So True

I was playing with Peanut Two yesterday and seeing how many of her senses she knew.

I asked her what she saw with and she pointed to her eyes.

I asked her what she heard with and she pointed to her ears.

I asked her what she smelled with and she pointed to her nose.

I asked her what she felt with and she look at me with her question mark face.

She thought about it for a while.

Then she pointed to her heart.

So true. . .

State of Mind

I've been a bit distracted and out of it lately.

I'm not sure what is going on, but it's seeping through my life.

Yesterday I went to Target with a list I made throughout the week prior.

I hustled, sped , slowly weaved my way through the store with Peanut Two in tow, glancing every few minutes at the next item on my list.

About half-way down, between toothpaste and diapers, I got to 'eggplant'.

I don't know what cryptic message I was trying to send myself.

Hopefully not, "yo, mama, you're losing your mind".

Candy Goblin

Tonight Peanut One and I went outside to throw some stuff in the compost bin (perhaps a failed experiment, but we keep trying!).

I asked Peanut Two if she wanted to join us, as the trip to the bin is undoubtedly a favorite adventure.

She coyly snuggled under the blanket on the couch and said "no".

Peanut One and I did our duty and came back, no less than four minutes later, to find Peanut Two on the couch, under the blanket, with a handful of chocolate candies in her lap.

The little urchin must have sprinted to the kitchen, climbed the stool, grabbed the candy and sprinted back to the couch in record time.

A girl after my own heart!

The Little Sneaker

On our good day days, Peanut Two is incredibly easy to parent as she is an independent, content little gal.

On all of those other days, she continues doing her own thing and if it isn't in sync with whatever else is going on drama ensues. On top of that, she doesn't seem to respond to sticker charts, praise or other types of good-behavior tactics that worked so well with Peanut One.

Because of this - and because quite frankly I just dread it - I've been dreading toilet training with her. It was relatively easy with Peanut One, but he loved sticker charts and once we figured out the exact right amount of celebration he needed for each accomplishment (not too much, not too little) he swiftly moved to underwear. For whatever reason, though, it inspired anxiety in me. I thought about it way too much and worried about it way too much.

Thus, I've been completely avoiding the idea of toilet training Peanut Two. Even though she has had all the signs of readiness, I've had in my mind that we'll just wait until the New Year.

Yesterday I picked her up at play-school and she had a substitute teacher who was much more communicative than her regular teacher. Apparently, the little stinker Peanut Two has been using the potty at school.

The substitute told me that she walked right in like she always did it and went to the bathroom. She tried to praise the little Peanut, but Peanut Two blew it off, shrugging her shoulders in a blase way.

I'm wondering now . . . what else has she got up her sleeve?

Jabber Jaw

When I pick Peanut One up at school it is difficult to get a sense of his day. The most he'll usually give (without massive prodding and interrogation) is whether he liked his lunch or not.

Peanut Two is another story. She started play-school a few weeks ago and we now have a running commentary the whole way home about what she did today, what she said, what he said, what he did, what she said, what her teacher said, what they ate, what they will do tomorrow . . . .

In fact, she is upstairs in her bed right now still talking about things to herself.

Before I had kids I never thought boys and girls were different at young ages.

I was wrong.

I Don't Recall

Oh how much I loathe love the: cheap plastic toys, coloring book pages, pieces of paper, 'art' projects, junk creative expressions my kids bring home from school or parties.

I admit it.

I tend to sometimes toss it.

Well . . . a lot of times.

I keep the projects that actually demonstrate some learning, that the Peanuts really love, and that touch my heart or funny-bone in some way. That still leaves about ten million tossable items a week.

As the Peanuts get more aware, I am beginning to have empathy for Roger Clemens, Bill Clinton and OJ Simpson:

Peanut: Mom, where are my two big bags full of rolled-up paper telescopes I made?

Me: hmmm

Peanut: Mom, I put them right in the middle of the living room here in my special spot!

Me: Oh, did you?

Peanut (agitated): Mom, did you throw them away?

Me: I'm not sure.

Peanut: Mom, where are they?!

Me: I don't recall.

Peanut (clamoring through the recycle bin): Maaaaahm!

Me: I can't remember.

Anyone know a good lawyer?!

What's That Mommy?

The other day I was holding Peanut Two and she began her latest endearing activity. If she is relaxing and her favorite bunny is not around, she'll leap into my arms, stick her thumb in her mouth and begin rubbing my shirt between her fingers. It's pretty sweet.

This particular day I had on a tank top and Peanut Two began rubbing my arm instead of my shirt. Her hand slid down as she relaxed and her thumb and forefinger started touching the oh, so glamorous skin under my upper arm.

Her big eyes opened and she looked at me inquisitively.

What's that Mommy?

Thanks for noticing my under-arm flab, girl. I'll remember this when you are older!

1, 2, 3

While I never understood it, counting to three has always gotten the Peanuts to do whatever I wanted them to. The big whammy after three is that I pick them up and take them to the dreaded destination.

Trying to get them into their car seats . . . one. . .two. . .done

Trying to get them to lay down to change a diaper . . . one. . .tw-. . .done

Trying to get them to the bathroom to brush teeth. . . one. . .done

So I just went with it and it has become a way to get through the day sometimes. Even Peanut Two got in on the action, urging Peanut One to do whatever she had to do before I got to three.

All has changed at the Magic Mansion.

Last week, Peanut Two started getting brave. I'd be trying to get her in the car seat and she'd wait until the very last bit of 'three' was out of my mouth, poised and tense, and then dive into her seat before I could get her.

Then one day when I was not pressed for time and didn't start counting but instead waited patiently, she told me - "you need to count, Mommy!".

Today, in a mad rush to get everyone out the door, I smelled a dirty diaper. I quickly got the changing gear and called her to me. She didn't come, but stood there looking at me expectantly. Finally, I started the counting.

One . . .

Two . . .

Three . . .

. . . and she was off! Peanut Two started tearing around the house as I tried to grab her, enjoying every minute.

I guess it's time to find a new tactic.

Beach Magic

We just returned from the beach for a long weekend and are heading out again this weekend, so the whirlwind of transforming sandy, wet clothes into clean ones to be packed and become sandy wet ones again has begun.

Our time at the beach was amazing. It was so perfectly wonderful to watch our kids play in the sand and water and wear themselves out with their cousins. With a deep fondness for the beach - arguably my favorite place in the world - it was such a joy to see the cycle of awe, joy and fun encircle the Peanuts.

Highlights:

Sitting in the surf with Peanut One as the waves

knocked us down to peals of his laughter.

Snuggling Peanut Two up in a warm beach towel

after we physically dragged her from the pool.

Peanut One chasing crabs at night

with a flashlight, shovel and a gaggle of cousins (he caught one!).

Peanut Two taking 25 minutes to walk 25 feet of beach

because of all the interesting things she wanted to pick up.

Peanut One's instinctive urge to swim in the ocean,

get out, and promptly roll in the sand.

Our last night we were sitting on our deck looking at the ocean and Peanut One said to J, "It is going to be hard to say good-bye to my cousins, but even harder to say good-bye to the beach".

I couldn't agree more.

You Really Like Me

Whenever Peanut Two gets upset, which of course seems to never rarely always happen to our budding two year old, we'll find her standing somewhere quietly drowning in her hurt feelings.

So, for example, when Peanut One snatches something from her or raises his voice to her or if J or I tell her 'no', her chin will quiver, eyes fill up and she'll stand there silently crying until someone notices.

Lately, though, I've watched the little gal trying a different path. She'll still silently cry, but then when I come over to her she'll start telling me all the things that like her:

"Bugs like me"

"Bees like me"

"Bunny likes me"

It almost breaks my heart to hear her - as it seems her heart is so broken by whatever has happened. But, on the other hand, I admire the little Peanut. She seems to have an instinctive ability to take care of herself and remind herself of the abundance of love in her life.

So I scoop her up for a big hug, agree that all these things (and more) like her, and smile at the magic in her heart.

Magic in the Moment

Peanut Two has started packing a bag before we go out. She carefully puts her necklaces, cars, toys du jour and, of course, Bunny into her little pig back-pack. She tenaciously zips the bag, only allowing for help at the very end, and then she's "ready to go, Mommy".

With J away for four days last week, I found myself a little stressed about getting the Peanuts out the door the other morning. In a quest to keep the assembly-line efficiency barely controlled chaos moving, I didn't fully zip the bag and left Bunny's head sticking out. My ever evolved reasoning was that when we got to the car I could easily grab Bunny as I knew Peanut Two would want to hold it.

Bad idea.

Peanut Two threw a fit as Peanut One watched with glee.

I tried to reason with her through my gritted teeth gently that the car was 20 feet away, bunny would be getting out soon, bunny needed some fresh air. . .

I got sucked in.

It was one of those parenting moments where the magic of Peanut Two's reality was a good lesson for me.

Stop.

Slow down.

It doesn't matter what is next.

Peanut Two lives in the moment.

It's magic.