Family Time

We’ve been doing some serious road trippin’ lately. To hear some tales of the road, pop over to Parenting.com.

I buy most of Dan’s clothes due to the fact that he hates shopping and I’m the only one whose opinion of how he looks he cares about.

I buy Magoo’s clothes too because he’s flat broke, 4 years old and has absolutely no sense of style. However, I think that from now on, I’ll do his shopping alone.

Read more at Parenting.com.

When I was pregnant with Laylee, I read What to Expect When You’re Expecting religiously. Every week, every few days, I would read about the baby, how big she had grown, whether she had toe-nails yet, how much she was starting to resemble a humanoid.

With this pregnancy I’ve had so many other things on my mind, sickness to deal with, a home to repair, and 2 other kids to chase. I feel like I have a general picture in my mind of how a baby develops and I don’t necessarily need to constantly check the toenail directory to feel connected to my role as a mother. This baby is also a monster-muffin ninja-face, moving around with ferocious speed and force inside me so it’s hard not to be aware of her presence. She’s been making herself known for months.

But yesterday I saw WTEWYE sitting on my bookshelf and I picked it up out of curiosity. How big IS she that she can move in a way that I can see it from the outside and feel it from everywhere inside? The book said that at the 6-month mark she’s about a foot long. All I could think was, “A foot-long? My baby’s a foot-long?” Now every time I think about her wiggling and punching and using her nunchucks in there, I picture her as a subway sandwich with arms and legs sticking out between the lettuce and meat. And I laugh out loud when I’m all alone in my house. There’s a living, swimming foot-long curved into a C-shape and growing inside of me.

It’s a fun visual, much more humorous than a little human baby.

Laylee on the other hand is more realistic about things. When asked on her Father’s Day survey about Dan, “What does your father run like?” she answered, “My dad runs like a human.” It’s all too true. He is very homosapien-like in his athletic abilities.

Then at dinner, Dan observed a problem with our dining room light, he investigated the problem and solved it. I pointed out that what he did was very scientific and narrated the kids through the steps of his methodology. They looked skeptical. “Yes he is a scientist. He could totally be on Sid the Science Kid,” I remarked.

Laylee shook her head. “No he couldn’t! He doesn’t look like playdough.”

Oh that’s right. We’d already established that your dad looks and runs like a HUMAN. Sorry for the memory lapse.

Does your house smell fresh as a Daisy? Do you have a little boy living there? You can hear about mine over at Parenting.com.

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I’m planning a low-stress summer of fun and joy for me and the kids. Come over to Parenting and share your ideas.

There’s nothing quite like a boy and his dad inhaling flannel together.

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On the way to the bus stop today, Magoo spotted some bedazzled slugs awaiting collection. He likes to call them snails but I know a slug when I see one. He gathered up two, one in each hand, one for himself and one to present as a gift to Laylee when she exited her yellow limo. As she climbed down the steps he held out his chubby little hands to her.

“OH! I wish I had one!” she gasped.

“IT’S FOR YOU! THIS ONE’S FOR YOU!” he said, handing over her prize.

She was speechless.

I informed them that I knew of a neighbor’s garden on the way home with tons of snails he’d be willing to part with. The harvest began. They decided they were snail farmers, taking their time to gather up every snail they could spot on the way home, comparing them with each other and lumping them into categories based on size, color, and character traits.

Laylee’s ended up in a little yellow bucket full of grass and rocks. While she went to search for more, I noticed her original babies were going AWOL.

“Laylee! Your slugs are crawling up the walls of the porch.”

Like a no-nonsense mom of 20, she marched over and gave them a good talking to as she peeled them off the walls, the chair and the sides of the bucket. She puffed out some air and looked at me while rolling her eyes heavenward. “I’ve got to find a way to keep them IN.”

She then turned the bucket over on top of them, piled rocks around the rim, stacked two chairs on top of it and topped those with rocks.

“If you see them trying to escape, tell them to GET. BACK. IN,” she requested.

I hope she remembers this discipline technique when she’s 15 and I decide to follow her parental example. I love you so much I need to lock you away forever and pile rocks on top of you. I’m sure that will go over really well.

In all my nerdalicious glory, I’ve found a way to boil my parenting philosophies down to technical jargon.

[Read more at Parenting.com]

I’ve written a post over at Parenting today and I’d love your input. We recently let Laylee pick out a book at the school book fair and as we’re getting into it, I’m realizing that it’s not appropriate for her, especially not at the age of 6. It’s has the feel of a Bratz book aimed at young kids. I’m trying to deal with it in a mommish way but would love your suggestions and input.

You can click here to weigh in.