Thursday, September 11, 2008

I caught her red handed.

She was playing in the sink. I was nursing the baby. Playing in the sink is a less harmful activity than a lot of the things Cora tries to do when I am nursing the baby. For instance, she is not smearing feces anywhere, nor raiding the knife block, nor playing in her fathers tools. I decided not to check on the contents of the sink. I just did dishes so there should be nothing harmful in there.

To my surprise, she entered the living room with her hands coated in red liquid, holding them out like a stigmatized witness of faith. I grabbed her wrists, gently and in the sudden calm spoke gently. "What were you playing with?" I queried.

She didn't answer, but then she wasn't screaming in pain either. I licked her finger, expecting the coppery taste of that life giving liquid. Instead I got super sweet fruit punch.

Fruit Punch?

Note to self. Koolaid mix should not be left near the sink.

Coming Home to Trouble.

Our garage door has a unique problem. Either that or we are just lazy home owners who do not repair it frequently enough. I went shopping in the rain one day this week, and came home with a car full of crying children and groceries. I pressed the garage door opener, and nothing happened. The bolt slipped out of the slide, again. I should really get a nut, secure it and glue it in place I thought. I tried the door next to the garage door. It was blockaded with the stroller.

I checked on the children. They were still crying. Cora was howling in undisclosed grief. Nyobi was just hungry. The hungry baby cry puts my teeth on edge. I will do just about anything to get it to stop in a peaceful manner. No matter how much logic I throw at the reflex the hard wiring wins out. I grabbed my keys from the ignition.

I stood up and closed the door in the rain. Great I thought. Now I had two screaming children in a cold car. The rain was sucking more warmth out of it, and my groceries were not refridgerated. I stormed through the drizzle to the front door. My hair was wet. My pants felt damp. I hate cold rains.

I unlocked the front door and pushed it inward. The chain caught.

Since our eldest daughter decided that running outside at weird times was appropriate behavior, I drop the security chain on the front door and leave it dropped. I never exit out the front of the house. I almost always go out through the garage. A big water drop fell off the eaves and slid down the back of my shirt. I glanced at the car. I could see Cora throwing her head back in a yowl of discomfort.

When my husband got home that evening, I handed him a piece of trim, nails and chain still attached. It took me three good kicks to get the door to open all the way. Perhaps I shouldn't send in my application to the swat team just yet.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

I catch a Butter

Children have their own language. Hopefully their parents speak it. Here are a couple of Coras favorite phrases and what they might mean. I'm never certain.

Upon seeing tony the tiger at the grocery store, with a larger lady close by. "Thunder cavth HO!"

Entering the house with something in her hands. "I catch a Butter." Opens hands. "Oopth." A grass hopper jumps onto the living room carpet.

"Big Pool?" Coras question whenever I start packing. She loved going swimming at the high school pool.

To ward off anyone's help, Cora yells "I do, I do!" Either that or she gets married a lot.

"Rabbit." Coras name for any bunny, hair or similarly small furry creature.

"Want to wear an Angel." Coras name for a dress, because too many people told a curly hair blond child with blue eyes and her Dads porcelain complexion that she was an "angel in that dress."

"Cheese and Butter." Coras two favorite dishes. Cheese is mac and cheese, or grilled cheese, or anything as long as cheese is a primary ingredient. Butter is butter bread.

"Make Pop." Not the soda version, the corn version. For some reason, she can't seem to wrap her mind around the whole word.

And my all time personal favorite. "Where babay?" Poor bombay is hunted down frequently, but Nanny and I took forever to figure out she wanted the cat not her baby sister.

River **** Daycare.

For some reason, I just cannot make an appointment to interview a daycare lady on time. Daycare ladys do not like late interviewee's. They seem to think that failure to be timely is a trait not easily overcome. Perhaps their great experience dealing with the crazy parents of other children is valid.

To make sure I was not late for the newest daycare interview I sat down to feed the baby fourty minutes before the interview. Twenty minutes later baby was happy, sitting on my lap and I was helping the two year old into her panties and pants. Then the baby pooped.

Ten minutes later, smelling of baby poop and pee, but with no obvious stains on my clothes, I thew the kids in the car and took off to find "770 river bend drive off of M-40 by Babylon." as I was instructed.

Evidently the ONLY name someone in this area can give a subdivision is one that starts with River. It must be in the township ordinences. After Riverview, Riverridge, Rivercourt and a fourth subdivision which is "River trailer park" to the locals, I gave up on locating the magic Riverbend subdivision. Instead I pulled into the realters and yanked both kids out of the car. I was 15 minutes late for the interview.

It took the realtor 10 minutes to find the riverbend subdivision. It was ON babylon, not on M-40. It was five minutes away.

It was raining when I arrived. According to this ladies instructions, I searched for the drive with the travel trailer parked in it. There was none.

My heart fell in my chest. This was not happening. The drizzle increased. I chose a door with a back yard filled with play equiptment. I stood in the wet staring at the door, ringing the bell. Late and smelling like baby poop, I just wanted to go home. The daycare lady answered the door.

"Did you find it Okay?" she asked.

If my daughter goes to daycare there, I'll have to make sure I teach her orienteering first. She might get lost finding the bathroom if she uses this ladies directions.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Go to BED!!!

After taking Cora to the fair, I took the over tired small child to my parents house to finish out the weekend adventure. Actually, I just wanted a back up plan for any bad incidents. Somehow I have a nagging suspicion that the bad incidents were brought about by my back up plan. Its not something I want to overly contemplate.

In usual form, my Gran, whom lives with my parents, or vice versa, wanted to discuss parenting tactics and child behavior. I love talking with her about it. I dislike the fact that my daughters demonstrate the worst possible behavior for her, and my tactics either fail or fall to the last ditch, worst strategy. Like "Go to Bed!"

At 8:30, my daughter grabbed her blanket and wandered downstairs saying she was tired and wanted to go to bed. I felt like kissing her. This behavior is barely ever demonstrated without a parental prompt. I tucked her in to her sleeping bag on the floor, and stood up to leave. She got up too.

For the next two hours, I stared at the door to our guest room. Every time I saw her, I would repeat, "Go to Bed!" she would howl in tears. I would explain about how sleep was important, I told her a silly story about a chicken named poop (hey, you try being inventive at 10 at night). Then I would go up stairs, chat with Gran for a couple of minutes. She would say astonished, "She's still awake and its 10 at night! Does she do this often?"

No, my daughter only does this when I'm trying to show off what a good child she is, and Dad the Enforcer is no where to be found. If she did this all the time I would be wearing a straight jacket and in a padded cell. Either that or I would be an alcoholic.

Fortunately Nanny and Gramps were soaking up the lovely sleepy cuddles of my youngest girl, so I was free to try and convince Cora to GO TO BED! At 10:30PM, with my hand played out I fed Cora more food, and found the baby. I put her in the crib. I took my two year old's sleeping bag and threw it onto the futon bed. I laid down next to her and told her to go to sleep.

She gave me soft kisses, rubbed her nose with mine, said "good night." Then she popped off the bed, went to the door to the room and stepped out holding the knob. "And Thtay in bed or I thpank you!" She admonished before closing the door.

So help me God, I will lose it with that child before she gets past two.

Wow do I sound silly saying things like that.