Mila 2.5

Little Mimi,

Today you are two and a half.

I know! I KNOW! I'd bore you with the details about how it feels like we just brought you home yesterday, but you only sit still for so long these days.

Two and a half is hard, Mimi. For both of us. You are sassy, spunky, strong-willed, determined and every other adjective one can think of to politely say you are deep in the throws of the terrible twos.

A spitfire, I tell ya. And a cute one to boot-the worst combination.

It's hard and some days I feel like pulling my hair out, but just when I think I can't muster up the energy to calmly handle another tantrum I hear you quietly singing in the living room-a made up song with a chorus that repeats, " I love Mommy! I love Mommy! I LOVE YOU MOMMA!"

And my heart melts.

You are, unfailingly, a Mommy's girl at two and a half-it's the redeeming quality that accompanies your terrible twos. It's my name you yell out each morning when you wake. If anyone were to ask you what you dreamt about the night before you will always reply, "Momma." You beg me to "cawwy you" wherever we go, you seek me out in a crowd for reassurance and it's my name you chant as you drift off to sleep.

I hope you are a Mommy's girl at age five, too. And at age fifteen and at age thirty. And so on and so on.

Separation anxiety is currently kicking both of our butts. You are terrified of being left some place without Mommy by your side. We both (barely) survived your first go at summer school.  You're not a fan of strangers talking to you. Or smiling at you. Or, heck, even looking at you. You'll start a pre-preschool program at a local church in a few weeks and I'm sure there will be tears from both of us on drop off day. I'm hoping and praying mine won't fall until I'm safely out of your sight.

You are officially a "girly" girl -you love high heels and dresses and skirts and babies. You adore your brother and have taken to calling Daddy, "DAN!" You are smart-you can count to twenty two, sing the ABCs and spell your name with ease. You like to dance and sing. You have the vocabulary of a six year old. You love to play doctor and school. You are terrified of tubing behind the boat and hand dryers in public restrooms. You beg me to rub your back every night before bed. You love cuddling and Maisy books. You could live on cherry tomatoes and cheese sticks.

 

 

 

You are charming and energetic, fun and a little crazy. You make our lives happier, wilder and fuller. Each morning when you call my name, I am so happy to come in and see your sweet face again.

Happy 2.5, peanut!

Love you,

Momma

Mila Has an Extra Tooth and Tyson Has a Stronger Arm

Last Thursday, we were told that Mila has an extra tooth and Tyson has a stronger arm.  I'm slightly worried we need to lay off the use of pesticides in our garden. Or reduce the chemicals I use to clean the bathtub.

In the morning, we took both kids to the dentist. It was Mila's first trip to the actual dentist chair. Our attempt last winter resulted in lots of screaming and a dentist opinion that she had an extra tooth. She wouldn't confirm her suspicions until we could get x-rays, but did manage to count 9 teeth in a mouth that was only supposed to have 8. I'm not sure we needed an x-ray to confirm that math, but I'm also not a dentist.

After much bribery (including three bouncy balls, a Belle toothbrush, a pink chicken and a promise for ice cream), we obtained the conclusive proof via x-ray-girlfriend has an extra tooth.

Upon further thought, the extra tooth could also be attributed to the liberal amounts of steroid creams I was prescribed to slather on her face repeatedly for two years due to eczema.

We're told the extra baby tooth could be nothing at all. Or it could mean there are also extra adult teeth (yes, plural). Or it could also mean she's missing adult teeth (again with the plural). So really, they have no clue.

At this point, we're in a holding pattern until we can get additional x-rays showing her adult teeth. Or, until the adult teeth come in and we hire a mathematician (but apparently not the dentist) to add up what's in there vs. what should be in there.

Until then, we have this extra toothy grin to admire.

Thursday afternoon, after 17 days in a cast, we took Tyson to the doctor to get it cut off (the cast-not the arm).  According to the doctor, x-rays taken after the cast was removed showed a stronger and harder bone at the fracture site. His doctor said this was pretty common in kid fractures, but Tyson did spend an awful lot of time picking vegetables while in his cast and Daddy did spray an awful lot of pesticides on the Asian beetles invading our garden.

I'm happy (and slightly terrified) to report that Tyson is already busy using his new and improved elbow in ways that could easily lead to a second fracture.  So, don't be surprised if one day he's the strongest kid ever.

Summer School is Over

Summer school ended last week. Coincidentally, so did my quiet Wednesday mornings, my Wednesday afternoons at the pool and the occasional beer with my Wednesday lunch. I think I'll miss summer school more than they will.

Oh who am I kidding? I know I'll miss it more than they will.

That's not to say that Tyson didn't love running wild for 6 hours each week with his friend Drew. Or that Mila didn't like playing my little pony with her friend Leah every Wednesday. I know Tyson loved going to the Monkey House and Chuck E Cheese and seeing the Wizard of Oz play. Mila loved their playground and the gym. Tyson still talks about the puzzles they had there and Mila brought home the most amazing paintings that still adorn our walls.

Oh, yes, despite the crying fits Mila displayed at every.single.dropoff. they both LOVED summer school and they'll both miss it.

But, I'll miss it more.

Summer Fun

For me, the fear of seemingly endless snowfall and dread of long months inside watching Frozen on repeat set in shortly after the Fourth of July fireworks stopped. Coincidentally, this was also around the same time that both kids decided to boycott naps.

Pray for us.

While we are very busy preparing for our impending doom and stockpiling our winter beer collection, we have also managed to cram quite a bit of fun into the three short months God grants us with above zero temps.

Fourth of July was spent at Nanny and Papa's cabin. Tyson learned how to paddle board and even took Lola for a ride which basically means he can pick up more chicks than Brad Pitt if he wanted to.

I'm keeping him away from Lake Calhoun until he's at least twenty.

Mila got stung twice on the face by a mosquito and woke up looking like this:

She was fine after a few doses of Benadryl, but I'm saving this picture to show all of her future boyfriends.

We also spent time tubing, swimming, fishing, and just generally enjoying the fact there wasn't ice on the lake.

We've taken the kids to hit balls a few times. They're basically the next Michelle Wie and Phil Mickelson. Which is basically another way of saying they haven't inherited any of their golfing skills from Mommy.

 

 

 

 

We went on a vacation to Wisconsin Dells with our neighbors. If you enjoy calm and patient children quietly behaving this vacation would be similar to your hell.

To be fair, parenting in general would be hell if you enjoy calm and patient children quietly behaving. Oddly enough our Wisconsin Dells trip is always my favorite part of summer. I guess my kids have broken me in.

We've made several trips to the Minnesota Zoo and gotten way more back than what we invested in our membership.

For example, Dan rode this camel on our anniversary. I'm fairly certain this also counts as him getting humped on our anniversary. Win/Win.

We've filled the rest of our time with water tables, long walks, puppet wagons and parks.

While I'll never be fully prepared to say goodbye to Summer and hello to shoveling, I feel pretty satisfied in knowing we have drank every last bit of sun and fun out of the season.

It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Breaks an Arm

Early this spring, Tyson achieved a pretty important milestone for a 4 year old; he learned how to cross the monkey bars.The accomplishment didn't come easy for his spindly little arms. It took weeks of practice and hundreds of attempts with my arms cradled underneath him. He yelled at me that he could do it himself. He yelled at me to watch him try again. He fell and I caught him. Lots.

And then one day, I watched as his tiny biceps carried him across the 8 rungs to the other side successfully.

The monkey bars quickly became a favorite at the park. So much so that I let my guard down when he would go on them. I quit running underneath him with my arms out. I quit worrying about him falling.

Last week, at our tiny neighborhood park, I sat on the bench and helped Mila fix her shoe. I glanced up to see Tyson on the monkey bars-two rungs in. He started to struggle, slipped and lost his grip. He fell face first into the mulch.

It happened so fast.

There were tears. And whimpering. I wiped the mulch off of his face and out of his mouth as he told me he hurt his arm. He was able to move it without limitation and there were no external injuries visible, but he continued to whimper. Tyson doesn't whimper. I had a sinking feeling.

After a quick trip to urgent care (with a certain 2 year old currently obsessed with Doc Mcstuffins who would not stop yelling, "TIME FOR YOUR CHECKUP!"), we confirmed what I had feared- he had broken his elbow.

Because I let my guard down.

For the next 3 weeks of summer, Tyson will miss out on swimming with his friends. He'll miss out on splash pads and sprinklers and the hot tub. He'll miss his last week of hockey practice and probably won't be able to sign up for T-ball. He won't be able to ride his bike or his scooter with his friends. He can't tube at the cabin or jump off the boat.

That's a lot of Mommy guilt to swallow. I might need a glass of wine (or two) to wash it down.

I could wallow in the Mommy guilt (and wine!), but I've decided to focus on the positive. For the next 3 weeks of summer, Tyson will also learn how to be resilient, patient, and tough. He'll learn how to rely on others when he needs to. He'll learn to problem solve and think outside of the box. He'll learn new ways of doing old things. He'll learn how to ask for help.

 

He's a fast study. Also, clearly he will never learn to be careful.

While the Cats are Away.....

Naturally, while Tyson was spending a weekend camping with the in-laws and Daddy was slaving away at a candy show, Mila and I attempted to empty the bank account one stop at a time.

Ahem.

On our first ever girl's weekend, we really whooped it up. 2 year old style. Mall of America rides, American Girl Café, at attempt at ear piercing, lots of mannequin hugging, a little bit of shopping, and her first ever movie.

I had dreamt of days like this since the minute the ultrasound tech announced that our second would be a girl (minus the mannequin hugging). I imagined the secrets she will let slip out as we walk through the mall, the hand I will need to hold when she decides she really wants her ear pierced, the way she will look at me to see if I approve of an outfit, the lunches we will share, the chick-flicks we will watch and the little girl I will try so hard to hang onto.

It was every bit as magical as I had dreamt it would be.

Camping

Have I mentioned I don't camp? I mean like I s'mores. And bonfires. But, I also like mattresses and air conditioning. Also, I'm not fond of bugs and dirt and I enjoy a hot shower every morning. For the past 4 years, I've graciously bowed out of any camping trips we've been invited on because, "the babies wouldn't do well in a tent."

My babies are now 4 and 2. And the 4 year old has been begging us to take him camping for at least a year.

Remind me to come up with a new excuse.

This year, my in-laws offered to take Tyson with on their annual camping trip. In an effort to please the 4 year old and still allow myself the liberty of a hot shower, I jumped at the offer before I realized what I agreed to.

My baby boy. His first trip away from home. For a whole weekend. Without us.

Gulp.

Tyson had a complete blast and, despite my many questions, he has yet to remember everything they did. Each and every time I called (and I called a LOT) he had no desire to talk to me. He mumbled "Me too" when I told him I loved him. I worried about him for 48 hours straight. He came home tired, a little stinky and totally crabby.

It was like a crash course for his teenage years.

The good news? We both survived.

A few pictures I was sent from his Auntie Lisa so I could piece together all of the fun they were having without us:

Remind me to ask Auntie Lisa if she'll accompany him to college and send me pictures so I can piece together the fun he has there too. Sure made the whole weekend away thing easier on me.

I'm off to google other excuses I can use to avoid camping.