"Two Year Olds Are People Too"

Murray woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Everything caused a meltdown. Silly things, like the fact that he wanted to watch Pooh Bear and Curious George at the same time. Or not wanting to wear pants to daycare. Or the fact that he wanted to wear his "Hockey Gopher" (insert huge wail) for the third day in a row (which reminds me, we need to buy stock in "Hockey Gopher" shirts because that's all he wants to wear). Craig and I were baffled. Our normally chipper morning guy was suddenly acting like someone took his birthday away. I was discussing possible reasons for this behavior with a co-worker, Bouge. He looked at me and simply replied, "Two-year-olds are people too. Just because they're small doesn't mean they can't have bad days". This, from a man who never seems to stop working, never complains, and cradles a newborn with the comfort and ease of a veteran OB nurse (he's a very sweet man, but he probably wouldn't admit it). How true! Why didn't I think of that? Every now and then I have a morning when I want to cry if anyone looks at me wrong or if the coffee isn't brewed on time, or my routine gets a little bit out of whack or for simply no reason at all. Why shouldn't Murray be entitled to those feelings too? Sometimes I think I get so caught up in trying to raise a polite, well-behaved, caring child that I forget that he too, is human.

Speaking of being two-years-old, Murray caught on to trike-riding. We've been practicing all spring, but Sunday was the day when everything clicked. It's hilarious to watch, especially if he gets on an incline. In that case, he needs a good push and he's off again. Another "first" to put on the books.

Language Logistics

Murray is n bed but that doesn't mean he is sleeping. The latest request from my darling boy was "Mama cover up me". That done, I'm hoping I can have 30 minutes to relax and then hit the hay myself. Craig is traveling - again - and I am so tired that I can't think straight. With that, I'm leaving you with the latest "Murray-isms".

"Fine, mama, time" (he put himself in a timeout)

'No daddy work, no work!" (Craig had to travel again)

Me: "Let's have fun while daddy goes to work." Murray: "NO FUN!"

While riding in the car today Murray clearly states, "Fun at Lynnies. Co (Cole), Awee (Allie) and Own (Owen), we play. Fun mama!"

When wanting to swing: "Spider gone? No spider!" (he made wide circles around the swing until both Criag and I assured him that said spider was gone).

The latest from his room: "Mama I wake up, cold, cover please!"

My mom was right. I clearly remember her telling me that when your child learns to speak, you will evaluate your own language tendencies. For instance, Murray says, "mere daddy", instead of "come here, daddy". He also uses slang such as 'mon (for c'mon which isn't correct anyway and I'm so guilty if saying that) as well as many other goofy expressions. Some of this, I realize, is part of the learning process. My fear is that he will grow up saying things like, "I seen the sign the other day" or "It don't happen overnight" and the like. Either way, Craig and I are astounded at this advance in vocabulary. It's almost like it happened overnight. I've heard many parents state the same; one day, their two-year-olds' are impossible to understand and the next day, words are not only clear, but stated with absolute conviction. Yikes. I only hope we're ready for this.

On the other hand, I'm sure there are professionals out there who thing my grammar is appalling. My hope is that we can all learn from one another.

I'm off to dream about double negatives.

Folicle Fiasco

Well, the pink foam curlers certainly worked, in fact, they worked a little too well. I was so excited to take them out this morning, but after the first one, I knew I was in trouble with a capital T. This wasn't even a bad hair day; it was a hair disaster. I looked like Nellie from Little House on the Prairie, only Nellie's curls didn't stick straight up in the air. Brushing it only made it worse, which made me look like a St. Bernard with a perm. Murray pointed and giggled at "mama hair!" and Craig laughed and laughed and laughed. I ended up with a pony tail. I realized that my hair reached my waist when my mom would put curlers in my hair, which is the key to success with pink foam rollers. Ah well, I'll save them until I have a little girl and put her through the same torture that my mom put me through. I almost took a picture for posterity, but then realized that no one would want to see it. Tomorrow is back to straight hair and then I will have my monthly cut and color. Lesson learned: Pink foam rollers do not work when you are over the age of seven or over the age of 95.

Curlers and Connundrums

And. . . we're off. To a new week that is. There is something about Sundays that I find a bit sad, but more importantly, I feel excited for the week ahead. Part of it is that I (for less than another month) get to go to work. The other part, of course is the fact that I'm a physical contribution to this great planet. The best part? Spending the week with DH and Murray, not to mention the prospect of getting together with friends. Because Craig was absent last week, the thought of having the three of us together - if only for 4 days (he travels again on Thursday, then again next weekend for a political convention) - is a wonderful sensation. Murray and I really miss him when he is away. That said, we love him for his passion, work ethic, and dedication to our family.

Tonight I am sitting here in my pink foam curlers, praying for awesome hair tomorrow. I don't have my 6-week cut and color until Tuesday, so I'm improvising. I can't stand it when my hair is out of whack. Besides, wearing these silly foam contraptions reminds me of my mom. And even though she always got good results, time will tell what will happen when it was me, not her that rolled up my damp hair. If Craig makes fun of me one more time, I may put curlers in his hair while he is sleeping.

With that; good night, and if you see Craig with a 'fro, (or maybe bald?) it wasn't me!

Easter 2010

Christ is risen! How cool is that? God bless us all!

Murray and I took a trip to the emergency room this evening. I attempted to take him to the walk-in clinic, but they were closed, so to the e.r. we went. Three hours, two breathing treatments and a dose of steroids and we are finally at home. I know that croup is not as scary as a person might think, but to me it's horrific. I remained calm on the outside, but inside, my heart was breaking. He was terrified - I had to use physical force to hold him down during the breathing treatments - absolutely nothing would soothe him. The telemetry didn't help; the wires made his anxiety sky-rocket. Murray's tearful and downright demanding requests were as follows: "All done?" "Go home?" and "Croy's (Troy's) House?" (sorry, Stef) over, and over, and over. Finally, I promised him we would call Troy when we got home (which we did) and by the time the doctor checked in on us at 8:00, we were equipped with enough stickers to last us for several years. Murray wanted to go home so badly. I explained over and over that we would go home and be "all done" when the doctor said it was ok. After I repeated this for several hours, he suddenly stopped crying, put on his best "get me the heck out of here" look and shouted, "DOCTOR, DOCTOR!" To his credit, it worked. The doctor immediately responded and laughed, saying that he had never been summoned by a two-year-old, and that it was a good sign that he was good to go. Honestly, the child never ceases to amaze me. Now we are watching Curious George and getting ready for bed (better late than never) and I'm praying that we won't have to go in again for another treatment (I was warned that this is a possiblity).

Aside from the drama tonight, we had the best Easter. I was disappointed when my dad couldn't make it on Friday due to the huge storm west of Bismarck, but he surprised us all by showing up late Saturday afternoon. The power lines where he lives were down (still are and will be for the better part of a week) so he couldn't even get fuel until the generator arrived at the local gas station. Anyway, his visit was way too short, but wonderful. Today was so wonderful; we spent time with more family and I can now retire on Murray's earnings from his Easer egg hunt (pictures to follow soon). I swear he made more money today than I do in a week.

I'm off to bed, although not necessarily to sleep. Murray will take Craig's spot in the bed, and even though we have a king-size, I know that I will wake up with bruised ribs. Nala will join us until she gets too hot and I make her get off the bed, Rudy will go back and forth (alternatly doing security duty and comfort Marie duty) and the cat will sleep wherever he darn well pleases, making it impossible to get away from the two-year-old iron feet. But you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. Life is good.

Hope you had a blessed Easter.