Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

Would you believe it actually snowed this evening?






















Wonders never cease.

You'd Think She Had One Foot in the Grave

Other than the forced Hurricane Ike break, Sydney hasn't missed one day of kindergarten so far. Until today, that is. She came home with a fever yesterday and despite the medicine we gave her, she woke up with one this morning, too.

LIke all mothers do when their children are sick, I've been indulging her a bit to distract her from the discomfort of the fever and sore throat. She got to take a long, leisurely bath in my big garden tub this morning. She's watched more TV than I usually allow. She drank an entire can of Sprite and a juice box this morning which is a huge privilege for a girl who is allowed only one cup of soft drink or juice a day. Since Liam's at preschool today, she got to play on the computer without her brother bugging her. And just like my mother used to do for me, I fixed her some chicken noodle soup for lunch and changed the sheets on her bed (something about clean sheets always made me feel better). Except for the fact that I just made her go lie down in her room (with the door shut) to "rest" (please, oh please, go to sleep!) for an hour, she's had a pretty cushy day. And she's milking it for all it's worth, too.

Since Sydney's fever has been quite high, I'm betting that she'll be staying home tomorrow as well and I'm running out of ideas.

So here's my question: what kind of things did you mom do for you when you were sick? What kinds of things do you do for your own kids when they're sick?

Girls vs. Boys

Parenting truly is an adventure. Something new happens every day and while most of it makes me laugh, a lot of it amazes me as well. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the differences between boys and girls.

Sydney is all girl. She loves having long hair and likes for me to braid it and use pretty pigtails and barrettes to get it out of her face. She's very particular about how she wants her hair each morning. She wants to wear a dress or skirt every single day. No matter what the temperature is outside, she asks to wear a skirt and cries when we tell her no. (Thirty six degrees means pants. Period.) Her closet is full of pink and purple clothes; if she had her way, there would be nothing but pink in there. And while she likes having her toenails painted, she really prefers a full pedicure (from me - not from a salon, but only because she's never been to a salon). If my grandmother were still alive, she would call Sydney "Miss Priss".

Liam, on the other hand, is all boy. He gets all excited when he sees me picking up all the toys strewn across the living room and runs to get his favorite toy: the vacuum. He wants to pull the cord out, plug it in, turn it on, work it and worst of all, he wants to ride it. He is obsessed with electrical outlets and has figured out how to pull out the plastic safety plugs we have in them. I caught him unplugging the Christmas tree this morning and trying to plug in the blender (he pulled it out of the pantry when I wasn't looking). He's also figured out how to open up the cabinets despite the safety locks we have on them. And taking him grocery shopping is almost more than I can handle. Last week, he turned around just enough to grab a box of baking chocolate and while I was searching the shelves for something, he opened the box, unwrapped a square of it and ate some. For those of you who will be getting some of my homemade fudge, I promise that I didn't use that square of chocolate. He is mischievous beyond belief, but knows to crack a smile when he's about to get in deep trouble because I just can't resist his goofy grin. I just know he's going to be the death of me.

I haven't figured out Evan's personality just yet. Perhaps he'll be just as sly as Liam and then I'll really be in trouble. Actually, I think Sydney will be in even more trouble. But, he could be just as sweet as Sydney (hopefully without the prissy parts). Who knows. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

Jeez!

This kind of crap is exactly why I quit teaching. I'm not saying that the teacher is completely faultless, but the mother's reaction just really irritates me.

I actually had a mother accuse me of being a racist when I didn't accept her daughter's late homework (it was a college prep class - no late work accepted). Never mind that I tried to protect the girl from her own mother's wrath by being fuzzy about her rude response to me (then the mother called me deaf, too). Never mind the fact that the girl had attitude issues with many teachers. Never mind that the girl forged the nurse's signature on a hall pass to skip a class. Never mind that she refused to stand during the Pledge of Allegiance (I never forced anyone to say it, but I did ask everyone to stand during it). Even after all of this, I'm the one accused of wrong doing by trying to hold the girl accountable for her actions?

No wonder so many teachers quit. When parents go looking for someone to blame for the state of public education in this country, they should stop and take a good look at themselves.

Sorry. This is obviously a sore subject for me.

Our Little Elves

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

And the Winner is....

Heidi, from Mommy Doesn't Live Here Anymore. Congratulations! I've sent you an e-mail and with any luck, you'll have your chocolate by the end of next week.

Thanks to everyone who entered. I truly wish I could send each of you some chocolate, but take heart, because I think I'll be hosting another giveaway as we approach Valentine's Day. That way you and your sweetie will have something scrumptious to nibble on (besides each other, of course).

Updates X 2

First, the giveaway update: I'm thrilled that so many people are excited about the chocolate giveaway! And I'm loving the favorite holiday treats that everyone mentioned. Peanut brittle - yum! Peanut butter fudge - yum! Ribbon candy - yum! You still have time to enter. Just leave a comment on this post telling me your favorite holiday treat by 11:59 pm tomorrow night. Sydney will pick a winner on Thursday morning before school and I'll post the winner later that day. And you don't have to have a blog to enter, just an e-mail address. Also, if you don't like chocolate (which is hard to imagine because who in their right mind doesn't?), you can always give the tin to a neighbor as a holiday gift.

*******

Second, the CIO update: For those of you not familiar with the alphabet soup of parenting acronyms, CIO stands for the "Cry it Out" method of getting babies to sleep on their own. AP, or Attachment Parenting, parents think it's cruel and they may be right, but it works (at least for us). For proof, this is Evan's old nighttime schedule:

7:30 bedtime
10:00 cry, I feed him
12:00 cry, Ryan puts pacifier in
1:00 cry, Ryan puts pacifier in
2:00 cry, Ryan gives him a few ounces of formula
3:00 cry, Ryan puts pacifier in
4:00 cry, Ryan puts pacifier in
5:00 cry, I feed him
6:30 wakeup

Now you know why I was whining about the lack of sleep. Poor Ryan got the brunt of it.

Here's what happened our first night of CIO:

7:30 bedtime
10:20 cried for an entire hour
12:00 cried, I fed him
3:00 cried for 20 minutes
5:00 cried, I fed him
6:30 wakeup

And our second night of CIO:

7:30 bedtime
12:00 cried, I fed him
5:00 cried, I fed him
6:30 wakeup


Much better, no? In a few weeks, we're going to let him CIO on the midnight feeding because I don't think he really needs it and then (hopefully) we'll have a baby who sleeps from 7:30 until 5:00. It took Liam a long time to drop that 5 am feeding so I'm not too worried about Evan hanging on to it for a while.

In the meantime, I'm already getting greedy about increasing my sleep some more. The poor boy is only waking up twice (as opposed to seven or more times) and I'm already looking forward to the day when he doesn't wake up at all and I can have eight hours of sleep in a row. I've almost forgotten what that feels like.

Thank you to everyone for your support on the CIO issues. It was tough to listen to him cry for an hour, but sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.