I was talking with my friend Michelle the other day about the evolution of our blogs. Once upon a time, four or five years ago, I was a Mommyblogger. Nay, an aspiring Mommyblogger, sure that my wit and humor and intelligence and fantastic parenting would be discovered, and I'd be famous.
That didn't happen. And I'm really fine with it. Over the years, the blog has evolved, from Mommyblogging, to a place where I could dump all of my deep thoughts when I didn't have anyone else to talk to, to a place to write and brag about running, to a place to write about books. I'm sure that over the years, it will evolve again. That picture of my legs that my husband complains about every time he loads my blog will undoubtedly get swapped out for something else a few years down the road. That's just the way life works.
So even though I'm not really a Mommyblogger, I'm still a mom. Most of the time, I try to condense the things I would blog about for each of my kids into a 140-word mini-essay, and put it up on Twitter. But sometimes Twitter doesn't do the trick, and I know that even though some people come to the blog to read book reviews, and other come to ogle my legs, there are some who want to read about my offspring, so I'm going to make an effort to post a "Moments in Motherhood" post at least once a month, maybe more if I'm feeling inspired.
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This morning was one of those "I'd give my kids the shirt off my back" moments of parenting, literally. It was 8 o' clock. I'd been bugging Bryce to get out of bed since his alarm went off 30 minutes earlier, and my shouts toward his bedroom were getting more frantic since he needed to leave for school in 15 minutes. He poked his head out of the bedroom and said, "Where's my green shirt?" What green shirt? His school has a uniform, and he's allowed to wear white, yellow, red and navy. Period. Apparently, in honor of St. Patty's Day, the teachers decided that rather than endure a day of kids pinching each other, they'd let the kids wear green.
Bryce doesn't have a green shirt. Or a green sweatshirt. He has a green sweater, but he said it was itchy. He begged me, "Mom, can you please run to the store and get me one?" (At 8:03am?) I was wearing a plain green sweatshirt, the kind that the dress code police would be unlikely to confiscate, so I took my sweatshirt off, handed it over, and he went to school happy. He probably smelled like a girl, but I guess he didn't care.
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My kids are picky eaters. Whenever I'm stumped over what to make for dinner and ask the kids for suggestions, Annie always wants the same thing: pasta with parmesan cheese, broccoli, and garlic bread. It's a decent meal from my perspective because I can add some pesto for the adults, three of the kids like broccoli, and Bryce will choke down a piece of garlic bread.
A couple of months ago, the kids at Annie's school started rotating through the cafeteria as lunch servers. Up until this time, Annie brought her lunch every day, almost always a cheese sandwich and grape juice. Suddenly, she wanted to eat school lunch. One she finally mustered up the courage to ask for her secret number for lunch billing (which took a few weeks and many pep talks), the world of school lunch opened up to her. I know that it's popular to disparage school lunches, and it's true that some days she'll have things like chicken fried steak, gravy, and french fries for her midday meal, but I'm not complaining.
Before school lunch (BSL) Annie ate a few things-- fast food, pizza, lean grilled meat, breads, cheese and a small number of fruits and vegetables. Over the last month, her culinary horizons have exploded. She comes home talking about eating grapes and salad (salad!) from the nutrition bar (I'm sure it's drowned in ranch dressing, but it's salad!) and she loves every entree, even the salisbury steak. This week, instead of the normal request for tortellini and broccoli, she asked me to make chili-cheese scoops for dinner. Yeah, they were fritos and chili and with a sprinkling of cheddar, so not exactly the healthiest meal ever, but variety is the spice of life and I'm embracing it!
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Maren has been potty-trained for six months. Kind of. Pee isn't a problem, but poop is a whole other story. We've tried bribing/guided imagery/threatening/coaching/cheering/demeaning but none if it works. She says she'll poop in the potty when she's four. It's not much of a problem because she only poops at home, but yeah, I change poopy underpants a couple of times a day. I'm telling you, you probably don't want to shake my hand.
A week or so ago, she pooped in the potty. She was ridiculously excited. We cheered. We Tweeted. We called the grandparents. We went to Toys R Us to buy her "I pooped in the potty Dora." She hasn't repeated the feat since. Now I'm out of bribes, and she still smells like a nursing home.
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It's now three months since Christmas and Isaac is still sleeping in the tent he received from Grannie every single night. It takes up all of the available floor space in the bedroom he and Bryce share, and I'm starting to think that I need to do a better job of analyzing all of the potential downsides to toys that I suggest people buy my kids for Christmas before I send out the recommendations.
6 comments:
I feel slightly guilty about the tent, but am also glad Isaac enjoys it. Loved the Mommy update. And your reading achievements leave me breathless! Miss you all.
School lunch cured Macy's picking eating, too. If you're hungry enough, you'll try different things!
ah, I love the mommy moments. Thanks!
Still doing the poop thing too, although my Henry is getting better. I have no idea what helped him figure it out, but more and more recently, he manages to poop when I put him on the toilet (because he still NEVER, EVER makes the decision on his own. I'm waiting for that a-ha light to go off in his head). Every time I get confident that he's really, truly potty trained, he has an accident. Had one on Monday. I think potty training is a horrible, horrible thing.
My oldest chooses Salad Bar for school lunch too. it makes me smile.
I like your kid stories. :)
Pedro's doing pretty well at potty training, but today, out of the blue, he decided to pee in the tub instead of the toilet. He came out and told me about it, but I wasn't really listening and gave him the "un-huh" and then I discovered it at bathtime tonight and remembered something about "tub and pee".
I'm one of the oglers. I love the picture of your legs and know that mine could only look like that with the help of the professional photoshopper and airbrusher from the Hollywood circles. You have awesome legs and stinky hands. I'd rather have it that way than reversed!
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