Your mouth is open and sound is coming from it. This is never good.

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Poor O has been grumpy lately. I picked her up on Friday, and she came out to me crying and never really got herself straightened out. I asked the teacher at the door what happened, twice, and was pretty much ignored, so I was left with O's "my butt-butt hurts" and between Bean and I, we managed to ascertain that she fell - or was pushed and fell - on her butt. We're pretty sure someone pushed her, but I couldn't make out a name.

(Another gripe about the school, she came out with dried snot schmeared all over her face. Like her nose ran, she wiped at it with her hand or sleeve, smeared it around and it dried on her cheeks. Over and over, and no-one could be bothered to take a wipe to her face with a diaper wipe. Tho I don't think they can be bothered with diaper wipes if the kids just pee, since she comes home with a bright red tush and remnants of that morning's butt balm.)

Anyhow, I elevated my parenting game to include a stop at Sonic for grilled cheese and popcorn chicken for their dinner, we came home, ate, did bathtime and then sacked out.

Yesterday, we did our breakfast taco routine, checked on my folks' place and I had plans to take them *somewhere*, but O was just a mess. She was sooo sleepy, but wouldn't nap at home, insisted on a car ride, and only slept about 30 minutes. Bean wanted to go play at the mall, but it was *packed*, so we'll try the playscape again this a.m. before the mall opens.

Honestly, tho, I hate the mall playscape. It seems to be predominantly lowest common denominator parenting and kid behavior. Parents bring sick, bratty *too old for the playscape* kids and let them cough and sneeze everywhere while they run and jump and make things totally unsafe for the kids that "should" be there. So since we get up at the a$$-crack of dawn, we can easily be there well before it opens, and while those parents are still getting tattoos and bourbon for their kids.

We stopped at Barnes and Noble and then PetSmart. At PetSmart there were puppies and kittens, so they were beside themselves.

On the way home, we're talking, she's firing off questions (and oh dear *god* can I tell you how old it gets having to answer things like "why we call a horse a horse?" and the corollary "well, then, why did those people decide to call it a horse?" when I answer the first one with "I don't know, sweetie, people named everything a long time ago and I didn't have a vote")

Bean: What's a stepmother?
Mommy: It's when a daddy has a new wife.
Bean: ... {insert look of horror here}

I think to myself 'wow, she's not happy about "new wife"', and then an equally horrified look crosses my face as I recall we read Snow-Stupid-White at the bookstore and the stepmother tries to have Snow White killed.

I furiously backpedaled with all sorts of platitudes and disclaimers that stories like that were utter poppycock. But seriously - what kind of idiot am I? Normally, I'd have bee cagey-er about it, trying to ask why she asked, and gotten a context clue about the best answer. But after a discourse on why dogs were called dogs, the difference between a Honda and an Acura and an explanation about why there are cats and kittens that need homes I was in the "get it answered and move on" phase of the game.

So now I'll be spending the rest of the weekend trying to find naturally-occurring set-ups where I can talk about how fake Disney is, how totally unreal the stories are and how great new wives can be. Piece of cake.

Sigh.

Before I forget, when Miss O was crying in the car on the way home Friday, Bean made up a song that was essentially "calm down, calm down, calm your body down; mommy and Bean are right here and we love you and care about you and will always be your friend" it was beyond sweet, and she capped it off with something like "mommy is the best mommy in the world and she will always take care of you. But she's driving and has to look at the road so she doesn't run over any deer."

Eat your heart out, Hallmark.
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Let's just get to the truth, here, okay?

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Yesterday started okay, but we were like a mile from home and Bean asked me "when are X and Y going to get divorced?" (X and Y being a friend's parents.) She asked it in her unassuming, matter-of-fact Bean way, the way only she can. I replied "X and Y aren't going to get divorced, they love each other."

And she promptly dissolved into tears and heaving sobs.

She told me she was jealous and sad, that she wanted her daddy and I to get married again and stay together forever, etc. It's just heartbreaking - she almost had me crying with her because it's such a fundamental want, but one I can't give her.

I get so much more of her emotion and angst about the divorce than Dave does, I think. The stuff she asks me, the challenges she gives me ... I don't think she puts the screws to him quite so much.

And when she asks him, he tells her we're each going to marry someone new and then she'll have a "bonus mommy" and a "bonus daddy", verbiage that I frankly find nauseating. To me it's total leading the witness thing - you're predisposing her to calling the new spouse "mommy" or "daddy" and that's just wrong. Am I crazy?

So then she comes to me and starts drilling me on when I'm going to get married to someone else. And since I'm honest like that, I tell her "mommy's not getting married any time soon." It occurs to me now that I should have just breezily said 'someday' and dropped it, but my brain and responses don't work that way - I always default to the truth. That's probably why I get a lot more - and a lot deeper - questions.

Anywho, as she pressed me about why I wasn't getting married, I said to her "when a marriage ends, both people are sad; I'm not ready to risk being sad again." I doubt that the sad part was true on Dave's side, but I try to make the feelings/choices about the divorce as mutual as possible, so it doesn't seem like she has to choose sides.

Did I misstep? When we talk, I start with the simplest, most honest answer I can; it's only when she presses and doesn't seem satisfied with my response that I start peeling the onion. So I started with "not any time soon", transitioned to "I don't need anyone else to make me happy, so I don't need to be married", baby-stepped to something else, and ended up at "I'm not ready to risk being sad again."

Giving ducky-and-bunny answers just isn't me - I'm a WYSIWYG kinda girl; I'm not sure how well that translates to parenting ... I guess we'll all find out in the 'tween years when she either goes all Goth and hates the world or leads a compassionate crusade to free cows from being eaten. Because, you know, she won't eat beef anymore because cows are her favorite animal.
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You are strange and off-putting. Go now.

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Yay - a mommy duty weekend! And the weather is actually cooperating. My past few mommy weekends have been sucky, weather-wise, so I'm hoping to get an Austin Zoo trip in. 'Course that means driving all the way down to where I work for one extra day this week, but oh well. Bean will be thrilled to see all the hawks on the streetlights along Mopac. And Miss O can wave 'hi' to every bird she sees. Good times :)

After a few days in a row of Dave getting calls to pick her up early, Bean wrapped up the week by making it all day at school today. Her OT called the school and talked with her teachers a bit, and they've been having someone spend one-on-one time with Bean at nap time, but I'm not sure how sustainable that is. We're going to look at a school that caters more to her needs, but it's considerably more expensive and a helluva drive ... but they have OT's that go to the school, which would be nice.

I just don't know what's really right for her, yanno? Is it better to put her in a special school, or better to keep pushing her limits? I mean, her coping and integration skills are really good, all things considered, and we're like 7 months (gah!) away from when Kindy starts ... is it better for her to be in regular preschool where she has to work a little harder to keep pace? Or better for her to be in an environment where things are structured more to help her succeed?

Parenting is hard. How come no-one ever tells you that straight up? It's really damn hard sometimes. And sometimes it's just weird.

Do you know what she asked for the other day? "Mommy, I want to go to a doctor who will let me see a broken bone and the inside of a bone." Since I'm fairly certain I won't be able to find an orthopedic surgeon to accommodate her, I offered instead to go buy different grocery store bones so she could see what they look like inside.

Her response? "But those will be dead bones, not alive bones." Well yes, sweetie, I know. But, one: no doctor is going to show you the inside of a bone, and two: you're four and a freakin' half. Seriously. The fact that we'll be futzing around with animal bones is effed up enough.

All this because of my sad little broken and permanently disfigured left pinkie, and her request for more info, which led to wanting to see pics of broken and dislocated bones, which led to an image search on the interwebz, and a picture of a compound fracture. If she ends up an orthopedic surgeon, I expect a posh retirement for me. Her dad's on his own: he thinks I shouldn't give her so much info. Not only do I give her the factoids, I'm her "favorite person in the family", so I figure I'm set when I get old.

(Quote from "Buffy vs. Dracula")
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I mean, Charlotte Corday wasn't a real martyr either, but...

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I've actually been chewing on a few blog posts for a couple days.

This one is about how parenting ideals are nice, but, in my opinion/experience, shouldn't be carved in stone. I've watched a few discussions transpire on a parenting list that I belong to that make me wonder if it's possible to set too high a standard for parenting.

Now, I strive to be a involved, attached parent. And I think that having an ideal that's above the level I parent at is a positive thing: it helps me strive to be a better mom. I'm not a perfect mom, and sometimes I'm not even a great mom, but I'm usually a good enough mom. And that's cool with me.

The discussions of late have dealt with two related topics:
1. whether a 19-month-old is old enough for overnight visits with the non-primary caregiver (the dad)
2. getting in "me" time for exercise

I was one of maybe two or three who felt that a 19-month-old could do an overnight with dad, and one of a handful who took a "it's okay to let your two-year-old cry with dad do you can get out for a 30-minute walk solo" stance.

Most folks were horrified at the thought of the 19-monther being away from mom overnight. It totally clashed with their ideals. Only myself and few other moms responded from the "I've actually been divorced/separated" perspective. The others were speaking from their gut reactions.

In a similar vein, the majority of the advice given to the mom who really felt on edge and needed me time played to the central theme of 'here's how to get exercise with your child'.

I won't name names or even the discussion list, as I do appreciate that it's always going to be different strokes for different folks. But I wonder if a totally child-centric approach is maybe a bit too much.

In the case of visitation, it would be great to not have to wonder this kind of stuff, to live in a world where divorce and separation don't happen. But we don't. And for those who endure separation and/or divorce, is it better to uphold some ideal that a child shouldn't be away from the primary caregiver overnight until they're three? Or is it better to facilitate something that might violate your ideal, but is likely a better way to ensure a solid non-primary parent/child relationship?

I cannot imagine waiting for Miss O to reach three years old - that's what people idealize, and what the State of Texas apparently allows - before she spent the night at her dad's. In part for my own sanity but mostly for her relationship with her dad. How could they build any sort of trust and love if his role were marginalized to that of her daycare providers?

And why should parents (usually moms) be expected (or expect of themselves) to live their whole life as sole caretaker? The woman who asked about getting exercise said her two-year-old threw a tantrum when she left her with her dad. And in my head, I wondered: "so what? she'll cry a few times you do it, but then dad will learn to soothe her and your daughter will build a better relationship with him."

I don't know the full story, or know the parents personally, in either of the two examples. I've no doubt that there are dads who truly cannot handle the responsibility of caring for a child. I don't understand the physics behind it, but have read about dads who just suck at being actual parents.

But assuming the dads in question are decent fathers, why the martyrdom? Why keep throwing yourself under the bus to put your child first? Yes, I want the best for Bean and Miss O. And yes, I hold myself to a high standard with their care. But I also teach them that there are times when mommy just needs some down time.

What do you say? Is it possible to over-idealize parenting and your child's existence? Or do you think that by sacrificing your own wants and needs, you're a better and more dedicated parent?

(Quote from "Out of My Mind")

I brought you some supper, but.… if you'd prefer a lecture, I've a few very catchy ones prepped

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Yeah, I'm definitely battling *something*. Still no fever, but a nice burn-y eye, scratchy throat, congested and just ick feeling's been hanging on all day. And the dreary, overcast day was just a perfect one for jammies and TV.

I'm wondering if I am to blame for Bean's behavior issues at her dad's and at school. After a bumpy month or so, I've gone back to what worked for me when she was little: setting her up for success. I've really streamlined what's important to me and worth clashing with her over, and a lot of other stuff I've just let go. As a result, her times with me are relatively stress and incident-free. Don't think it's all sunshine and roses, but I've made a concerted effort to minimize rules and requirements, not make unrealistic demands of her and to allow her the freedom to make choices and be who she wants to be. I also watch her for cues, and if I see a meltdown coming, I try to get in front of it by holding her and rocking her.

While she spends about 2/3 of her "home" time with me, she spends another 45-ish hours a week (and that's a good chunk of waking hours) at preschool, and 1/3 of her "home" time with her dad. He's a bit more rules and regulations than I am, but he's *generally* a pretty AP guy in most of what he does and how he relates to the girls.

Preschool is obviously a lot more rules and regulations than I am.

And here's where I wonder if my laissez-faire approach to parenting is doing her more harm than good. At least in the near-term. If she colors on the floor with a crayon and I happen to catch her in the act, to me it's a talking point. To her dad, it's a time out. To her teacher, it's worth making Bean show me the floor. If I don't catch her in the act, I'll tell both girls (usually, tho sometimes I do single her out) that we don't do that and I'll restrict crayon access to just in my office or something like that. But if I choose to leave them with crayons while I take a shower, and I end up with magenta windowsills, that's kinda my fault, at least in my mind.

Am I doing her harm by not echoing the structure/discipline/rules she has elsewhere? I'm a single mom running a zone defense on two pretty spirited kids, and honestly, I pick my battles: they can't run away from me in public, they can't run into a parking lot/road, they need to be gentle with animals, not kill bugs indiscriminately and not hit/kick/spit.

The other stuff, it's all more a discussion and natural consequence-type stuff. If Bean's insisting on wearing shoes that are too small, she gets blisters. If she wants to wear a velvet dress to go play at the park in July, she sweats buckets (and I keep a good eye on her). If she won't share a toy with her sister, the toy gets taken away from both of them. I may take away a thing she likes if she's made a bad choice, but I really only "discipline" for large infractions.

What do y'all think? Am I too permissive? Should I create more structure? Am I inadvertently causing her to act out at school because they have rules and I don't? Ditto at her dad's house?
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You even look pretty when you go to sleep

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Lately Bean has been asking me to talk in my "sweet voice; the way (I) talk to Miss O".

Because O still doesn't talk a ton, I find myself using that exaggerated, smiley sing-song voice I used when both girls were under a year. It's not like I have to carry on 15- minute conversations with Miss O about why vultures eat dead things, where the higher-pitched sing-song voice is impossible to sustain, so O still gets the "sweet voice". She's also, ahem, not four, an age that takes my capacity for a "sweet voice" and beats it down, relentlessly, then kicks, hits and scratches it while it's lying there, twitching.

But fabulous fourness aside, it's a valid point, one that calls attention to how frequently my tone with Bean is either annoyed or exasperated, because I feel like I'm never listened to and I never get a moment's peace. And even when I talk in my regular voice, it's not like it's a high-pitched voice. Is her take-home message that I'm just sweeter and gentler with Miss O?

To compensate, I have started talking to Miss O in my regular voice. I just need to 86 the 'sweet voice' altogether, because for some reason "Vultures eat carrion, which means dead things. Can you say carrion?" just doesn't seem like something that should be said in a sing-song voice ...

I also made it a huge chunk of time before yelling today, and handled her major in-home meltdown by holding and rocking her, just letting her scream in my arms. We had a fabulous few hours after that, but then she flipped out at Lakeshore Learning when I told her I wouldn't buy her anything (not because she was 'bad', but because I'm not dropping $30 on another dozen horses for no occasion. I told her she could put it on her Christmas list). She was screaming and even walked uo and kicked me in the shin. *That* actually made me laugh, because for some reason it was really damn funny to see her brassed-off little self stalk over and kick my shin. I immediately curtailed the trip, and we left with her screaming at me the whole way.

When we got to the car, I realized she had left her talking Baby Cheerilee in the store, but there was no effin' way I was going back for it. When she said something, it just served as an easy way for me to drive the lesson home. I never once yelled or raised my voice, tho. Only when we got home, and O wouldn't nap and kept screaming at me and Bean of course couldn't sleep and I just wanted that time for *me* did I oller at them to go to sleep. Which is absolutely assinine, in case you ever wondered - yelling "go to sleep!" really doesn't help them calm down and close their eyes.

(For the record, I never claimed to be a smart mom. I believe I just say that I'm a "hot, single" mom.)

So I reassesed what it was *I* wanted (a little down time) and other ways I could get it. Which turned out to be letting them sit and ooze out a few more IQ points on the sofa while watching a "My Little Pony" movie. Meanwhile, I got some Facebook time, a few minutes to blog and a few minutes to just read email and drool on myself.

Camile, I love the "nap box" suggestion. She's not expected to sleep, but she is expected to STFU so the kids that want to nap, can. I'll try to put a small nap box together with quiet stuff. They do send her to other rooms sometimes, and actually she's usually quiet and sleeps in those rooms, go figure. I'd swear she just doesn't want to cooperate with these teachers for whatever reason ...

You'd think that there would be a quiet time room or something for the kids who are this age and a little older to go to. Mine can't be the only non-napper, but they probably just don't have the staff or the plan to accomodate that. Unfortunately, Bean's a sharer, so having a cool new book or coloring stuff will tempt her to talk about what she sees and does. But maybe there's some way to convince her to wait until the kids are awake to share with them.

It sounds like the Ponies have saved the kittens, rainbows and puffy hearts, or whatever it is pastel ponies do, so my time is drawing to a close. I hope everyone's having a fab 3-day weekend, and surviving the Fours.
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Well, from the title, I thought it was about food.

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What a productively lame weekend.

I pretty much ran errands, shopped as much as I could for the next two weeks (I hate shopping with the girls, unless I'm just futzing around. Shopping with a goal in mind sucks.) and cleaned the heck out of the house. I had hoped to get around to making a shload of meatballs, but I didn't finish cleaning until close to 10 and wanted a bath more than I wanted a stockpile of meatballs for meals this week.

I screwed up and forgot to order the girls' hot lunches for school this week, so after tomorrow, I have to pack everything. That puts pressure on me to make good dinners .. Bean will be thrilled with the packed lunch, as she begs all the time for "lunches from home" instead of the hot lunches. We each persist in getting her to eat the hot lunches because we hope it will get her to eat a bigger variety of foods and eat some damn veggies already.

I'm so looking forward to getting my big girl back tomorrow. I just want to hold her and make everything right in her world .. not that I can, but holding her and telling her I love her will make *me* feel better. I'm looking forward to Miss O, as well, except she's apparently sick, so I am not *at all* looking forward to her cooties. I'll be taking like 900 vitamins tomorrow. And wearing a mask.

Thanks for the responses, here and via email, about Bean's behavior. I did put in a call to the therapist I used post-divorce; she's seen Bean once before and she knows the backstory, so I think it'll just be easier to use her than to start fresh. She told me that about 50% of her practice is kids of all ages, so she should be able to work with Bean. I don't know how much, if any, of the behavior is divorce-related, and how much is just four-year-old behavior. Bean's always been more physical than her friends, so maybe the physical part of this is just her being her, as the freakout part seems to be pretty common among 4-year-olds.

But I don't want to assume anything. So she's off to get her head shrunk. Whatever it is, Dave and I each need to understand it and get some insight into ways to deal with it ourselves, since parenting this kind of stuff doesn't exactly lead to stellar parenting moments ... le sigh.

I'm glad she's getting it out, whatever it is, rather than keeping it in. I just want to find a better way for her to do it ... and don't think I haven't seriously considered a punching bag or taking mother-daughter boxing lessons. I even wondered this weekend if I could find a vet who would let Bean watch some surgeries, with the thought that giving her more to think and talk about would help.

Maybe I can get insurace to cover horseback riding lessons and a field trip to Texas A&M?
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Birds need to fly, and girls need to use the toilet

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Do you ever just feel like people take things just an eensy bit too seriously?

I'm watching a discussion on age-appropriate movies for a two-year-old, and while I agree with some of the issues folks have, I'm finding myself shaking my head on some of them. And the sidebar conversation about how people go to great lengths so their kids aren't freaked out by the auto-flush toilets in stores/restaurants.

I'm trying to decide if I'm just a mean/bad mommy, but I don't really go to great lengths to shelter my kids from too much. Yeah, when Bean was potty-learning, the auto-flush toilets bugged her; they still do. But so does *any* flushing toilet when we're out because they're all so damn loud. That's life. Instead of putting TP in front of the sensor so it doesn't auto-flush, or bringing along my own potty in the car, I just talked her through it. I told her that's just the way some toilets work and I didn't like it either, but it is what it is. I've made a deal with her that if I *can* let her leave the stall before the toilet flushes, I'll be happy to, but sometimes she just has to suck it up and deal with it.

I'm not trying to be b*tchy to the folks who go to these lengths; in fact, I can think of one or two kiddos whose parents probably have to do this and more, because the kids are truly that sensitive and need it. For mine, tho, it wasn't a *must do*, it was a *could do* and I chose not to go to great lengths to shield them from a loud flush. I'm not the only person who takes them places - if I set them up to need that kind of coddling just to pee on the toilet, how do I ensure everyone does it for them?

To me, there's things worth shielding your kids from: I have skipped The Lion King because Simba's dad is actually murdered; I haven't shown them Dumbo or Bambi, but Dave apparently has, without any emotional trauma on either kid's part. Neither would be something I'd chose to show them if the control were always mine, but so much of life is out of our control anyways ...

In a way, it seems easier to me to broach these 'tough topics' early on. Thanks to the death of a PT at her therapy place, Bean's been talking about death for at least a year now, and understands that everything, people included, dies eventually. As time goes by and her level of questioning/understanding increases, her questions about death grow more sophisticated, but I've not seen any indication that knowing about it and knowing that people die has been detrimental to her or has scarred her in any way. It will just be something she grows up knowing about and talking about, much to some friends' dismay.

Conversely, tho, I don't discuss religion with her, nor do I want people discussing it in anything more than "some people believe xxx, it's all a personal choice" terms. Much the same way I try to tap dance around racism - it's just a concept that seems too complex for a four-year-old to understand. Death is pretty black and white; religion, not so much.

What about you? Do you try to shield your kids from unpleasantries? Do you tackle 'belief'-type discussions with them? Why or why not?
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They're obnoxious. Professionally.

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Been keeping busy at work: we wrapped up the Career Fair Friday; the Pink Slip Festival is a week and a couple days out, and there's still a ton of details to handle for that; the day after the Fest I have another two classes to coordinate ... I'm looking forward to August - when Dan will be on vacation for a week and I'll be sitting around with my thumb up my butt. Comparatively speaking, at least - there will still be tons of copy writing, web site maintenance, Tweeting and status updating on his behalf, brand-building ... the things I do and have learned to do on this job are so awesome for my resume and future employability. Assuming I ever leave this job :)

I had a dinner meeting Thursday (I am starting to gain weight from all the dinners and drinks lately ... lunches weren't that bad for me, since I could make good choices - but dinner and beer ... ugh.) to start the ball rolling on the next event Dan's thinking about - a golf tournament. More on this later, because I really can't take all of that in until I wrap up the Pink Slip dealie. But yeah, a golf tournament. Thankfully I know rules, etiquette and terminology since I've dated a lot of golfers. I even understand *how* to play; I just wouldn't subject anyone to playing with me.

Bean's b-day party is Sunday the 19th at a drop-in daycare place, Wanna Play Playcare. They do private parties on Sundays so that should be a nice change from the flashing lights, loud noise and frantic chasing around at places like Chuck E Cheese - I'm anticipating this being a lot more laid back and less stressful because the kids will be locked in a couple thousand square feet and the parents won't need to watch their every move.

Although I won't be running my usual zone coverage on the girls - Dave and his parents will be there, as will my folks. With that kind of support watching the girls, I could hold the party at the beach in heavy surf and feel a bit more relaxed than I do when I'm on zone defense. I just usually never get to talk to anyone because I'm tracking Bean and O; it'll be nice to have them both confined and to have extra eyes on them.

And speaking of Bean, who sent her and O the Sherlock McBiscuit book? Too, too cute!

Bean's behavior the past two nights has been horrible. It's like she can make good choices and be well-behaved until like 6:00, and then it all shuts off. She won't listen or do what I ask, she runs away laughing, she ignores me ... it's enough to make my tiny little brain *snap*. So there's hollering, screaming, threatening and, sadly, sometimes a spanking - that she laughs about and then ratchets my blood pressure up like a bazillion. And then right when it's time to lay down, tearful apologies and promises to make better choices so she can have her stories back that she lost, get to change out of the pajamas I put her in when she wouldn't listen, etc ... like that makes it all okay and that gets her everything back. She can't act like a sh*t for an hour and then say "sorry, I'll make good choices" and *poof* get everything back. I actually took her new Ponies away and 'threw one in the garbage' last night. Seriously. Well, 'seriously' in that she thinks it's in the garbage, but I really went that far in an attempt to get her to listen and behave. It worked for 3.5 seconds.

And then when it's all over she wants me to hold her and apologize to her. And then tells me I'm bad when I won't apologize. Good times.

I've got a tired, crying toddler to deal with (up at 4:45. Joy.) so I'm just going to wrap this up so I can post something ... I've been working on this since the 9th!
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What a load of horse hooey.

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I love videos like this, because they make me feel better about how few "enrichment" activities I do with Bean. Everywhere we go, she learns stuff ("Mommy, would you like to tell me how they make airplanes?"), but I feel bad, sometimes, that she doesn't have more 'stuff' to do. Ballet, soccer, that kind of stuff.



I've been thinking a bit about Bean's preschool experience, trying to decide if she'd do better with "more" structure and learning (a la Montessori) or if a less structured, more play-based thing is better for her.

She's kind of like a mustang, to use an analogy she'd really appreciate if she got it - she's wild and unpredictable with moments of calm. And I'm torn between whispering and breaking. My general approach with her is whispering and earning her trust/respect, but when I'm frustrated with something she does (like not listening) I sometimes switch to 'breaking' mode.

Either way will yield a similar outward appearance: you can ride either horse. But one has been cowed into submission, the other, not so much.

Sigh. Parenting is just hard work sometimes ...

More later; been working on this since yesterday and just want to post something so I can get ready for work. I'll close with some Beanisms.

(Playing with her Ponies)
"Thank you for saving my life. That was pretty nice of you. I love you and I care about you.

"We better let our whole family come in. The whole group of horses.

"Only 8 seconds! 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Assignment complete - we're all in the house!

(At lunch at Subway)
"Ow! I just bruised my spinal cord!

- And I just realized I threw away the napkin I jotted the rest of her lunchtime jems on. Crap. There were some good ones, too. -

(Doing clean-up)
"Mommy! I just licked a bug off your table!
(Seriously. And she was delighted in both the action and in the reporting of the action.)

(Watching Ni Hao, Kai-Lan, and hearing Kai-Lan's Mandarin word for dig as 'waaa') "Waaa??!! What in the ... ? That's not a word!"

What is your childhood trauma?!?!

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I'm fairly certain that there isn't a single business in the greater ATX area that hasn't received my resume.

Yes, I'm pursuing the teaching gig, but I'm keeping options open as well. I like the idea of teaching, but I'm also a little warm on the idea of a job where there's some travel. And grown-up nights out to entertain clients or to be the entertained client. This isn't exactly the economy for it, but from what I can see there are still jobs out there, I just imagine the competition is tougher than ever ...

~~~***~~~

Bean and I went grocery shopping, allegedly, this morning. But when Dave asked if I could pick up O after her a.m. nap, and Bean expressed a desire to keep doing stuff, I nixed the grocery part, left with a couple small things, and picked up the little one. Bean had her heart set on eating a croissant (I distracted her with a cookie at Target, but should have known better than to think she'd forget the croissant), so we stopped at Randall's to grab a few.

Randall's has these ratty old 'car carts', that Bean wanted at first, but then climbed right out of in the store. Rather than deal with pushing the gimpy thing around for no reason, I swapped it out for a regular cart. Bean wanted to ride in the seat - the singular seat, which meant Miss O was either going to be carried or free to roam. Neither is a good scenario. So I told Bean she needed to walk so O could ride.

Cue one full-scale freak out of nuclear proportions.

Fortunately for my blood pressure and for Bean's longevity, I find this new style of freak out laughable. I don't know if my hiding a smile/laugh is any more or less damaging to her psyche than my freaking out at her for freaking out, but it is what it is.

She started by running circles in the cart vestibule, screaming. I tried to talk her down, it didn't work, so I feigned departure. She took off into the store. Sigh. I had to go chase her down with O in my arms, then try to get her to leave with me. Because you're damn Skippy that screaming and freaking out, peppered with a few "you stupid!" barbs, means no effin' croissants.

I caught up to her, tried to explain we were leaving, she refused to walk out, so I tried to pick her up in my free arm. Almost dropped both of 'em, so I had to walk a good 100 feet or so back to the vestibule to secure O in a cart, then retrieve Miss Pissy Pants. Fortunately, she kept any would-be kidnappers at bay with continued screaming and histrionics, and when I got back to her, an older woman was down on the floor talking to her. I gave the woman a 'what can ya do?' smile, scooped Bean up, put her in the cart, and left. I later found out she was telling Miss Pissy Pants to be nicer to her mommy ... believe me, I had a moment's hesitation wondering if the woman was thinking I had abandoned Bean, or that I was some terrible person for letting her freak out and walking away.

We came home, I fed Bean a banana and put her to bed. At 11:00. She slept an hour and a half and was a new woman. Of course, when she awoke she was asking for ... you've got it: a croissant.

These freak outs are just amazing in their intensity. A-freakin'-mazing. Especially considering the grievances that trigger them. For me to work up into that level of pique, you'd have to kill all my cats (you'd get Anya as a freebie, but the others would piss me off), kick my girls and tell me that I had to put Shannon up for a week and be nice to her. For Her Royal Freakiness, just deny her a seat in the cart.

But for whatever reason, I don't find myself getting at all angry with her about them. I honestly get more tense when she dawdles or is wasteful. Watching her run in circles screaming in public just makes me laugh.

~~~***~~~

Beanism du jour: Max is the nicest cat, but I think Anya isn't. That means we have to turn her into powder.

Yes folks, she'll be here all week.
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