Lucky, Lucky, Lucky Day

Sweet Pea called in sick today. I think, though her parentals reported a 102.8 fever, she was faking it in order to have a day home with mom. Who can blame her really? Her mom is close to perfect, beyond attentive and drop-dead gorgeous.  I would have faked sick habitually had she been my mom.

The Cousin was higher than a kite on a summer day, when she heard the news.  I arrived and hadn't even put my things down, when she came skipping out of the back room, on her tippy toes no less, to greet me. As y'all know, sharing the nanny, or any adult for that matter, leaves a sour taste in The Cousin's mouth. Today's her lucky day. A pair of Aces.
The Lottery. And her way of showing it? She hands me every damn toy she owns: the cash register, the tower blocks,
2 baby dolls and several books.
"Let's play, Wallerey."  Her pronunciation of my name is changing; taking on a new sound-form.  Lots about her is changing. Her hair's getting longer, her speech more defined.  She questions everything.  The first time she asks the question, it's cute.  By the 6th or 7th time, it's borderline annoying!
"What are you doing, Wallerey?"
"I'm pushing you in the swings."
"What am I doing?"
"You're swinging."
5 minutes later...
"What are you doing, Wallerey?"
"I'm still pushing you in the swings."
"What am I doing?"
"You're swinging."
12 minutes later...
"What are you doing, Wallerey?'
"I'm drawing with chalk."
"What am I doing?"
"You're drawing with chalk also."
5 minutes later...

You get the picture.
So, today's just The Cousin, me and the phenomenal sunshine that rarely shows itself in Pacific Grove, CA.
We're in the buggy and out the door by 9:00 a.m.

"Sweet Pea! You can call in sick anytime!"

Kitty goes everywhere with us these days.  I end up holding her paw while The Cousin plays in the wood-chips or eats her crackers.  She doesn't want Kitty to be left alone on a bench or in the stroller.

Kitty is a pain in the ass on the changing table. Seriously, I have enough trouble maneuvering The Cousin, the diaper, the Wet Wipes without worrying if I get the excrements on Kitty.

"Wood-chips are The Bomb."

The park becomes our mutual Nirvana. It's so much easier with one. I can't drive this home enough. As much as I love that little shit, Sweet Pea, it's a piece of cake with just The Cousin. After a couple hours, we load up and head to the library for Toddler Storytime. We make our way through a crowd of about 20; moms, toddlers, toy dinosaurs, carpet squares. We find our place near the facilitator woman who has a tee shirt on that says, "Reading is Delicious." The shirt has a picture of cartoon-like children eating big slices of pizza with books sprawled around the kitchen table.
I find the shirt a bit odd, and quite frankly, ridiculous, but whatever.  When it's time to begin, the lady grabs a bumble bee hand-puppet and starts singing a jubilant rendition of "If You're Happy and You Know It" and The Cousin and I chime in.  I look around the room and see lots happy kids and lots of runny noses. After 2 very long stories (this lady hasn't a clue as to the attention span of a 2-year-old) The Cousin can't sit any longer and heads to the book crates.

During her "book safari", a woman looks at me and says, "Your daughter is so cute."
MY DAUGHTER!?  Love that.  Especially after multiple comments regarding my possible "grandmother status".
I must admit it felt just fine.
"Thank-you." I hear myself saying. These types of lies boost my ego in some superficial way.  Soon, The Cousin is starting to lose it. This becomes apparent when I tell her we need to go to the bathroom to change her diaper, and she yells "NOOOOO!!" in her "not-so-proper-library-voice" then goes sprinting down the non-fiction aisle.  I know it's quickly approaching nap time, but I don't lose my cool.
A quick diaper change and we're on our way.

It's difficult to make time for naps. We're busy girls.  We really don't want lunch either.
There's no time for it.
We are artists and artists need to express themselves. Period.

"Wallery, I'm painting sunshine."

And then come the questions...
"Wallery, can I touch this?'
"Yes."
"Can I eat this?"
"No."
"Can I paint the table?"
"No."
"Can I paint the paper?"
"Yes."
Our afternoons, like our mornings, are rich.
And then, as unpopular as it may be, we cram down some lunch-grub and head to the crib with some books.
I'm on my knees, praying,  for 45-50 minutes. I can almost taste the delicious silence that will soon be mine.

Like her, it was my lucky day.  The Cousin slept from 2:00 p.m.- 4:15 p.m.
Can I hear a SAH-WEEEEEEET!??!

And me? I'm feeling the luck and the love today.  Feeling the beautiful gift of having one kid, not two, and thinkin I just might have enough energy in reserves to stay awake long enough to watch Jeopardy when I get home.
Peace y'all!
~tpg

Happy Birthday Girls!

                                                               This kid rocks my world.

This one also.

  

Sweet Pea reminds me of all things raw and spontaneous that exist in the universe.
She's headstrong, yes, and determined; a "spur-of-the-moment" kid.
But she can also be so tender.
She loves flower petals, basketballs and dangerous appliance wires; not necessarily
in that order.
And she loves, no adores, her cousin, much to her cousin's dismay.

"Numero Uno, Amigos!"

  And guess who turned one last week?

"Look out world! I'm two!"

And guess who turned two?
It's birthday madness around here and we've got the energy to prove it!  Presents! Balloons! Singing! Sugar-hangovers!  It's all double intensity with the girls' birthdays only a few days apart.

I picked a bad week to give up coffee.  If fact, I  was clean of the stuff I call "God's beverage" for approximately 72 hours, then I arrived at The Cousin's pad and broke down.
I made myself a cup; one in which the color was that perfect caramel brown.
Those tea drinking, self-righteous-hippie-bastards, who profess to be living a good, healthy life drinking pints of green, white and black tea on a daily basis, do not have a one-year old and a two-year old in their care.  I'm back on tea this morning; tea and this roasted grain crap.
I wonder how long it will take until my partner kicks my cranky ass out of the house.  It's all a test for me. Is coffee what's affecting my stomach or is it all the other delicious toxins God created? Could be stress, says my doc, or a combo of several things that "women your age" get...
I'm thinking I could give it up for 6 days a week and then drink one cup every Wednesday, in order to be alert for my nanny assignment.  But, I'm not a very disciplined girl, never have been and I don't do much in moderation. Lesson not-yet learned.

So Bal-La-Lee partied with these girls like it was 1999, and let me tell you, they can party!
We started with a little chalk art; a personal favorite of The Cousin's ever since she met her neighbor buddy, Miles.

Then Sweet Pea took it upon herself to sample an appetizer.

"Yuck. Send this chalk back to the chef."

Next, it's run run run with the birthday balloon until it pops...which caused major grief that needed immediate consoling.

Happy moments before the Big Bang

Life is like that though.  One minute, you experience the thrill of running freely under a sun-drenched sky, green balloon in your hand and not a care in the world...

And then the next minute, you trip up or your special balloon suddenly pops, and life becomes one depressing shit hole in the blink of an eye.

It's times like these that we head to the "you-know-what."

"Dora the Explorer got nothing on me."

"I'm not saying Cheese"

Somehow the park takes all our blues away; melts every last one of them like sticks of butter in the noonday sun.  

Life suddenly returns to  "happy" and little women (and the big ones too) get very,very tuckered; 

which is always nice.

Sweet Pea defines her own nap time.  It is she and she alone that determines the exact amount of allotted minutes. When she's ready to rise, she's ready to rise.  The Cousin, on the other hand, slept 2.5 hours which set a beautiful record!

I sat Sweet Pea down for her afternoon snack.  Oh, did I mention?  She also determines how she will sit in a highchair.

"What exactly do you mean I can't sit like this?"

I dig her tenacity.  It's like a bulldog. Reminds me of so many persistent women I know and have known; all of which embody this incredible amount of strength and tireless determination.  

Hope she never loses it...

~tpg

"I'm Back" אני שוב

An ardent reader warned me; double trouble is hanging in wait.  Soon you'll have two again.
I must admit it's been a smidgen easier with just Sweet Pea these last few weeks. I'm either getting very old or 2 kids under the age of two is more exhausting than the Boston Marathon,
or both.  But readership, The Cousin did return.
She returned from The Dead Sea with rock salts, shells and a whole lot of bi-lingual gibberish; speaking English mixed with Hebrew and waving her hands around like a yenta.  Sweet Pea and I were perplexed to say the least.  We squinted and pretended to look interested, but really, we didn't know what the hell she was talking about.

She's back and she's clingy.  Very clingy and there's a part of me that digs it. I can't lie to you. I mean it feels fantastic to have her smile so big when I walk into her house. Then she reaches for me and says my name with such clarity and warmth.  And of course she wants me to carry her EVERYWHERE rather than walk.  Melts my heart into a puddle. And did I mention that I think she's gained a couple of pounds in her 3-week tour of the Holy Land?   I'm sure it was all the falafel and hummus she ingested. I guess she had some sort of melt down at JFK on the way there.   She evidently threw Kitty to the ground and then she threw herself down on top of her. Like "tantrum sisters" in solidarity, the two of them pitched a huge screaming fit.
It all happened as they were preparing to board. Right smack in the middle of the boarding line.
If I had been a passenger on that flight, I would've shot a glare at her parents that would have required sunglasses. Then, I'd pray to the Aviation God that she wasn't sitting near me.

The Cousin is almost two. Need I say more?
Her world envelops only a few "select" people: Mom, Kitty and Herself, and not necessarily in that order.  Me, Myself and I are where she's at...and there ain't no changing that.  The parentals are working hard to prepare her for what's to come. And what's to come is a doosie.
When the mom let me know, I wanted to pour myself a Vodka Gimlet at 9:00 a.m.
"I'm pregnant" she casually mentioned to me in between the Curious George theme song and instructions for the lunch time meal.  I about shit.  And after much coaxing and prepping, mommy asked The Cousin, "What's in my tummy, sweetie?" The Cousin replied, "Food."
Clearly exhibiting her denial.
Well, I'm in denial too. Big time. Obviously my threat to walk if there were ever 3, wasn't an effective birth control tool.
And then there's Sweet Pea.  She and I bonded in the last 3 weeks and we were used to our own special rodeo.  When her mommy dropped her off yesterday, the first words out her mouth were, "Well, she's been up all night sneezing and coughing. I think she's getting sick."  
Now isn't that f@*!ing fantastic?   Great.  I could see it.  Her eyes had dark little circles under them and her nose had that all familiar glossy fluid that runs freely down and becomes an integrated part of the mid-day snack.

She didn't let it get her down though. She held on for a good 8 hours, but in that final hour, the 9th hour when I'm barely coherent, she finally had had enough.

Wednesday was this amazingly warm day in Pacific Grove.  One of those rare days that comes along about once every 275 days.  It was fog-free, wind-free, cold-free; totally sunny-ass warm!  And the girls and I decided to do some gardening.
Sweet Pea digs dirt. Hell yes!  She just goes for it; hands, feet and mouth!  She's a girl after my own heart; not afraid to get dirty.  The Cousin on the other hand, has trouble participating in anything messy. If there's a piece of lent on her finger, forget about it.  She has to have it wiped off before she can enjoy herself. I know adults like this. They can't relax, dive into a project if their house needs dusting or a load of laundry is in the hamper.  The Cousin needs to feel organized and clean at all times.  You can only imagine how much prompting was needed to get her to shovel soil.

"Got dirt?"

"Let's see if I can dig the hole without touching the soil."

"Do we have any hand sanitizer?"

The Cousin is all about hygeine.  We enjoy brushing our teeth together and we always sing
"The Toothbrush Song"... When you wake up in the morning, it's a quarter to one and you want 
to have a little fun, you brush your teeth CHHHH...CHHH...CHH..."  
Here she is flossing.

She's not only serious about hygiene, but she is serious about being tech savvy.
I'm not shittin' you.
I purchased my first Iphone last week. Shut up. I know it's 2013.  My partner and I were in the damn store for an hour and 45 minutes because I was experiencing technical difficulties. The sales"boy" who was all of 22, was extremely patient with me. I'm certain his thoughts we anything but patient, however, he didn't let it show.  When we left with our new phones, her an Iphone 5 and me a 4S (whatever the hell that is) she was so excited she could hardly keep her feet on the pavement. And me?
I had a stomach ache.
Anyway, texting is a total wash for me right now. Locating messages, voicemails, attaching photos all feel complex as well.  But The Cousin assisted me with some apps and even the camera.  Speaking of the camera, here's two shots I took when I didn't intend to take any.

I also attempted a video and somehow turned the camera on myself instead of the girls.  So, for about 13 seconds, I was videoing myself, close-up. The Cousin was as patient as the young man at the store and that was most appreciated, but in all honesty, I haven't fallen in love with the "all-supierior-all-knowing-ever-popular Iphone".  Not yet anyway.
The world's changing readers, and I get that.  The thing is, I'm changing too. And part of my evolution is slowing down, smelling the roses, sipping the grape, reading the poetry, enjoying the music that's being played at grocery stores because I know all the words.  And yes, I did actually really like my 4 LG Slider phone! It felt comfortable and familiar like a typewriter and I loved those too!

I also like a good old-fashion picnic.

And a good old-fashion "tp-ing" a house.

Not to mention, a good old-fashion sit down at the table together for a meal.

And sometimes, just a good old-fashion nose picking.

Or an insistence of riding the bike our own way.

Whether you're old-fashion or a modern hipster, I think y'all agree that we just gotta
laugh about it.
So, I'll leave y'all with this 'lil ditty of a video. This is what's it's all about...
Truly I think so.
~tpg

Where There's a Will There IS a Way

           

Now this is an Easter Bunny that I can believe in.
Cute, isn't she?

But bunnies, eggs and holy moliness are not the subjects of today's ramblings...

What I really wanna talk about here is confinement.  Constraints.  Incarceration.  

Sweet Pea doesn't do "house arrest" very well.

If you think I'm joking, try strapping her in her highchair during a quinoa and broccoli luncheon. 

She ain't havin it. Well, that's not totally accurate. She'll have it for a limited amount of time. She'll have it while she enjoys the flavors of her meal; the basil, the olive oil, the steamed, puree'd vegetable medley infused with organic grains...but when she's done, SHE'S DONE!  

The Cousin's still in Israel, probably walking on The Sea of Galilee, turning water to wine and charming all the serpents with her infectious smile.  Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Sweet Pea and I are making the best of it.  

But let's return to the confinement issue.  Sweet Pea has this strong will. I saw it from the moment of our introduction and it seems to be growing as quickly as the weeds in my garden.  Her blatant refusal to be strapped in to her highchair, her stroller, or placed in a playpen, shit, any kind of baby contraption, is slightly annoying to say the least. And although I encourage kids, especially girl kids, to be strong, independent thinkers, this took a sharp turn last week and left me wishing for a passive, demure Sleeping Beauty-type.

Off to a good start

"Spoons are for sissies."

"I've about had enough."

I was forced (because of her refusal to not play in the grain mess) to put her in her pen in order to clean up the quinoa disaster all over the floor. She was pissed.

"I'm pissed."

But for a child approaching the ripe old age of one, compromise is not an option.

Sweet Pea has this obsession for the dirty diaper pail. I swear she dreams about it and spends her waking moments trying to figure out how to get in it when I'm not looking.  She can't let it go.  And there is no stopping her.  The more times I remove her, the stronger she becomes.  She returns again and again and each time her grin gets wider.  SHE KNOWS SHE'S F@!*ING WITH ME!

"Keep your distance."

"Yes, I can!"

"Don't give me that No thing."

My second grade teacher at Curren Elementary, Mrs. Chapin, told me "Where there's a will, there's a way."  She said this to me when I was struggling with learning to read.  I've thought of her and those words many times over the years and they slapped me in the face last week with regard to Sweet Pea! Her determination could prove to be an advantage for her, that is if her parents survive.  In these types of "willful" situations, I tend to go into distraction mode. 

First, we played dress-up...

"I wanted the pink one."

"NO to the damn hat."

Next, some tub-fun...

"What do you mean I can't drink this?"

"I won't be needing any assistance getting out."

And finally, "we" had to get the hell out of the apartment. A nice long walk and a trip to our neighborhood organic cafe and canning company, Happy Girl Kitchen, for a piping hot cup of Assam tea, where Sweet Pea once again demonstrated that she cannot and will not be fenced in.

(Note: Change of clothes due to insistence of using a grown-up cup not baby bottle)

All in all, it was a terrific day; the kind of day country songs are made of, I suppose.

It was close to quittin' time, when there was a knock at the door. Woo Hoo!
We had a visitor!

"Weirdo, that's a bucket."

For all you fans of The Cousin, don't you cry.  She'll be back with us next week!

Take it easy y'all!

~ tpg