You Say "Squirrel", I Say "Surl"

A few weeks ago, I had my end-of-year conference with S's preschool teacher. In it, I asked her about S's speech. Like lots of kids her age, she has trouble with L and R, but she also has difficulty with what I've since learned are called "s-clusters". That is, if there is an S followed by one or more consonants, she drops the consonant(s). For instance, "snake" sounds like "sake", "spider" sounds like "cider" and my own personal favorite, "squirrel" sounds like "surl". Her teacher recommended that I talk with a speech therapist that she knows (whose kids also went to our preschool). So, earlier this week S and I went for an evaluation with "Teacher Judy".

The main objective of the evaluation was for Judy to listen to S's speech and determine if she would be receptive to speech therapy. I was a little concerned that S would clam up and be too shy to say much. But as a professional, surely Judy has encountered plenty of kids like this. She was great, and knew exactly which tactics to take to draw S out. She started out talking about the preschool, and moved from topic to topic until she found one that S was enthusiastic about (pets). And then she started a conversation with her. I just sat back and watched, not chiming in at all -- very hard for me to do! Next she pulled out a book and showed S pictures and asked her to name them. Each picture represented a word with a different sound. In this way, Judy was able to hear all the sounds she wanted S to make. S just thought it was a fun game and was excited to show off all she knew.

Having seen (or I guess heard) for herself S's problem with s-clusters, she started doing some exercises to get S to pronounce them properly. Her approach is clever: she uses something that appeals to each kid and incorporates it into the therapy. For instance, she saw that S really liked art. So, she used some pens and stickers each time she wanted S to try out a word. What was really impressive was her ability to perceive when S was starting to get sensitive about the exercise; she would then back off, redirect, and try again in a minute or two. I really appreciated that. I could see that S was getting self-conscious and was afraid she would clam up and it would be over; but, Judy saw it too and knew how to handle it. After the session, Judy said that she thought S was very receptive to therapy and she would probably conquer her issues quickly. So we're going to start seeing her for 30 minutes twice a week.

I am glad we're doing this -- which is funny because I started out reticent to have her evaluated at all. For almost a year, we have be wondering about her speech. It's not as if she is unintelligible to other people; she can definitely be understood. We just noticed that other kids didn't seem to have the difficulties that she did with the s-clusters. Our pediatrician and preschool teacher at the time told us that most kids work this out on their own by about 5 or 6 years old, and that we didn't yet need to worry about speech therapy. And that was fine with me. I was content to see if she figured it out on her own. However by the end of this school year, I began to think that maybe we should just have her evaluated. She may very well learn how to say these things properly on her own, but if we can help her do that sooner, why wouldn't we? In addition, I was starting to see the beginnings of the exclusionary social dynamic at preschool. I didn't want her speech to be a source of ridicule or stigma when she gets to kindergarten next year. This way she'll have an entire year to work on it.

So, we'll start therapy next week. My little girl will learn how to say things like "spoon" instead of "shoomy" and "smile" instead of "sile" -- and she'll be that much closer to growing up. Just add it to the list of things I'll miss as she moves out of her baby years into little girlhood.

As Perfect As It Gets

Today was one of those rare days in parenting when everything seemed to go just right. Wait. Let me say it again: everything today went right. Ah, it feels so good. I don't think I had to threaten, cajole, or raise my voice even once. I had so much fun with the girls today.

It didn't seem promising when I woke up this morning after a restless night: we had a tight schedule for the day which included a berry-picking field trip with S's preschool to which I also had to bring my toddler, L. To top it off, we're going on the fourth day of R being out of town (which generally leaves me unsettled). Suffice to say, I was prepared to be grumpy. But lo and behold, everyone was cheerful, cooperative, and well-behaved -- including me.

Berry-picking was great fun! Each girl had her own bucket in which to carry berries. I didn't expect L to pick her own, and I really wasn't prepared for her incredible display of berry consumption. She must have eaten her weight in strawberries! I started out picking berries for her and dropping them into her bucket -- I assumed she would just carry it around filled with berries. Yeah, nice image, but so far from the truth. As soon as I dropped a berry in there, her chubby little fingers were darting in there to pluck it out and shovel it into her mouth. Then she decided to start picking berries for herself. She ate white ones, she ate the stems, she ate dirt, and even some dried grass. Her hands were stuffing things into her mouth so quickly that I couldn't move fast enough to prevent it. In no time, her hands and mouth were covered in a sticky mixture of berry juice and mud, and her clothes were splattered all over with pink splotches. This picture doesn't even do her justice. She was one grimy little kid! Notice the straw or grass or something hanging out of her mouth.


By the time we got home, we all needed a bath so I filled up the big tub in our bathroom. The three of us climbed in and scrubbed the dirt off of our bodies. Then it was nap time for them, and exercise time for me once the babysitter arrived.

After my workout, I packed them up and took them to Aunt M's for dinner where they played with LS and E. The four of them play so nicely together. Just six months apart, S and E were thick as theives -- at one point M and I looked over to see the two of them with their heads bent close to each other whispering and giggling. It doesn't bode well for us in the future -- M and I are going to have to keep our eyes on these girls. And at almost seven years old, LS is such a little mother hen; I hardly had to watch little L as she was constantly shadowed by her older cousin. After dinner, we threw all four girls into the tub, put on their pajamas, and I took my two back home to bed.

It was a great day -- one of those smooth and idyllic days that give you the fuel you need for the rest of them.

How To Break The News

S found her very first best friend at preschool this year. He’s the first friend that S chose all on her own. They were in the same class last year, but as two-year olds they really just played near each other instead of with each other. But something magical happens in that fourth year of life: parallel play gives way to cooperative play. When school started last September, S was suddenly playing with other kids in her class; in fact, most of them had made this leap. They were having conversations, and sharing toys, and playing games, and making up stories -- together. The person that S started playing with most often was N.

N and S are really cut from the same cloth. They both tend toward sensitivity, but can be loud and boisterous when they’re feeling happy. They’re both cautious, tending to hang back and watch activities before getting comfortable enough to jump in. They love books. They love little animals like frogs and turtles. They’re both oldest children with toddler-aged siblings who inspire similar levels of protectiveness and frustration in them. Playdates with N are events that are looked forward to with such great anticipation that I’ve started waiting until right before his impending arrival to tell S about it – just to avoid the continuous queries of “When is N getting here?” The last time we spent a weekend away, she worried that N would miss her. At school the two of them giggle and chatter, heads bent toward each other immersed in a world of their own making. They hug when saying goodbye. Today they blew each other kisses as we were leaving school. N is truly my daughter’s first best friend.

And he’s moving away.

His dad got a fabulous new job in another state. The man is literally working on a cure for cancer, so I can hardly begrudge him the opportunity even if it does mean moving a thousand miles away. They’re leaving in less than a month; their house is sold, they’ve bought a new one, and all that is left is the packing up and the goodbyes. And the goodbye part is what I am stuck on: I still haven’t found a way to tell S that N is moving.

I have started laying the groundwork. I’ve gotten a couple of books from the library about best friends moving away. I’ve started telling her things like, “You know, friends are still friends even if they’re far away.” I’ve been encouraging her to make new friends. I’ve basically done everything except come right out and tell her that N is moving. I can’t seem to bring myself to do it. Heartbreak and disappointment will inevitably touch her life – they do for all of us. And there are good lessons to be learned in these situations; I recognize their value. I was just hoping that we could put it off for a little while longer.

So in the meantime I am trying to screw up my courage to deliver my daughter her first heartbreak. I know she’ll get over it. She’ll make new friends; she’ll find another best friend or maybe several of them. But N will always be her first best friend. And I’ll make sure she never forgets him.

Edited from original post to Silicon Valley Moms Blog

Second Guessing

There are times that it's tough to know which is the right parenting decision. I literally ask myself which choice will have the least likelihood of f'ing up my kids. I had another one of these dilemmas recently: whether or not to let S quit swimming lessons.

She started out swim lessons enthusiastically, running up to the pool with barely contained excitement. She loved her bathing suit, her pretty pink goggles, and her swim teacher. In fact, after the first lesson she told me in the car on the way home that she wanted to be a swim teacher when she grew up. Great, right? She loved every part of it except for the part when she had to stick her face in the water. Seems like an integral part of swimming, doesn't it?

Before the second week, I tried bribing her by telling her that if she put her face in the water when Coach Diana asked, she could have a marshmallow peep -- I even brought it to the pool with me in a little plastic baggie. When the designated time came, I held it up and dangled it to her as a reminder of the reward that awaited her. Yeah, didn't quite have the effect I was looking for. Instead of immediately putting her smiling face in the water, S proceeded to start crying. Turns out that my little bribe just made her anxious -- she really wanted that peep, but really didn't want to put her face in the water. Who knew it would backfire? I've used bribery successfully in the past -- she would not be potty-trained now without the use of carefully doled out jelly beans!

After that incident, Coach Diana suggested that I work with S at home to get her used to the idea of submerging her face. S and I were to get into the tub together in our bathing suits and her goggles, and practice there. Dutifully we did just that, working on our "torpedo arms" (arms straight out ahead of us, as if ready to dive) and our "chipmunk cheeks" (holding our breaths). It went better than expected. After just a little coaxing, she happily put her face in the tub, and even blew bubbles. As we walked into the next lesson, I was silently patting myself on the back completely confident in my success. Turns out that the pool is a lot bigger than my tub. S really, really tried, but after one attempt at the torpedo arms and chipmunk cheeks, she dissolved into tears and cries of "I want my mamma."

With each week she became more and more anxious about putting her face in the water. It was clearly making her upset. So, I had a dilemma. One one hand, I feel that swimming is a skill that kids need to have. I don't consider it a "nice to do" activity like soccer or ballet. S has to learn how to swim. I don't care if she never joins a swim team or learns to butterfly. But, she must learn to be safe in a pool. Plus, I don't really want to encourage her to quit every time something gets difficult. One of the lessons I am really trying to impart is the importance of trying and perseverance. Would letting her quit be counter-productive to that goal? One the other hand, I didn't want her to get so anxious that she would develop a real fear of swimming. I didn't want to push her so hard that she would associate so much anxiety with the activity that I would never get her to swim.

After a lot of internal debate and some discussions with other moms, I decided to back off for now. I explained to her that we could give swimming a rest for a while, and she could try again when she is four (which is just a couple of months away). I think it's the right choice. And she seems fine with the idea of doing it when she's four. I guess we'll try again then...

Escaping to the Sierras

Ah, relaxation. There is something about a change of scenery that can do wonders for the psyche. We drove up to the cabin this afternoon. It's just three hours away, but it feels like we entered a whole new world. As soon as we leave the highway and get onto Farmington Road, I can feel my entire body relax -- even though we still have another 90 minutes ahead of us. It's just the feeling of disconnecting from the fast pace of the Silicon Valley that comes over me.

It's funny -- it's not like it's an actual vacation. I mean, I still have to do all the same things here that I do at home. I still have to entertain the kids, keep the baby from climbing things/tumbling down the stairs/playing in the toilet, cook for everyone, empty the dishwasher (since my husband's arms are apparently not long enough to stretch from the dishwasher to the cabinets -- or from the sink to the dishwasher, for that matter), do the laundry, make sure that my preschooler wipes and washes hands -- well, you get the picture. But, there is something about being here that makes it all less stressful. Perhaps it's because our cell phones don't work here or that we don't really use the television or that the house is smaller than ours in Redwood City. Maybe it's just that in order to get here, we had to have a clear calendar, and that our only obligations are the most basic ones: to eat, to sleep, to spend time with one another. It could also be the surroundings. They don't call this place Big Trees for nothing. The smell of pine and cedar and fresh air, the humbling vista of trees and mountains, the quiet. It all contributes to an aura of "awayness" that is rejuvenating to the mind, body, and soul.

We'll be going back home on Sunday and plug back into "real life". But until then, we'll enjoy our long walks, time spent together in front of the fire, and leisurely hours of reading. Ah, relaxation.

Going Even a Little Green Is Still Green

Believe it or not, one of the most sensible philosophies about "going green" that I've ever heard came from none other than Alicia Silverstone. That's right, that Alicia Siverstone, as in Cher Horowitz of Clueless fame. In a radio interview last year, she encouraged folks to start going green by making whatever small efforts they could. It doesn't have to be a grand overhaul to your entire life -- you don't need to suddenly trade in your Land Rover for a Prius, give away all your leather shoes, belts, and bags, and start composting in your kitchen. Instead start small: even if we make just one change, we're doing good. She said, and I agree, that so many people feel daunted by all the steps one can take that they don't do anything at all. Folks think that in order to save the environment we have to do it all: stop using plastic bags, recycle everything, bike to work, use natural cleaning agents, etc. But, even if we just do one thing, like using cloth totes for our groceries, we're doing more than we were previously, and it's another step toward saving the planet.

I really like that approach -- it's enabling. And, I think that once you take a single step and incorporate it into your life, it's easy to add new planet-saving practices to your life. Take recycling, for instance. I remember when municipalities all over the U.S. started incorporating recycling programs into their waste management systems. It was so confusing at the time and seemed like such an extra effort. But now it's such a second-nature thing for so many of us. I think that a lot of the efforts to go green can be that way. In our home, we've switched most of our light bulbs over to CFLs, continue to recycle, bring our own re-usable bags to the grocery store, limit our water usage, eat sustainable seafood, have moved toward fewer plastic toys, and have replaced all of our wood-burning fireplaces. I think the most important thing we're doing is trying to impart these values to our daughters.

Between today and the next Earth Day, I am going to try to add a few more habits to our repertoire of planet-saving practices. To make success realistic, I am going to concentrate on just a few things that I think I can reasonably accomplish:

-- Make a greater effort to eat locally grown foods
-- Find non-toxic alternatives to my home cleaners
-- Grow at least two different vegetables at home
-- Cut down my family's meat consumption

Listen, I am definitely not the "greenest" person I know. I'll probably never stop wearing leather. And unless Kate Spade starts using it, you'll likely never catch me in anything hemp. And I love my SUV. But, I can make an effort to save the planet in lots of other ways -- and that's really the whole point. We should all be making some efforts; and as we begin make some changes, we'll find it even easier to make more. You don't have to do it all at once to start making an impact. Hell, you might even find me elbow deep in a compost pile one day. Alicia Silverstone would be so proud.

My Mom Vacation

I know, I am probably preaching to the choir here, but I am going to make the statement anyway: all moms need a vacation every now and then. I don’t care if you’re a stay-at-home mom, a work-at-home mom, a work-away-from-home mom, or some combination of all of the above: you need to get away for a while. Why? Well aside from the obvious (you’ll get to sleep in, you’ll have fun, you probably won’t be asked to change any diapers), you’ll return recharged and reinvigorated. And if you can do it with your girlfriends, even better.

I know what I am talking about here. This past weekend, I spent two days in Los Cabos with 12 girlfriends. A friend of mine is turning 40, and for her birthday present, her husband rented a fabulous villa at Pedregal and told her to invite some friends to come celebrate with her (thank you Bob and Jenn!). So on Friday morning we all met at SFO and started our weekend of fun. Twelve of us were moms with kids ranging in age from seven months to nine years old. We spent the weekend talking, eating, drinking, getting massages, and lounging by the pool. And that’s it. There was no agenda. There were no schedules. You know what else there was none of? Here’s a brief list:

1. no diaper changing

2. no cutting up anyone’s food

3. no tantrums

4. no whining

5. no negotiations at mealtimes

6. no throwing of food from high chairs/boosters/stokke chairs

7. no arguing over toys

8. no begging anyone to get dressed/get undressed/get in the stroller/(insert mind-numbing activity here)

9. no biting/hair pulling/pinching/pushing

10. no middle-of-the-night wake ups

Certainly not an exhaustive list, but you get the picture. And do you know what’s good about traveling with other moms? They automatically know what needs to be done, and they do it without being asked. When I woke up in the morning, someone had already started coffee and set out the pastries. Another mom was getting started on making eggs for everyone. When meals were done, someone would clean the dishes, load, and actually run the dishwasher! When the beach towels started to pile up around the pool, someone gathered them, neatly folded them, and put them aside. And no one needed to be asked to do it -- it was like each of us had 12 wives! If you can look past the misogyny, you can begin to wonder if perhaps those polygamists were on to something! (Please, don’t flame me – I was only joking).

But the best part of the weekend was the time spent just talking with my friends. We reminisced about old times, shared stories about our kids, dished about our husbands, cackled about sex, and empathized about deranged in-laws. Connecting with girlfriends is such an important part of a woman’s life. Hell, Sex in the City was a show entirely built around that premise. I would posit that as we hit our mid-30s and 40s, and get more deeply involved in work and family, we need these connections even more. I mean, think about the rise of “mommy blogging” – it’s another way for us to connect with other women in a technologically advanced and often isolating world. Sometimes you just need the support of your girlfriends; there are times when your friends can empathize and understand you in ways that your husband or partner can’t.

And because I had such a wonderful time, when I returned on Sunday evening, I was happy to be home. My get-away was just 48 hours, but it was enough to fill up my “mommy gas tank” with patience, stamina, and goodwill. It’s now Wednesday, and I still feel refreshed and rejuvenated. I don’t know how long the “afterglow” will last, but while it remains I find myself much less irritable and much more pleasant. I have now gone three days without wanting to jab a sharp stick into my eye or step into rush hour traffic. Dare I say it: I’ve come back a better mommy and wife.

And so, I feel the need to preach the gospel of the “mom vacation.” It’s something we should all get to do once in a while. You don’t need to spend a lot of money to get away – you just need to get away. Even if you spend a single night at your local airport hotel, it’s a night away from all of your responsibilities. And trying to find the time amidst the kids’ schedules isn’t an excuse. Two of the moms on my trip have children with severe disabilities that require seven-day-a-week therapies. No one needed to get away more than these moms. And you know what? They figured out how to do it (without having to hire extra help – the husbands stepped up). Your family won’t go into a tailspin if you leave for a day or two. Just grab a girlfriend, go away for a night, bring some trashy magazines, and you’re good to go. Enjoy yourself. You deserve it.

Adapted from original post at Silicon Valley Moms Blog

An Education for All of Us

There is a great discussion going on over at the Silicon Valley Moms Blog (and sister sites) right now about education -- including my own post ;) I have been researching schools for S for a while now, but getting other moms' points of view on public vs private vs homeschooling has been enlightening. I am realizing that there are more factors to education choices than I had considered. It's worth checking out...

My Daughter, the Panhandler

Yesterday the girls and I ran to the mall for a few minutes to pick up a couple of items. Living in one of the most affluent areas of the country, our local mall is pretty upscale, as you might imagine. Just to give you a sense, recent new tenants to the mall include Burberry, Cartier, Frette, and Louis Vuitton. So, panhandling isn't a sight you would expect to find there. In fact, in the nine years I've lived here, I've never once seen it at the Stanford Shopping Center -- until now.

Outside Neiman Marcus is a fountain that is a huge attraction for the kids. It features a sculpture of frolicking frogs, and as is the custom, kids throw coins into its basin. We recently taught S how to do this, and she of course, loves to pitch money in there. So, while we were there we walked by the fountain and S asked if I had any coins. I checked my wallet, and there wasn't even a penny to be found. My change purse was empty, empty, empty -- not even any lint in there. While I was putting my wallet back in my purse, before I even realized what was happening, she ran up to the fountain, found a man doling out pennies to his young son, and asked him for one!

All I could hear was, "Can I have one?" The very nice man didn't skip a beat: he just reached down and handed her a coin. Meanwhile, I was trotting over there protesting, "S, you can't do that. You can't just ask people for money." I went over and apologized to him, but he was very kind and understanding. Thank you, Kind Stranger, for being so gracious to my kid and me.

I was definitely embarrassed, but the irony wasn't lost on me. There I was wearing my expensive watch and holding the keys to my luxury vehicle while my daughter begged for money in front of Neiman Marcus. If she's going to panhandle, she should at least learn how to play an instrument for money...

We're All Class Here

Sofia had her first "big girl" swim class yesterday (meaning she had her first lesson without me in the pool with her). Before we left I decided to take a quick video of her. As she was dancing around for me, she passed some gas. Classy.

A Size 12 Cup Holder

This is what happens when you leave your Cole Haans laying around on the family room rug.

Week Three and Counting

I finally got the pictures from the photographer framed.

They look pretty, right? Well, they would look even better on the wall. Like this one...


But instead, they've been sitting against the wall for almost three weeks. We walk past them, the cleaning ladies dust around them, the baby is starting to talk to them.

I am going to ask my dear husband again to hang them up this weekend. If Monday comes around and they're still sitting on the ground, I am putting them under the covers on his side of the bed. See if he can ignore them then.

I've gotta get rid of these little bastards

Not the kids -- the Easter baskets. I am over it. No more candy. No more stupid plastic grass on my floor. No more arguments with Sofia about why she can't have chocolate for "dessert" after breakfast. Stupid candy holidays.

Courtney on Idol

Okay, it's not Courtney on Idol -- it's Courtney's thoughts on Idol last night...

-- The Furby (my little pet name for David Archuleta) is tiresome. If he sings one more inspirational song with a message I may have to shove a screwdriver in my ear. Tonight I actually started vacuuming in the middle of his performance. And I HATE vacuuming.

-- Kristy Lee is an evil genius. No one is going to vote her off on the night that she sings "God Bless the USA". Next week she's going to have to sing "My Country 'Tis of Thee" or the national anthem in order to stay.

-- Jason Castro is growing on me. I like his whole shtick (aside from the dreads).

-- David Cook is the most talented. He's my favorite.

-- Brooke is adorable. I want to be her friend.

-- Michael Johns is still hot.

To My Husband: The Best Decision I Ever Made

Over the years, you know I've taken pride in the fact that I've made some really good decisions at critical points in my life. Some I knew were going to be important decisions and others I had no idea would be so monumental. Some I made with the support of friends and family, and others I made in spite of advice or logic against them.

I am sitting here with the clarity of hindsight on my side and taking stock of all those important decisions. Probably the first important decision was where to go to college. Despite my dad's best arguments, I decided against the Ivy League and went with my heart down to Durham. My years at Duke were amazing -- I'll never regret that choice. But, listening to my folks served me well when I was making the decision to study abroad. Fearful of traveling to a place where I wasn't conversant in the language, I almost went to Scotland instead of Italy. I am so happy that I took a chance and ended up in Rome for almost six months. Then, when most of my classmates were going on to New York, DC and Atlanta or heading to med school, law school, or some consulting firm, I chose California and a graduate degree suited for the entertainment industry. Again, it was the right choice.

But, Sweets, my best decisions led me to you, and us, and our life now. I still shake my head in amazement when I think about how I almost decided not to go to Manhattan Beach that night we met. Even though I didn't know what a pivotal choice that would be, I still believe that some part of my subconscious heart knew what you would become to me when you walked through Sarah and Stacy's door. How else can I explain the instant connection we felt? And to think that I was feeling almost too tired and lazy to haul myself down the 405 to meet up with you all.

And what about our first date more than two years later? According to conventional wisdom, we shouldn't have been dating at all. Weren't we supposed to be each other's rebound relationships? Logic and rational decision-making should have instructed me not to fly up to San Francisco for a night at the opera with you. But, my heart told me to do it, and I chose to take a chance. And that evening was the most magical I had ever known. Even now when I am awake and restless in the middle of the night, I replay that evening in my head (it's something I started doing years ago so that I would never forget it). That decision started a whirlwind courtship that culminated in our wedding two years later.

And here we are on our eighth wedding anniversary, many decisions later. We've made some choices that we had no idea would be so monumental: like my decision to work at that start-up (would the world really be open to another search engine with a funny name?); and others that we knew would affect the course of our life together: like the decision to stop at two children. But really, the decision of which I am most proud is the last one I made completely on my own -- and that's the choice to marry you. Happy Anniversary, Sweets. I love you.

Happy Easter!

Here are my two Easter bunnies all dressed up and ready to go to church on Easter morning. I love the sweet eyelet dresses. They look adorable, no?


It's funny -- before I had kids I never thought I would dress my children in matching outfits. Now I can't help myself! I love it when they match, and I'm going to do it for as long as they let me. They have plenty of years ahead of them in which they can dress themselves -- for now, I am in charge!

To Sleep, Perchance to Sleep

Wow. Life just seems much more difficult when you're getting no sleep. On Wednesday afternoon, I took a Claritin (allergies in Northern Cal have been particularly bad this year) without realizing how bad the side effects would be for me. I went to bed at 9:15pm, woke up at 11:15pm, and stayed awake until almost 4am. Uggh. Then, I think I slept from about 4am 'til about 5am, and was done. And, of course the kids have no concept of Mama's sleep-deprivation. Needless to say, I was zombie-like. But, the show must go on, right? So, I schlepped S over to a birthday party on Thursday and stayed through the entire thing.

So, that night, it's no wonder that I couldn't wait to get to bed. It's also little wonder that it was that particular night when my one year old (who has been sleeping through the night since she was six months old) decided to wake up at 3:15am.. How do they know?!? How do they know to kick you when you're down? And of course, my husband who claims to be kept awake by the neighbors' barking dogs somehow slept through our own baby's cries down the hall. Interesting selective hearing. Anyway, I was naturally up with the baby for an hour, and then couldn't fall back to sleep. Thus, in the course of two nights, I managed to get myself almost a single night's sleep.

When I am sleep-deprived, I am a bitch. Let's just put that out there right now. My patience (which isn't prodigious to begin with) is almost non-existent when I am exhausted. I found myself really irritated by my three year old, which only made me feel guilty, which made me even grumpier. You can see the downward spiral this created. It's at these times that I am completely reassured about our decision not to have any more kids -- I just don't think I have the reserves of patience required to withstand another extended period of sleep-deprivation.

So, I finally managed to get some sleep this weekend in between attending another birthday party and hosting an Easter egg-dyeing party at my house for 14 children under four years old (the topic of a different post, certainly!). Now life doesn't seem as daunting, I have some more patience, and am a little less bitchy. For now.

Music to My Ears

The other day, the girls and I were eating lunch and talking while music from my Pandora radio station was playing in the background. All of a sudden, S perked up her ears, started bouncing to the music, and said, "Mama, I like this music. What's this song?" The track was Snow from the Red Hot Chili Peppers album Stadium Arcadium. She was really getting into the song and asking me who the band was and what the band members' names were. And there I was talking with my 3 1/2 year old about Anthony Kiedis!

We've been listening to a lot of kids' music lately (nothing against Andy Z or Laurie Berkner, but I've about had my fill!), and it is always a little thrilling to me when the girls notice "grown up" music. And this was RHCP! I was a big fan of the band back in the early '90s (when they were musically relevant). I saw them live at the second-ever Lollapalooza (back when it was relevant) and then again at the KROQ Weenie Roast in Los Angeles. (As an aside, it just occurred to me that I saw some amazing, even seminal, acts back then: Pearl Jam, Ice Cube, No Doubt, Foo Fighters, Garbage, The Fugees, even the KISS reunion).

It got me thinking about all the music that I haven't even begun to share with the girls. We listen to a lot of music at home, but we've really only scratched the surface. There is so much more that they have yet to discover. We've been trying to impart some of our favorites -- S recognizes some of my Springsteen, and she loves to sing John Denver, has just discovered Neil Diamond, and has fallen in love with the music of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. It's funny now that S is starting to really listen to and understand the lyrics, too. Even though Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire was the first song that she ever danced to, we don't really play it around her now. It causes her too much consternation: she keeps asking why he's playing with fire. And I've recently started listening to Amy Winehouse, but I am not going to share that with the girls yet -- the last thing I need is my preschooler singing about rehab!

I can't wait to see how their own musical tastes develop -- one of the things most fun about being a parent is to see how these little personalities with their own set of preferences take shape. I wonder if they'll like certain artists because of or in spite of our influence. Either way, it will be fun to share music with each other. And I look forward to the day when they introduce me to their music.

Potty Power Interrupted?

Okay, well I am not sure but Potty Power may be on hold for a while. S isn't that interested in using the potty anymore. It's like the novelty has worn off. Today she not only peed on her carpet, but took off her diaper in her bed and peed all over her sheets, comforter, and mattress. Fabulous. I swear she did it on purpose -- it took all my willpower not to scold her. I definitely don't want to stress her out, but I can't help but feel a little demoralized about this. I was really hoping to have her potty trained before the new baby comes, but if it has to wait, then I guess it has to wait.

In other news, I am really excited to have started another blog. This one is about my cooking endeavors and is called Chronicles of a Non-Foodie. I plan for it to be a place to discuss the recipes that I've tried and share any tips I might find along the way. It will also help me keep a record of my successes or failures in the kitchen. My inspiration was a book I just finished by Julia Powell called Julie & Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously. The author basically decided to complete all 500+ recipes in Julia Child's seminal cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year; and she blogged about the process developing quite a cyber following in the process. The book relates this story. Anyway, while I don't want to take on that kind of a challenge (who really wants to cook calf brains or make aspic?), but it has re-ignited my desire to try some new recipes. So, if you're interested pop on over there and feel free to comment.

Potty Power

Okay, I have to admit that I was skeptical. Other moms had told me that watching a potty training video really helped their kids get excited about potty training. But I thought, "What the hell. If it doesn't work, all I am out is $11 and five minutes on Amazon.com." So, I bought "Potty Power."

A few days later when it arrived in the mail, I immediately popped it into the DVD player and S was completely entranced by it -- the songs, kids, and dancing toilet paper roll definitely helped keep her engaged. When it was finished, I asked her if she wanted to try sitting on the potty. She was eager to try. Something must have clicked for her in watching that video because lo and behold, S finally peed on the potty! I am not sure which of the two of us was more excited!

So, we've been using the potty for a week now. Oh, what new territories we're embarking upon.