hi, idea

crafty?

Cheris — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 18:23:51 +0000

So I asked for a Crash Course Sewing class at the Stitch Lab for Christmas. My mom was nice enough to give me her sewing machine, and I’ve been telling myself for ages I’d learn how to do more than sew a straight line. My in-laws were nice enough to get me that class and even babysit the kids while I went. And isn’t the fabric awesome? My step-mom, who has a good eye, a keen sense of frugality and a highly organized habit of hording cool items, was nice enough to give me these sheets she picked up on sale decades ago. I’ve made curtains and framed bits for Violet’s room, with yards left over. More than enough for a little tote.

Seemed simple, but noooo… deceptively tricky bits of folding and ironing and stabbing myself with pins, etc. But fun. So fun.

Now I’m newly inspired to put my sewing machine to good use. I’d love to make little dresses for Violet out of our favorite t-shirts, or hem pants into shorts for Graham, or just create something that doesn’t involve Elmer’s glue and construction paper.

Now to figure out how to find the time…

first memories

Cheris — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 18:35:37 +0000

Violet is getting to that age now; the age when she will acquire her “first memory.” You know… the one she’ll recall as an adult. So of course I’ve added this to my Pile o’ Things to Worry About. Obviously I hope her first memory will be warm and fuzzy: tending the garden, baking cookies, playing with Graham, tickle torture. And I dread that her first memory may be sad or scary: angry parents, injuries, mean kids, nightmares. I do realize I have no control over this; but I am on a mission to curb Scary Angry Mom, just in case.

Most likely it will be something totally random and innocuous. My first memory is standing by my brother’s high chair looking at our shag carpet. I must have been about three.

How about you? What was your first memory? How old were you? It’s been awfully quiet out there, so I thought I’d ask.

gross and grosser

Cheris — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 18:34:19 +0000

We’re just inching out from under 3 solid weeks of illness in this house. And for the first time in years, the hardest hit has been me. This is what I get for secretly thinking I’m uber-healthy and have a super-hero immune system: karma bitch-slaps me and then kicks me in the stomach.

So rather than go on at great length about fevers that lasted weeks, the extent to which our house was covered in vomit, how long I slept on the bathroom floor or how much TV we’ve watched, I’ll just report on a different kind of gross. Namely, how my kids are maiming themselves recently.

Setting: The week before Christmas. Graham running around naked, as usual, while I cook dinner. Suddenly, I hear that scream. You know the kind I mean; the one that makes you drop the spatula and run from the kitchen without turning off the burner. Sure enough, I see Graham naked and crouching at the end of the hallway struggling to hold onto two pointy metal wall hangings. I grab the wall hangings and scoop him up, checking for injury…. and realize he’s crying blood. Yes, my little two-year-old looked like some ghoulish vampire baby. I could see a cut under his lower eyelid and instantly assumed he’d stabbed through to his eyeball. ”Graham, can you see me? Can you see?” I ask frantically while rushing him to the door. ”NOOOOO!!!!” he wails. ”Violet, get your shoes on and get in the car. NOW.” And for the first time in her life, she actually did it without protest.

So I arrive at the ER clinic with a screaming naked toddler, wrapped in a coat, bleeding from the eye. And yes, we get the same doctor who treated Graham for his broken arm a few months earlier. CPS anyone?

Turns out the wound was superficial. But when I think he was mere millimeters from becoming cyclops-boy, I shudder. He escaped with only a cool shiner. And a burned dinner.

As far as Violet goes, despite her daredevil nature, she has remained relatively injury-free throughout her life. I can only speculate that she is either graceful, or without an older sibling who may (accidentally) break her bones. So it was quite a shock to her when she ripped off her toenail.

Setting: Boxing day. I’m out front helping to dismantle our old playground and carrying on 3 separate conversations. Graham is running away down the sidewalk. But Violet’s shriek interrupts all of that. By the time I get to her, she is on the floor, hyperventilating and grabbing her foot. She’d opened the door on her toe. It’s pretty clear the toenail isn’t hanging on by much.

Flashback: I’m about 8 years old. My brother and I were watching TV when we heard our dad kicking the garage door frantically. Odd, I thought. Why doesn’t he just turn the doorknob? I eventually opened the door and my dad rushed past, cradling his bloody hand. He’d ripped a fingernail clean off while working on the car. That’s the kind of image that gets burned into a kid’s memory.

Luckily my dad just happened to be visiting for Christmas, as Rob and I have no personal experience with nail ripping. Plus he was obviously less affected by Violet’s hysterics than me. I remained calm, but may not have been able to lift up her nail to see exactly how much of it was still attached, which my dad did. ”Yep. It’s almost completely off,” he reported nonchalantly. To which Violet screamed with renewed vigor.

Most importantly, we avoided yet another trip to the emergency clinic. According to my dad, in this case the doctor would most likely give Violet a numbing shot between the toes in order to remove the dangling nail. The shot hurts more than the initial injury. So we decided on the wait-and-see approach.

Wait… See Violet stop crying and completely forget about it in about 30 minutes? See her running around on the beach a week later, getting sand under the nail without a care, losing the nail and never noticing? Cool. Plus the tiny new nail is cute. Well, at least I think so. Much cuter than puke.

Happy Birthday little girl

Cheris — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 17:47:12 +0000

Wow. Five.

Graham’s Twitter year-in-review

Cheris — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 17:47:41 +0000

This morning Graham woke up screaming… and screamed non-stop for about an hour. Apparently the fact that I would not let him run around in wet pants makes me the worst mommy ever.

Sooooo… I thought I’d do a post focusing on Graham cuteness instead. It’s there. I promise. Must. Remember.

Behold, Graham’s best Twitter quotes of the past year:

Mommy, I’m scared of my strong emotions.
If you walk up to Santa and say “hi”, he will throw dirt at you.
VIOLET! YOU’RE MESSING UP MY MESS!!
Look! An airplane… IT’S DRAWING IN THE SKY!!!
Do bees have tongues?
You’re the best mommy I ever seen.
I had an accident in my underwear. I’m not proud.
Can I EAT the frost?
Violet, remember, this is a game for kids. NO grown-ups. Don’t forget. It’s very important.
“Do you know what it’s great to have? A mommy.”
“How do you say ‘Graham’ in Spanish?”
Mommy, can I eat the clouds?
Mommy, where were you? I had a booger in my nose. Let me show you where it is now.
(singing) Mommy killed the radio star, Mommy killed the radio star…
Mom, can I have more yogurt? (pause) To put in my mouth?
You’re not a mother, you’re a mommy.
Violet, you’re the best Violet in the world.
(regarding his cast finally coming off) “Now I can pull my own pants down!”
Fly Hopter-Copter! Fly!
You’re smart. Mommy, you’re very very very very smart.
Don’t. Help. Me. EVER AGAIN.
(holding out his hand after crying fit) Here mommy, here’s a tear.
Trees are NOT broccoli.
to his apple slice, “You’re quite beautiful.”
Bears don’t eat spicy bananas!
Look what I have on! A ring! Now I’m a person!
Hey Kitty, I want to tell you something… Chicken Butt!!!
Time to brush teeth and go to bed? How can that be??
I’m naked!! I’m freeeeee!!
about his cherry-limeade,”I like it! Really spicy and really… drinky!”
There’s no more dinosaurs. They’re ’stink’.
Goodnight dear Violet.
Your hair looks gorgeous!
(after I told him I love him) “Yeah. I love me.”
Mommy, change your clothes. They smell bad.
I CAN’T need a diaper change.
while patting Violet, “Awww… sweet girl.”
Oh No! Daddy’s singing!
G-R-A-H-A-M spells…uuuuum… wall !!

new year’s revelation: we’re burned out

Cheris — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 18:22:19 +0000

Imagine that you work in an office. But at this job you wake up in the morning already at your cubicle. Before you can grab some coffee, or even pee, there are two demanding coworkers hovering over you. They follow you to the bathroom. They bark orders while you eat. They need projects to be completed before the last one is cleaned up. They create busy work and fight amongst themselves and rarely give positive feedback. Lunch “break” is more of the same. Dinner, same. You get two hours of “free time” a night, but half of it is spent preparing for the next work day. No matter how early you go to bed, you most likely will be woken up at least once to work. Oh… and no weekends.

Would you apply for this job? Of course not. But that’s what the life of a stay-at-home-mom feels like sometimes.

Am I complaining about my lame little 1st world problems? Yes. But it’s entirely possible for a person to go completely bonkers in a safe cozy home stocked with food and equipped modern conveniences. I’m just trying to gain some perspective and explain why I’ve been a big giant raw nerve lately.

Let’s brainstorm some of our Roadblocks to Sanity:

The end of naps means the end of any kind of daily break for me.
Violet and Graham are not “easy” kids. They don’t play independently for more than 5 minutes (and trust me, I’ve being trying to instill this ability in them forever). They need more stimulation and energy than I can possibly give them by myself.
Graham is unbelievably mommy-centric. He will not allow Rob to do the most mundane chore for him. Put on socks? NEVER! Make lunch? FORGET IT! (Tickle monster chase? Sometimes…. ) It’s much easier to give in than withstand yet another hour of screaming. The result is that Rob is on the sidelines at a time in our parenting lives when I need more help than ever. This is seriously frustrating for a great father and husband.
Because of the above, our to-do list grows ever longer and more overwhelming.

So what can I do about this? I’ve got some ideas:

Sit in a coffee shop with my computer both mornings they’re in school. SIT. JUST SIT! Try not to spend the entire time working.
Spend more time with friends. Drag myself there. I always feel better afterwards.
Eat well, exercise, vitamins… yada yada
go out on more dates
more wine?

Any others? I know this stage is not forever. And please understand that I also realize how lucky I am to have healthy kids and a wonderful husband. Nevertheless, I’m endlessly surprised at the always-changing ways this whole parenting thing is HARD. We want to find ways to enjoy it, not fight it.

Thankfully, no office coworkers are as cute or sweet as Violet and Graham… and I’m assuming they don’t snuggle as well.

Pictures! With all four of us!

Cheris — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 03:02:34 +0000

As the family photographer, it’s rare for me to appear in any photos. It’s even more rare for all of us to be in a photo together. So at the Ike auction last spring I was happy to bid on several photography sessions from some local mama photographers. I actually won a sitting from Virtu Photography. A couple months ago we went to a local park for our first ever family shoot. Deb was so patient with the kids, who were NOT in the mood to sit still and smile. And she defied the flat cloudy day to make a nice bunch of shots.

Here’s her blog post about it.

And here’s the gallery of all the other pictures. (lifford2009) It’ll be up through January.

Best of all, if anyone wants to buy a print, she’ll donate 40% of the proceeds to Ike and his family. Let me know.

here’s what I’m trying to remember

Cheris — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 18:23:34 +0000

In the past few short months Graham has:

moved from crib to bed
outgrown his highchair
lost his nap
broke his arm
stopped wearing diapers
started “school”
sprouted molars
learned to talk like a 4 year old

So in a blink he has made a giant leap from baby to kid. No wonder he’s so grouchy. He has no idea what the hell is going on. And it doesn’t help that I treat him like a 4 year old too much of the time. He’s TWO. He’s not Violet. And he has made most of these huge changes way earlier than his sister did.

Must cut him some slack. Must baby him sometimes. Must cut myself some slack.

backseat conversation

Cheris — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 20:42:35 +0000

Scene: Driving home.

VIOLET: Mom, when is dinner?

ME: Dinner was two hours ago and you didn’t eat it. That’s it.

V: But Mom! I’m hungry! I want dinner!

M: I guess you missed your chance to eat dinner. I’m not making you another one.

V (furiously): If you don’t make me something to eat, I’m going to EAT YOU!!

GRAHAM (panicked): No!!! Don’t eat Mommy!

V (still furious): Graham, if you don’t let me eat Mommy, I’m going to EAT YOU TOO!

G (still panicked): Nooo! Don’t eat me!

V (soothing): Graham, I won’t eat you if you let me eat Mommy. Okay?

G: NOO!!!

V: Okay?

G: No.

V: Okay?

G: NO!

Car and argument continue down the road. Dinner is not mentioned again.

something to ponder

Cheris — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 15:18:29 +0000

We got an invitation a few weeks ago to a kid birthday party. In it I was amazed to find a note indicating where the child was registered for gifts. I have to admit that I was, well, a little creeped out. Imagining any kid wandering through a toy store, marking down all the items she will definitely get at her birthday party just seems wrong. Doesn’t that just take the fun, creativity and surprise out of it? Doesn’t it seem like it would make the child feel a bit too entitled? Don’t they need to learn how to smile and pretend that they like a present that actually sucks?

The more I thought about it, though, the more interesting the idea became. What if I was the one to walk through the store and register? Wouldn’t that avoid all those toys that the kids say they want just because they think it looks fun at the store? Would that allow me to be sure they’d get appropriate items and not, say, slutty dolls or BB guns? Wouldn’t it be helpful for out-of-town grandparents or childless family members who have no idea what kids like? Or would that make me too much of a control freak?

What do you think? Is a kid registry a good idea, or just creepy?