Kevin has been working his arse off at work lately. I’ve been alone with these children all day long with no break at lunch or even dinner. It’s beginning to take its toll on me and I’m becoming very snippy. As a direct result of my grumpiness, I’ve started introducing Leina to the concept of Time Out.

She isn’t very enamored with this new game.

Leina is a lovely child but listening isn’t her strong suit. I snapped yesterday after the library class. As I strapped Kulia into her car seat, Leina decided to jump out of the car and run around the parking lot. Of course, there were a bajillion mothers in large SUVs and minivan trying to leave and having to dodge around my errant child lead to a nice traffic jam. When I tried to grab her, Kulia would launch herself out of her car seat and started climbing out of the car. No matter how much I yelled, Leina refused to get back in the car. She just laughed and danced out of my grasp. My only recourse was to let her run around the parking lot until I strapped Kulia in. The I grabbed her by the wrist, very roughly, and dragged her back to the car.

The next part I’m not proud of. Remember, I’m tired, Kulia is screamin bloody murder, and Leina is refusing to get into the car, and I’m getting dirty looks from the other moms as they drive by.

I picked Leina up and slammed her into her car seat. Hard. She looked up, shocked, and said, “Mommy, are you angry?”

“YES LEINA! MOMMY IS VERY ANGRY!!!!” I yelled and I snapped her belt on.

Leina joins Kulia in crying and sobs, “Mommy, mommy, why are you angry?”

“MOMMY IS ANGRY BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T LISTENING! WHEN YOU DON’T LISTEN, MOMMY GETS VERY ANGRY!” I slammed her door and stamped around to the driver side and got in taking deep cleansing breathes while by girls screamed bloody murder.

“I’m sorry mommy. Don’t be mad! I’m listening! I’m listening!” Leina sobbed.

By the time we got home, we were all doing better. I explained to Leina that she needed to listen to me and that running around the parking lot was very dangerous. I thought we had made some progress and was feeling better…until.

We got home and I got Kulia out. I carried her over and unhook Leina. “Come on Leina, lets get inside.”

I headed to the door carrying Kulia when Leina….ran….off.

Yes, she ran down the street and I felt like crying. Why does is go in one ear and out the other? Why? Why? Why?

After safely depositing Kulia inside, I had had it with Leina. It was time to introduce her to a time out.

And so I dragged her, kicking and screaming in to “naughty corner” where she fought me. Refused to sit, refused to stay, refused to listen. Thankfully, I was so mad I didn’t care. I just kept taking her back and sitting her down. Eventually, she sat. Eventually, she listened.

We have had several trips to time out since yesterday for not listening, hitting, and taking things. Each time it gets easier. Leina still fights going but now she will sit until retrieved. She’s screaming her head off the entire time but she is sitting.

Welcome to the world of three. Enjoy the ride!

I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf. Well, maybe not a whole leaf. Perhaps it’s closer to half a leaf. Or maybe a whole leaf but just a quarter turn?

However you phrase the metaphor, I’ve decided to shake things up. Kulia is getting easier, sleeping better, and needs less undivided attention. Leina is a play alone champ and a very good self entertainer so I’m finding myself with more free time. Under the old leaf, this new found free time was squandered on books and t.v. Not good.

So, now that I’ve decided to do a little changing, I’m cutting way back on my old lazy ways and trying to do more with what little I have. This means no t.v. before 10pm and restricting myself to one book per weekday and one book per weekend. With the newly freed time, I have 101 projects that need finishing and I must say it feels good to finally get them done!

I was so happy under my freshly turned leaf, that I convinced poor Kevin to join me. We have embarked on a diet. Now, neither one of us has much selfcontrol. In fact, I think Kevin and I combined have the self control of a two year old. Yes, it’s pretty sad.

So we knew there was no way we could go on a real diet. You know, the kind when you can’t eat certain foods or have to count things. That would never work. Instead, I came up with the brilliant idea to go on half a diet! Sounds pretty good, no?

My half diet works like this. You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want. The catch is, you can only eat half as much. Want a donut for breakfast? No problem, just eat half. Ice cream before bed? Go for it! Just take one scoop instead of two. Pretty easy, eh?

So last night, Kevin came home late and was making his dinner. I watched him prep two brats.

“So, how’s the half diet going?” I asked.

“Great!” Kev replied as he drapped a little swiss cheese over his buns.

“Hmmm,” I said, “you’re having two brats. Does that mean you’d normally eat four?”

Kevin paused and thought for a moment and then replied, “Um, no, I just decided to eat two brats because I’m going to skip my veggies. One of these replaces the veggies you see.”

I just nodded along with this blinding logic as Kevin happily muched up his bratwursts sans veggies.

Yup, I’m thinking I could really be onto something with this half a diet. I expect the pounds to just melt off all by themselves. Expect before and after bikini pictures any day now!

Kat and I went to see Pirates II on Saturday. We both totally enjoyed the movie but this might not be saying much.

The last three movies I have seen in the theatre are, in order, The Incredibles, Serenity, and The Devil Wears Prada. I think I see about 2 or 3 theatre movies per year. As such, I pretty much always enjoy them. There are no screaming poopy kids around, big pictures and loud music. It’s enough to overwhelm a poor mom.

Kat isn’t much better. While I like watching movies with Kat, I have to admit that the highlight is the trailers. You see, Kat has NEVER met a trailer she doesn’t like. The whole theatre can be groaning and saying “that looks horrible” and Kat will turn to me a whisper, “that one looks cute!” It is truely amazing. If she ever decides on a career change, I think she’d make a killing selling those one line reviews to movie studios. Ever wonder who those people are who say nice things about horrible movies? That would be Kat. After the clip for Bring It On – For Reals (or whatever the title was) that went straight DVD, Kat looked over and said, “gotta see that one!” And she meant it!

So with the above disclaimer in place, we both had a great time at the movie. Go see it!

I’ve started to wean Kulia and my heart is torn in two.

Part of me knows it is time. She doesn’t need it anymore. Nursing lasts about 2 minutes in the morning and then she hops down, runs to the fridge, and bangs on the door until I get her a cup of milk. I love the idea of getting rid of my nursing bras and being able to wear a dress instead of the dreaded t-shirt and pants. I’m ready to re-claim my body as my own.

But the other part of me weeps at the thought of weaning. Kulia wakes up like me. Grumpy to the point of violence. She rises irritable from her afternoon nap. I grab her from the crib and we curl up together. Since Leina is usually still asleep, she nurses and doses for about 20 minutes and I get to hug her and marvel over her long lashes, little chubba fingers and fine baby hair. It’s our time when she’s still my little snuggle buggle for just a moment longer and I don’t want to let that go.

Of course, this morning after a quick nursing, she lifted up my shirt and began pinching my nipple and laughing hysterically. I’d pull my shirt down and she’d lift it back up and pinch. I’m thinking that’s a sign it’s time close up shop. But oh, it has been a wonderful special thing and I know that the days of holding a sleeping baby in my arms are sadly numbered.

I got picked up at the park yesterday.

It was beautiful out so Kev and I packed up the girls and headed to our newest park here in town. Turns out there was an LDS 4th of July picnic in progress so the place was over run with families and lots and lots of young kids. As a mom, you learn to be on constant alert in crowds. You’re watching for stray dogs, kids who push, strangers who seem too interested in your child. Every mom has had “the scare” when you turn your back for a moment and when you turn around your kid is gone or wandering off with a stranger. It’s enough to give you a grey streak a mile wide.

Kevin took Leina to the big kid play area and I cruised the kiddie swings with Kulia. While she wandered about trying to eat the ground bark, I assumed mother stance and began sweeping the play area. I marked the pusher kid, the girl with the horrible cough and green snot nose, and the two strange men wearing white shirts and black ties watching the sandbox. I was scanning the swings when I noticed someone staring at me.

In my limited experience, all pick ups start the same: eye contact. Someone catches your eye, and smiles at you. If you are interested, you smile back; if not, you look away and aviod returning the gaze. These same rules apply on the playground it seems. I was a bit surprised and looked around for Kevin but he was out of sight. One my next sweep, we locked gazes again and this time I smiled back.

This moved us onto level two. The approach.

Now, back in my 20’s, the approach usually involved sending over a drink or, my favorite, the dessert tray. While I have often wished for a drink or a piece of cake on the playground, I have yet to find a park with a bar and/or pastry case. So on the playground, the approach is all about the kids. The quickest way to get in good with a mom is through the kid. I recommend, “oh, she’s so cute! How old is she?” Or for a boy, “wow, what a climber! You must have your hands full. What’s his name?” The recipe is simple. Compliment the child followed by an open ended question. Sometimes you get slammed and the mom will answer curtly and then move to another part of the park. This is a clear sign that your overtures are not welcomed and you need to find another mom.

My admirer opened with the reliable, “she’s so cute and such a great walker, how old is she?” I had a moment of hesitation. Should I answer and then go find Kevin or stay and let the pick up rise to the next level? Kulia sealed the deal as she began to wave and flirt outrageously so I began the small chat part of the park pick up.

We exchanged the usual pleasentries. Talk about the weather, the park, the crowd. We touched on the trifecta of parents – sleeping, eating and teething – and watched our kids play with eachother. This involved handing eachother piles of bark dirt and then trying to take it back.

It wasn’t long before I got asked the dreaded question. “So, do you come here often?” This sounds innocent enough, right? But for parents, this is a loaded question. It’s the first step toward setting up a play date. If you answer “no”, that means you’re not interested in meeting up again. If you answer “yes”, then a very tentative dance begins around when you are coming next and do you want to meet and maybe bring a lunch or something. I could see it coming.

This mom wanted to go on a real play date.

I had caught her eye, our kids were the same age, we had similar views on the trifecta, and she was moving in on the kill. And while I liked her, and got a good vibe from both her and her son, I found myself hesitating. My dance card is so full right now. I’m “dating” four other moms right now and I just can’t squeeze in another. So I turned her down. When asked if I came her often, I said no. Not really.

She was a smart cookie. We politely finished up our small talk and then she packed up her son and headed off. Part of me was relieved but part of me couldn’t help a little sigh of regret.

So many moms, so little time.

We had our first book club meeting last night. Five moms, a pitcher of sangria, and a book. I think we spent 20% of our time on the book and the rest just talking and doing our own little striptease.

Women are such strange creatures. I think we are all horribly scarred in childhood when it comes to girlfriends. Everyone has had that horrible maiming moment in the cafeteria when you stand there, holding your tray of food, desperately scanning the table for someone to sit with. Or when the teacher tells you to pair up and your gaze darts around the room watching everyone else pick their friends while you sit there, rooted to the spot, sure you’ll end up odd girl out and have to pair with the teacher. We’ve all been frozen out by a group of girls, kicked out of the “in” club, been the butt of a private joke, or had our hearts and self-esteem stomped on by the Queen Bee and her nasty worker drones.

Unfortunately, I don’t think we ever get over those wounds and we learn to erect walls and cover ourselves in layers and layers of protective clothing. But it’s hot and stiffling wearing our wool sweaters and scarves year round. Every woman is searching for that best friend who will love our streach marked stomach, veiny thighs, dimply butt and all. I can count on one had the number of friends I can go “go neeked” with. My girls that have seen all my horrible thoughts and petty ways and can still laugh and love me.

Unfortunately, none of them live here in Sherwood. And so, this last year, I’ve had to begin that dreaded striptease all over again. You meet someone who you like and slowly, every so slowly, you start to shed the layers. Maybe you try shucking off your our coat, then undo a button or two. The whole process is frightening and tiring and nerve-wracking. Usually, at some point, the process stalles out. It so very rare and precious to find someone you can trust with your whole self without reservation.

So on our first meeting, we all took off a layer or two and then squirmed around a bit trying to get comfortable with losing a little of our armor. I don’t think any lasting damage was inflicted but we’ll see.

I keep going back to sitting on a rock in the Sierra Nevadas during my senior year of high school. Our outdoor ed instructor drew a circle in the dirt and told us all this was where we lived. Our comfort zone. Our friends and family and familiar haunts. Then her drew a bigger circle around that little one. He dared us to step outside our comfort zone and expand our circle, add new friends, new places. He kept drawing circles and told us that a life lived to the fullest meant always expanding our comfort zone. I have such a hard time doing that. I love my little dirt ring. I feel so safe and happy. I’m horrible about expanding my realm. But every now and then, I force myself to re-draw my circle.

And every time I do, it’s well worth it.