Now that's a switch

ellybean is not the least bit afraid of getting a lump of coal in her stocking from Santa. She wouldn't be offended, even if you told her that's what Santa gives the naughty kids. She would respond, "You're joking!"

Don't get me wrong, she believes wholeheartedly in Santa. She just thinks he gives a light switch to the kids on the naughty list. Really. And she won't be convinced otherwise. In fact, she is declaring that as gospel to her younger sister and any other kids who will listen.

Why a light switch? For the past two years or so, we've been reading Laura Ingalls Wilder books aloud to her (and Peanut just got to read her first as well). She loves Laura and Mary books (as she calls them), and we intersperse them with picture books. Being that those books are set in the mid-1800s, apparently the lore at that time was that if you were naughty, Santa would put a switch in your stocking. Like, the kind of switch you get a lickin' with -- but that part is just implied. (and she wouldn't know what a "lickin'" was anyway)

The reference to the switch in the stocking has shown up in two of the books, as I recall. Both of those books are probably three books ago in our reading. But Jellybean remembers it well -- well enough to reinterpret switch to mean light switch, even though such a thing didn't even exist at the time. What other kind of switch is there to a 5-year-old?

She was having a conversation with Peanut about Santa, and I heard her espousing this belief. I had to choke back my giggles, and at the same time, I was savoring her innocence.

Let this serve as a warning: If you wake up Christmas morning and have a light switch in your stocking, you'll know that something has gone terribly wrong.

What we're thankful for

Both girls have had the chance to express their thankfulness through school activities this year. I have enjoyed finding out what they're thankful for, and I thought I'd share.

Peanut listed three things through her school activities. What are you thankful for?
1. My sister
2. My dad
3. My room

Jellybean had to list and draw 5 things she was thankful for.
1. Peanut
2. Rain
3. Nature
4. Flowers
5. Peanut
(Yes, the duplication was hers, not mine)

I can't get over how thankful they are for each other. That warms my heart! I will focus in on their thankfulness for each other so that we don't have to talk about how I was not mentioned by anyone. Actually, I'm not saddened by that -- I get hugs and smiles and "thank yous" every day (sometimes mixed in between tantrums and disobedience) that let me know how thankful they are for me.

Happy Thanksgiving!

All about loveys

Both of my girls are good sleepers. And they have been since an early age. Part of that is their temperament -- they sleep when they need to. And, part of it I credit to my being borderline OCD about their sleep times and nap times, starting when they were babies.

Most parents whose kids sleep well have a favorite sleep book. Mine happens to be Good Night, Sleep Tight by the Sleep Lady, Kim West. The Sleep Lady advises giving babies a "lovey" starting when they are about 6 months old. Something that doesn't have any removable parts, that's nice and small, that children can snuggle and feel comfortable with, no matter where they are.

We gave both of the girls loveys around that time, and they still have them: Jellybean has Berkeley, her formerly white bear, and Peanut has Rodrigo, her penguin. I have restricted the loveys only to their beds, for fear of something happening to them otherwise. (We do not, as is recommended, have a duplicate for either one.)

The girls cannot go to sleep without their loveys. We take the loveys when we travel for overnight or a nap. Maybe 2 or 3 times they have conked out somewhere without Berkeley or Rodrigo, but night in and night out, they must have their lovey in hand in order to go to sleep. Certainly, it doesn't hurt anything. But now that they're 5 and 3 1/2, are they too old to rely on their loveys? Will there come a day that we should take them away? Or, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it?"

I love our loveys, but I want to make sure I'm not doing them a disservice. I don't want Peanut's college roommate to make fun of her because she can't sleep without her Rodrigo. I guess time will tell, and I hope it's all for the best.

Mondays are my new favorite day

I knew I would enjoy volunteering in Jellybean's kindergarten class. A room full of 5-year-olds, with a savvy teacher in charge of them -- what's not to like?

I did not know, however, how much I would LOVE it: so much so that my favorite weekday has shifted from Friday to Monday (the day I volunteer). And Jellybean loves having me there.

My "shift" is officially about 20 minutes (although I've been there up to an hour, depending on the happenings of the day). I am there to help with literacy centers, which divide the children into small groups to accomplish a task about words: phonics, writing, spelling or reading. I serve as back-up question-answerer to the teacher, about the centers.

Now that I've been there several times, the kids are more and more comfortable to seek me out with their questions. I love being able to help them and seeing the "lightbulbs" go on when they figure out a word or make a connection.

When I arrive each week now, many of them will run up to me just to say "hello." Or they'll shout my name from their seat and wave. So cute. They all love the extra attention, and, sadly, some of them crave it more than others.

The best part, paradoxically, is when I leave. The class tells me "thank you" in unison, at the behest of the teacher. I help them get their jackets and hats on, because they're headed out to recess. Then, many of them on their own accord -- so many of them! -- come up to me to give me a HUG goodbye! Sometimes, there is even a LINE to give me a hug. It is the best!

They are the sweetest group of kids. I hope they all can keep at least some of the innocence for as long as possible. And if I can make their day brighter by giving them a big hug, then you bet I will. Sign me up! See why I love Mondays now?

Good "girl power" books

As a mother of 2 daughters, I am always in favor of finding books that celebrate impressive women. I've stumbled upon a couple picture-book biographies in recent months that have particularly resonated with my girls -- and that I've enjoyed reading as well.

Georgia's Bones by Jen Bryant
A biography of Georgia O'Keefe. My parents went on a trip to New Mexico and came back with this book. It is a simply eloquent insight into the mind of a young artist. The lovely illustrations incorporate several of O'Keefe's (G-rated) works.




You Can't Do That, Amelia! by Kimberly Wagner Klier
A biography about Amelia Earhart. It's always fun to read about someone surpassing everyone's expectations. This book takes such a fun, great approach to Earhart's accomplishments -- and also stays away from the topic of the end of her life, as that may be difficult and confusing for young readers.





I highly recommend these for your next trip to the library or bookstore (or for the girls -- and boys -- on your holiday gift list!). They're well written, and I always appreciate a history lesson for myself.

A sentence!

The milestones just keep on coming: Jellybean has written her first sentence!

She made it up and wrote it, all on her own at school. It accompanied this picture:


"THE HAOS IS RIANBO"
Translation: The house is rainbow.

She loves to color abstractly and has quite an eye for color and design (less of a knack for drawing practical things; I'm interested to see how that translates to her grown-up personality). I had no idea she could write a sentence. I just had to share.

Now saving almost $1/day

We have reached a milestone with Jellybean. The best thing about reaching this milestone is the collaborative effort involved: from Jellybean, L and me. It was a long, long time coming, but I can say with confidence that we have arrived at mission accomplished.

Jellybean now stays dry all night. No Pull-Ups anymore (after all my trials and tribulations with them)! And we didn't lose too much sleep in the process.

Deciding to cross the dry-all-night line was not something we planned in advance. The project started spontaneously one night when L couldn't get Jellybean to put on her Pull-Up at bedtime. He announced to me, "She's going to try to stay dry tonight! Isn't that great?" Umm, no. And I had about 25 reasons why, including that I was tired that night; I didn't wanna be up in the middle of the night changing the bed. We were, though. Twice.

I was irritated with L. Jellybean is such a deep sleeper, and I didn't think she was anywhere close to being able to wake up when she had to pee. As you can see, I was just wrong.

We had several middle-of-the-night bed changes. But, for once, Jellybean was showing determination. She WANTED to be dry. So I went with it. And, to keep everything (and everyone) positive, I added an incentive: When she could stay dry 7 nights in a row, she would get a special prize. We had a few hiccups en route to 7 nights -- but not near as many as I expected. She finally did it! I was prepared for a relapse after that, but she said she's done with Pull-Ups.

Although 2 years younger, Peanut hasn't used Pull-Ups for about 6 months. I gave her a special prize when Jellybean got one.

So, I am very happy to say that we are a disposable-pants-free household for the first time in 5 years. Yeehaw!

P.S. You'll note by the photo that I caved once again to the "princessant" demands for Halloween.

Meltdowns and mood swings

It has been a busy October, filled with many of the above -- mostly from my children, but a few from me too.

Peanut is stubborn and challenging, but usually we can predict the things she'll be stubborn about or challenge us on. A couple of weeks ago, though, Peanut incited a battle royale against me, the likes of which I've never seen from her. She wouldn't do what I said. Ever. She wouldn't stay in her bed or room at naptime or bedtime (this, from the kid who just hits the "easy" button when she wants to sleep). And she cried about practically everything.

I fought and muddled through all these battles -- sometimes even calling L during the day for moral support while I dealt with this Grumpus. Each time, I explained it away with, "Well, she went to bed a little late last night..." or some other reason.

Finally, one day, as I was hashing it out with her, I was thinking, "This is so far beyond normal for her. She's acting more like she doesn't feel good..." Wait! That had to be it. She didn't feel good. You know when you see your kid cross the line into an abyss of grumpy that rarely happens, and you suddenly have an impulse to feel his or her forehead? It was like that. Only her forehead was cool.

What could this invisible force be? She seems extra tired, her nose is a little runny. Aha, allergies. One Children's Claritin that night before bed, and what a difference a day (and a drug) makes! I am so glad to have my sweetly stubborn little Peanut back.

Olive you

I do not like olives. Black, green, minced, whole -- they are the pits, as far as I am concerned. My kids, on the other hand, love them. They will eat even the most exotic of olives, popping them into their mouths with abandon (and, of course, spitting the pits). A bit of an odd choice for 3- and 5-year-olds, to be sure.

I see this as a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because now if we go out to eat, and my salad has olives in it, I have willing recipients. A curse, for a few reasons: 1. Fattening, 2. Expensive, and 3. Pizza. Yes, pizza. The only kind of pizza they want is olive. Not even pepperoni!

I can usually convince them to do the half and half pizza order, which works until we get to leftovers. The kids eat less pizza, so the leftovers are always olive. That means I don't want any. And I love leftover pizza, reheated on my pizza stone in the oven. But leftover olive pizza, blech.

I need to convince myself that this has health benefits for me. If I eat less pizza due to lack of leftovers, I will substitute healthier fare and be the better for it. That's my Spin Mama take for myself. So, thanks girls! (I think)

I love knock-knock jokes, the explanation for my heading:
Knock, knock
Who's there?
Olive
Olive who?
Olive YOU!

I can't find my Rodrigo

As I've mentioned, my kids are short on sleep since school started. Now I am too. I can count on one hand the number of times I've slept through the night in the past 3 weeks. It's killing me! If I wanted to do this, I'd be having another kid (which I'm not, just to be clear).

What is waking me up at night? A stuffed penguin. Not just any stuffed penguin -- Peanut's lovey, Rodrigo. How could a stuffed penguin wake me up? He keeps hiding. Or running away. Practically every night, in the depths of the night, 3:30 a.m. or 4:30 a.m., I awake to the following being shouted: "I can't find my Rodrigo!" On repeat until I stumble up the stairs to her room. Rodrigo is usually wrapped up in the covers and occasionally on the floor. I head back down to my room, sometimes taking 15 minutes (grrr) to fall back asleep.

Yes, in this house, L's and my room is a floor below the girls. Not a problem, really, because they're not babies anymore, so they shouldn't be WAKING UP IN THE NIGHT. Except they are. Well, she is. Can you tell I'm tired?

Finally yesterday, we told Peanut that if she loses Rodrigo, she can just get up and turn on the light to find him. Then turn it back off and go back to sleep; no need to call for us. Last night? Silence. Maybe a coincidence, we shall see.

Although I have not been amused by her middle-of-the-night antics, I am amused by her naptime activities of late. She's been talkative and active in her room, but she has managed to nap more often than not. The other day she was so loud for about 45 minutes, then quiet. I brought my camera with me when I went to wake her to go get Jellybean at school, and this is what I found:

So overcome with the need to sleep, crawling those 3 feet to the bed just wasn't an option. Wait, I think I can relate.

Grinning and (hopefully) bearing it

A few months ago, in the chaos of our move, Peanut suffered a bit of an injury: She did a face-plant on our hardwood kitchen floor. Of course, both L and I were out of the room at the moment of impact. L arrived to find Peanut writhing on her back in the midst of the "stop-breathing" cry of terrible pain. We still don't know if Peanut just tripped or if Jellybean, ahem, assisted her in this fall.

At any rate, she bled a ton from her mouth, and we had her checked out by the doctor (we were actually moving the very next day). She split her frenulum -- a word I know thanks to the Barenaked Ladies kids album. Other than that, she seemed all right.

A couple weeks later, one of her front teeth noticeably changed colors, to a light purplish shade. Before I let myself totally freak out, I did what any good mother does: I Googled it. I learned that changing colors is a normal healing process for tooth trauma and that you should only worry if the child is complaining that it hurts, as it could be infected.

We took her to a pediatric dentist as soon as we were settled, and she confirmed my Googling (love that!) and took an x-ray. At the time, she said the tooth could go either way. It was either going to completely heal itself, or it was going to develop an infection and require anything from a root canal (egad) to removal so it doesn't damage the permanent tooth. We have monitored it closely since then, and other than a repeat face plant that about drove me to drink, it hasn't changed or bothered her.

Why am I recounting this story now? Peanut has a dentist appointment this week, for a cleaning and follow-up x-ray. We will have a verdict this week: Either the tooth is healed, or something drastic will have to happen. I have a good feeling that everything is okay. Oh please, oh please, oh please. I'll keep you updated.

Soccer mom

On a recent episode of Project Runway, Tim Gunn described a designer's look as being perfect for a soccer mom -- and he didn't mean it as a compliment. I was in the midst of turning my nose up at the design when I did a forehead slap. I resemble that remark: I am now a soccer mom. Does that mean I should dress worse now?

But, I digress. This self-identification was yet another milestone I've attained this school year. And for Jellybean, soccer has been a long-time dream. She has wanted to play soccer ever since we happened upon a soccer practice near a playground when she was 3.

I remember so clearly that evening two years ago, how I could hear the gears turning in her head while she watched the 7-year-old girls practice soccer. She was in awe of them. They may as well have been Mia Hamm and Brandi Chastain of the championship Women's World Cup soccer team!

So, now she has her chance to play. She is on an under-6 co-ed team, and she loves every second of practice and games. And, Tim Gunn would be happy to know that as much as the sport, she loves the "fashion" choices involved. Her purple soccer socks are one of her most-prized items in her wardrobe. Go, Jellybean! (And I promise not to dress like the dowdy soccer mom of Tim Gunn's imagination)

More abc's than zzzz's

It's almost like having an infant again. That is how much Jellybean's kindergarten has affected the entire family's schedule. We are trying to get both kids enough sleep, and now, after 3 weeks, we may have finally found the schedule that involves the least amount of tears. From all of us. In the interim, there have been more complete & total meltdowns from each child in 3 weeks than there were in at least the previous 6 months.

Our evenings mirror the schedule we had when Jellybean was a baby. We have shifted our dinner time about an hour earlier, and both girls are in bed asleep no later than 7:30. And sometimes even 7. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention: The whining and crankiness (and fighting with your sister) commence about 4:30 each afternoon.

For now, weekday evening activities are not even an option. From 4:30 on, it is all I can do to play referee between the girls so that they survive until dinner time. And after dinner, L and I shepherd the girls' every move and keep a constant eye on the clock so we don't overshoot the all-important early bed time. A few times, either Peanut or Jellybean has even announced that she is going to bed and started climbing the steps to her room! L and I scrambled to attention accordingly.

Shouldn't it just be Jellybean who is cranky and tired? Well, yes and no. Jellybean is the one at school all day. But the end-of-school pick-up interferes with Peanut's nap time, so she is now getting 45 minutes to an hour less sleep during the day than usual (and I have to wake her from a deep sleep to go get Jellybean). So, she is thrown off too, and hence the need for an across-the-board schedule change. I have tried but cannot get her to start her nap any earlier, so she's stuck getting gypped.

I have no idea how long it will take Jellybean to acclimate to being at school 7 hours a day. At some point this school year (hopefully), I'll look back in this tiring time and reflect about the tailspin our lives are in. But right now, I'm just trying to minimize tantrums and get everyone some sleep. Including me.

One-on-one time

Because Jellybean is at school all day long, Peanut and I have every weekday to ourselves now. I really thought Peanut would miss Jellybean terribly during the day and that Jellybean wouldn't want as much to do with Peanut anymore. It has turned out to be just the opposite.

Peanut seems to relish in Jellybean being gone: all the toys to herself, no one (besides Mama) telling her what to do, uncorrupted imagination scenarios. When we get home from taking Jellybean to school, Peanut dives right into the toys and starts talking to herself and pretending. She doesn't even want me to play with her (I've gone from the entertainment hub of both girls to a complete wallflower in less than a month). She likes to draw a picture for Jellybean each day, but other than that, we hardly mention the kindergartener.

Jellybean, on the other hand, throws her arms around Peanut when we pick her up at school. She asks for Peanut to kiss her hand each morning (from the book The Kissing Hand) when we drop her off. Jellybean always says she's too busy to miss Peanut, but she's certainly glad to see her when school is out.

Peanut and I have two school years to hang out before she goes to kindergarten (let us not speak of that again). I had almost two years with Jellybean before Peanut was born. So, this is our time to spend together, and I love being able to learn more about her each day. I am definitely reaping the rewards of their age difference.

The many benefits of having a kid in school

Jellybean loves school. Even on the mornings after she went to bed kinda late (oops, L and I need to get better at this new routine), she pops out of bed and gets dressed, talking about how excited she is to go to kindergarten.

I knew that once I got over my emotions -- can I mention that any more?! -- I'd enjoy seeing her transform into a school kid and all the changes that come with that. New friends, newfound abilities, more independence -- all of those are already evident.

We live pretty close to her school, so we walk there and back every day, about 10-15 minutes each way. Those walks have been a great time to talk about all her new experiences. And, because I walk both ways of those walks twice a day those walks hold something else for me: more exercise!

I didn't even realize it until after the first couple days, how much activity those walks are adding to MY day. Now, no matter how much working out I do, in the name of school transportation, I will be adding a minimum of 40 minutes of walking to my daily routine. And, because at 3 she is too little for fitness walks, I am also pushing Peanut in the Burley stroller the whole time (and Jellybean when she wants in). Have I mentioned we also live up a steep hill?

So, let's do the math. 40 minutes of brisk walking x pushing 35-85 lbs. + 2 steep hill climbs =
1 Mama who likes how this school year is shaping up!

P.S. Yes, I realize that's L in the picture. I'm always behind the camera. And, do you like our retro Burley?

Janis Joplin

Jellybean (and by extension of Jellybean, Peanut too) loves Janis Joplin music. She cannot get enough of Janis. I even downloaded more Janis so she could listen. In hindsight, perhaps "Mercedes Benz" was not the best choice, but it's too late now.

If a song comes on, Jellybean will stop what she's doing and walk near the stereo -- not as old-fashioned as it sounds, the iPod runs the show -- so she can hear the words and belt it out. Of course, she never does a command performance, especially for the camera, but I tried once and got this:




I haven't had the heart to tell her yet that Janis Joplin is no longer alive. I think she would be very sad.

On the rind

I have prepared and fed my kids 1,327,965 snacks as a stay-at-home mom. Morning and afternoon, every solid-food-eating day of their lives. Fruit is my first choice, but sometimes the options just get tired, and the kids are less-than-enthused about eating snacks (then crankiness ensues from all involved). With budget and time constraints, I can only be so creative with snacks.

Sometimes I have to "sell" the snacks to them in Spin Mama fashion -- "We got these from the farmers, who grew them just for us" -- and I try to keep it interesting, by having snack outside or at the park.

I had a brainstorm one day that has definitely made snack time a win-win for the kids and me. I didn't want to cut up a whole cantaloupe and cube it into bite-size morsels (laziness prevails!) , so I made a big deal one day that our cantaloupe was "on the rind." I piled a bunch of slices on big plate and let them help themselves. You would have thought I had given them candy! They loved it. And they ate half a cantaloupe between them at one sitting.

I've done the same with watermelon, although that is almost exclusively and outside snack -- sticky pink goo everywhere, anyone?

And now that I'm picking Jellybean up at school each afternoon, and she's so, so hungry, "on the rind" is totally the portable way to go. You can walk and chew cantaloupe at the same time.

I am now the parent of a school-age child

Kindergarten has started for Jellybean (I know, already -- doesn't it seem way early?)! And so far, we all have survived.

Some of my anxiety subsided before the first day, mostly because of visiting her classroom and meeting her teacher, and knowing how that helped make her more comfortable. But the mom hormones must have been gushing through my veins, because I was weepy and emotional for like 3 days before (not in front of her, thankfully). I wasn't quite prepared for that part of it.

I don't think her first day of school could have gone any better. She strode into her classroom confident and excited, and she was glad to be there. When I picked her up at the end of the day, she came running toward us, arms open wide to give a hug...to Peanut. It really was sweet -- and sad -- how much they had missed each other all day.

We walked back home, and when we got into the driveway, Jellybean said, unsolicited, "Well, that was a lot of fun, guys. Thank you for picking me up. I had the perfect day at kindergarten!" My just-turned-5-year-old got replaced by a 10-year-old in one day!

I opened her lunchbox when we got inside, and she still had about half her lunch -- half a sandwich, half her apple, half her vegetables. Apparently they only have 20 minutes (!) for lunch. So, she sat down at the table and polished off the entire remains of her lunch right then and there, in addition to the snack we'd had on the way home.

Onward and upward, to the second day of school and beyond. And to think, I thought the baby phase was going to last forever...

Arachnophobia

The only reason I know the term for "fear of spiders" at top of mind is because of the movie that came out like 9 million years ago, "Arachnophobia." And now, to think, that term definitely applies to a member of my household.

I don't love spiders, but I wouldn't consider myself arachnophobic -- killing-bugs-o-phobic captures it a little better for me. If I see a spider, I move along my merry way, reminding myself that she's probably eating and killing the rest of the creepy-crawly things for me, so in that sense, we're friends. If I could just get her outta my way without touching her...

The other day, the girls and I were at my parents' house. They both went into the bathroom to do their business and wash their hands, when suddenly Peanut erupted with what sounded like a blood-gushing shriek and launched immediately into the stop-breathing cry that occurs with the worst of injuries. I sprinted to the bathroom and found Jellybean speechless and looking a bit dumbfounded while Peanut continued to gasp for her breath between sobs. There was no blood or missing teeth, so I implored Peanut to tell me what was the matter. She struggled to get one syllable out between each sob, so that when she pointed and I followed her finger and deciphered "spi....." SOB "...der," I figured it out. There was a spider sitting on the edge of the bathtub. And she wasn't hurt, she was just...arachnophobic. Wow. To be fair, it was a pretty big spider, and it caught her off guard. So I acknowledged her fear and we moved on (when I got my mom to remove the spider, natch).

Until a couple days ago. I sent Peanut up to her room to get a book for us to read. She was singing to herself, climbing the steps in her little 3-year-old world, when suddenly I heard that blood-gushing shriek and crying. I rushed up the stairs, afraid she had fallen on them. Instead, I found her pointing to a spider dangling from the handrail. Definitely arachnophobic. Not just a one-time deal. Never would've seen that one coming from Peanut.

Swimming update

Swim lessons have ended. Sigh, yet another sign that my favorite season is starting to wrap up. In case you were on the edge of your seat wondering how Jellybean and Peanut did in their second session of lessons, here's the update:

Peanut now goes under water! Not just her face in the water, but a full-on dunk down to the top of her head. The first time she did it, I feared she was drowning -- until she emerged with a big grin on her face. She still doesn't like to try to float on her stomach with her face in. But, her kicking is getting better and better, and she started backstroking with her arms on her own. I'm thrilled how far she has come.

Jellybean chose the very last lesson to decide to float. And she only did it once. I was happy with the number of lessons we had, until she had to go and do a new thing at the very end of the last lesson! Just one more lesson with a couple more floats, and she'd forget that she used to not be able to do that. I doubt she'll do it for L or me, but we'll keep trying when we go to the pool. The best thing from this session was the other little boy in her group. He kicked like the dickens, could get himself into a floating position, and was just the perfect example of confidence with skills in the water. Oh, I hope she remembers him!

All in all, I am nothing short of amazed that they went from afraid of water being above their necks to taking turns dunking their entire heads in the bath tub. Yea, summer!

OMG, kindergarten

Denial can be a happy place, really it can. I have been very happy this summer, doing all the summer things with the kids and enjoying our family being nearby. Happy, happy in denial-land, ignoring what is so rapidly approaching: the school year. Because, this year, the school year means something big for my little Jellybean. She's going to be in kindergarten.

There, I said it. I'm starting to emerge from that happy place called denial. Kindergarten is really going to happen. I have the school registration form and the school supplies to prove it. It's going to happen -- the question is, how? How is my little Jellybean going to go to that big school with all those kids for ALL-DAY kindergarten? She's so little and so innocent and still takes a nap a couple times a week, for heaven's sakes! Every time I think about it, I imagine Jellybean being so sweet and good at school, diligently listening to her teacher -- and then coming home at the end of the day and instantly transforming into a hungry, tired MONSTER. Even my daydreams can't conjure a different scenario.

And that's how she's going to be. What about me?! All these years of us hanging out together -- even when she was in preschool, we still had lunch together every day. A part of me is so thrilled she gets to go to such a wonderful school with all these great teachers and people. But the rest of me is just torn apart at the prospect.

I know so many moms who have sent their first kid to kindergarten in the past couple years. They've all told me all about it, given me advice to prepare me for when my own kid did the same. But, denial. I was still living so happily in denial. And now I no longer reside in denial. So, please, help me figure out how we're going to survive this transition.

Millions of peaches, peaches for free

Does anyone else remember that song? Or maybe I'm the only one who sings it every summer in July when I have peach juice running down my chin.

Our new house has a peach tree. L picked one a day for about a week to taste, "for science," he said. He decided last weekend they were ripe, so we picked them! The picture doesn't do justice to how many there are. They're little, but they are yummy. And free, did I mention free? Well, free with this little thing we call a mortgage.

My freezer is full of peeled, sliced peaches. I'll be accepting your best peach-thing recipes anytime!

Swimming with pride

I signed both girls up for swim lessons this summer for the first time. I wanted them to learn to swim without having me in the water, because I thought they might do better if it wasn't Mama telling them what to do. Turns out, I was probably correct in that assumption.

What I didn't factor in with the lessons was how quickly they would make progress -- and how freakin' exciting it is when they do! I have never felt so proud as I have behind the glass walls (we went to an indoor pool so as to avoid the bad weather factor), watching them do things for their teachers they would never do for L and me. I've practically jumped up and down a few times.

When we started lessons, they liked to be in the water, but only from the neck down. Two days into lessons, Jellybean was voluntarily dunking herself and has announced that she loves going under water now. And little Peanut, who I thought may be a tad too young to really do anything, actually floated on her back by herself -- a skill that is 2 levels beyond where she is! (Mind you, she's still working on putting her face in the water. And Jellybean wants nothing to do with floating.)

It went so well, and I've been so thrilled with their progress, I've signed them up for another session. I can't wait to see what they'll do next!

7 colors a week

Peanut can tell you what color every day of the week is. Monday is green, Tuesday is blue, Sunday is her favorite color, orange. Each day has a different color.

No, she's not reading auras or anything supernatural. She's talking about her underwear. Once she was potty-trained a few months ago, I took her shopping to choose her own undies. Much to my disappointment at the time, she chose the day-of-the-week undies; each pair has a different day of the week printed on it. My first thought was, "Great, now this falls on ME to get the right pair on her each day." It's hard enough for me to remember what day it is. Now I have to coordinate undies too?! Then I remembered she can't read. Perfect.

It turns out I'm too anal retentive (love that potty-training double entendre) to ignore the writing on the undies. So, I made sure she had the right undies on the right days from the get-go. And Peanut still loves it. Before she had the colors memorized, she would ask at bedtime, "What color is tomorrow?" When you're 3, it's important to know the color of your undies at all times.

So, in the words of Peanut, "What color is today?"

This number has changed

Both girls have celebrated birthdays during my time off from blogging -- birthday parties were yet another thing in the mix of all of our major life changes. Peanut, turning 3, had a musical party that involved drumming, guitar playing and even a duet with her sister. Her party happened before we left Michigan, so it was a nice way to say "goodbye" to our friends there.

Jellybean's 5th birthday was after we moved, so she benefited from all the extra grandparent attention at her birthday. Extra presents, treats and attention helped distract her from missing all her good buddies in Michigan.

Peanut had a great time at her party, but as much as anything, she was thrilled to be "changing numbers" from 2 to 3. Her party was before her actual birthday, but she announced that she was 3, and she could hardly wait for Jellybean's party so that Jellybean could change numbers too.

I've decided I quite like this euphemism for getting a year older. Changing my number. Sounds like I'm in charge of the whole process. And it has an air of diplomacy, like the difference between "global warming" and "climate change." I am changing my number this week, and darned if my 3-year-old hasn't given me the words to ease the sting of adding a year to my age.

Resurfacing

Whenever I'm trying to make a point about something, whether to L or my kids or even my friends, I like to follow L's rule requiring three reasons behind any argument. You can't just say something is true -- you have to list 3 justifications that it is true.

It just so happens that I have three definitions for the title of this post.

1. Resurfacing: returning from the depths of the unknown. I haven't written for months and months. The past month, I really regret, because it was a bit of blogaphobia on my part, but mostly just a lack of time to sit with the computer in peace. The previous few months were full of big life changes: putting our house on the market, planning a move to another state, looking for a new home and moving. Lucky, lucky us, even in a dismal Michigan real estate market, we sold our house on Craigslist (yes, really) in less than three weeks. But the latter three life changes all ended up being more complicated than they needed to be, for reasons not worth boring you with. Which brings me to...

2. Resurfacing: changing the composition of the top layer(s) of an existing surface. We have done a great deal of this type of resurfacing to our new home. We started with pulling up all the carpet on the steps and second floor of our home and having the original (1910) hardwood floors finished for the first time. Then, we -- mostly L, with help from a contractor for the complicated stuff -- repainted almost every interior surface, wall and ceiling, in the house. Other projects too, but you get the idea. It's all behind us, and now we're ready for what lies ahead...

3. Resurfacing: removing layers and replacing them with completely new contents. For the first time since Jellybean was 1 (and now she's 5! Another post for another day), we live close to our families. We loved Michigan and had wonderful friends and neighbors there, but there is nothing quite like living near family, especially when that family includes my children's grandparents. It has been a happy time, reuniting on a regular basis and knowing this is how our lives will be. There's no place like home.

Mama's pillow

The girls and I have been fighting some ugly upper- and lower-respiratory crud for the past few weeks. I've felt worse for them than for me, because now you're not supposed to give little kids any kind of cold or cough medicine. At least I could medicate and feel a tad better. But what to do for them?

A spur-of-the-moment, middle-of-the-night fix I tried for Jellybean when she was about 18 months old has now become a sick-person ritual for us: Mama's pillow. If they're stuffed up and/or coughing, I prop my extra pillow behind their pillow so they can be elevated while they sleep. It has also turned into a comfort measure, with the girls saying that they feel better when my pillow is in their bed.

All right, so it's not the same as Ny-Quil, but it does help. And now I know when they're not feeling well, "Can I have Mama's pillow tonight to help me sleep?"

Beep-beep toilet time

We knew for months that we needed to potty train Peanut. She was interested and probably ready, but with a long road trip and all the chaos of the holidays, we decided to wait until January. And even then, there were a few days that I was wondering if it was ever going to happen.

Peanut has an independent streak that is a bit fiercer and edgier than Jellybean will ever likely muster. Everything has to be HER idea, and it should be done HER way. Not much different than many 2-year-olds, but with Peanut, there is no give.

The first couple days we were focusing on potty training, she just wasn't getting it. We used cotton training pants just like we did with Jellybean. Being wet didn't bother her in the least. I took the same approach we did with Jellybean: setting a timer every 30 minutes, which meant it was "toilet time." We managed to get the #2 in the toilet every time (mostly luck and persistence on our part), but the #1 was not happening. She didn't really cop an attitude, just demonstrated with her behavior that it wasn't going to be easy. But I wasn't going back. This was going to happen.

Sure enough, just like in her book, she woke up one day and stayed dry all day. Then the next day. And then the next day. And that was it. She heard that timer, announced, "Beep-beep toilet time!" and went running to the bathroom. It was HER idea now, and she was going to do it right. So right, in fact, that 2 weeks into it, she was staying dry every night and nap (good thing I bought about a million Pull-Ups, whoops!).

So, we are done with diapers! And, as soon as Jellybean can stay dry at night, we'll be done with Pull-Ups too. I continue to marvel at how this whole growing-up thing works.

What's your schedule?

When organizing our bookshelves the other day, I came across some old schedules and routines for the girls that I had typed up for babysitters. They involved a lot of diapers and bottles and tons of minute detail about how things should be done so as to maintain the status quo.

Now that the girls are getting older, the daily schedule and routines are much simpler. It got me wondering (as I often do) what other kids' -- and hence parents' -- schedules are like. Here's our current schedule. What is yours like?

7:30-7:45 a.m. Wake up
8 a.m. Breakfast
10 a.m. Morning snack
Noon Lunch
1 p.m. Peanut nap begins
1:45 Jellybean nap/quiet time begins
3:30ish Naps and quiet times done
3:45 Afternoon snack
5:30-6 Dinner
8 p.m. Get ready for bed, read a story
8:15-8:30 Bedtime

The inevitable conversation about death

The complicated, deep, involved conversations always happen when you least expect them. We were having lunch, bantering, our usual, when Jellybean started the following conversation. Luckily, I kept my composure, held back my tears and somehow, some way was able to hang with her. (Names are changed to protect the innocent)

Jellybean: Who are Grandma Kelly's parents?

Me: Her parents are my Grandma and Grandpa O'Neal.

J: Where are they?

Me: They died before you were born.

J: Was Grandma sad?

Me: Yes, very sad.

J: Does she miss them?

Me: Yes, and so do I.

J: Is she looking for new parents?

Me: No, you only have two parents, so those were her only parents. They would have LOVED you and been so proud of you. I know that for sure.

J: Who are Grandpa Dan's parents?

Me: My Grandma and Grandpa Brown.

J: Did they die too?

Me: Yes, they died before you were born.

J: Was Grandpa sad?

Me: Yes, he was very sad.

J: Does he get to have new parents?

Me: No, no one gets to have new parents. Grandma and Grandpa's parents were MY grandparents, and I got to go to their houses and play with them and have lots of fun like you do with your grandparents.

J: Do you miss them?

Me: So much, I think about them all the time.

J: Why did they have to die? Are you going to die?

Me: Yes, everyone dies eventually, even you will. But not for a really long time. Can you count to 100?

J: No!

Me: Well, that's how many years you get to live, or more.

When she asked if I was going to die, I just couldn't lie to her. I made a split-second decision that the truth was the way to go. What do you think about that? What would you have said?

Taking it to the next level

The girls are now 2 1/2 and 4 1/2, and while this may seem obvious to you, I hadn't really grasped what their ages signify for us until very recently. Because I've been operating in my typical parent-blind-to-the-obvious mode, I have just now realized: Our kids aren't little anymore.

I know, they are still young kids, but they're changing so quickly right now. They're both in preschool and becoming increasingly independent at home and away from home. Hallelujah! I thought this day would never come -- so much so, that it took me by surprise on New Year's weekend when we visited some friends out-of-state.

Our friends' kids are 6 and 3, ideal playmate age. We were looking forward to all being together for the weekend and giving the kids a chance to run around and have fun. The kids had a fantastic time together. At least, I assume they did, because I hardly saw the girls the entire time we were there. All four kids played together, initiated games, and just generally had fun. This was totally new to me: My kids know how to play together and with others, without the involvement of adults!

When Jellybean was born, I felt like I was going to be the mother of an infant forever. It's difficult to fathom what lies ahead and how quickly it comes (especially when you're sleep-deprived). She was still pretty little when Peanut was born, so I didn't feel like I "graduated" to the next level since I had a new infant to care for.

But now that there are no more babies coming, I get to reap the rewards of moving on up the proverbial parenting ladder. I love having two preschoolers, and I'm savoring it. I'm also learning how to anticipate the next phase and its rewards. Next stop, later this year: entering "real" school.

Holiday wrap-up

The holidays came and went more quickly than I ever remember them doing. It's cliche to say that I had a lot to do and was running around like a mad person -- but I was. Here are a few of the things that kept me occupied.

We did 4 separate Christmases this year. Yes, four. I mean, who does that? More than ever, I am hell-bent on reconciling the family Christmas dispute that continues between some members of L's and my family. Either that, or I will go on a solo island retreat while everyone else "celebrates" four Christmases in one week. Actually, that's sounding better by the minute.

L and I didn't get presents for each other again this year. We like the tradition we started last year of shopping for people who really need it. It can be a major project (read: going to three different toy stores looking for the exact toy the 3-year-old boy asked for), but I much prefer it to exchanging boring old stuff between us.

One thing of note about shopping for those less fortunate: Each person we shopped for asked for socks. They could ask for anything in the world, and they wanted socks. I now think of them every time I put socks on my feet.

Speaking of asking for anything in the world, the girls' requests for Santa were kind of head-scratchers, but I have to give them points for practicality. Jellybean asked for a purple suitcase. Peanut asked for a "dark orange cup" and a candy cane. All the toys the elves make all year long, and it came down to a suitcase and a cup. Santa did a great job choosing which suitcase and which cup to give them -- and they're both thrilled.

Putting that all behind me (well, except the sock thing, and maybe the family Christmas thing...), I'm ready for 2010. Whatever it has in store, bring it on!