Caffeine

Isn't that a beautiful sight?

An 11:00 bedtime (my fault, I know), two night visits and a wake up call at 5:45 made the word "coffee" sound even sweeter to my ears than usual this morning. Alas! The last of the coffee grounds were brewed yesterday morning, so instead of awakening to a glorious cup (Paul brews extra for me every morning!), all that I found awaiting me was an empty pot.

I slogged through the morning, trying to be present to constant calls for food, play, snuggles and books, but I found myself assenting to the bare minimum required of me. I served breakfast, but I couldn't muster up the strength or creativity to respond to Max's usual question of "What ARRRRR we eating?" with a suitable answer. "Cereal" was a lame substitute; he wanted me to say "Hard tack and barnacle stew" in my best pirate voice. Can't... speak... pirate. Running... on... fumes.

I yawned my way through a conversation with my mom after lunch, during which she suggested I have my brother bring by coffee when he came this afternoon. But that was still three hours away! I needed help NOW!

So when Louie woke up from his nap, I packed up the boys and drove to my drive thru oasis, Caribou Coffee. Medium hazelnut latte for me, lemon blueberry scone for Max.

Oh, that first sip! I felt my strength returning instantly. I now believe I can make it through the day without spontaneously combusting. Oh, my friend Joe, how would I live without you?

Easy as ABC

I decided it's high time Max learned his letters. He can recite his ABC's like a pro, but when we sit down to do flash cards, he only knows a handful of letters on sight. When in doubt, all letters are either 'M', 'A', or 'X'.

It's not that I think he's behind, or that he needs to be spending tons of time doing "school" stuff before even going to school. I just figure, hey, I'm home with him all day every day, why not throw in a little fun learning time? Plus, any combination of construction paper, crayons and scissors keeps him entertained for long stretches!

So, with those thoughts in mind, I came up with a little project to pass the time yesterday afternoon. I decided that the best way to work on visual recognition would be to have the alphabet posted in a prominent location in our home. I outlined each letter with black marker on construction paper, then Max got to color them in with crayons.



We then worked together to cut out all 26 letters


And attached them with sticky tack to the wall in his toy corner

Now when we sing the Alphabet Song, I can point to the letters as we go! As an added bonus, the letters spruce up the drab white walls of our living room a little bit. Until we get around to painting, maybe I'll just cover everything with colored construction paper...

Correction

My mother-in-law Maureen always says that one of the toughest parts of being a parent is seeing your faults and shortcomings begin to show themselves in your offspring. You look at them and you know that quality came straight from you.

When I was young, my parents always tell me, I was a total perfectionist. (Ok, well, I still am, but I'm not so obvious about it now...) I used to correct everyone (my word of choice was "actually..."), I hated to be laughed at, and I generally refused to do things that I couldn't do right the first time. My brother Tony is three years older than me, and he was always a naturally gifted artist (still is!) -- from the get-go, I compared my work to his and decided I was no good at art because my three-year-older brother could do it better!

Now I'm beginning to see flashes of my younger self in Max. No longer is he willing to simply scribble all over his coloring books; he wants to color within the lines. And when he's unable to do so (he's three, for crying out loud) he gets frustrated and refuses to color, telling me to do it instead.

The biggest flashback moment was a few weeks back. I said to Max, "Come here and give me a hug, my big boy!"

"I'm not actually a big boy, mommy."

I called my dad immediately, and his response was basically this: "Wow, he's only three and starting that already! I don't think you were that young... you're in for it now."

Let the corrections begin!

The Great Sock Conspiracy

Seriously?? Seriously.

This is my pile of mismatched kid socks. Yep, just the kids- you should see the pile for me and Paul! C'mon, I could clothe my children for a year with the fabric from the socks that have no mate. What's the deal? I have searched the laundry room, the boys' room, our room... under, on, and in everything. Where do they go??

Have you noticed an inordinate amount of italics so far in this post? That is my frustration expressing itself the best way it knows how. It's really frustrating! I just know the socks have all gathered in some dusty corner of the basement solely to spite me. They're laughing at me!

Well, ha ha, socks! Joke's on you. I'll just go to Target and buy more socks, then where will you be? Still in a dusty corner of the basement... forever. Take THAT. The biggest problem is that I have an aversion to throwing away mismatched socks. I'm just sure the match will show up one day in my clean laundry basket and the two shall be forever joined (until one gets lost again). So I keep them- in a bag in Max's drawer, on top of my dresser, or I continually throw them in the dirty laundry, hoping that "this one's the load that will solve my problems!"

Someone, please talk some sense into me. They're gone. They are not coming back. Get a grip and move on... and clean off your dresser! But the thrill of the occasional match keeps me from cleaning house. The thrill of the match, and the fear that as soon as I throw the socks away, the missing matches will come out of hiding all at once and declare victory! I will not have it. I will not yield! They may have won the battle, but they WILL NOT WIN THE WAR!

Three and Up

"Caution: contains small parts. Not for children under three."

How many times have I seen those words? The day used to seem so far off when I wouldn't have to worry about my baby trying to ingest all of the "small parts" in his toys, but suddenly Max is three! He has officially moved into the next developmental age group, according to psychologists, book sellers, toy makers; so many things were off-limits until now, but suddenly he is old enough to handle the Big Kid toys and do all of the Big Kid stuff. (Including paying admission at the Minnesota Zoo. Bummer.)

It's a little bittersweet for me.

Three means he's growing up. Three means that he is old enough to go to school! I can't believe we are at that point already. Our church has a preschool program called "Catechesis of the Good Shepherd", open to kids age 3-6. Next fall, we'll be able to enroll Max and start meeting families in our parish. Hooray! I've heard such good things about this program, and I can't wait for Max to make some friends at our church.

I'm learning firsthand that Age Three was not randomly chosen as a major marker in child development. Even though we're only a month in, I have noticed changes in Max that show me he is really growing up. He's able to carry on a more complex conversation and make his needs known more clearly. But since I know he understands what I'm asking him, I've discovered that he has a terrible case of Selective Hearing. When we're talking about him, the kid's got elephant ears... but when I'm talking to him (more specifically, telling him to do something) suddenly the invisible headphones go on.

Oh Lordy, can't wait til he's a teenager.

Perfection

Max's second-favorite music group is the Laurie Berkner Band. I have to admit, while she's not quite as easy on the ears as the Okee Dokee Brothers, I often find myself singing along to her music- and she definitely knows what a toddler likes! Among Max's top picks are "Rocketship Run", "We Are the Dinosaurs", and "I Really Love To Dance". Talk about a few of his favorite things!

But recently, his love for Laurie has gone deeper than her music; she has found a special place in his heart. We were listening to her CD one day and I asked Max whether he liked Laurie Berkner (meaning the music). He answered, "Yeah... she's a really nice guy." (Hmm ... I didn't know they had met!)

Then yesterday, her song titled "I'm Not Perfect" came on. The first verse goes like this:

"I'm not perfect, no I'm not
I'm not perfect, but I've got what I've got
I do my very best, I do my very best
I do my very best each day
But I'm not perfect,
And I hope you like me that way"

As the verse ended, Max looked questioningly up at me and commented, "But Laurie Berkner is perfect!"

Lost & Found

My phone went missing last week.

I know, it was awful. I can hear your collective groan of sympathy. And what's worse, we have no home phone! The moment I realized it wasn't where it should be, I got slightly panicky... and a little claustrophobic. I can't call myself to find it... I can't call anyone to help me... I'm stuck here forever with no link to the outside world! (Hey, I never said I'm rational when I'm worried.)

I looked under couch cushions, under beds, in drawers, in pockets, on the floor of the car... nothing. So I decided to email Paul at work and have him call my phone, on the off chance that I could hear it vibrate as I wandered the rooms. He received my email and responded, so I went to listen (and send up a little plea to St. Anthony). Still no luck. I sat down to write an email saying that I was unsuccessful ... when I heard a little giggle from Max's room!

Did I mention Max was still sleeping up until this point?

Suddenly his door flew open and he ran into the computer room with my phone in hand! "Look what I found!" he cried, with a huge grin on his face. "Oh, Max, thank you! Where did you find it?"

"In my covers!" It must have fallen out of my pocket when I was saying goodnight to him last night. Major sigh of relief. I called Paul back to let him know where I found it, and he informed me that Max had answered the phone four times in a row! While I was racing around the house, searching like a madwoman, Max was sitting on his bed chatting with Daddy, but Paul had no way to let me know.

Genius that I am, I hadn't thought to check the boys' bedroom. Thank you, Max, for saving the day. I just wish I could have been a fly on the wall when he awoke to a cell phone buzzing in his blankets!