Quittin Time

Sometimes 5:00 p.m. can't come soon enough. I say this because last week, I had to dig deep to make it to quittin time.  It was my own doing, as the week prior had been an exhausting week, filled with hills and valleys.
Can't really blame that on the dynamic duo.
No matter what profession one is in, and I do consider the position of nanny as an esteemed profession; No, matter what it is, you need to be on your best game in order to make it to the beautiful hour of 5:00 p.m. Kitty, who was also barely hangin on, and I needed coffee by 2:30.

"Gawd, Is it 5:00 yet?"

Back in the day, when I got my degree and thought I'd live and die in an elementary school classroom, prior to the plethora of other roads I took including that of  "Revered Trailer Park Manager, I was a dreamer and a believer that one never use television, videos or electronic games to entertain a child.

It was my firm and judgmental belief, that in doing so, you were "medicating the child. It was what "bad" teachers did, what "bad" parents did, what "bad" nannies did.  You know all those lazy asses that couldn't or wouldn't interact with children in a healthy way. You'd NEVER see me put in a DVD! Are you f*#king kidding me?

"I can save your ass today!"

Meet Caillou, my new BFF.  When there's a meltdown, either theirs or mine, I plug this bad boy in and suddenly silence fills the air as sweet as fresh whipping cream. Ahhhh...

With Caillou taking charge, everything I believed in goes way the hell out the window.  With Caillou at the helm, Kitty and I can take a brief, much-deserved coffee break.

She becomes catatonic. Yes, mesmerized.  And for a few precious minutes, I am free to clean off the changing table and get the Playdoh out of my hair.   

Caillou is actually a meaningful, healthy kid.  (That's how I justify putting him on.)  Seriously, he teaches many lessons and we can only hope The Cousin is getting them... Lessons around sharing, helping with chores, using the toilet.  Ah, yes, using the toilet.  Seems the sticker bribery technique is not really all that it's cracked up to be. Last week I asked The Cousin,

"Do you want to use the toilet? "

No response.

"You can give it a try!"

No response.

"There's some cool zebra stickers if you try."

"No, thank-you Wallery."

At least the kid's polite about it. 

So I put this episode on.  You know I went through the whole spiel about what a big boy Caillou is and how good he must feel when he uses the toilet.  She stared at me as if she was hanging on my every word. I thought I had her for a second.  Then, she asked for a cookie.

Caillou is like the perfect kid. He always makes good choices. Always makes friends easily. Always shares his toys with those friends.  His parents are perfect too, Doris and Boris are their names.  Although, Doris is usually too busy doing "mom-like things" to play with Caillou, Boris usually finds time for his son.  They're heterosexual, of course, although when I look at the dad, I sometimes see an androgynous woman and I begin wishful thinking, that Caillou and his sister have lesbian moms.  

I'm a weirdo, I know.  But check 'em out!

Bonnie and Barbara with their two kids.

You know nap time is as effective as Caillou.  I actually got them both to fall asleep at the same time last week; miracle # 1, and if I produce a second, the Catholic Church will canonize me to sainthood.  

I have to admit, they wake up in such sweet little moods.  It's as if, during their slumber, the lavender sparkle fairies, from the Good Ship Lollipop, sprinkle all kinds of niceness dust and cousin chumminess all over their bodies.

"I'm so refreshed."

"I'll pretend I'm mellow just to make them happy." 

I got her that tee shirt when she first popped out of her mom.  Little did I know "Future NFL Linebacker" would have been a more appropriate logo.  Sweet Pea does like books.  She really digs ripping the pages and eating the covers best of all.

Here's a few fun games we played after nap...

Smelly Feet.

Smelly Diaper.

And the traditional Hide-n-Seek.

"Shall we have bananas for snack, girls?"  My weak attempt to break them of the cookie habit.

"YEA!!!!!" they yell in harmony.  So we head to the kitchen, as bananas require a booster seat and a high chair to alleviate spot clean-up later.  No sooner than I give 'em their healthy bite of potassium, Sweet Pea gives me a gift to remember.

"Gee thanks, doll. Is it quittin time yet?"

"What's not to love?"

Let me tell ya, that face can get away with Dexter-style murder.  She'll charm the pants right off ya and 5 bucks also, to have them dry-cleaned.

And this one's charming too...

And oh, my dedicated readers, I hope you feel as if you know these two lovlies. Because, believe you me, they're so worth knowing.

See you on the flip side!

~tpg

Me and My Shadow

"What's that, Wallery?"
"That's a shadow."
"Shadow?" ...
"Yes. A shadow. It's made when the sun is high up in the sky and shining in behind us."
"What's that?" ...
"That's another shadow. That one's of my hand. And look! There's a shadow of your head."
"Shadow?" ...
"Yes. A shadow."
"Wallery? What's that?"
"A shadow." ...

"Wallery? Where's cow's shadow?" ...
"Cow's shadow is hiding in your shadow."
"Where's cow's shadow?" 
"Cow doesn't have a shadow right now. His shadow is inside of your shadow."...

Exhalation of a huge WHEW! I never imagined shadow-talk could be so lengthy and complicated.
But it can be.
Both girls have an innocent fascination with shadows. Pretty cool, eh? We looked for them all day long. Shadows of trees and shrubs. Shadows of parked vehicles, stop-signs.  Sweet Pea liked 'em too. Frankly, I appreciated the fact that she had absolutely no need to ask repetitive questions about them, but rather accepted shadows for what they are: awesome, magical, dark impressions to gawk over. Actually, Sweet Pea doesn't give a shit about shadows. Well, not in the way The Cousin does.
Her curiosity is sparked by more tangible, concrete things like

dental floss...

knitted caps...

and curtains...

Shadows come and go but curtains remain. At least until Mighty Isis pulls them down.

Things weren't so happy dappy on the lappy lappy this past week. Things change.
Last week, The Cousin issued a full-on invitation for Sweet Pea to sit on her lap. Sweet Pea, if you recall, obliged and even permitted her to feed her a bottle.  But you see, it was all on The Cousin's terms. This week, Sweet Pea took it upon herself to not only sit on the lap, but she decided cow was a toy to be shared equally.

Nothing like a good kick to end this joyous moment. Future soccer player, perhaps?
They're both strong-willed.  The Cousin's will is tinged in jealousy. There I said it.
I'm thinking she needs to let that shit go and concentrate on toilet training. Seriously.
That's the #1 goal. Well, number one goal of her parentals.  They have good reason.
They have another lil munchkin arriving in October and MY GOD! how many diapers can
one human change in a 24-hour period?! So they are trying all kinds of things, especially bribery, to get The Cousin to use her Elmo "big girl" toilet.
I just came across this and I think it has the potential to be their next purchase:

Welcome to 2013. This is an iPotty.  You can purchase it on Amazon.com for 39.99 plus shipping.
This handy dandy toi toi went on the market in March, and there are even potty training apps out there that'll reward toddlers for accomplishing "the deed." The company is also examining whether the potty's attachment can be adapted for other types of tablets, beyond the iPad. 

Can you say ridiculous?  Then again, The Cousin might bite.  Right now, they're giving her a sticker each time she does "her business" in the bowl. I noticed 3 stickers on the seat of the god damn contraption; 3 sticky reminders of delicious victory!  And yet, she'd much prefer a soggy, smelly diaper.

"Let's go to the lie berry, Wallery!"
"Good idea!"
"I have good ideas."
"Yes, you do. And where do your ideas live?"
"In my brain."
"That's right."...

By the time we reached the "building of higher learning,"and this particular section, they were both out. THANK GOD!

So I parked the rig and sat my ass down amongst the rows of fiction.
And much like Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude, I had my own precious
55 Minutes of Solitude.  That makes for one happy nanny.

~tpg

Two Little Birds

Things change from one week to the next. Last week, The Cousin loved that we sang Happy Birthday over and over again while she blew out the candle on her Playdoh birthday cake. 
She and I must've sang that f@*king song 2 dozen times. This week, after the cake was prepared and decorated, I sang the same song and she looked at me with those big brown eyes and said, "Wallery. Stop singing. Stop singing, Wallery. It's over." This little shit gives a whole new meaning to mood swings.  And bluntness.  I never could carry a tune.
One minute she's all bubbling over like a bottle of cheap champagne and the next, she's flat on the floor, all limbs stretching outward, throwing a full-on fit of frenzy.
You're right.  I understand her.  I do.
This has been the story of my life since I was old enough to belly up to the bar with my old man and drink a Shirley Temple. It's just the gift many of us were given and The Cousin is no exception.
It's as if, while she was lying all wrinkly and new on God's conveyor belt with all the other babies being born on her birthday, God took an extra special moment, and with his thumb, poked her little pink chin and said, "You will be tempestuous and you will feel every damn emotion, every day of your life."  And she does.  And sometimes, there's about a baker's dozen in a single minute.  

So proud of this puzzle completion AND my mood swings.

But you know what? We have an unspoken understanding for one another.

"Wallery, why you look so tired?"

Moody mamas zoning out.

We can handle it.  This thing called Life.  It's just that feelings, moods, melt-downs, sensitive moments, they all seem to pose as pebbles in the road for girls like us.  But they're rarely boulders and we never ever remain face down in the dirt for too long. We always f#*king get back up and back on track.

I tell her, she'll have days like this; days where the rocks seriously cause tumble after tumble. I also try and be a good listener as she explains her plights. Then, I offer up some tools of survival for when the rocks seem massive.

We usually have these "therapy sessions" over juice cocktails, when "you-know-who" 

is sleeping.

"I'm catching some zzz's away from those two emotional train wrecks."

One day, I'll vote for her for Congress because people like The Cousin, those rare individuals who have passion and conviction, are clearly non-existent in politics.  

And, she don't take no shit, nor can she be bought.  Sweet Pea absolutely places her on a queen's throne.  In Sweet Pea's opinion, The Cousin is Queen Cleopatra.  

End of discussion. 

I think one day Sweet Pea will see her shortcomings, but not now. Now, Sweet Pea is at her beckon call. Anything The Cousin does to her, including bite her cheek, is fair game because she's The Cousin.

"I'm all yours, baby."

When it changes for Sweet Pea, and it will, The Cousin is in for the biggest surprise of her life. Those rocks we've been talkin about, will turn to boulders in her road.  She will climb over them, but they will require some serious climbing gear.  Because the longer I'm around Sweet Pea, the more clear it becomes. She's going to be a "Don't-mess-with-me-kind-of-girl."  It's not the mere fact that she could sign-up now for a roller derby team; No, it's not just her physical strength.  It's her mental muscle.  She's an ardent observer and she's absorbing all the persons, places and things around her. 

She's taking mental notes, which she will use appropriately at the proper times.    

For now, she's just high on life.  

And she's teaching me not to sweat the rocks in the road. She's advising me, showing me how to just let go and move on.

"Life's a summer day, Baa Bee."

And The Cousin?  She's my mirror. Always reminding me to be who I am, feel what I'm feeling, stay in the moment!

Another note about The Cousin: 

She dives into blue paint like she dives into her emotions: with gusto!       Sweet Pea can handle that, and her.  For now. 

I think these two little birds, though different, are just about as sweet to my thirsty soul as honey to a bee. Yesiree.

~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