Sugar and Spice

Nobody told me that boy troubles started so early. I wasn’t prepared for this. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m raising a beauty queen, but I didn’t know the little boys would notice so early. Over dinner the other night, Hubby and I were asking Pumpkin about her day, the answer to which usually includes an animated recitation of the names of everyone in her class and the occasional peal of hysterical laughter over a memory of someone putting something on their head during play time. Most of it is incomprehensible to us. This particular night, however, Pumpkin was communicating with the utmost of clarity. That is when she told us that she “hit Deucey head.” Pumpkin and Deuce have a history. This is the same Deuce whose hair she had pulled when he went to play in “her corner” at play time, thus landing her in her first official “thinking chair” time-out. Now, as you Pumpkin faithful will recall, we have had some issues with hitting recently, so we were dismayed to hear her co...

We just returned from another whirlwind weekend with the extended fam in Illinois. We had a wonderful time, and I certainly don’t mean to take anything away from that by this post, but I have to be honest – traveling with a toddler is hard. It’s an art actually. A very difficult, highly-skilled form of art. The art of war, perhaps. It takes patience, skill, timing, and a bag full of tools. If toddler travel is an art form, we are far from being Davincis, though we have had lots of practice in Pumpkin’s short life. We fancy ourselves more like the Painting-with-a-Twists of Toddler Travel. Not pros by any means, but you can typically be proud of your work when you are finished. Like any fine art, each trip brings more fine-tuning, more attention to detail, perhaps a new tool. This being Pumpkin’s seventh flight, we felt fully prepared. That doesn’t lessen the dread, but it gives you the hope of survival. Like bringing the right weapon to a war. First, timing is everything. Fli...

I gave a seminar last week to the management team of one of my client’s business. As an employment lawyer we do that sometimes, purportedly to keep our clients out of trouble or, at a minimum, to make our jobs easier when they do get in trouble (because they have followed our advice and documented their files, for example). The topic du jour was discipline. Seems like discipline is my topic du jour every day these days. As I was preparing for that seminar, I came across the definition of discipline which is “to teach.” Not, “to punish,” although we often associate discipline with punishment. It was then that I realized that discipline is the same whether you are disciplining a 2 year old or a 42 year old. The same rules (“The Three Cs” as my PowerPoint referred to them) apply – calm, clear, consistent. And it’s true, when I discipline Pumpkin the goal is not to punish her (God knows I could go forever without doing that and be happy) but just to teach her something. In fact, w...

It's official and, as Pumpkin's teacher warned me, "it's real." The terrible (almost) twos are upon us. This morning was the worst daycare drop off in history. Go ahead, look back at the blogs of yore where I lament leaving my sick, sad, pitiful, crying, screaming, hysterical, little Pumpkin at daycare. Today topped them all. The only difference was this time I was GLAD to leave her. I will preface this story with the fact that we had a bad night. I think the weather mess is making Pumpkin sick again. She doesn’t feel good. However, that is no excuse. This morning Pumpkin wore her favorite shirt and jacket combo to school. This is one she picked out herself at the store and is always thrilled to wear. It’s red and has Elmo and the rest of the Seasame Street crew under the heading "Best Friends." The first time she wore it to school she strutted around the room letting all her little friends admire it (which they obligingly did). You can see wh...

Big, big weekend at the Brown house. For those of you who haven’t already heard, this weekend saw not-quite-yet-21-month old Pumpkin hit the potty TWO times AND count to six all by herself (identifying objects as she did, not just theoretical counting). Needless to say, I was a proud, proud mama. So proud, in fact, that I think all the potty-hoopla frightened Pumpkin a little. She eventually got back in the saddle, though hesitantly. Pumpkin’s not just learning, but also teaching mama a few things. Pumpkin’s latest lessons run the gamut from patience to safety to relaxation. Patience. As my dance teacher used to chide, “Patience is a virtue, have it if you can; seldom in a woman, never in a man.” Or as I could say, “never in a Pumpkin.” The irony of Pumpkin teaching me any lessons about patience is that I learn by her complete lack of the virtue. I’ll admit. At first I mistook her impatience for an inability to persevere. At least a handful of times during any given play sess...

Yesterday, I had another of my seemingly daily epiphanies about how much I love being Pumpkin’s mother. This time it wasn’t the result of any exceedingly charming or impressive feat by Pumpkin (though aren’t they all charming and impressive). Instead, it came while blowing bubbles on the front stoop at Nona and Pop’s. We were just blowing bubbles out of one of those $.99 bubble bottles with the cheap plastic wand that you can barely get out for the tiny opening, and even when you do there is slimly bubble juice dripping down your arm; and then when you finally get a good wet wand-ful of bubbles you blow with all your might (but just enough might so you don’t ruin the whole process) and you get one stinking bubble out. Bubbles these days are cheap. A twist tie from a bag of bread and mama’s ivory soap made better bubbles. But I digress. I love being a mama. Yes, for all those reasons I usually wax poetic on, like youth and beauty and unconditional love. All those things are grea...

I have always loved languages. I studied English and French in college, I write in my spare time, I love to read, and, though you may find it hard to believe, I love to talk. I love words, love learning new words and word origins. I’m just a big word nerd. This love of language has come in handy during my adventures in mommy-hood. First, you must know that Pumpkin appears to love words as much as mommy. She loves to read, sing, and talk – she is doing all three almost constantly. The problem is that most of her little words are not readily comprehendible to the untrained ear. I fancy myself something of a translator of the spoken Pumpkin word. Granted, sometimes it feels like I’m deposing her trying to figure out what a phrase like “Ganoo Ah-yee Cuhk-cuhk” means, but I cannot explain the over-the-moon excitement I feel when I actually figure it out. Yesterday’s interrogation went something like this: Me: Really? Pumpkin: Yess. Me: Did you like that? Pumpkin: Yesss. Me: Can y...