Sugar drunk

Sugar drunk, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

Sometimes I thoroughly enjoy my job. "Staying home to bake for appreciative children" is definitely one of my favorite job description line items of this stay-at-home mama gig. Here is Bean, chowing down with gusto on a post-nap slice of Battenberg cake. Before this, I could literally never get Bean to smile for a photo unless I asked her to think of her Papa and how much she loves him. Apparently, marzipan-wrapped cake loaves will also work!

My friend, Kat, showed me her copy of The Gentle Art of Domesticity, and I knew right away that I needed my own copy. The recipe came from this wonderful book, as have many other inspiring (and beautifully photographed) ideas for creative home life.

I wonder if "Queen of Hearts Jam Tarts" will result in an equally smiley photograph?

Work love

I was just puttering around the house before anyone wakes up, half-thinking about what I could do with Bean today. Have I mentioned here that she's gotten to the point where I must have an answer to the question, "What are we going to do now?" If I tell her, "Hon, we're doing it!" or, "I thought we'd just hang out together," she becomes enraged. She's an intense little person who wants to always be moving on to the next thing. I'm a goal-oriented kind of gal myself, but my mother assures me that I was nothing like Bean as a kid.

Anyways. It struck me a minute ago that today I get to go to work! And that the answer to Bean's inevitable question could be, "Miss Valerie is going to come take care of you and Sweet P today."

Respite from the steely-eyed glare of my 3-year old!

Good life

Other reasons it's great to be home:

1. A batch of chocolate covered banana-sicles made up with an enthusiastic Bean this morning.

2. A batch of chocolate chip cookies, also made with Bean's help, for our new neighbors one street over with a son Bean's age.

3. The discovery of an ENORMOUS, 3-inch long, disgusting grub in our compost pile this morning. Very exciting and totally gross!

4. The discovery that Bean, quite suddenly, knows how to draw scary monsters with her colored pencils. This thrills me. Though I do wonder where the drawings of blood come from. "'Cause monsters have blood, Mom!" she tells me as if I'm an idiot. Still, I can't help but wonder if my Bean has dark, Goth chick leanings already...

5. Oh, and the disappearance of our USB cable so that I can't post a single damn picture of any of this.

7 of 11

7 of 11, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

It's so hard to get a group kid photo when there are 11 kids to corral and one of them REFUSES to leave my arms for any reason. This is as close as I've gotten this year--7 of the assorted cousins, including 2 kids of my own, snapped while they're eating and quiet for a change. They're chatting to themselves, but it's not the utter mayhem that has otherwise been their mode this year.

I've hardly seen Sister at all this week because she's suddenly old enough to not make a nuisance of herself among her teenage cousins. She's hanging out with them and they're not annoyed by her presence. She's also old enough to be responsible, not get lost on beach walks, stay hydrated, not drown, etc. I'm sorry to say that what interaction I've had with her has been mighty sassy on her part. Trying to save face in front of these same teenage cousins, I guess.

Bean has needed, as usual, a lot of entertainment and Sweet P has needed me. A lot. Like, nursing half the night and miserable whenever I put her down during the day. I am exhausted. On vacation!

This is one beach trip I won't be sorry to see over, however much cat barf there is to clean up or laundry to do at home when we return.

My baby can sit!

DSC00865, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

And does she not look like a little angel baby who requires some attention? Yes, she does. Which is partly why I haven't been blogging lately. My two little nappers do tag team napping now, with Sweet P's naps sorta bracketing Bean's single afternoon nap. Neither of them much appreciates mama being on the computer when awake either. Only 6 more months and they might actually nap at the same time, right?

Before and after in the garden

Before, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

And after, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

Unafraid of the big ass landscaping projects here!

Those sheets of newspaper in the after shot were expertly dampened by my own Bean so as to avoid them blowing away in today's breeze. She also expertly dampened my back, my pants, and her baby sister with that ice cold hose water, but I still can't think of a more perfect toddler gardening project!

Growing Bean

For some months now, Bean's going-to-sleep routine has gone like this. She crawls into bed by herself. She asks for a tissue and gives her nose a perfunctory wipe. She asks for water and takes a token sip. She asks for a hug and kiss and we give them to her. She lies down and while we're fixing her blankets, she asks for a backrub. We give her a 5-10 second backrub and then she asks, "Can I tell you something?" We reply with an interested yes and she tells us this story:

There was a old guy named Spiderdam. He walks all over the place. And germs on people. And nu-fitin' an' bitin' an' fitin' an' bitin' and FITIN.'

End of story. And who the heck knows where it came from, but she says it every single day before nap and every night before bed.

Until today, that is. When I took her upstairs for nap a little while ago, she crawled in bed and very pointedly looked at me. "Do you want a tissue?" I prompted. She shook her head. "Do you want some water?" I offered. She shook her head again. I listed all the rest of her usual bedtime routine components, but she wanted none of them. "Do you want anything?" I asked her. Nope, she didn't need a thing.

I hate to see the little girl stuff disappear like that. And this time it was so sudden!

Look what I found!

Look what I found!, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

A baby turtle was scrambling vigorously across our path today at Sarah P. Duke Gardens, but not vigorously enough that Bean couldn't catch him. She.was.so.excited.

It made our whole day.

Psyched to be 3

Psyched to be 3, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

Bean's turning 3 on Saturday is part of what kept me away from blogging for so long. She had a real party this year, with four other toddlers plus some babies and big kids thrown into the mix. And their parents. So it was a lot of party prep, even if what we ate was lots of chips dumped into a bowl and an ice cream cake made of ice cream that I didn't actually make myself. Thank God for SIster! She was such a huge help with arranging bowls of chips, helping blow up balloons, decorating a birthday banner, and just generally offering her help up every time we turned around.

So I'm mama of a 3-year old now! Bean is so big all of a sudden and is also coming around to liking me again after the past year spent following Husband around in blind adoration. It's certainly easier to be a stay-at-home mom if your kids actually want to hang out with you.

Speaking of which, when her papa came home from work the other day and asked what we'd done today, Bean replied, "Hanged out." Funny girl.

Struggling

I've mentally settled down a bit since my last foul-mouthed post, but I have really been struggling this week. I had probably the worst day I've ever had with Sister yesterday, where I yelled at her so loud she burst into tears. Felt great about that one, let me tell ya.

Sweet P has entered a phase where she doesn't want to be put down at all and suddenly sleeps dramatically less than she used to. I know, I know, this shouldn't be a surprise to me, a supposedly experienced mama. But it does mean that on top of Sister's horrible homework hysteria nearly everyday, and Bean trying to alternately pick fights with hysterical Sister or surreptitiously squeeze the baby's hands or skull, I have a screaming baby demanding attention, too.

It's enough to make me utterly short out. You know on old Looney Tunes cartoons how you'd see smoke coming out of Yosemite Sam's ears when he was pissed off? It's the smoke of overloaded brain circuitry, I understand that now. And that's been me lately.

This morning--and the rest of today--has gone better. Sister had a delayed opening school day, so she spent the extra time getting me to set her up with an embroidery project that she's making as a birthday present to Bean. A nice, peaceful morning then, and this is hopefully her new hobby. On her way out the door to school, she declared it to be so.

Trying to say yes

Happy little painter, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

I had a good mama friend over yesterday for lunch and we got to talking about a book we're both interested in. My friend actually owns a copy and after hearing more from her about it, I think I'll probably go ahead and spring for a copy myself. I'd seen it available on Soulemama's blog and I think the gist of it is that we parents should allow our little ones access to art and craft supplies instead of keeping them under lock and key for fear of the mess. I mean, don't you want to raise creative, crafty kids? I know I do, so of course it's stupid for me to stingily hide all the good stuff from their creative little paws, right? Today I'm going to try putting all the art supplies into a low cabinet where the girls can use them. I'm going to try saying yes whenever one of them wants to make a project. I'm going to try to quash my first thought that the huge mess won't be worth it. Because I'll bet it will.

Here's our easel brought inside the house this morning for Bean to use. You know, this darn thing has been sitting out on our back porch for the last year, completely without paint and brushes, with only chalk for the chalkboard available. Doesn't it make you wonder why I bought it in the first place? Bean was incredulous that I brought it in and actually put paint in the cups for her. Make no mistake, there was a huge mess, but hey! There is now a gorgeous, pink and purple swirly paint creation drying on the newspaper that Bean is very, very proud of.

Who's the bad guy here?

I've gotta vent here, ladies. I just want to say that I'm a little tired of being the bad guy when it comes to tv watching in this house. I remember when I was pregnant with Bean that the subject of little kids and tv came up. Husband was totally against little kids watching anything at all. I remember this because my response was something along the lines of, "Yeah, well I WILL be allowing some tv since I'm the one who's going to be staying at home with her all day long!" Husband conceded that this seemed fair if I needed an occasional break. Emphasis on "occasional."

Now? Bean gets up in the morning and the first thing she wants is for the tv to be turned on. No breakfast, just tv. And Husband is happy to comply because he needs a little time to himself to make some coffee, get the computer fired up, and pee. All totally fine so far.

But lately, it's not just a couple episodes of "Curious George" we're talking about here. He'll frequently turn on movies for Bean, full-length Disney films that I have to turn off at some point to give Bean her breakfast. This morning it was The Little Mermaid and you should have seen the toddler wrath unleashed upon me when I told her it was time to turn it off! Oh. My. God. I had to kick her out onto the porch because her screams were reverberating inside the house and I had to turn down that noise, no matter what the sleeping neighbors might have thought.

Sigh. The thing is that I'm somewhat complicit in this routine because on mornings when Sister is at her dad's I sleep in. If I would just get my tired ass out of bed, I could help Husband deal with Bean so that he could still do what he needed but she wasn't permitted to get so engrossed in a lengthy screening of something or other.

Yeah, you think that's gonna happen?

Tasty at home

In my weekly quest for domestic coziness, I've begun making my own bread. I say that as if it were a permanent decision to always bake my own bread, but it's not really. In fact, I've only made two batches so far but it was so gratifying, I thought to myself, "I really should do this more often." So I'm going to try.

I've never been much of a bread baker because I just naturally lack the proper temperament to do it well. Which is to say that I'm impatient as hell, want to get things done NOW, and bread just doesn't work that way. The other day I used a whole wheat loaf bread recipe that explained the first rise would take about an hour and a half. Actually, it took six and that was just the first rise. But I just tried to forget about it and let it do its thing and everything came out well. See?

Two beautiful loaves, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

But my original motivation--lest you begin believing that I'm motivated by just sweet domestic coziness and a back-to-the-land, homemade whole grain thing--was a trip to a local chocolate shop with Bean while Sister was having her piano class. The adorable European owner informed me that the big bag of real, dark chocolate sprinkles on the shelf next to me were what European children have sprinkled on their toast in the mornings to get them to eat their bread. He himself, he said, had this for breakfast til he was 15 years old, after which he was presumably too old for such a childish breakfast and switched to espresso and cigarettes, I guess. I'm a sucker. I bought the sprinkles. And needed to make fresh bread to put them on.

Bean with toast, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

Nice morning

I was grocery shopping a couple days ago and saw rhubarb and strawberries, both on the shelves looking all luscious and ruby-like. I bought enough of both to make a large pie and, while the strawberries weren't as good as they'll likely be in another couple of weeks, they made a beautiful mama and baby pie. Not to mention that it was a lovely way for Bean and I to while away the morning hours today. Sweet P lay contentedly in her bouncy chair, watching us and listening to us chat.

Mixing the fruit, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

Preparing her crust, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

More fruit, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

Proud Bean, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

Mama pie and baby pie, ready for the oven, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

Beautiful finished pies, originally uploaded by Secretsugar.

Now, this is what I thought being a stay-at-home mama would be all about for me!

A mama stuck

Oy vey! as my Jewish mama friend would say. It's been a rough week over here in the cave. Bean's been so wild and contrary I'm beginning to take it personally. What am I doing to my poor almost-3-year old child to make her so enraged nearly every hour of the day? Why does she spurn my love in favor of her dear papa's? Why does she scream at me if I come to get her up from her nap if I happen to also have Sweet P with me? Sigh. I just can't seem to make her happy these days, and she's still requiring SO much entertainment out of me. WAY more than her tiny baby sister, which makes me kind of sad. I keep thinking we're going to turn a corner any day now and Bean will be happy to hang out with me, happy to do her own thing at least a little during the day, just happy. But maybe I've got a girl whose default mood is more restless than happy. I dunno.

New skirt project stymied by the prospect of installing an invisible zipper. Gardening is on hold after last night's big, big thunderstorm turned our yard into a bog. Meh.

My three daughters

It's almost a cliche among parents out there that children are born their own selves from day one. Sure, nurture has something to do with them ending up a responsible adult who is kind to animals and other people down the line, but they're pretty much hard-wired as to temperament and interests. This is the prevailing attitude among the mamas I know, anyways.

And with my own girls, it's been noticeable from a very early age that they were very different kids. Sister played independently (and happily) from about the time that she could sit up on her own and grasp things. She's always been a fine motor skills kind of girl and to this day, her preferred mode is off in her own dream world, dreaming up plots involving fairies, goblins, small rocks, and "magic" little detritus found around the house.

And Bean? Well, take a look for yourself!

Wall-crawling, originally uploaded by salutor.

She's not even three yet, y'all!

She's an intensely physical little person, wanting always to be moving--climbing, running, dancing, hopping on one foot. Phew! That child wears me out! Yesterday while sitting together in the piano teacher's living room waiting for Sister to finish her lesson, Bean and I were looking together at some travel magazines lying around. I turned to a page with a photo of some white water rafters. Bean gasped, pointed at them, and asked, "MAMA! Can we do that someday? Can we do that, too?!" I told her we could. Next, there was a page of a hiker on Mt. Everest, crossing a deep ice ravine on a narrow rope. Again, Bean asked me, "MOM! Can we do that someday?!"

Do I need to say that Bean has no interest in playing quietly and independently in her own little world? Maybe when Hell freezes over.

I'm so interested to see how my Sweet P turns out. All I know about her so far is that she's super mellow and super sweet. Maybe I'll get my mama's girl sewing buddy one of these days after all...

A new low

This week started out better than last. I got some sewing projects finished to donate to Sister's school silent auction (photos to come soon!), got some much needed sleep this weekend, got the laundry caught up on after our machine broke and we lacked a new one for half the week, plus got the house put back together after a paint crew was here to repaint our shiny gold living room to a nice, soothing aqua blue. (Wish I'd taken before and after photos...)

This week is comparatively empty, then, and for most of yesterday the house was peaceful and calm. But starting yesterday evening, Bean has entered an even more terrible phase than the usual terrible twos I thought were bad enough before. Yesterday evening, she ripped me a new one for taking her to the "wrong" park.

I'd been talking up the park all afternoon because the day was gorgeously sunny and warm, and she was excited about going after nap. I got her into the van without incident, drove over and everything went to hell. She took one look at the park and went into hysterics. This was NOT the park she had mentally pictured, I guess. Which was confusing as hell to me since it's pretty much the only one we go to. I got her out of the van, managed to make a walk to the community center next door seem like a good idea. We got inside and there weren't any kids there, so more hysterics, this time lying on the floor kicking and screaming with tears running down her face. I managed to get her back outside so as not to annoy the front desk clerk, but I had to drag her by one arm to do it. I could go on here because SHE went on. You know it's bad when other parents are staring at you, wondering what the hell you're doing to your child to make her scream so loud.

This morning, Bean began screaming, "NO! NO! NO!" at me the minute I walked into her room. I'm not exaggerating here--she screams at me! The dog bit her twice and me once, the Girl Scout cookies suck so much the local paper did a story about them and I need to exchange them for new ones in another town, and the chickweed is taking over my perennials and it's freaking February, fer chrissakes.

What the hell is a dispirited mama to do?

Sweet Bean

For all her temper tantrums and general contrariness, Bean really is a sweet child. A conversation between us not 10 minutes ago:

Bean: Uh-oh! I got scratches on the table!
Me: Oh, honey! (taking away the safety scissors I was letting her cut up paper with) Sweetie, we never, NEVER make scratches on the furniture! I'm so disappointed that you did that!
Bean: (hanging her head while I lecture her) I know something that will make you feel better.
Me: (dubiously) What?
Bean: A hug and kiss.
Me: (totally melting) You're right. That would make me feel much better.
Bean: (hugging and kissing me) There. I'm sorry. It was a accident. It's okay, honey. It's okay.

And I did feel much better. How could I not? Sometimes the things that come out of her mouth are awfully nice to hear.

On walks

Another great thing about walks--apart from the occasional suburban chicken sighting--is how it lets me get out of my usual routine and into a quiet, meditative head space that is rare for me now. Actually, I literally NEVER get the sort of mental solitude afforded by a walk in my usual life. It's too noisy here, even if the noise is usually pleasant little girl voices. There are nearly constant meals and snacks to prepare, even if I love being the cook for our thriving family. My brain fits everything in the day into a sort of puzzle--"I'll take this pile of shoes upstairs now while the baby is sleeping because when she wakes I won't have my hands free. And while I'm up there I'll make the bed and bring the laundry down. Then I better start dinner...." Is this a function of the female, multi-tasking brain? I didn't see it happening. I swear, I used to just be able to relax during a spare moment and think about things....

Anyways. I've been thinking a lot lately about getting old. It's definitely because I'm no longer pro-creating and am now on the path towards death. That sounds grim as hell, no? The less dramatic of you will point out that I've always been on the path towards death, like my sensible Husband did when I said this to him the other day. I know that, but still. If I were more chemically volatile I might be depressed, but instead I'm just feeling thoughtful lately.

On my walks I am, that is. 'Cause right now I've got to watch Bean as she empties the trunk of dress-up clothes in search of the perfect pirate costume...

Super fat old bag Tuesday

A title totally unrelated to anything I'll write beneath it, but I was having a bit of fun at my own expense last night.

There have been a dozen times at least in the last few days that I've meant to sit down and blog something about this busy kid-full life of mine, but alas! I'm just too damn busy. I think I can manage a few odds and ends, though, before all hell breaks loose between Sister and Bean playing upstairs and the baby about to wake up and begin yelling for milk in her bouncy seat next to me.

Okay. Deep breath.

Bean is potty-trained! She even skips a diaper at night because Husband kept forgetting to put them on her after her bath and she was making it through just fine. Score a point for us!

Sister is still utterly absorbed in her library book about puberty. She's making all sorts of funny connections, though, because she is after all still only 9. For example, today in the car she asked me if a "con-dome" was just for boys. I confirmed that it was indeed something that only male members of the anatomy club could wear. (Get it? Get it? I used the official p-word when I said it to her, though.) She then smirked and said smugly, "So they have a tampon kind of thing, too!" I tried not to laugh. Oh, and Husband found the book open in front of the toilet last night when he went up to run their bath and looked to see what page she was on. I won't write it hear for fear of pervs, but it rhymes with master station. Husband's a bit freaked out, I think, but I assured him she probably already knew all about it if my experience as a young'un was common. (What the hell else is there to do when you're 5 and confined to your bunk with chicken pox, I ask you?)

Our Sweet P is a darling, easy baby, super smiley and thrilled to squeals to see a friendly face (or an interesting blanket, or the cat, for that matter). I can't remember life without her and I'm still sad she's the last one for me. Husband suggested that "Some people start looking forward to grandkids" when I told him I was sad to have put an end to my procreative life. No rush for that, though! Maybe I'll go be a volunteer baby holder at the hospital when my little ones are all big and I get a jones for something tiny to hold.

I'm feeling old all of a sudden, but this life is a very, very good one.