Author Archives: Erica

About Erica

I'm originally from Alaska. I worked as a mega web geek (I’m still a mega mega web geek and can answer any blog or other web geekery questions) prior to motherhood. Kurt was my live-in-non-hubby for ten years. We were happily unmarried until our tenth anniversary when we tied the knot in a courthouse so that I could remain a stay-at-home-mom and receive health insurance. Damn our hyper-tight-panty society and their stupid gotta-be-married-unless-you’re-gay rules. We currently live somewhere in western Washington where I spend my days alternating between entertaining the Princess Preschooler and feeding and changing The Boy.

Water, the cause of puking

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In the middle of the night way back in December I woke up to Sophia throwing up ALL OVER. It even woke up Kurt. I cleaned up while he brought some water to Sophia. He encouraged her to drink some and get the puke taste out of her mouth. Not long after drinking the water she puked again.

The next day Sophia asked Kurt why he gave her the water, “when I was froating up?” Kurt explained he was just trying to help her get the bad taste out of her mouth. She then asked, “why you make me froating up with water?” Kurt then tried to explain that it wasn’t the water that made her sick, but uumm she’s 4.

At least two times after that, something would trigger the memory of that night in her mind and she would very accusingly ask Kurt the same questions.

Fast forward to Monday last week, that morning the cat threw up…

“Momma what’s Bay-wee doing?”
“He’s throwing up.”
“Froating up?”
“Yes.”
Then my child, who drives me bat shit crazy, told me, “You give Bay-wee some water!”

I can just see it, if the cat threw up again, “why you make baywee froating up with the water?”
“Because I hate him, ok?” All those threats to drop-kick him up and down the stairs were serious (not really).

ohmygawd that kid kills me.

Sophia smiles

Picture taken 2/15/12. Sophia came home excited about the valentine's day party they had at preschool.

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When Santa Came to Town

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The Target toy sales magazine came in the mail in either late October or early November. Whenever it was, that day Sophia was being particularly annoying vying for my undivided attention. I gave her the sales magazine, “Here circle all the things you want Santa to bring you and then we’ll cut them out and paste them on paper.”

“Santa?”

“Yes, at Christmas Santa delivers toys to all the kids, so make a list so he knows what you want.”

“Oh, ok!”

She of course circled damn near everything in the magazine. Some of the toys she picked out were a little young for her. Once we cut everything out and pasted it on a one-sheet “list”, it took up both sides of the paper, but one toy she seemed to want over all the others. The “tiger toy” she called it. It was actually a Samurai castle. I was excited that for once I might be buying something she wants and not just things I’d like her to have, but I wasn’t sure I should get it for her since called it a “tiger toy”. I feared she would be disappointed in it. I told Kurt about it and he was overjoyed she had picked that out, “That’s my girl!”

Sophia's list for Santa

The Samurai Castle (aka tiger toy) is the one at the top.

A few weeks passed and a pile of her school projects covered her Santa list on the counter. “Can Santa bring me a tiger toy?” She asked unexpectedly one day.

I was puzzled for a moment about what she was referring to, “Tiger toy?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, he might get you one honey. I don’t know. It’s up to Santa.” We don’t use Santa as a threat for good behavior. I’m sure she’d give the four year-old equivalent of, “Santa can go fuck himself” if we demanded she eats so much as a strawberry or she won’t get toys. We just want to keep Santa all fun and magical.

There were a few other instances of her asking if Santa was going to bring her the tiger toy, and then finally the week before Christmas I told her, “We’re going to a Christmas party and Santa is going to be there. Why don’t you take your list and you can show him what you want.” Oh she was excited! I was curious if she would actually tell Santa what she wanted. I knew, just knew she would never sit on his lap.

Historically the visit to Santa hasn’t gone so well. After the first Christmas, we never pushed the issue. We simply went to the Christmas party and gave her the opportunity to sit quietly clinging to me and observe other human children in their unnatural sugar high Christmas environment. This year Sophia surprised the hell out of me. I know she has changed A LOT, to which I give more credit to her preschool than to natural maturity, but I didn’t expect this. When Santa arrived, Sophia came to me asking for her list. I gave it to her and she sat in front of Santa with all the other children. A few kids went up one at a time to sit on Santa’s lap and then it was her turn. I believe all it took was for Kurt to let her know it was her turn and she went right up, holding out her list and got right on Santa’s lap. Santa, his wife, and everyone else that know Sophia were equally shocked.

“Erica, Sophia is up. Do you have your camera?”

“I know. Yes.”

“Take pictures!”

“I am! I am!”

For me with was as monumental as the first man on the moon or first black president of the United States. This was big and I was fighting big tears. I’m so glad my camera has auto focus. I’m just sayin’.

Santa asked Sophia what she wanted for Christmas and she pointed to her list. “Oh you want a Samurai castle?”

Sophia pointing out the tiger toy to Santa

“No, tiger toy! That one.” She said pointing again. Santa has no excuses for getting things mixed up. My kid brings pictures. I can’t wait till she’s older and she brings a spreadsheet, still including pictures, and adding inventory availability, sale dates, and cost. You know, just to save Santa a few bucks to add to the next year’s gift price total.

Santa giving her a gift bag

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Sensitive Duplo Hoarder

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We (Kurt) bought our Christmas tree on the 6th or 7th and then we decorated it on the 9th, so it had been ignored by Lukas for ten days before I finally started putting presents under it and then it still took a couple days before he went for it. He began to touch a present that just happened to be his. I very gently told him, “no no Lukas”. There was no way I could have said it any more gently. I’d have to whisper it outside to be more gentle. He stopped. He looked at me. His whole tiny face turned upside-down and he started crying. I told him he couldn’t touch the presents. I scooped him up and we cuddled. The poor little shit.

About three days later Lukas was playing his most beloved game of hiding his Legos (Duplo) in places they don’t belong. Under the couch, under end tables, under the armoire…you get the picture. On the floor next to the little stand that holds the DVR and DVD player Kurt has a sub-woofer. The sub-woofer has cute little hole in it (manufactured that way) that perfectly fits a baby arm. As far as Lukas is concerned, that hole is there for the sole purpose of hiding his Duplo blocks.

I have Duplo Blocks

Ah crap she found my hiding place.

He set one at the edge of the hole and then pushed it in. He looked over at me and proudly smiled at his new favorite Duplo hiding place. I was quietly laughing at the baby. I told Kurt what Lukas was doing and Kurt firmly told the boy “no Lukas”. Lukas stopped. He hunched his tiny shoulders over. He started huffing. And after a couple minutes began bawling his head off complete with red face. I have a very sensitive boy.

On Friday my sensitive little dancing queen gave me a fucking heart attack! I was washing dishes and had the dishwasher door open. Lukas was on the opposite side of the dishwasher door from me putting his Duplo blocks in the silverware compartment. I go to wash a dish and as I turn to put the dish in the dishwasher, the boy had butt scooted to my side of the dishwasher and grabbed a knife. This wasn’t a butter knife, not a paring knife, nor a steak knife. No, my boy grabbed the chopping knife, a knife with a nine-inch blade. He held it by the handle and waved it around like a sword.

“NNNOOO!!! No no Lukas!”

Yeah there was no calm that time. The boy didn’t stop crying about being yelled at and having the knife taken away for a good fifteen minutes.

Of course, if he’s anything like his father I should be more worried about him with a perfectly safe spoon than an object that is actually dangerous.

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Yoga Tantrum

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Lukas took a long nap yesterday. Upon waking he just wanted to be held, so I obliged. After a bit I just couldn’t snuggle him any longer since he insisted that I not sit while holding him. I put him down and he had a tantrum.

Kurt believes Lukas had his head to the ground because he wanted to be picked up and he knows anytime he bonks his head I come running. I know Lukas is one smart cookie, but that seems a tad elaborate for a one year-old.

Lukas does the downward dog Yoga pose all the time, but this is the first time I’ve seen him do it while throwing a fit. I’ve posted the video on my Google+ page.

Usually when Lukas needs something just scoots on over to me and bumps his head against my leg to let me know he either, A. Sleepy B. Hungry or C. Needs a butt change. Shortly after the video, I thought I’d give the boy a snack. That fixed it. He was just hungry. Apparently too hungry to use his usual communication method.

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Hover Language Command

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Sometimes Sophia makes no sense. Sometimes I wonder how much she does and doesn’t understand because when I explain things they seem to go right over her head. The language communication thing, sometimes she just does not seem to get it. Then there are times like last night…

Every morning Sophia comes down stairs and immediately begins transforming our couch in to a “house” for her stuffed moose who wears a pink princess t-shirt from Excalibur in Las Vegas. Every evening I have her clear the couch so that when daddy comes home we all have a place to sit. Last night I wasn’t on top of things so Kurt asked her to clear the couch and helped her move her hoard of toys, which include Lukas’ toys, back to the toy room. Kurt moved the cushions back into place and then Sophia began jumping on them. “Don’t jump on the couch.” I told her.

Moose House

My punk-ass teenage four year-old then says to me, “I’m not jumping. I’m pushing them in place.” My mistake. Now that it’s been explained I can see that was clearly pushing and not jumping. My child is so freakishly awesome that she can hover over our furniture and then gently push couch cushions into place with her feet. That is what I was seeing.

Are you frickin’ kidding me? How can she go from, “Can I eat oatmeal after I can eat cookie after I can watch my shows?” one minute to being a total smartass in full command of language the next? She’s a Russian spy isn’t she? I just know it.

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Like Yoda Thing One Speaks

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Sophia speaks as if English were her second language. She doesn’t just mix up her pronouns, which I think is pretty common for her age. She also flips the word order within a sentence, adds extra random words, and constantly confuses the word “mom” for “dad” and vice versa. Easier to understand Yoda speak, it is. I’m not kidding.

Some common Sophia phrases include, “Is that is a good idea?”, “Can you sleep with me in the tonight?” (Translation: Will you sleep in my room tonight?), “Can I eat oatmeal after I can eat cookie after I can watch my shows?” (translation: can I have a cookie after I eat oatmeal and then watch my shows?). I cannot tell you how many times I’ve tried to correct the way she says that last one. She’ll copy my correction, but then repeat what she wants again in her own special way.

Sometimes if I ask her what show she wants to watch she’ll identify the show but then want a specific episode. Her description can sometimes go like this, “I want the one with the one with the one with the George fix the windmill chair.” Sadly, I know exactly which episode that is. It’s an episode where Curious George wants to make a windmill to make his scarecrow move and he ends up using a chair as a base for the windmill.

Last Thursday at dinner, Kurt and I were talking and Sophia kept trying to talk over us. We told her that we’re talking and she needs to be quiet until we finish. After we finished talking Kurt told her she can ask or say what she wanted to say. She didn’t say anything. He asked her, “What was it that you wanted to tell us?”

“That you tell me to eat dinner.” She said. We had no idea what she meant by that but, we knew the words she said did not convey the meaning she intended.

Kurt and I barely gave each other a glance. We just seized the opportunity. Both of us, at the same time said, “Eat your dinner!”

Poor Sophia just burst into tears.

I cannot tell you how hard it was to console my poor sensitive girl without laughing hysterically. I picked her up and tried (without laughing) to tell her we were just joking.

Thing One

Picture taken 12/11/2011. We went on a walk and Sophia picked out a "shell". (It was a rock)

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Scary Puppy Construction

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Every Thursday Kurt cooks dinner for us and then entertains the kids for a couple hours so I get a break. Last week, after discovering Lukas’ love for ABBA, Kurt decided to see what other music our dancing queen might like. Lukas seems to have an affinity for classical music, which means must have been switched at birth because that shit makes my ass twitch. I don’t know what it is about classical music, but without even knowing what is playing I start to get nervous. It drives me nuts when a teacher for a lamaze class, for example, says they’re going to get everyone to relax. I know what’s coming and it just doesn’t work for me. It’s like telling any mom, “Don’t worry.” Instant worry, never fails, and there’s no getting rid of it. But I digress.

Kurt had both kids on his lap. Sophia watched the music videos he found on YouTube and he had Lukas movin’ to the music. One of those videos was Thriller. Kurt did the right thing and stopped it at a point and explained that it might be scary, but Sophia insisted that she wanted to watch, “Scary puppy.” That kid ain’t scared of nothin’.

On Friday we had a couple people over to repair a couple places on our floors where the wood had expanded too much and buckled up. We watch Holmes on Homes all the time so I didn’t have to explain very much to Sophia, just that they were there to fix the floors.

“They are breaking the floors. Then they fix the floors.” She said to me.

“Yep.”

“They are breaking floors with nails. Then they fixing floors with nails so scary puppy don’t get in, so no animals get in.” I think she thought the crow bar was a big nail.

“No, no scary puppies will get in.” I don’t think she was actually scared of werewolf coming in our house, but I thought I’d reassure her anyway. We must have recently watched an episode of Holmes on Homes where there was an animal infestation. Or maybe it wasn’t so recent, the memory this kid has is unbelievable.

nablopomo

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