juliloquy

Shmoo v3.75

Brief "darnedest things" items:

6 a.m. HPR, wearing only jammie pants (the Heff ones, Xiobhan!) greeted the recently-awakened Shmoo. Shmoo's response "I don't care for naked men."

He is also really bringing the sass these days. If we dare to speak to him when he's not ready he frowns and says "you're disturvin' me."

If he is trying to tell something to HPR and I respond he says "I was talking to DADDY."

A few weeks back I was at the end of my rope with his constant attempts to injure his sister. It was the end of a long day of solo parenting and I wasn't at my best. I said, "you know Shmoo, I'm not sure you really are able to do the right thing." Without a blink he responded "I will when I am 4."

November can't come quickly enough.

/waving hands from a distance/

OK, so I guess lowering my standards didn't help me produce more blog entries. I miss blogging. I miss reading your blogs. You miss me? I miss me, too. Let's see - maybe I could be motivated by guilt. I'll also take suggestions. What shall I write about?

Parenting is so consuming/draining and fulfilling. Discuss.

Quick news. Da Roo has a toof! It emerged while we were on our Outer Banks vacation (June 6-17). Since we've been back she has been clingy/whiny/needy, so I expect we'll see other teeth soon. People continue to observe what a happy baby she is. Her teething reminds me not to take that for granted.

Rooie LOVED the beach. There was much flapping of arms and kicking of legs. She has tan lines where her arm fat meets her hand fat. Shmooie was better about the beach than in previous years, but is still not crazy about the experience. He did love spending time with his cousins.

HPR and I enjoyed being flies on the wall during a program at a nature center - we got to see the unselfconscious Shmoo participate in story time. The speaker asked the kids about their favorite animals and Shmooie chimed right in: "I like elephants and whales." At the end of the program, the guide asked if the kids had any questions. Shmooie raised his hand and said "I'm wearing flip-flops." (It was his first day ever wearing flip-flops.)

We also loved listening to Shmooie's uninhibited laugh when he and his cousins watched Piglet's Big Movie and the Curious George movie. I wish we had recorded his chortles and guffaws, because they could seriously bring peace to the Middle East.

The beach also ushered in the Era of Poopie Talk. It's my fault. I made the mistake of laughing when Shmooie improvised "On top of spaghetti, all covered with poop." So now we're trying to find the delicate balance of discouraging it while not making it a big deal. Sigh.

Let's see, more Roo news. She says "Mama" with meaning sometimes, but not consistently. She says "keh" when she sees a cat. She eats a variety of foods, and we've learned that if she's not wild about something, we just add hummus to it and she'll do a baby bird imitation. We sometimes have to use three spoons while feeding her: one for each of her hands and one for us to scoop food into her mouth. It gets tricky when she parries our spoon with one of hers. She loves drinking water out of a sippy cup and feeding herself crackers and rice cakes. She's not crawling yet but is at that wonderful stage where she is entertained by sitting in front of a basketful of toys, taking them out one at a time and examining each like a taster of fine wines.

We're also "Ferberizing" da Roo to cut down on nighttime wakings. Last night was pretty bad, but we're hoping tonight is better. And now, I sign off. Part of our tactic is for me to "top off the tank" (great expression, Courtney!) between 10 and 10:30, so off I go.

Interview with a Shmooie

For Mother's Day, Shmooie's teachers gave us a booklet compilation of answers to questions they had asked each kid, along with a couple of recipes.

You know, I think we're doing an OK job of raising him.

1. What does Mommy cook that you like to eat?
Pasta.

2. How does Mommy make it?
She puts it in the pot and puts it in the oven and she cooks it.

3. My Mom always says
"I love you."

4. My Mom really loves
my house.

5. My Mom and I like to
swing on the porch.

6. My Mom's favorite clothes to wear are
blue shirts [hmmmm, not sure I have any blue shirts. Methinks the interviewee was projecting his preferences onto me.]

7. My Mom is beautiful because
because she is.

How many stickers do I earn for this?

As a sleep-deprived parent, I've made my share of mistakes. Lapses in judgment. Delayed responses due to fuzzy-headedness. But once in a while, I manage some proud moments of on-the-spot thinking. Two recent examples:

I was trying to introduce Shmooie to the idea of buttoning his own clothes. Shmoo is not a do-it-himself kind of guy and he was resisting. So I made up a story that the buttons were little mice who wanted to run into their holes. (We've been reading The Dark at the Top of the Stairs at least daily - so mice are a current fascination for da Shmoo.) The mouse storyline intrigued him and he made several attempts.

Another brilliant moment was when I was encouraging Shmooie to use the potty before we left daycare. Someone had just cleaned the toilets, so the water was blue. Shmoo hesitated (unfamiliar situation = scary), until I said "Hey Shmoo - the water is blue and your pee is yellow, so what color will it become when you go potty?"  Oh the joy of a science experiment involving the bathroom! He knew the answer, and made it so.

Yesss!

I guess what this tells me is that the trick to parenting is finding successful ways to manipulate your children. I'd love to hear yours.

I would edit this, but then it would never get posted

Some thoughts about da Roo:

We have made some little trips lately, and several people have asked us about da Roo: "Is she always this happy?" We think, we blink, and we respond "yes." Of course there's the RDA of fuss, but it's usually short-lived.

People sure do come up with some funny things to compliment. We used to laugh about the descriptor "alert" for babies. It seems to be reserved for when people can't think of something else nice to say, such as "cute." So I say we used to laugh about it, and then we started hearing it a lot about da Roo. Now don't get me wrong, I think she's the cutest baby since, well, da Shmoo. I am not objective at all, and I couldn't care less about whether others think she's cute or not. It's just funny. The other one I've heard on several occasions is "she has such a perfect head shape." Head shape? Way to go, Roo!

OK, but really, da Roo is the next Mary Tyler Moore. Because she can turn the world on with her smile.

Rambling while I have the chance.

I also used to think "preschooler" was a funny category of kid. "Infant" and "toddler" make total sense. Couldn't there be something more specific for 3- and 4-year olds, like "verbalizer" or "staller" or "no of course I don't need a nap. I'm not sleepy at all-er" or "must torment, startle, and otherwise bother baby sister every moment of every day-er." But now that I have a preschooler, I realize how apt a descriptor it is for this age. The kid is defined by my needing time away from him. To send him somewhere else for several hours of the day. Yes I love him. But holy. He can drive me crazy.

(Evolution has also been very wise in making children look so sweet and angelic when they're asleep. It has no doubt saved multitudes from being smothered in their sleep.)

Da Shmoo also has so many moments of awesomeness. He cracks me up and has such fun observations. When we can get beyond his stubbornness and my annoyance, we can really have a good time. Like last week in DC when he was supposed to be napping and instead was putting on a show for da Roo, who was also supposed to be napping. I just laughed, got them in their swimsuits, and went to the pool.

Shmoo and I were discussing Bob  L'Eponge recently. He asked me where sponges live and I said "Well, they're sea creatures, so they live in the water." Astute Shmoo responded. "Sponges don't live in the water. They live in the sink!"

We had broccoli recently, and I asked Shmooie whether he wanted Parmesan cheese. He did, so I brought out the green cannister. When he saw it, he said "where's the cheese?" It took me a moment, but then I realized he thought I was offering Parmis-on-cheese. So I got out a slice of muenster.

 

We went up to visit Nana this past weekend. (Nearly two years after that post, she is just now declining rather rapidly.) Shmoo was attentive, gentle, and loving with her. She would speak with us for a few minutes, but kept falling asleep. We let her rest, and then a nursing assistant wheeled her from the dining room back to her room. We were about to say our farewells and we told Shmoo that Nana was very sick and that we were going to let her know we love her. After she was situated, Shmoo walked right over to her side and said "I love you, Nana."

I'm no professional photographer, but . . .

I'm no professional photographer, but . . ., originally uploaded by juliloquy.

The kids' daycare set this up. They got good shots of them individually, but I don't know what was up here.

Second post in March, wh-WHOO!

New rules! I'm going to try to post more than twice a month. This can only mean a drop to an all-time low in standards. Bulleted lists galore. A blog version of Twitter. Here we go.

Today

It is 45 degrees out, yet the ice cream truck has thrice driven by our house. The song it plays is "La Cucaracha." Not exactly what I want to hear in relation to ice cream.

Smart boy

The other day we were sitting around the table after dinner. Out of the blue, Shmooie said "Daddy, you're sirty-sree." We affirmed that Daddy is, indeed, 33. Then I said "How old am I, Shmoo?" He thought about it and said "you're twenty-six."

Book review

I finished What Is the What several weeks ago. My six-word review: "Please read this book. It's amazing." Got to go to the One Book, One Philadelphia finale last week. The entire crowd beamed when Valentino Achak Deng entered the room. Podcast is here.

Thus saith da Shmoo

Woe unto them that serve me breaded morsels of fowl which hath been marred in appearance. The very peppercorns that adorn them shall be plucked asunder and cast into the fire.

Verily I say unto you: Let not the morsel of fowl in any manner touch the nectar of ketchup before the time at which I shall appoint. Saith the scripture: "And the flesh that toucheth any unclean thing shall not be eaten; it shall be burnt with fire. . . . Moreover the soul that shall touch any unclean thing, as the uncleanness of man, or any unclean beast, or any abominable unclean thing, and eat of the flesh of the sacrifice of peace offerings, which pertain unto the LORD, even that soul shall be cut off from his people" (Lev. 7:19-20).

Manservant and maidservant, present not unto me cereal bars fissured in nature, neither shalt thou bestow unto me crackers nor pretzel sticks unwhole or otherwise impure. Saith the scripture: "whatsoever hath a blemish, that shall ye not offer: for it shall not be acceptable for you" (Lev. 22:20). For my wrath shall be kindled against you and I shall smite you with great plagues.

"Ye shall keep my statutes. . . . thou shalt not sow thy field with mingled seed" (Lev. 19:19). Neither shall nourishment mingled of more than two ingredients come into me.

Herein ye have done foolishly: therefore from henceforth shall ye provoke my fury.

"To me belongeth vengeance, and recompence. . . . for the day of their calamity is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make haste. For [da Shmoo] shall judge his people, and repent himself for his servants, when he seeth that their power is gone, and there is none shut up, or left" (Deut. 32: 35-36).

splash

Big news in these parts is there is yet another new member of the household. No, not Earl, newer. Last week, we met Shmooie's new imaginary friend.

She is a mermaid, and they do everything together. She has blue skin and blue hair, but her tail changes colors (green, purple, pink, red). Her name is Shelly. Shmooie has informed us that he, too, is a girl mermaid with a tail that changes colors.

I welcomed Shelly with open arms. Shmooie has been acting out a lot at home lately, and Shelly seemed to be steering him away from the direct path to juvenile delinquency. She distracted him from his usual checklist of torturing the cats, wrenching the limbs of his little sister, and poking her in the face.

Here is an example of a conversation from early last week:

Me: Shmoo, time to wash your hands!
[What Shmooie hears]: "Mwuh mwah mwuhmwuh MWAH mwuh MWAH mwuh [Charlie Brown grownups sound]
Me: Is Shelly ready to wash her hands?
Shmoo: YES! [They swim over.]

Turns out, however, that Shelly was just kissing up to me temporarily. These days, she tunes me out just as readily as da Shmoo. [sigh.] But she'd better watch herself. It's a pretty heavy load giving them both a piggy-back ride to school in the morning. I might just "forget" her at the bus stop.

the return of the Shmooiecam

Shmooie has transitioned to the preschool room at his daycare. The webcam in his last room never worked very well; I'm happy to be able to peek in on him once again.

Shmooie in orange shirt.