Big mean mama

Believe it or not, Fly isn't the most obedient two-year-old this world has ever seen. I know, you are shocked. The Fly you know is smart, charming and terminally cute. But he has a strong will. If you put him on the floor in the Capitol building when Democrats and Republicans are arguing, they will agree to anything if it means finally getting him out of the District of Columbia and not having to deal with him again.

Sometimes when he doesn't listen to me, I call his bluff. For example, when we come home from being somewhere, he doesn't want to come inside. He wants to sit in the driver's seat of my car and play with the controls, run down the street, see what's in the neighbor's yard, smell the other neighbor's flowers, check the mailbox and pick up stray sticks or leaves. But I might have to pee, or I might have heavy bags of groceries, and it's time to go inside right now. Fly doesn't understand right now (unless he wants a cookie). So I might go inside and close the door, watching him from there and hoping that gets his attention.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.

Today, Fly didn't want to take a nap. But I knew he was tired. I told him it was time to sleep. I went to his room, hoping he would follow me. He didn't. I would have picked him up and carried him to his room, but I am in a phase when I am trying to get him to listen to me without intervening like that. (Hey, I can hear you! Stop laughing!) Ten minutes later, he showed up, when I grabbed him and sat him in my lap as usual for some songs and talking about our day so far. Fly hurled himself off my lap and onto the floor.

Because it had already been a tantrumy day, I'd had it. "You can put yourself to sleep!" I said, calling his bluff and and retreating to another room.

And that's exactly what he did.



And when I came back and saw him curled up on the floor, I felt like a big meanie.

I think I need a time-out.

Well, I'll be a monkey's mama

In preparation for tomorrow's ultrasound . . . .

"Fly, do you know we're going to see the baby tomorrow?"

"A baby!"

"That's right!"

"An animal!"

"No, it's not an animal."

"A monkey! Ooo-ooo-ah-ah."

"No, it's a human baby . . . your . . . it's one of us . . . a baby baby."

"Ooo-ooo-ah-ah!"

Lord have mercy

It's 10 pm and the end of a very long day.

It was one escapade after another with Fly. The worst was him getting drenched in cough syrup and then playing in the cat litter box so that little excrement-infested pebbles were stuck to his body. Not the least was me getting head-butted and bitten. The diaper came off twice, and the potty wasn't good enough for him -- he had to poop on my pants (which I'm still wearing, actually). I spent an hour cooking dinner, and all he ate was a handful of corn. And? He's still awake in his crib.

I remember reading another blogger putting it this way once: Age Two is totally kicking my butt.

I think I might cry myself to sleep....

An artist is born

My husband and I always enjoy murals.

Fly must know this, because he decided to create his own mural!



Just look at the detail. I believe he used pencil. How avant-garde!



And here I didn't think Fly enjoyed the visual arts.

Call me crazy, but I think Fly's work has the flair of another musician-artist:

Into the mouths of babes

Sometimes, the everyday things that Fly is learning converge -- and watching him figure things out makes me laugh.

Ever since Fly was about 18 months old, I have mildly, casually been potty training him. Which many in-the-trenches, potty-training four-star-general moms would say is not really true potty training. I guess it isn't.... But he has used the potty about 10 times now.

Anyway, last night just as I was sitting down to eat dinner, Fly looked at me and said, "pah-pah" (a general potty term). He also had that look on his face.

Notice he never says "pah-pah" to JP.

Sure, enough, Fly was already in the business of making #2, and I sat him on the potty just in time. I did the jumping and cheering and hugging and kissing and made a big deal out of it.

Lately, when Fly has used the potty, I have given him mini M&Ms -- a trick I'm sure I picked up from one of you moms. So even though it was dinner time, I felt some reward was due. After washing up, I counted out a few M&Ms and put them near his plate.

(So far, this is all just to tell you why my child had M&Ms with dinner.)

Fly immediately went straight for the M&Ms, of course.

But he put them in his pasta.

And he proceeded to eat his sauce-covered mini M&Ms with his fork -- something else that he has been doing better at recently.

I tried to convince him the peas in his pasta were M&Ms, too, but Fly didn't buy it.

Which just shows that, despite his choice of candy-for-dinner etiquette, he has a better grip on reality than I give him credit for.

Rhymes with truck

Fly and I were playing with a couple of his birthday trucks when I started rhyming.

"Truck," I said, "buck, duck, luck, muck, puck..."

And Fly said -- I kid you not --

"Suck!"

It starts so young, sigh....

Love hurts

Fly turned 21 months old on Saturday, and the cutest thing he does now is give me a hug and a kiss. He says, "Hug!" (it sounds more like "Haaaag!"), then embraces me. After that, he zones in on my face for an open-mouth kiss -- he doesn't yet get the idea to close your mouth. I'm not sure why he wants to kiss me on the lips, because I've only kissed him on his forehead or cheeks. But from what I hear, these kissing days are short-lived, so I will take any hugs and kisses I can get!

Somehow JP realized Fly can get a little jealous. Yesterday when he came home, JP said to me, "Watch this." He made a big show of kissing me in front of Fly.

Fly squealed, then ran in our direction. "Hug!" he said.

I bent down to give him a hug, but Fly kept coming. Right before he got close to me, he did a weird leap/trip -- honestly, I am still not sure how the laws of physics enabled him to do this -- and he ended up whamming his head upward under my chin.

The sound of my teeth grinding against one another made JP's hair stand on end.

JP didn't know which one of us to comfort first. Fly was wailing the loudest, and JP scooped him up. I think I was speechless for the most part -- not really hurt, but my chin still aches a little if I rub it.

I always wondered what it would be like to have two guys vying for my attention. I didn't imagine calamity....

"Silly!"

Tuesday afternoon. Fly is not napping. Mama is not happy.

I slip into another room just for a few minutes of peace apart from a Tasmanian devil leprechaun an overtired little angel.

When I come out, Fly runs to me and hugs my legs as if he hasn't seen me all day. I pick him up, and he shows me one of his latest tricks: an open-mouth kiss. (He hasn't learned to put his lips together yet.)

Then I see a diaper on the floor.

I check exactly what it is I'm holding in my arms.

"Fly, you little nudie!"

His eyes light up, and he smiles.

"You took off your diaper!"

"Silly!" Fly says.

And in spite of myself -- and surprised at his developing sense of humor -- I agree.

"Yes, you are silly!"

And a future class clown is born....

Maybe life really is a beach

Because I've been in a beachy mood, I recently took Fly to the beach.



Typically, people go to the beach to relax. Like the retiree who was sleeping in her beach chair when Fly threw a handful of sand on her and woke her up.

Ohyeshedid.

But when you take a toddler to the beach, it's not very relaxing. The waves weren't a concern -- Fly wasn't too interested in them. Fly eating sand? I'm already over that. It was the constant getting-off-the-beach-towel and running to the under-repair pier (lifeguard: "Hey lady, watch your kid!" as I'm already standing up to go after him), navigating the jellyfish obstacle course on the shore and preventing other beachgoers' beverages from being slurped that made our beach outing exhausting. And keeping Fly away from the mean lifeguard's stand, which Fly was drawn to like a grain of sand to SPF lipgloss.

No, to get any relaxation out of the beach, it's going to be virtual. During our recent stay at a beach house, I started reading Truffles by the Sea, blog-friend Julie Carobini's follow-up to Chocolate Beach. But -- come to think of it -- Truffles wasn't exactly relaxing, either. (But the reading was. I just hardly ever pick up a novel and start reading anymore, sigh....) Chocolate Beach was about Bri Stone, but Truffles tells the tale of her best friend, Gaby Flores, after she loses everything in her apartment to a fire and the contents of her flower shop have been stolen. What else could go wrong? Her car won't start. She gets sued. It's trouble piled up on trouble for poor Gaby.

Fortunately, Gaby's friends and neighbors help her survive and put her business back together. Bri lends Gaby clothing (and a sympathetic ear), and friend Livi helps out in Gaby's flower shop. Gaby's new landlord Jake -- a hunky restaurateur -- leaves her meals even though he's out of town opening restaurants, while Max -- a friend of Bri's husband -- takes Gaby out for romantic dinners and repairs her car for free. New neighbors provide more than enough gossip. But still, Gaby is just scraping by and wonders how she is going to support herself. Going back to her mama isn't an option because she knows her mama would stick it out and make it work, and Gaby should do the same. "Flower girls don't quit," her mama once told her, and those are words Gaby lives by.

Gaby keeps telling herself this is her chance to start fresh. But she still has to take care of herself -- including guarding her heart. She feels herself falling for Max, but her heart races whenever Jake is around. In her early 30s, Gaby dreams about finally having what her friend Bri has: a loving husband and a family.

When Gaby finally gets away by herself for an afternoon to slow down, pray and savor some truffles, she knows the direction she needs to take with her life -- but her heart doesn't catch up until the very (satisfying) end of the novel, on the beach.

Truffles by the Sea is a great continuation of the story of the friendship between Bri and Gaby -- and the restorative powers of the combination of chocolate and the ocean!

If only chocolate didn't melt, maybe that's what would have made my day on the beach with Fly a little more relaxing....

Making faces

There is a virus meme going around where you're supposed to post a photo of yourself first thing in the morning. I found out from Janet at Three and Holding.

Heh. Um, har. Trying to see the humor in this.

But in my new spirit of trying to have more fun, I changed my mind....

Things I never thought I'd say

Fly, where did you get that little piece of wallpaper?

Gah! Stop playing in the toilet!

I can't put your diaper on with your butt up in the air like that.

You just bit a chunk out of your potty seat!

The cat doesn't like it when you pour things on her.

We can't play with this really noisy toy right now because it's sleeping.

And finally . . . .

What did I come into this room for?


- - - - -

I'm Sincere Week starts in two weeks! Be thinking about the bloggers you admire and how you would imitate their style.

The power of a chewing toddler

This must be why he doesn't want to sleep....

We wish you a muggy Christmas and a humid new year

Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name.

Sometimes, not so much.

When JP and I go to church, Fly usually gets a free trip to the nursery. He's happy there, so we're happy.

On Christmas Eve, though, there's a service just for families with kids. Here was our chance to all be together. We took a wiggling Fly and found a seat in the back.

Fly wasn't content to sit on either JP's lap or mine, however. He didn't want to stand on our laps. He didn't want to stand on the floor between us. Fly wanted to run around -- preferably straight down the center aisle to the large Christmas tree in the front. JP and I passed a fussing Fly back and forth for several minutes.

The minister was praying, but I couldn't concentrate because of Fly's maneuvers. Finally, she said, "And all God's children said, Amen."

Except the church sounded like this: "And all God's children said, AAIIEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHH!" Great timing!

Fly was so loud -- and there was a crowd of at least 300 -- that the minister actually said, "Let's try that again. And all God's children said...."

By which time an usher appeared to ask if we'd like to take Fly to the nursery.

We didn't. JP and I skulked to the farthest reaches of the back of the church -- somewhere near South America -- and stood up for most of the rest of the service, juggling Fly and trying to be invisible.

Which is why God created church nurseries, I suppose.

Fly fussed the rest of the evening, but he was a good sleeper, and Christmas Day was a huge toyfest of gifts from family, which made him happy.

And I am glad to say I think I made him a bit happy too:



(Sorry you had to see my rear view.)

(Oh, and the playhouse didn't get quite finished. But Fly still played in it anyway. Pics when it's done....)

He likes to move it, move it

Fly hit the 15-month mark this past week, and I have to say, he's wearing those 15 months pretty well. He's starting to understand more, and it's always a surprise to watch him catch on to a new idea.

For example, this morning, JP spilled some milk in the fridge. Fly went over to the pantry, got a broom, and took it over to help clean up. OK, OK, I know a broom isn't the way you clean up milk, but he knew JP was trying to clean something and that brooms are for picking things up.

Then last night, Fly wanted me to read him a Christmas book, but I was trying to get a last few bites of my dinner down. So I asked if JP would read the book. He made up most of the story -- saying something about leaving out guacamole for Santa instead of cookies, and poking fun at the number of lights the book character put on the Christmas tree. I cautioned JP that Fly knew the story and wouldn't like if he changed it. Sure enough, before long, Fly got tired of JP's version of the story, grabbed it away from him and brought the book to me. I will never forget the look on JP's face as I laughed in it!

Fly also loves getting into my purse, which was just a bit alarming when I realized that meant he could take something out, go hide it, and I wouldn't find it for possibly weeks. I had put a CD of pictures of friend Guinevere's son, Lancelot, into my purse -- but when I went to give the CD to her, it was gone. I figured it was just a case of mommy brain. I found the CD later in our home office and put it back in my purse. The next day, my little thief came along, pulled my purse down from the kitchen desk and took out the CD. I followed him into his room, where he carried the CD over to his CD player. He's smart!

My favorite thing he can do now, though, is dance.

Friends are there for the birthday cake

Fly had a milestone today: his first little-kid/friend birthday party. His friend Lancelot celebrated his first birthday today, a couple days early. This meant a lot to Fly, as he visited Lance in the hospital the night after he was born. What a pal. I guess you could say Fly and Lance are lifelong friends.

Being a friend means sharing your birthday presents:



Being a friend means trying to lend a hand (literally) when it comes to exciting new things like eating birthday cake:



And being a friend means being patient and forgiving:



Happy first birthday, Lancelot. And happy birthday to you, Guinevere, as you celebrate a year of being a mama!

Tales from the trip, part 1

Just for the joy of seeing you get so excited that you fall down....



Even though it meant buying you a new, dry outfit across the way because we were traveling and didn't have a change of clothes....



Your squeals and laughter, and the possible label of being a bad mother who would let her child play in the water on a cool night -- it was all worth it. And I would do it again.

Weekend by numbers

1: Knee that Fly scraped while playing at the playground

2: Fluffy white dogs at the playground who sniffed and licked Fly

3: Pairs of jeans I sat down to hem

4: Leftover Kit Kat Halloween candies I scarfed down

5: Cute little babies at church who made me want to instantly get pregnant

6: Time JP actually made it home Friday (pm) even though he drove four hours away to see a car race

7: Outfits I contemplated wearing

8: Books piled up on my nightstand

9ish: Time I got to sleep in on Sunday ... ahhh....

10: Number of minutes I talked to my stepmother, Anne, on the phone, when she cried because she misses seeing Fly grow up

Me try teach child

Walking one-year-old. Won't nap in the morning. Must find things to do. MUST FIND THINGS TO DO! Using caveman English. Help! Must get out of house before vocabulary disappears!

Aha! Libraries. Books. Words. Go there to get vocabulary (and mind) back. Libraries have programs for little people. Even if they're not readers yet? Maybe. Google, click, click. Yes! Twenty minutes away. Let's go.

Oh, we're early. Meet other early toddlers and moms. This is looking fun. Flybaby plays with toys. Fly runs down aisles of books. Fly finds creepy old man sitting in corner of children's section! Gah! Come away, sweetie, let's go this way....

Wait, the program is starting. We have to walk past the creepy old man again. Pick up Fly, hum a happy tune and avert eyes.

Enter activity room. Look at the colors! Look at the children! Let's sit. Fly wiggles out of my lap. All right, then, you can play with your new friends. Say hi to the little boy with the stuffed lion.

Now we really have to sit because the librarian is starting the program. She is smiling. She is singing to a music CD. The CD is spinning in the oh-so-very shiny CD player placed at toddler eye level. Fly wiggles out of my lap. He approaches the singing librarian. BAM! BAM! BAM! go Fly's hands on the CD player. The music stops. Uh ... oh ... I fix it. There you go. Sorry, everyone. Music plays again.

Fly back in lap. I take his hands and do hand motions. I sing softly in his ear. Fly wiggles out of my lap. He approaches CD player. I scoop him up.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

I give up.

I pass creepy old man. I pass books. I pass chance to share learning with child. Using caveman English. Me try another day.

At least my home smells minty fresh

Happy Monday! What are you up to? Would you like to know what Flybaby is up to (bright smile, eyebrows up)?

Already this morning, Flybaby has:

• Sifted through the litter in the cat box


• Turned over a lidless sippy cup, spilling formula on the table, table legs and floor


• Discovered that the wall corner protectors placed by our home's previous owners can come off the walls -- sharp end of the screws sticking out


• Pulled up the loose threshholds on the floor


• Rearranged the (previously) floor-length scarf draped over sconces in the living room


• Foraged for a snack of forgotten cat food and wild bird seed in the floor track of the pantry's bifold door


• Knocked over two stacks of CDs


• Took a bite out of his bath sponge that I had to pull out of his mouth


• Refused to play with toys in favor of opening and shutting the bedroom door repeatedly

...and this was while I was watching him!

Last week, Fly hid a bottle of mustard in his room.

And while I was only feet away from him trying to put two handfuls of clothes in the dryer, he got the mouthwash out of the bathroom cabinet, unscrewed the "childproof" lid and glug-glugged a pool of green stuff around him on the floor. Which meant changing his outfit and cleaning the floor.

Fun times! (Can anyone say, "Let's install even more cabinet door locks?")

Let toddlerhood begin!