Brought to you by the letter "P"

I only have one item in my make up case that costs more than ten dollars. It's this:

That would be an M.A.C. blush brush. It may not seem like much of a splurge; but consider the fact that I will use the same goopy Wet 'n' Wild mascara for six months until BJ's runs a coupon for it. So a thirty dollar blush brush? Big splurge. But it makes my cheekbones look great.

So here's the scene. Bella is on the potty.

Her clothes are covered in green paint. "Baby Isaac and I are going upstairs for one minute to get you some clean clothes." I say sternly. "Do not get up off this potty."

Well. Those of you who have had an almost-three-year-old know that I may as well have said "Please get up off the potty and do the most disgusting thing imaginable while I am gone." Have you guessed yet? Forty five seconds later I returned to find her painting the bathroom walls with her own pee. Her choice of paintbrush?

I was actually so beyond repulsed and angry that I burst out laughing. Isabel, relieved, laughed as well. Then, before I could decide what to do with the monstrous mess in front of me, she solemnly sprinkled the baby and I with the pee, like a Catholic priest blessing the congregation with holy water.

To be fair, our lesson theme for the day was the letter "P". We made cute little toilet-paper-roll Piggies, hand print Penguins, Painted Pictures of Peacocks, and ate Pasta with Peas. So, I guess this seemed like a fitting end to the morning?

Thank you, God, for a sense of humor. And also for Clorox wipes.

Update update

Well, turned out to be an ear infection-a Sparkets family first. He is on antibiotics and seems much better. Unfortunately, three sleepless nights have caused me to revert to my alter ego, Insano-Mommy. I had hoped that we had seen the last of her, but she is back; refusing to put on make up or brush her hair, basically just walking around the house in circles and crying at the drop of hat. So if you stop by in the next day or so try not judge me by the pile of unfolded laundry on my couch. And whatever you do, don't drop your hat.

Update

Dear Isaac,

P.S. So I checked on you last night around ten pm and you were burning up. Your temperature was a hundred and four. Please please please please please do not do that to me ever again. I cannot take it. Plus, you did not very much enjoy being taken from your bed in the middle of the night and plunked into a sink full of tepid water. You are much better today, thank goodness, but that was a rough night. So, really, buddy. Let's not, OK?

Letters to Isaac, Month 10

Dear Isaac,

Today you turn 10 months old. I was not sure whether I was going to get this letter done today, as things have been pretty topsy-turvy around here lately. Yesterday you came down with a nasty fever, you poor thing. You have spent the last 24 hours lying on my lap like a sad, sad little slug. In addition, yesterday at nap time your big sister discovered the joys of…cue ominous drum roll…

Finger-painting. In case you couldn’t tell by the ominous drum-roll, the medium she chose was most definitely not made by Crayola. You get my drift. All of this has left your Mommy pretty tired and sitting on top of a truly heinous pile of laundry. But I digress.

So much has happened this month with you, I hardly know where to begin. You are crawling, little buddy! You still mainly stick to the belly-crawl, but you are getting up on those hands and knees more and more often. I expected you to be more excited about this newfound ability, but you are so enamored by the idea of walking that you don’t seem much to care.

You. Want. To. Run. You spend a lot of your day propped up against the couch or nearest adult, in love with the sensation of standing on your own two feet. You watch your sister with envious fascination as she thunders around the house. You are trying very hard to get the hang of pulling yourself up on the furniture. It will be soon, buddy, very soon. You even stand on your own for four to five seconds. You have already managed some pretty spectacular conks to your noggin.

It's hard to believe your birthday is in another two months. I have no idea what to get you. You haven't really expressed any strong preferences with regards to playthings. Actually, if I can find anything that makes you half as happy as an empty 20 ounce soda bottle, I'd feel pretty good.

You are still a totally laid back little dude. Really, you’re a happy kid. I have to tell you this because for some reason it is impossible to get a picture of you smiling. Whenever you see the camera, you get this little scowl on your face. You're like, "There she goes with that thing again."

I thought maybe if I put you in your favorite place, doing your absolutely favorite thing, I would be guaranteed a smiling picture. I mean, I have never seen you in your swing without a big smile on your face.

No such luck. And you have the sweetest little shy smile. The girls are already ga-ga for you. You are very friendly, but starting to show a little bit of separation anxiety, which is totally normal for your age.

This doesn’t help with the sleep training. What is up with your sleep patterns? For one whole week you slept nine hours in a row every night! Then you were like, “Psych!” We are making ground, though. No more nursing between the hours of 7pm and 4am. When you wake up during this time, your daddy goes in and calms you down. Hooray, Daddy!

Unless you are sick. Last night we hung out together in the rocking chair for most of the night, And that’s OK. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help you feel better, little man. I hope you kick this thing soon and can go back to being the regular little dynamo of action
you usually are. I love you so much little buddy, and look forward to seeing what you do next month!

Love,
Mama

Letters to Isabel, Month 34

Dear Isabel,

Today you turn 34 months old. I will always remember this as the month of “Here’s what’s going to happen”. Ah, that magic, magic phrase. See, every two weeks our local library has a story time for two year olds. This story time has become a very special tradition for you and Nanny. Every other Thursday she and GG pick you up and take you to the library. Afterwards they take you to McDonald’s for your favorite meal in the whole wide world, chicken nuggets and “tench fries”.


Well, two weeks ago I had scheduled your brother’s routine checkup for Thursday morning during your library time. Nanny called just as we were leaving to say that she was taking you home early due to the fact that you had morphed into the biggest spaz this side of the Mississippi. No story time. No tench fries. You were both crushed. I went to pick you up from her house and when I saw you there sheepishly eating your turkey sandwich I was filled with this great sadness for you. At your age it is primarily my responsibility to help you learn how to behave. The truth is, lately it had become much easier to give into your tantrums than to discipline you consistently. I thought I had been doing my best, but I realized at that moment that I could do better.

So. That day began The Crackdown. The new policy was: We would make sure we were taking the time to explain what we expected of you. We would make sure that our expectations were reasonable. We would employ a zero tolerance policy when it came to acting up. Rather than letting the behavior go on for several minutes, we would put you right in time out.








Pshew! Sounds rough, huh? And it was rough. For about 6 hours. The first day of The Crackdown saw you in Time Out about 8 times before lunch. Then something happened. You began to act up that afternoon, and I gave you a stern look and said, “Are you going to disobey?” You thought about it for a minute and decided it wasn’t worth it. Finally, we were getting on the same page. I probably ask you that question ten times a day now. Sometimes you say, “yes”, but most of the time you get yourself under control. I am so proud of you, I could burst!





Our communication has reached another level these last few weeks. Sometime during The Crackdown, it occurred to us that we seemed to be having most of our problems during transition times, or unfamiliar experiences. That’s when we discovered, “Here’s what’s going to happen”. Before a transition, or before we begin something that we know you won’t like, or if you are just starting to get anxious, your Dad or I will look you in the eye and say, “Isabel, here’s what’s going to happen…”. We will describe the event to you in great detail. And about ninety percent of the time, you move smoothly into the activity with little fuss. Magic! Turns out you just really don’t like things being sprung on you.

Not a surprise. You are very into control these days. Even more so than most other kids your age, I think. You don’t like being hugged or kissed, unless you initiate the contact. You hate being tickled, but every now and then you will lie down on the floor and tickle yourself. It drives you completely mad that your brother is starting to cruise the furniture and get into your toys. You’ve taken to carrying around armloads of your favorite toys to keep them safe from his deadly grasp. We call it your Entourage. Here you are simultaneously protecting two Duckies, a hippo, a tiny rabbit, a plastic hanger which you have decided is a candy cane, and your fire truck. Being a big sister is exhausting!



All this has not boded well for potty training. You are a smart kid and you get the idea. You are not opposed to it, per se, but you really want your bodily functions to adhere to your schedule. You do not like having to plan your activities around the potty. We’ve promised you that when you are a “big girl” that we will get you a goldfish, and you want one. Bad. So at this point we are just waiting. But we do have a preschool deadline, honey. The deposit is paid and everything, so…any day now, okay?

You are definitely ready for preschool. You ask to go there almost every day. This is a huge shocker, as you have always acted as though all other children are covered in acid and the merest contact with one will burn you. You’ve become a lot more comfortable around other kids for some reason. Yay! I can’t wait to see how you do there. I can’t wait to see what the next month brings. Every day it seems I get to know you a little bit better as your vocabulary and your imagination and your communication skills grow. You are an extraordinary little person, and I am so blessed to have you in my life.
Love,
Mama