Adventures with Two: Road Trip

Somehow, the kids lined
themselves up for this shot.
Notice all the pink and white
polka dots!

The craziness in our house has started to subside. The girls have settled nicely into 1 1/2 and 3 1/2. They sleep, and are no longer sick all the time. The edges of rubbed off of the sibling relationship, for now, anyway. They're eating their veggies. And they both seem to know they need to hold my hand in parking lots. We can all paint together, and other fun things. And the newness of the move has worn off, so we all feel plenty settled.

When life gives me moments of relative peace, after a short (too short?) rest, I generally feel the need to disturb it. Sometimes this means taking on massive sewing projects, or freezing meals. But this time, it meant embarking a road trip with the girls to visit my good friend Sara.

I chose my destination well: not only is Sara a good friend, but I knew her house would be stocked and kid-friendly to the utmost, as she's Mommy to Ethan (4) and Lilly (nearly 2). If I could simply survive the 3-hour drive and convince the girls to sleep while they're there, I could forget anything at home and I'd be fine. 

Slowly unfolding ourselves from our
car-riding positions.

Most of what I packed, therefore, fit into the category of road entertainment. My passenger seat, when we set off, was therefore littered with books, CDs, toys, surprise toys, a DVD player for emergencies and the tastiest of snacks, all meant to keep the crying down from the backseat.

As such, the drive was as uneventful as I'd hoped and we were rewarded for our 3+ cramped hours with a large yard to play in, beautiful weather, and good friends. The kids immediately hit it off, and Sara and I began the process of catching up.

Once inside the house, both girls were enthralled with their new surroundings. Kalina couldn't have been happier to see an air mattress just for her, nor could she resist giving it a few test bounces (as did the other kids). Elise was not as happy to see the crib I told her she'd be sleeping in, but later did consent to give it a few test bounces of her own.

We played, we had dinner, we played some more. By this time, Kalina had grown tired of her "big brother's" tendencies to want to play with her stuffed animals, and had claimed the guest room as her own. We let her: it's tough to be a 3-year-old guest (although good-natured Ethan certainly meant no harm!). She made sure all of her animals--she'd narrowed her stash down to six kittens, Lamby, Sleep Penguin and little Farmyard Cow for the trip--were comfortable and that none of them were too nervous about her surroundings. Elise, meanwhile, dug into all the toys and carefully observed and imitated the bigger kids.

Bedtime, admittedly, made me nervous. As expected, Elise cried hysterically when placed in the crib. After some soothing on Kalina's and my part, however, she drifted off and was barely heard from until 7:00 the next morning.

Kalina, however, was another story. After falling asleep rather nicely in the guest room that we shared, she apparently got confused in the middle of the night and thought that 11:52 p.m. was close enough to morning to begin playing. She dragged her sleeping bag off of her air mattress, lined up her kittens, and began sweetly whispering to them. Twenty minutes later, she still was--and at this point, convinced she wouldn't go back to sleep on her own, I somewhat guiltily, and very gently, intervened (after all, she was playing so sweetly!).

Look, we're all playing together!

I don't know if she was simply surprised by the fact that I was in the same room as her (even though I'd told her multiple times) or if maybe she had actually been sleep-playing and I'd woken her up, but lots of tears and yawns ensued, poor thing. We snuggled her into her bed again, and she fell back asleep much sooner than I did.

I was awakened by a happy 3-year-old staring me in the face at 6:45--perfection! The morning brought a flurry of activity as Sara and I worked to get four kids dressed, washed, brushed, fed, etc. 

Then, much to my surprise and joy, I was able to leave a content Elise under the watchful eye of Sara while I showered. This might not come across as revolutionary to those of you who haven't dealt with the intense stranger/separation anxiety of my kids, but it was a really big deal to me. I'm trying to decide whether to attribute it to Elise growing out of her anxieties or a sixth sense about Sara. 

After a short preschool conference for Ethan, we headed to a riverfront park. The day was beautiful and the kids were excited. We did swings and slides and lots of climbing before taking a short walk along the river. It was cute to watch the kids enjoy being together, sometimes to their delight, and sometimes to their irritation--but it was all good.

Then we treated ourselves and the kids to McDonald's. As we were on a trip, I let Kalina order chocolate milk. Both received Happy Meals, as the toy was a My Little Pony with a comb. I can't imagine a better fit, and to only let Kalina have one would be cruel. However, please don't anyone tell Kalina that our home McDonald's has Happy Meals and chocolate milk, or I'll be relegated to saying, "No, not now," every time we drive by.

After lunch and a little grimy playtime, we made a beeline for home and naps. Both of mine settled fairly happily for 2-hour naps. Hooray!

The afternoon was gorgeous, but before we went out to play again, we let the kids paint and play-doh. Preschool style, I manned the Play-doh table while Sara supervised painting. We let the big ones paint first, then the little ones paint over what the big ones had painted (no one minded)

While all the children enjoyed making masterpieces, I was impressed by Elise's painting stamina. Although occasionally she'd wander off with the paintbrush, the task held her interest and she'd always return. She managed to keep most of the paint on the paper, and good-naturedly watched while Lilly "helped" her with her picture.

Elise in her paint shirt
examining Lilly's work.

When we went out to play with sidewalk chalk, Elise again impressed us with her coloring capabilities. This time, the palette was herself--she enjoyed sitting in the chalk bin. Who wouldn't? Most of the rest of the kids followed suit, and Sara will forever be dealing with this annoying new habit. Sorry!

By this time, Kalina was bemoaning the fact that we had to go home the next day. "I want to stay here forever!" she'd say, or, "I wish they lived next door to us!" Sara promised to come visit, and that helped.

We pulled some dinner together while Ethan goofed around at the table and Kalina laughed, and Lilly wandered around while Elise followed her for a few games of peekaboo and toddler chase (which is like a slow-motion version of tag, with no winner and no loser and only cuteness).

Ethan did a great job of showing Kalina
how to play, and making sure everyone
did everything right. A very helpful
4-year-old!

Afterward, we decided to try Candyland. Kalina had never played, but caught on quickly, only occasionally moving the wrong direction. However, our fun was short-lived--the younger siblings were neither content to pursue other activities nor capable of joining in without ruining everything, plus the older ones found it hard to concentrate. Sara and I may have been able to finish the game, but what's the point? We headed down to the playroom instead.

As Ethan and Lilly enjoyed their bath, Kalina wondered when we were going to finish the game. With one curious toddler being easier to manage than two, we were able to start over. A careful stacking of the deck sent the bigger girl forwards and backwards and, finally, rocketing to the Candy Castle in first place. Kalina won, can you believe it?!

After an uneventful evening, we were ready for more fun the next morning. But first, a trip to Kohl's--all our kids needed summer shoes and Sara had a coupon.

I do feel that there's a conspiracy regarding children's shoes, and especially my kids. If I don't purchase sandals in January and snowboots in July, they will run out of our sizes. What's more, while most girls' sandals are undeniably cute, their tread often resembles a linoleum floor. Would you want your still occasionally accident-prone little girl climbing playground equipment with shoes like that? Neither would I. Of the two styles that seemed reasonable for actual everyday play, we managed to find, after much digging, exactly one pair in Kalina's size. Elise has none, with no good prospects in sight. (She will be wearing size 6 this summer, in case anyone sees any Carter's summer sandals at Kohl's and wants to pick them up for me--I will pay you their weight in gold.)

It's hard to get a really good picture in a
dark, active gym. This one at least
has all four kids in it.

Then, for our final activity of the trip, we headed to a gymnastics gym for open play. Although both girls had wilted after our Kohl's excursion, they perked up mightily at the squishy mats, rings, trampolines, hula hoops and more. Both seemed to know exactly what to do. I hardly heard from Kalina for a full 20 minutes as she tested everything out. Elise, who refused to take off her socks, needed a little extra supervision. I sorely regretted bouncing on the trampoline with her for so long (when...will...the...floor...stop...bouncing...?), but she loved every moment, and who can argue with that smile? Eventually she learned to bounce on her own. After a solid 45 minutes of rambunctious play, I knew I could count on at least one nap on the way home.

And finally, it was time for our sad goodbyes. "But I'll miss them!" Kalina protested (as did I!). The parting was sweetened by the fact that Sara had packed copious amounts of their favorite veggie chips in lunches for us, and the girls covered their sorrows in crunchy snacks on the way home. Elise fell asleep before we'd made it out of town, and Kalina happily chattered about kittens, considerately whispering for the full hour that Elise slept.

I'd packed half a dozen new, or newish, little toys for the trip and had prided myself that I had only pulled out one for each girl on the way in. But the return trip was, well, a return trip. We were all tired and antsy, and rush hour traffic on our way into town didn't help. And so, within 20 minutes of home, three more toys for each were handed out in quick succession, with inquiries for more being called out toward the general direction of the front seat even as we pulled into the driveway. I considered unloading the car before unloading the kids, but thought it unfair: instead, I convinced a whiny (tired) Kalina to introduce her Happy Meal My Little Pony to all of the animals in her room, and the girl emerged 45 minutes later much happier and asking for a snack (I knew she would--Kalina's animal-filled room always cheers her up!). Elise was mostly content to wander the house and re-discover all her toys.

One of the best parts of the trip, besides catching up with Sara and adventuring with my kids, was  watching all the children interact. The two toddlers sat side by side brushing teeth with duplicate toothbrushes (Sara and I both shop at Target), and the older kids overcame their frustrations ("He keeps coming into my room!"/"She won't let me come into the room!") to giggle at each other and occasionally play together. I agree with Kalina: I wish they lived next door.

What have we learned?

Look! Kalina "reading" to Elise
on her lap!

We've recently discovered that Kalina is a rather abstract thinker. Looking back, we've known this for quite some time (after all, we've spent much of the last 3 1/2 years conversing with blocks instead of stacking them). But there's just something about an official personality description from a real book Matt recently finished that drives the point home.

Abstract thinking informs much of what Kalina does. And although she's very concrete about the precise way in which Lamby and Rudolph must be bathed before their bedtime, she'll also toss them into an imaginary dryer when they're finished and reassure them that no raccoons will come into the room in the middle of the night.

Of course, the last thing I want to do is pigeonhole Kalina at such a tender age. And all young kids tend toward the abstract--just look at their artwork. But understanding the girl's tendencies really explains a lot. And particularly, for this post, anyway, about how she learns.

Matching outfits from Grandma!

I've noticed that Kalina, for the most part, only likes to learn about what she wants to learn about, when she wants to learn about it. She is, therefore, a veritable expert on the sewer system, the planting of seeds and various family members' favorite animals and colors, while she flat-out refuses to even try to write her name, and would much rather spell words than attempt to read them. For a good six months of her 2s she showed a strong hostility toward numbers.

If I can pretend I'm not actually trying to prepare her for kindergarten or real life or anything, it can be fun to observe Kalina in the process of traditional learning:

Me, in my best enthusiastic teacher voice, trying to copy preschool's Ms. Dorie, who as yet has been the only one successful in this particular task: Hey, Kalina, wouldn't it be fun to write a K? Look, you can connect the dots!
Kalina: You do it, Mommy.
Me: Why don't you try? Wouldn't it be fun to write a K for Kalina? Look, just draw a line from this dot to this one! (I show her and trace it with my finger.)
Kalina: But I don't want to.
Me, imitating the voice of a K, because sometimes this works: Write me, Kalina! Please, I'd love to be written!
Kalina: (smile)
Me: Should we use pink? Here, I'll help you!
Kalina, allowing herself to be helped, but as we near the end of the K, scribbling over the whole thing: And the K went into the sewer! Now it's getting hooked up to the balloon, and the balloon is pulling it out. They go onto the houseboat for a ride, and now they're going fishing! More scribbles follow.

Grandpa Tom visited and we
took him out for ice cream
and bunnies at the museum!

Or maybe we're trying to do phonics flashcards (yes, we picked up a set for $1).
Me: Hey, Kalina, U is for umbrella! Uh, uh, umbrella! (Holding the flashcard over my head.)
Kalina, finding other flashcards: The kitten needs an umbrella because it's raining. The horse gets dressed up in its rainboots and they go splashing in puddles together. Splash, splash, splash (bouncing on the rug)! The chick wants to come too! And now off they go in an airplane! (Flying the cards around the room.)

Sometimes, learning just doesn't work very well with an abstract thinker. But wouldn't I be a fun teacher for any other kid? Sometimes I try educational toys on Kalina, but the kittens don't usually like them so we quit, or turn them into rocketships so the kittens can fly to the moon instead. You may say that other kids are like this, too, but I have seen other kids, and they enjoy writing their names--mine has only done it once for her preschool teacher, whom she adores, but definitely not for Mommy, whom she also adores.

Who's teaching who how to "fix" that car?

The amazing thing, to me, is that Kalina at 3 1/2, even with her aversion to studying anything that's not soft and fuzzy (or mucky and gross, like the sewer system), has learned to legitimately read a tiny bit, spell decently well, write a teeny tiny bit, count to 100 (with ambitions of counting to a trillion) and even add a little, all in 30-second increments of teaching, with a glimmer of a promise to continue. Yay, Kalina! I honestly don't know how you did it.

Honestly, our best success has come from educational placemats. Do they make them for advanced English composition or world history?

Learning, itself, is such a tender topic. Do you start flashcards at 18 months, or wait until they beg you for a set because all their friends have them? Do you enroll them in programs and watch educational TV, or cross your fingers and hope nature takes its course and your child learns through thin air? Do you worry or not?

I've got a kitten on my shoulder!

I remind myself all the time that it's certainly not a competition. Each child learns at their own pace and their own way. But then why, when we get ready to sign them up for preschool, do we feel the sudden rush to make sure they know their planets, in order, not to mention deliver a full princess education, so that we can be positive they'll keep up and not be laughed at?

And then there are the playground comments to the tune of: "My child loves flashcards!" or "Watch my 1-year-old count to 10!" Which are all fine and good, until you notice your own child detests flashcards, except as plates for her animals, and was extremely adverse to numbers for just the longest time. Then, you miserably smile and congratulate the happy counting toddler while your own sits just as miserably on the bench beside you at the park, begging to go home, and you can hardly blame her.

Not that I mind bragging--I think it's great when parents are proud of their kids, and I've probably had my moments. But they're more to the tune of, "After Kalina bathed all her animals last night, she put them down for bed so sweetly and sang them all little songs!" Which is certainly brag-worthy in its own right--it just won't get her into college.

[The truly ironic part of all this is that I'm pretty sure Elise will love flashcards, and with her older sister to teach her, she will probably be counting to 10 by this time next year. A great imitator, she already knows how to do her sister's jack-in-the-box dance from music class, change a poopy diaper on her doll (including carefully and proudly shaking the "poop" into the toilet from the diaper), and that 3-year-olds who happen to clean their plate receive what's known as a "treat," which must be delicious but is unfortunately never offered to 1-year-olds. She can also mime just about anything she wants done--"That cookie into my mouth, please," or, "Those balloons, yes, the ones tied to the real estate sign, in my hand, please."]

Possibly the most infuriating part of educating kids is that almost everything you do for them is wrong, depending on the context. Research shows that toys make kids smarter--it also shows that toys spoil them. Do you go along with the wise advice that you shouldn't fill your house with toys, or the wise advice that kids need lots of fun things to expand their minds? Shouldn't a stick and a rock be enough for any kid? So why isn't it, so often? And did you really have to take them to the museum? Shouldn't they be content in their own backyard? I don't pretend to know the answers, but either way I'm visited by mommy guilt. Sometimes I throw caution to the wind and just have fun with the little tykes before they're shipped off to kindergarten. For this reason, we're "only" enrolling Kalina in 2-day-a-week preschool next fall, and I take the girls out for ice cream more than I probably should.

Any way I look at it, however, both Kalina and I are both learning a lot. Her that by counting her kittens she can better assess how many servings of brownie a la mode she'll need, and me that by not forcing Kalina to count her kittens, she's more likely to actually do it. And in the end, I still believe my child is brilliant. In her own abstract way.

Adventures with Two: What's cooking?

Valentine's sweeties and their
balloons! Which are named
Valentine, and Valentine's
Day, respectively.

I remember before Elise was born (so many of my blogs start this way), I  wondered how, in the world, I would cook dinner. Sometimes I still wonder this. I did discover that it's possible:

Month 1: The world cooks for you. Friends and family deliver delicious meals to your door, and when they don't, restaurants do. 

Month 2: From the freezer to the oven, and sometimes back again.

Month 3-6: Reality hits. There will be no more "free meals." Fortunately, the baby naps a lot and the older child sees cooking as quality time, so food lands on the table somehow.

Months 6-9: You never stop cooking. The baby needs special food, the older child sometimes needs special food to feel special, too, and dinner still needs to be made ready. However, in this golden age of child-rearing, the baby is often happy on the floor for full minutes at a time, but can't yet crawl fast enough to be a problem.

Months 9-15 1/2: Dinner gets cooked in 30-second increments for a whole variety of reasons.

Month 16: The baby decides she wants to be involved in the dinner-cooking process, and simply can't be held off or distracted any longer.

Whew, thank goodness the girls are both old enough to help! After all, both can stand on a chair, sometimes without pushing each other off, and "measure," and "pour," and "mix"--what more do I need? With double the help around the kitchen, meals will be whipped up twice as easy, and twice as fast! Twice as delicious, too! Right?

So why do Matt and I both cringe inwardly at times when we're about to embark on making pizza crust or beef stew and we hear, "I want to help!" followed quickly by, "Ooh! Oooh! Ooohh!" as both girls race to drag over the stained chair I've designated as the cooking stool and clamber up before I can say "sharp knives, hot pans and raw meat?"

All of a sudden, our task changes from just throwing the ingredients together to making sure Elise doesn't fall off the chair (which she would, every single time, if we weren't so vigilant), helping Kalina help us measure and dump (which she's actually quite good at), or pushing dangerous or messy items far out of reach from Elise's grabbers. Our actual dinner becomes an afterthought.

Because what parent says, "No, you may not help make dinner?" Despite our inward groans, we try our best to pipe up, "It'd be wonderful to have some help!" Because it really would, and the girls are cute.

Elise's first pan of brownies is in the oven!

With the addition of a toddler to our meal preparation task force, Kalina feels shoved aside (literally and figuratively) and I feel flustered, but Elise couldn't possibly be prouder of her new status as "kitchen help." The ecstatic toddler debuted on a pan of brownies.

Elise is every bit as eager of a baker/cook as her older sister, albeit a little less precise at the moment. Whereas Kalina can break an egg for me (I still open it up to spill the contents, though), accurately measure ingredients, and be trusted not to dump the mixing bowl's contents onto the counter, Elise is far too willing to try her own hand at these tasks than my comfort level would generally allow, and has caught on to our general methods with remarkable speed. We've reached a tenuous agreement where she can play with the measuring cups and spoons not in use, and occasionally dig in flour or sugar with them. She's negotiating hard for the eggs, but I won't give in.

Although Kalina, by virtue of her more advanced age, is currently more adept in the kitchen than Elise, she, too, is still learning the ropes. This week alone, in fact, she's discovered that when she turns the mixer onto a high speed when Mommy's not looking, the top inch of contents gets flung onto the counter top--and any animals who happen to be sitting there to watch. She's also learned the "glob" method of frosting cupcakes (a big glob here, another big glob there, a few Christmas tree sprinkles, and voila! A Valentine's cupcake!). We clean up a few extra messes, guesstimate baking powder on occasion and sometimes send an armful of stuffed animals through the washing machine--and not just because they enjoy the ride. We've decided that when she's four, she can crack open an egg all by herself, and by the time she's five we're both sure she'll be making cookies with virtually no help. Oh, the parties she'll have. 

Of course, there are times when Mommy really does have to fry up some pork chops and chop up some veggies by herself. And at these times, I wonder why we can't all have dinner at around 9:00 a.m., when the kids are relatively cheerful rather than just on the other side of the 5 a.m. meltdown/minor injury hour. Some days we simply muddle through dinner preparation, calming hysterics even while salting steamed green beans.

And fortunately, that which has provided an endless parade of ups and downs in its preparation also smooths all ailments. Dinner, for all of its hassle, finally comes to everyone's rescue in the end. 

Elise and the animals

Notice how they're tucked
under Elise's right arm: do
you think she's left-handed?

There's nothing much cuter in this world than seeing a 16-month-old gently kiss a shaggy pink bear and puppy and put them not-so-gently down for a little nap, whispering "shhh" to make sure they stay asleep. Or seeing her give the same bear and puppy a big squeeze if they fall off the couch, or hold them up so they can see the train passing by, feed them pretend food from a pretend spoon, or lick their noses or wake them up from their naps.

And that pretty much sums up the take-home message of this blog, unless you want to read about how we got to this point, which is as follows:

As I was preparing for Elise's arrival, I found myself scoping out stores for what I hoped would become her version of Lamby. I knew that:

1. For as much as you can say this about a stuffed animal, Lamby has been an amazing presence in Kalina's life. (In fact, so much so that Kalina doesn't sleep with Lamby anymore. No, Lamby sleeps carefully bathed and oh-so-sweetly tucked into the top bunk of her bunk bed, usually with a smaller animal friend of her own, and kissed at least once on the forehead. The bunk bed is pulled up directly next to Kalina's bed. It is a place of supreme honor.)

2. I wanted Elise to have the same opportunity.

3. There was little I could do to convince Elise to attach to the stuffed animal I carefully chose for her, instead of, say, a plastic shovel, but I could try. 

Do you think they're related?

As long as I was going to attempt this feat, and based on our experience with Lamby, I had a few criteria:

1. The animal must sit and lay down easily, with limbs that could be arranged somewhat by a child's hands (so, a stuffed fish was a no-go).

2. It must be readily replaceable--easy enough (and cheap enough) to buy a stunt-double a year down the road if Elise did decide to attach.

3. It must not be so small that it would be mistaken for a cat toy.

4. It must not be so large that it wouldn't fit in her arms.

5. It must be thoroughly soft and sweet. No stuffed pythons, please.

6. It must not make noise or do anything that required batteries, as I wanted Elise to be able to sleep with it without being woken up every time she shifted a bit.

7. It must not be another lamb.

8. Really, it shouldn't be white. But also not black, dark brown, anything boyish, any obnoxious print or anything except a sweet pastel. This left variations of pink, lavender and yellow.

I was amazed at how long it took to find this animal, but I did, shortly after Elise was born. And so, Pink Bear quietly entered our lives. Pink Bear remained relatively dormant and ignored in favor of a stuffed whale, a stuffed alligator, stuffed dogs and armfuls of Kalina's coveted stuffed toys until I deemed it was safe to add her to Elise's crib. 

At first, I decided to make an attempt (rather halfhearted, to be honest), to limit Pink Bear's movements to Elise's crib, so that it'd be one less stuffie for me to keep track of all over town. However, my hope that Elise would attach to the animal superseded convenience, as it often does, and now we drag Pink Bear everywhere. We do have a stunt double (thanks, Aunt Nancy!). We also have Puppy, who joined us on Christmas and has not left Pink Bear's side. He, too, has a stunt double, because it wasn't worth $5 not to acquire one.

And although Elise is actually willing to play with the occasional doll or human Little People figure (unlike Big Sister until she was about 3), the toddler is most assuredly an animal person. Is her affinity inborn, or is it instead due to the fact that anyone who has spent so many of her formative months with Kalina could only assume that life must be navigated with an animal tucked under an arm? Only time will tell.

But Elise's love for animals isn't limited to her two favorites. She gleefully trots across the room if she's pursued by a stuffed predator, such as Big Blue Horse. She protectively cradles tiny animals (often belonging to her sister) in her arms, shooting the evil eye to and scooting across the room from anyone (her sister) who looks like they might take them away. She knows exactly how to feed our pet cat and mice, and is generous in her helpings. And she'll actually wield a puppet rather than always requiring us to do it.

Kalina has dutifully taught Elise quite a repertoire of animal noises, which the littler one delights in. Her earliest included "woof" for dogs and the cutest little "ppffffhhh" for elephants (and giraffes, which she associates with elephants for some reason). Pink Bear, by the way, growls the cutest little growl. Elise still wows audiences with her animal sound skills for such a young age. 

Kalina has also taught the littler girl almost everything she knows about caring for stuffed animals, and in fact, it's rather impressive that for months now the younger girl has equated Pink Bear with Lamby. Whether it's piggyback rides or performing "The Wheels on the Bus," you can be sure that if Lamby is doing it, Pink Bear soon will be, too. Although this is exactly what I was going for, it took me by surprise.

Perhaps best of all, each girl is starting to recognize which animals are most important to the other. Kalina keeps track of Pink Bear and Puppy for Elise nearly as conscientiously as she does Lamby, or the kittens, or Costume Cow and her baby Farmyard Cow, or the penguin trio (Peep, Peep and Peep). After all, nothing is more important than keeping your animals close to you at all times. And for her part, Elise kindly returns any of Kalina's animals she's "borrowed" after a polite request for a trade (which we've been working really hard on) or tears, or simply after she's had a long enough turn.

And so, it looks like it's safe to say that cuteness will continue to abound in our household for the foreseeable future. Whew.

Ouch.

The kids get along great when they're
watching TV! (During our long week
of sickness.)

My children's new favorite hobby is beating up on each other. It took me a while to be able to say this out loud: first, because I was in denial, second, because I didn't think this could happen to two sweet little girls (they ARE sweet, I promise!), and third, because I thought it was a stage and they'd grow out of it. But it's now officially not a stage, or at least a little one, so I have to try to fix it.

And it's gotten bad. The one time today when Elise wasn't trying to hit Kalina, they hugged. I happened to be wheeling them around Hobby Lobby in a shopping cart, and everyone around rushed for their cameras. I would've too, except I had to have my hands handy in case the beatings began again.

Poor Kalina, who has to be the "big girl" in this situation, is bearing the brunt of the attacks. At first, Elise only hit out of intense frustration, for lack of scalding words to pour onto the situation, or strength to grab back the toy kazoo that had been yanked out of her hands. But more recently, she's resorted to random acts of terror, stride-by boppings and unprovoked smacks right onto her sister's head. Her aim is impeccable. The only thing that saves the day is the fact that she's not big enough to actually hurt anyone. Poor Kalina, though--it's no fun to be the object of a 1 1/2-year-old's wrath when you're not much older.

New, engaging activity: oobleck!
It's cornstarch and water, so
Elise was allowed to dunk
her crackers in it.

And yet, as much as I'm tempted to, I certainly can't allow the bigger girl to retaliate in kind. Kalina prefers kicking over hitting, or subtly stepping on Elise (or trying to), which can truly cause injury (not to mention a poor outlook for future relationships). We talk about how we really don't want to send Elise to the hospital (or, at least, Mommy doesn't), and how Kalina can simply walk away. But what if Elise has got Lamby in a headlock and Kalina is  also not allowed to grab things out of Elise's hands? Then we call for Mommy to sort things out, but even a full-grown human would get tired of this arrangement.

Nearly constant vigilance on Mommy's part has gotten us through the week with no major injuries. But what about next week? And the week after?

Yesterday while Kalina was in preschool (and loving it!), I mentioned my dilemma to another mom with two girls with a similar age difference. I really like her. She's very nice. And here were her strategies:

Oobleck, by the way, does
NOT keep for a week or
two in a Tupperware.
At all.

1. Discipline by hugging: Almost any problem behavior can be cured with enough hugs. The bigger the better.
2. While her girls were younger (they're 4 and 6 now), her mom came over and they were each able to follow around one girl and divert any conflicts or behavioral issues, all day, from the sounds of things.
3. There's always an underlying issue. And you can always address it positively if you work hard enough.

Neither of these tactics fits my parenting philosophies of:
1. Mommy can only do so much, and the rest is age-accordingly up to you.
2. If you're naughty too much, people can and will get a bit grumpy: this is a natural consequence.
3. We will work through any underlying issues together. But you're still not allowed to repeatedly get away with bad behavior.
4. Hugging is not a discipline method. But there will still be lots of hugs given out.

Despite the occasional retaliation, Kalina has demonstrated remarkable patience and restraint with Elise's new hobby. More so than her mommy, in fact--possibly because she doesn't have it hanging over her head that if she doesn't correct this, she'll be receiving angry text messages about her daughter the bully throughout the next 10 years. The 3-year-old does not yet run from the room when her sister makes an entrance, but she should probably consider doing so in the near future. And she's now only kicking back when she's really tired or frustrated, which I can pretty much live with. Oh, and Elise is more or less banned from Kalina's room, but that's okay, too, if it makes Kalina feel better about her new domestic situation.

So how to deter Elise? I've tried:

1. As every parenting resource recommends, saying "No!" firmly and removing Elise. What happens? Elise head bangs and hits herself, purposely hurting herself to get attention. There is no solution for this.
2. Following the kids around and distracting them with new, engaging activities. This works for about 30 minutes, at which point, it being January and cold, we run out of new, engaging activities.
3. Keeping the girls as separate as possible considering the second-favorite activity of each is sitting on my lap, within fists' reach of each other if they have to share it, and occupying my full attention. Sometimes I use their carseats to separate them, and we go out somewhere.
4. Teaching both about positive forms of touch, including tickles and light pats (not to be confused with hitting). This has been highly successful for Kalina, who has decided that Elise's hits are actually pats since they don't really hurt, and has been tickling Elise a lot. Do I leave it at that?
5. Hugging. Okay, I'll admit it. It worked for neither girl, unless I was using the hug to physically restrain Elise (she soon wriggled out).

Interestingly, Matt's idea of dumping water over Elise in the bathtub this evening when Elise wouldn't quit hitting Kalina (and yet neither girl was clean enough to get out, yet) has proven to be the most successful arrangement. Tomorrow, I'm going to try growling at her.

I should be enjoying every moment of mommyhood, I know, but this is a toughy. On the bright side:
1. Kalina is pretty incredible. Not only is she often still sweet to her sister, but she drew her first picture of a person today! And scribbled over it.
2. Elise "cooked" Play-Doh today for about 30 minutes straight while Kalina drew the aforementioned picture.
3. They hugged in a shopping cart in front of strangers. Maybe hugging kind of works after all?

A growing list of demands

Christmas dinner #2, with Mommy's
side of the family!

Every day as I put Elise down for her nap, Kalina plays quietly in her room as she waits for her own story and snuggle. And almost every day, she needs me for something during this 10-minute period of time--possibly to re-dress one of her Calico Critters, help her blow her nose, or find a missing toy. So she emerges from her imaginary world and comes to find me in the real one, and today, it went like this:

Kalina sneaks quietly into Elise's room holding all the bedding from the bunk beds she/Lamby received for Christmas. This includes two "mattresses," a comforter and a pillow. 

The 3-year-old: "Lamby spit up all over her bedding and we need to wash it in the washing machine.

The whole family attended
Christmas morning #2!

Me: "Sure, okay." Thinking fast. "Why don't you find something in your room you can use for a washing machine?"

Kalina: "No, I want you to put it in the real washing machine."

Me: "Um." Initially stumped, but triumphant, with: "How about you put it at the top of the stairs and I'll wash it for you during your downtime?"

Kalina: "Okay. The real washing machine." Just in case I was confused.

I couldn't finish poor Elise' story without cracking up. After I returned downstairs, I folded it nicely on the couch and hoped Kalina would be fooled.

This describes our house lately, as we're as infested with germs as we are with requests.

Elise got the hang of unwrapping.

Elise, on the other hand, has very little language to make her demands known, but manages to anyway, occasionally without screams. She uses her pointer finger, emphatic grunts, and the occasional first syllable of a word to let us know exactly what she wants. 

Elise: Points at brownie pan. Points at her own mouth. "MMMMMM!!!" she states, almost toppled by her enthusiasm. After she regains her balance, her eyes pierce mine and I'm allowed one second to respond favorably before she either repeats herself, even more emphatically, or screams and writhes on the floor.

What do you think she wants? And how does she know that brownies are delicious? And will she survive the tantrum if I tell her that no, she may not have one?

Lamby gets tucked into her/Kalina's
new bunk beds.

Some of Elise's requests leave no room for misinterpretation, which is unfortunate because the little girl does not yet understand that comprehension does not mean they will be granted. The answer to, "Can I please put the battery in my mouth right now?" will still be a very firm "no, but look over here at this really cool toy giraffe!" even when Elise can ask the question perfectly in three different languages. Comprehension makes squat worth of difference.

On the other hand, some of Kalina's requests are reasonable, politely spoken and humanly possible. "Now it's my turn to play with the toy," said Kalina sweetly in the car the other day about a mini slinky that I'd handed a weary Elise to keep her happy on the way home. (This technique rarely works, but the way, but in this instance, it had.)

Elise uses her new tools to help Daddy
build a new squirrel manger.

Yes, Sweetie it is your turn. But I'm not sure I can dig up a more exciting toy to distract Elise with, wrest the slinky from Elise's grip, hand it to you and endure the rage the follows in the space of even a very long stoplight. In one of those super-mom moments that never would've happened last week in my never-ending head cold/sleepless night semi-coma, I instead managed to distract Kalina and the subject was dropped.

Both girls can be mightily specific in what they'd like, topped only by some celebrities. For instance, after brushing Elise's teeth the other night, she demanded a drink of water, just like Big Sister. "Duh," she insisted, pointing at a paper cup.

Kalina and Uncle Tom both helped
Angela a good deal with the puzzle.

Not entirely a newbie at this whole parenting thing anymore, I filled the cup with about 1/4 inch of water, enough for a toddler-sized swig, and handed it over, draping us both in a towel because bathtime, which we'd just finished, gets me wet enough already. Elise grinned at it, took a sip, and asked for more ("Mo-oh," with the emphasis on the word's second syllable). Since the child had proven herself responsible with 1/4 inch, I doubled her amount and handed it back. More grins and a giggle followed--and then a demand for even more water, without drinking what she'd had. We went through this a couple more times, me continuing to add water because by now I was intrigued and amused, and still somewhat protected by a fluffy towel. Finally, when the cup was 2/3 full, the baby had received what she'd been hoping for: apparently, a paper cup 2/3 full of water. She smiled gleefully at it for a good long while before I convinced her she'd be even happier in her jammies and off to bed.

Touring the transportation museum.

Elise puts in a good showing for a 1-year-old, but I don't think anyone can top a 3-year-old's specific requests. Kalina once spent a good 10 minutes telling me how to take care of a stuffed cow and a stuffed kitten while she went upstairs to get Lamby. I was to hold them if they cried, which they might do while she's gone, and not walk away, and feed the cow grass if it got hungry, and myriad other things that I have now forgotten (but don't tell Kalina, lest I not be asked to babysit anymore). Anyone who's ever watched either of my kids for me knows where she gets this from.

And then there are the things I'm demanded to avoid doing. "I'm going to fix a bowl of ice cream for everyone!" I might announce indulgently, gathering up our play ice cream. "No, because Lamby ate all the ice cream and now she wants to save the rest in the freezer, and the kittens can't have ice cream because they are full, and Lamby is using all the bowls for milk for the kittens," might be the response, which undoubtedly makes sense to someone. Alright, no one gets any ice cream, I guess. My mistake.

Kalina in the navigator's seat of a
train (which she preferred to the driver's seat).

My favorite, though, is they turn my demands back at me. "Kalina, will you please empty the silverware from the dishwasher?" I ask. "I'll do it after you read me this book," she replies. She's picked up on a parenting technique I use, and has the smarts to use it against me. Fortunately, I'm more persistent, and my logic is a bit more developed. An, "I'll read the book after the silverware is emptied," springs Kalina into action, and I've won. Or wait...has she? I would've read the book anyway, right? Of course I would've.

Mostly, my girls' requests are all in good fun--but they keep me on my toes. After all, how is a mommy supposed to wash a sinkfull of dishes when she's being called away every 30 seconds to search for a toy banana, help someone pretend a sock is a mitten, help clean up discarded crayon wrappers, retrieve a book from behind a toy oven, hold Lamby because she'll cry if she's set down, so my to-do list grows exponentially even as I work at it. And yet, I can't say that the banana, sock/mitten, crayon wrappers, book and Lamby aren't as important as my dishes. I guess that's what makes motherhood such a demanding job to begin with.

Merry Christmas?

Our Christmas miracle: we all made it
to a photo! Even Lamby and Lamby's
toy bath duck.

"We're doing what?!? When?!?" Mary gasped when Joseph mentioned Caesar's census.

Sometimes, Christmas is wondrous. Other times, you give birth in a barn. This year, our Christmas fit somewhere in between these two extremes.

'Twas the weekend before Christmas when the Stomach Virus first made its way into our home. It's unclear whether Elise or I contracted it first (perhaps she simply gorged on a bit too much overripe pear?), but the effects were intense and long-lasting. Matt and I agreed it was the sickest we've been since childhood, or possibly ever. In fact, I was about to enlist a Christmas Emergency plan when Kalina finally woke up happy and energetic from a long nap, and didn't throw up. Whew! Glad that's over!

Working on Christmas dinner?

We set about making final preparations for Grandma, Grandpa Les, Uncle Brian, Uncle Chris and Aunt Laura to arrive. Kalina cleaned her room, and then redecorated it with some spectacular toy formations. Elise helped me vacuum and stacked candles.

And they arrived! Yay! Aunt Laura and Uncle Chris came first, and the girls were overjoyed to have two new  playmates. Stranger-anxious Elise managed a sweet little hug for both of them, even chasing Aunt Laura down at one point to administer the little squeeze. Kalina proudly showed off her basement, and Mommy sneakily cleaned up the "accident" that had happened only moments before our guests' arrival. Kalina hoped they would never leave.

It wouldn't be a Grandma visit
without oodles of storytime!

The next evening brought Grandpa Les, Grandma and Uncle Brian. Joy ensued. In the day that followed, we took a trip to a local nature center, the girls played, people chatted, delicious food was made and eaten, amazing boy and girl bonding outings were enjoyed--it was really starting to feel like Christmas!

Watching the turtles get fed
at the nature center.

But unbeknownst to us, we were harboring a sixth guest this whole time: Stomach Virus had stuck around! Aunt Laura was the first to be stricken, followed a few hours later by Uncle Brian. And the next day was Christmas Eve.

Jolly and somber shared quarters as everyone either suffered or soothed, while also beginning preparations on a Christmas feast. After all, Christmas is really about hope, right? We'd noticed the virus seems to strike at night, and we counted down the hours until the remaining three might succumb. "You probably have at least four hours left, Grandma, what would you like to do with the girls?"

Christmas cookies!

We exchanged some gifts early, in the event that Grandma, Grandpa Les and Uncle Chris might not be with us in the morning, and we skipped church, not wanting to ruin anyone else's Christmas by sharing close quarters. We also made Christmas cookies, artistically decorating each one even though no one had much of an appetite (except, potentially, Santa). We played "musical rooms" for the night so that the sickest people would have easy access to amenities. Kalina gave Lamby a bucket, and put Pink Bear on the pretend doll/animal potty she'd unwrapped. Almost as an afterthought, we did our best to get the girls excited for Christmas Day.

The next morning, Elise bounded out of bed at 6:30 (well, as much as a toddler can bound out of a crib, which is not at all without help, thank goodness). Kalina, who had spent the night in Elise's room and had woken up when Elise did, refused to follow until her clock turned green 15 minutes later (it turns green when she's allowed to get up). And then we all hung out on the hide-a-bed for a while, where Mommy and Daddy had spent the night, being the healthiest of all our guests.

Elise played for a good 10 minutes with
Grandpa and the animals.

Soon, conversation shifted to reindeer. Had they been on our rooftop last night? Neither Daddy nor Mommy could be sure if we'd heard them. Had Kalina? How would we know if Santa had been here? We would've had reindeer on our roof, Kalina pointed out. True. And also, the cookie we left would've been eaten. Had it been? It had! And what else would've happened? Kalina's eyes turned toward the stockings (with a little nudging from me), and in the half-light, we all gazed at the festive reindeer peeking out of the Kalina's, and the soft puppy peeking out of Elise's. How magical!

For a split second, anyway. It's hard to tell which girl dove for hers first--but what amazed me the most was that even without Aunt Nancy's adorable cross-stitched designs, they knew immediately which stocking belonged to each. I'd worried that one animal or the other would be the favorite favorite of both, but that was not the case--Elise only had eyes for the dog, and probably would've scaled the fireplace to claim it had I not whisked it down to her. And Kalina was beyond delighted with her new friend, Rudolph.

A new bathroom set for Lamby!

The littler girl could barely be bothered to show interest in the rest of her stocking presents--she'd received what she wanted most, and Puppy now shares the spot in Elise's heart previously held only by Pink Bear. And, admittedly, the bath toys and plastic bowls could hardly be considered competition. Once we got to the collection of wind-up toys at the bottom, however, we were all enchanted. The caterpillar really inched, after all, and the mouse hopped, the chick scurried and the butterfly flapped.

The 3 1/2-year-old was on her fourth Christmas, and eagerly destroyed her stocking. No paper was left unwrapped as she deftly uncovered her own set of bath toys, and a bath brush for Lamby as well as a headband. She knew the routine.

Notice Santa's empty cookie plate!

We then merrily counted family members as they arrived downstairs: Grandma made it through the night still standing! And here's Aunt Laura, back on her feet! And then Uncle Chris, and even Uncle Brian! But alas, it was not all good news: Stomach Virus had claimed Grandpa Les, albeit in a somewhat gentler form that mostly left him extremely drowsy and in need of a very long winter's nap.

But hope endured, and after a breakfast of hot cocoa and bacon (among other things), we managed to scrounge together for not only a family picture, but also presents under the tree. Even Grandpa Les made it! We may have hurried a bit through our unwrapping to make sure no one dropped off before we were done, and, in fact, Elise and Matt still have a couple waiting for them.

For some reason Elise wasn't
too happy about this picture.

The tree held lots of treasures for Kalina and Elise (and the rest of us!), and all were a big hit, with the possible exception of the toy I'd sewn for Kalina (which I'm sure will grow on her!). Elise was enthralled by a ball track toy, while Kalina gave Lamby multiple baths in her new bathroom set (maybe now Lamby will smell a bit better?). Kalina also learned to play Jingle Bells on a toy piano/songbook from her musician aunt and uncle (who better to teach her?), and both girls zoomed back and forth through a new tunnel. Of course, Elise tried to get at Kalina's new toys whenever she could, and Kalina returned the favor. Unfortunately, in these instances the mood swayed a bit from the otherwise prevalent Christmas goodwill. Kalina had also made gifts for everyone, and the pride in her eyes as they were unwrapped was worth every bit of the, "Oops, let's not paint that!" involved in creating them. There were also a few presents for Lamby that consisted purely of scraps and trash with a bow and a label on them (how sweet!!).

Unwrap, play, unwrap, play,
repeat!

A light lunch led to a light naptime, which led to a lot of video game bonding among the guys, which was followed by our Christmas meal. Nine places were set; seven were filled, one of which was by someone eating mostly soda crackers; two were still not up to attending any area so laden with food. The five weary adults and two picky children did our best to do justice to the feast. Kalina mostly ate the almonds that were supposed to accompany a green bean dish (which turned into a green pea dish after I found I'd forgotten to stock up on the main ingredient), while Elise managed some sweet potato and a soda cracker. I let Kalina choose a Christmas cookie afterward so that it'd still feel like Christmas.

The afternoon slowly turned into evening, and we sadly said goodbye to Uncle Chris and Aunt Laura, albeit happy that both were healthy enough to make it to their next destination. We all then halfheartedly played with Christmas toys until Kalina requested to be put down for an early bedtime, stalled only a bit by some gentle playtime in her room.

But wait! Christmas presents weren't the only thing Uncle Chris took home with him--on a rather disastrous trip home that rivaled any flight we've ever complained about, due in part to flight problems and a labyrinthine airport parking lot, Uncle Chris also ended up coming down with Stomach Virus.

Christmas dinner! Ironic that one of
the reasons we got a big dining room
table was for this holiday.

As of this writing, Grandma is the only escapee. But will the virus strike its final victim tonight? And what of Grandpa Tom, Uncle Tom, Angela, Uncle David and Aunt Debbie, who will be visiting in the next few days? We await their fate, but can't wait to welcome them.

Meanwhile, we've spent the interim setting our washing machine to "hot" and Lysoling the bejeebers out of the house.

Not to mention playing with/negotiating over Christmas toys, as both girls found they could enjoy the other's presents almost as much as their own--so much, even, that taking turns was virtually impossible unless heavily refereed by one weary parent or the other.

It's a Girl-Lamb! The head of a
3-year-old and the feet of a lamb!
(See the tunnel?)

And yet, although we'll always be remembering it as the "Stomach Virus Christmas," we can't say it was a bad one, especially as seen from the girls' perspective. From games to stories to cooking (or "cooking," in Elise's case) to jumping on Grandpa's stomach until Daddy came to rescue him, it was truly a holiday punctuated with wonderful moments.

Merry Christmas after all!