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.