

While patience is definitely not one of my strengths, I proved to myself this afternoon that I have much more than I previously thought...

During round two of play-doh fun this afternoon, Charlie again dumped the entire bucket of tools and accessories on the floor.  This time, rather than pick them up for him (since I didn't have the deadline of a rapidly darkening grilled cheese sandwich), I helped him out of his seat and instructed him to pick up the toys and put them in the bucket.

My initial request was simply ignored, and he wandered off into the living room.  Upon being brought back to the kitchen and re-instructed to pick up his toys, Charlie said, "No!"

A bit taken aback, I asked him again, more nicely, to pick up his toys and explained that since Charlie dumped them out, Charlie was responsible for putting them away.  His response? "No!" only louder this time.

So, we had our first round of time out -- the end of which would be up to him, when he was ready to pick up his toys.  He quickly agreed to pick them up, after asking for a hug, so I put him down on the floor.

Charlie then proceeded to go empty out all of the random gadgets he'd recently stored in the stock pot and ended up back in time out -- this time staring me down, fully aware that it was taking every ounce of my self control to keep from laughing.

Upon his release from time out, I sat down on the floor with him and instructed him piece by piece by piece to pick up his toys and put them in the bucket...all 26 letters, 10 numbers and various "tools."  This kid is stubborn - almost as stubborn as his mom!

What you may ask was the incentive behind this manual labor...since time out obviously didn't serve as much of a deterrant?  Water.  Yes, water, sipped out of a small plastic shot glass was the carrot I dangled in front of him, and that, along with vigilant reminders provided the necessary motivation to get the job done.

After barely preventing Charlie from dumping the whole thing out again, I got up to fill up his cup, and Charlie found two more tools in his high chair.  I offered to put them away (to keep him away from the bucket), but he insisted on doing it himself. 

I could probably convince myself that I just successfully taught Charlie the value and necessity of putting away his toys, but in reality I think that it's more likely that the key lesson here is that my son is a force to be reckoned with and my patience is going to get quite the workout over the next 20 years...

Snow Day!

Who knew that snow days were even more fun as a mom?!

Due to the 38 degree temperatures and freezing rain, the state of South Carolina more or less shut down today, so I got to keep Charlie home with me.  With multiple bridges and all state governments closing down we thought Jason would get to stay home, too, but apparently the VA is the only organization that stays open in this kind of weather.

Like all of our Kansas City friends and family, I find the whole thing fairly ridiculous, but that doesn't mean we aren't enjoying every minute of it!  We've spent the day playing with the dogs, discovering that Louie is even less a fan of cold weather than Otis and doing a few loads of laundry while icicles form on the eaves and sleet patters at the window...to which Charlie loves to yell, "Hear that?!?" -- so funny.

The highlights of the day so far have been a marathon play-doh session during which we learned to use scissors and discovered that play-doh does not, in fact, taste like gingerbread cookie dough followed by some rousing games of "pockafoozie" while our grilled cheese cooked. (aka Ring Around the Rosie, "Pocket Full of Posies".

Right now the plan is for me to shower and change from the sweats I slept in to a new pair while Charlie naps, after which he'll take a bath and do the same...then some cars and Sesame Street before we make chicken soup to warm Daddy up after his day facing the bitter South Carolina winter -- hah!  I love it!

Tah-dah!

Oops...Mom, I have no idea how this happened!

Brrrrrr.....

Point Taken...

Louie disappeared this evening. 

For all intents and purposes, he is all black, so seeing him beyond the swingset is near impossible.  One minute he was there, the next minute he was gone.  Jason started the search, but when I laughingly came out and asked if he'd found Louie and he said "No," I joined in. 

I was searching close to the house and realized that as grown up as Charlie is, we really couldn't both be out and about searching, so I went in -- Charlie quickly let me know that I was not his preferred parent of the moment, so I grabbed Otis and sent him on a recon mission then sent Jason inside.

While Otis happily chased Oakley, I scoured the perimeters of our house, Bob's house and Garret's house -- as far as Louie had ever been, but I kept hearing a high-pitched barking from up near Butternut.  So, certain that that was Louie calling for me, stuck in some hole or something, I headed up the mud road and into the brush...in my flip flops...without my cell phone. 

After about fifteen minutes I heard Jason yelling for Louie and realized he'd successfully put Charlie down and was back on the hunt...not a good sign.  A dozen puddles and a ditch later, after stopping many times when the barking stopped, waiting for it to start up again, I gave up and began the trudge home, picturing Jason's, Charlie's and even Otis' faces when Louie still wasn't back by tomorrow. 

I realized that as annoying as it is to have to take him out in the rain every 30 minutes and still clean up his messes as soon as we come back in, I've grown to love the little critter over the past week. And as territorial and spoiled as Otis is, he would be lost without him...not to mention Charlie.  Jason would probably take it best of any of us, and it's his dog.

About one hundred yards from home I saw Jason shining his flashlight my way.  I glumly shined mine at him...hoping he realized it wasn't a sign of success, hating the thought of him believing I'd found Louie when in fact I'd just given up.

Then Jason yelled, "I've got him".  I was stunned.  I was prepared to learn and suffer from all the lessons having to do with neglecting our pets by looking away for a minute and not having a fence and the trauma this would cause Otis and Charlie, etc...but Louie was found!

He'd been in Bob's garage the entire time!  Did I mention that I saw the pedestrian door open and was going to look, but got distracted by the distant dog barks.  Yeah...

So, Louie's fine.  My OluKai's are quite possibly ruined.  Otis and Charlie are pleasantly sleeping.  And me, well I realized that as annoying as dog pee is, Louie is one of the family and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The genius figuring out the dog bowl

The genius figuring out the dog bed

Our Louie

A new strategy...

I need some advice...as crazy as it sounds, lately I've found myself envying people who "get" to go to a job every day and leave their to-do lists behind. 

I started working from home in September, 2006 and for a long time I cherished the ability do so much  while I worked.  During conference calls I can easily run/empty the dishwasher, change/fold the laundry, make the bed,  plan/start dinner, make a grocery list and more.  Plus,  since I take lunch whenever I feel like it, I can squeeze in grocery shopping, exercising, walking the dog, doctors appointments, cleaning the house, etc -- all while getting my work done ahead of schedule. 

In the past two years I've even been able to add Charlie's sick days, picture uploads, blogging, additional laundry, and volunteering my administrative skills for church.  With a managable workload and the ability to set my own deadlines for everything else, it's seemed like a win-win situation for a long time -- Jason and I have felt extremely blessed that I've been able to handle so many of the logistics and little things, so we can relax in the evenings and on the weekends.

But lately I find myself despising the fact that it's so easy to just run upstairs and change the load of laundry or empty the dishwasher or stop by the store on the way home from daycare...because I have no excuse not to do it, and in the end, I find myself stressing out over my spreadsheets because I need to change the laundry, then get upstairs to run by 11:30, so I'm done by 12:30 for a call, then finish my work and squeeze in a shower,  but still start dinner by 4:00 before I go pick up Charlie so I can play with him when he gets home...while finishing dinner and tidying up the house, running the vacuum to rid the house of dead grass and hopefully folding the load of laundry sitting in the dryer before Jason's shirts are irrevocably wrinkled...

Obviously, something's got to give, but I'm just not sure how to go about it.  How does one escape the guilt of saying no to herself and allowing the dog toys to remain in the middle of the living room -- especially when all of the people that work away from home would give their right arms to get a few more things done during the day and probably want to smack me for complaining (rightly so!)

I guess I just need to figure out how to give myself a little leeway on days when I have pressing deadlines or overlapping conference calls -- but how?  I feel like such a slacker when I don't get it all done, since I'm home all day, which leads to some very grumpy mornings when I look at my to-do list and my work schedule and realize that it's just not going to happen.  Any suggestions?

In positive news...we're making serious progress in other fronts...

Charlie is starting to earn his keep and do some of the heavy lifting around here:

and Otis is caving despite his best intentions:

A new baby...

Well, since we can't seem to control when/if Charlie will get a new sibling, we went ahead and got one for Otis.  Meet Louie...our new baby.  I have to say I forgot how much work a puppy could be, but Charlie absolutely adores him and Otis is slowly coming around.

At this point, we are letting Charlie "hold" Louie on his lap once a day in a somewhat useless effort to prevent him from picking Louie up by his back legs and/or head.  Thankfully, Louie is a trouper.

Like Otis, though, Louie hates the cold weather, so these 30 degree temperatures in the morning are not helping our potty training efforts...looks like we're going to try the litter box route like we did with Otis.  I just keep telling myself that eventually he will learn that if he goes to the bathroom outside his life will be much nicer...at which point life will be much nicer for all of us -- and I may even end up with a brand new living room rug out of the deal!

Merry Christmas!

Tolerance

Louie prefers Otis' bed to his own

(another Little Napolean)

Sun Bathing

Again, trying to be like Otis

Back in the Swing...

Following ten days of cousins and aunts and uncles and BaBa and PaPa, not to mention a long list of "Greats" in Kansas City and a 12:15 AM arrival home Tuesday morning, Charlie actually slept in until 8:40 yesterday! 

The extra two morning hours combined with a fabulously slow work schedule enabled me to unpack and find homes for four suitcases full of stuff, restock the refrigerator and still pick up Charlie from school a little bit early and make dinner!

Now the house is back together, the three of us are back on schedule and Otis is slowly coming around to forgiving us for abandoning him, but Charlie is still a bit confused.  He definitely got used to having an abundance of cousins and friends and grandparents around for mutual entertainment and laughs.  I don't think we've gone 20 minutes without him asking about Tyler or Elizabeth or Grampy or Nanie or Tom or Abby or Alexis or Mal-Mal or Ellie or one of his many Aunts and Uncles...and I know we haven't gotten in the car without him immediately requesting "BaBa House?" as if I'm a paid chauffeur.  Last night he even ran off with the phone in order to "call Landon".

But who can blame him? We had more fun adventures in Kansas City than I could possibly sum up in one entry...so here is Our Twelve Days of Christmas

Twelve train cars rolling

Eleven mornings dawning

Ten frames of bowling

Nine tools a buzzing

 Eight candies missing

Seven cousins asking

Six (million) geese a flying

Five cookie sheets

Four toddlers driving

Three axels turning

Two parents smiling

and One very merry Charlie!