On Defending One's Family

If you've read my blog for more than a day and a half, you probably have at least a small idea of how I feel about bugs. To recap: I kind of hate them.

And you know the kind I really hate, right? Yeah....That would be the buzzing kind. I feel as though I've covered this in great detail in past posts.

And now I will delve into what is terrifying me at this very moment. Causing my heart to race, my skin to feel hot and shivery and prickly, my head to feel tight. It's what's causing me to glance up from my computer every 3.5 seconds to ensure that I am not being stalked. It is what is under this box.

See that box? Under that box is some sort of EXTREMELY LARGE buzzing flying insect. I don't know what kind exactly.

What I do know:

1. It's stupid.

I know this because as I was relaxing on the couch, reading Stephen King's On Writing, I heard a VERY LOUD buzzing sound. Since the window in the living room was open, I assumed it must be large bumblebee or something on the other side of the screen. I tend to jump to these kinds of conclusions because they help me keep my sanity.

When I glanced up from my book, you know - just to be sure, I saw a black blob of doom with wings fall to the floor NOT 10 FEET from where I was trying to relax. Bastard! It landed on its back and it was all black and shiny green underneath and it started to shimmy the way really stupid flying beetles are apt to do when they can't turn over. Because they are so stupid.

2. It's probably dead.

I grabbed the closest large object I could find, the Lego box, and laid it on top of the writhing, buzzing horror. But the box was empty. Nowhere near heavy enough to squash a bug dead. The box started to move around with a scratching sound as the thing underneath was trying to claw its way out.

I would have smashed the box and all that survived underneath it with the child's guitar that was nearby (can you picture it? classic.), but both the empty Lego box and guitar belong to our little cousin, Jack. Whose house we are staying in at the moment. Because we are homeless rock stars who just moved back from Iowa. We have been rotating around our family's homes since we got here a month ago. We feel like rock stars because we have a wonderful extended family who missed us and are so glad to have us back that they are each willing to put us up for a week or two while we find our footing. Thank you, family! We love you so much!

However, there is a small possibility that all that good will might come to a screeching halt if I start smashing up their stuff.

So, instead, I carefully loaded some very heavy books into the box through the side opening and pressed down.

And then I pressed some more.

And I slowly backed away and hoped that the thing was dead. As I stared at that box for signs of life, I knew that I needed to have some closure. Because that box would torture me for the rest of the day if I didn't (Is that thing still alive? Is it crawling out to get me?). And, also, because I fancy myself a little bit of a bad-ass.

3. If my children even come this close to accidentally moving that box I will freak out and they will be in the Naughty Corner until the end of time.

As I see it, that box is basically keeping us alive. But it doesn't matter, because Peyton and Ella are busy sorting Jack's Star Wars Lego people. For fun. They are totally my kids.

They are blissfully unaware of our situation. That is really, really good. When I see a scary bug I am able to scream on the inside. Peyton and Ella do not have that ability. Flying bugs elicit screams from my children that rival the screams of stupid people in slasher films. Also, the other day Ella discovered the teeniest, tiniest little spider ever in the history of the world on a stuffed animal and she cried about it for the next 30 minutes.

What I don't know:

1. How did it get in the house?

2. How long has it been in the house?

3. Did it already slither into my ear and lay its eggs while I slept?

4. What was that noise just now????

5. Did the box just move while I wasn't looking at it????

6. Am I going to be able to get up the courage to look underneath that damn box? For the safety of my family?

Yes. I am. But first I needed to call my mom. Because she's not afraid of bugs. She actually thinks they're beneficial. My mom's really smart about most things and I love her more than anything but on this issue she's CRAZY. So I call her so that she can talk me through this. Also, she'll know to alert the authorities should something happens to me while I'm defending my family,.

My mom doesn't answer her phone. Super awesome, Mom.

Plan B: "Kids! Come here for a second! Okay, you see that box? There's a really big bug under there. I think it's dead, but I have to check it out. Wanna watch?"

"Yeah!"

See that? That is some Parent of the Year crap right there. I use my kids to make me brave. I make it a game: Watch Mommy Slay the Beast.

I don the appropriate bug-buster safety gear (the kind that covers my whole body so that nothing can land on my skin), grab my weapon of choice (Real Simple magazine because it's super heavy), and I let Peyton take a picture of my attack face:

And I lift up the box and Peyton says, "Woa! That is humongous! Disgusting!"

See that? Confirmation from a 6-year-old. I'll take it.

Then he decides to measure it (Brave boy! When did that happen? Probably when he realized the bug wasn't really moving):























I scoop it up and take it outside. I am feeling pretty brave myself.

And then Peyton says, "Mommy, I'm proud of you for doing that."

What can I say?

I can't really say much as I'm too busy puffy-painting "H E R O" on a t-shirt for myself.

Conversation With A 4-year-old At 11:06 p.m.

Ella appears in the living room with two of her favorite stuffed animal puppies and declares, "Ummmm...Mommy, I'm going to stay in here for 5 minutes. "

"What are you doing awake?"

"Umm... I just want to come in because you're the sweetest Mommy ever and I missed you."

"But I saw you all day long and you are supposed to be in your room."

"But if I sleep in my room then I miss you. And if you're in Mommy and Daddy's room and if I'm a little bit far in this house then I miss you."

"I'm not in Mommy and Daddy's room. I'm in the living room. And besides, Mommy and Daddy's room is right across from yours."

"I know. You know what I miss the best? It has a wet nose sometimes and it barks."

"Is it indie?"

"It's a puppy that lives in this house. Mommy, pretend I didn't tell you the joke yet."

"Okay."

"Pretend there's invisible cages in this house for puppies and each puppy has a different name and it's on this side of the living room and it's black and white."

"Is it Indie?"

"Yes!"

"Mommy? Let's watch the show."

"The show is over."

Pretend coughs. "Ehem....If I have a snack I can brush my teeth again."

"I'm not having a snack."

"No, I need something that is tiny. I really need something to eat. I'm not teasing. I'm starrrrrrrving! I really need one."

"What would you like?"

"Something."

"Well, you need to put on your pajama shirt first."

"Mommy, I have a plan! I put on my pajama shirt and you get me a snack."

She pets her little stuffed animal puppy.

"When I pet her, her head is the softest."

She runs to her room and brings out her pajama shirt.

"Did it! I'm so fast! After I put my arms in, I will get a snack. Okay?"

"Okay."

I cut her a piece of oatmeal bar that we made together earlier.

"Mmmmm! I love these. Do you know why? Because it has raisins and I love raisins!"

"They're actually cranberries, not raisins."

"Oh! Okay. I love cranberries, too! What letter makes the 'cran' sound?"

"C."

"What letter makes the 'berry' sound?"

"B."

She finishes her oatmeal bar. I tease her:

"Ella, that's weird, I thought I gave you an oatmeal bar. Where did it go?"

"It's in my tummy, Silly!"

"Okay, it's time for bed."

"Are you going to bed now, too?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's late and I need to go to bed."

She crawls on the floor like a puppy. "I'm looking for the big crumb. I know it's here somewhere. Mommy! I'm a puppy and I'm

trying to chase my tail and I'm trying to bite my tail." She tries to catch her own bottom.

"Mommy, say, 'Come here and sit.'"

"Puppy, come here and sit."

"When I stand up, you say, 'I didn't know you could stand up, puppy.'"

She stands up.

"Hmmmm... I didn't know you could stand up, puppy."

"That's because I'm a person!"

And she runs to brush her teeth. She's in the bathroom for a good 5 minutes and when I go to check on her I find all the toothbrushes lined up on the counter.

"I organized!"

"Yes, you did, sweetie pie. Let's go to bed. Do you want to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's room?"

"Yes!"

She grabs her pup pups and hurls herself into the bed. We cuddle up and she wraps her sweet little arms around my neck.

"Mommy, you know I love you, right?"

"Yes, you know I love you, right?"

"Yes!"

And I do. I love her so, so much.

Sharks and HOT LAVA!

Weekend nights are a free-for-all around here. The kids count down until Friday night because that means they get to sleep together in Peyton's bed. It's kind of a big deal.

So cute, right?

Ella loves sleeping in her big brother's bed so much that sometimes during the week when we go in to check on her we find her bed like this:

And then we go in Peyton's room to find this:

Anyway, back to the weekends. This last Friday James decided to fancy things up a bit. So he took both mattresses and put them on the floor in Peyton's room so the kids could have our lazy version of a camp out. The next night the kids moved both mattresses into the hallway and slept there. And the next day they moved the mattresses into the living room.

You know what I call that? I call that Mommy Free Time.

Because this last week has looked like this outside:

and then this:

and this:

While it is all very beautiful, it is also EXTREMELY cold. So I pretty much will let my kids do anything inside that keeps the screaming at each other to a minimum. That is my main goal. It sounds so much easier than it actually is.

So they moved their mattresses into the living room. And they played on those mattresses for hours.

And I think all of us had some version of this when we were kids:

The beds were islands. Of course. And can you guess what the carpet was? I know you can.

Water and sharks and crocodiles and alligators and sometimes HOT LAVA!

Is it an innate childhood ability? To turn the floor into something magically filled with fun scariness?

And then flirt with that scariness by piling your most precious possessions in the safety zone:

And then torture your most precious possessions with the danger of falling into the shark-infested HOT LAVA:

And you know that Tempur-Pedic bed ad where the guy jumps on the bed and the wine glass on the other side doesn't spill? Ella doesn't have that kind of bed.

Sucks to be you, baby dolls.

Things Peyton Teaches Ella on the Drive Home

TUESDAY: The Toilet Song

Here's the brand-new song Peyton learned at school. (Thanks, recess friends!) And taught to Ella on the 15 minute car ride home. It's awesome in its my-kids-have-reached-THAT-age-ness:

Totally reminds me of the Parenthood diarrhea song. And don't you just love Peyton as a back-up dancer?

Just in case you're jealous that your child isn't as fluent in potty songs, here are the lyrics:

We will, we will...

Rock you!

Sock you!

Pick you up and drop you!

Flush you down the toilet!

I hope you enjoy it!

FRIDAY: The Pain of Childbirth

Ella: I want to be a baby again.

Peyton: You can! When you die and you go to heaven if you're really good in heaven then you can be born again and be a baby. But it's going to hurt because you have to have sharp scissors sticking out of your tummy.

Ella: Why?

Peyton: Because when you're in Mommy's tummy there's a tube so that you can eat. And when you come out of Mommy's tummy you have to have the scissors to cut the tube. And it's going to hurt!

Ella: Why?

Peyton: Because that's what happens when you are born. And you are going to whine and cry a lot!

Ella: How do you know?

Peyton: Because I have a scrapbook and it shows all about how I was born and the scissors.

Ella: I want to see it!

Peyton: Okay, when we get home I'll show you.

And when we got home he showed her the picture that has obviously scarred him for life:

Maybe I should clarify things a little for him, but, really, this is way more entertaining.

And these two car rides home are much, much better than what I usually get to listen to. You know, the standard screaming about how one kid gave the other one a mean face or is humming too loud or has the nerve to breathe.

Mommy High

Here's a brief rundown of the Friday Mystery Reader program in Peyton's kindergarten class. At Parent Night a few weeks ago, parents could sign up to come in at a later date and read to the class. But of course, it's a "mystery," so when it's your Friday, you don't tell your child that you're coming in. You go into the school office and then the teacher calls and asks, "Is our Mystery Reader here?" And then you get to walk in and read a few of your kid's favorite books to the little kindergartners.

So, last Friday was my big day. I chose some of Peyton's favorite books from home and waited in the office. When I was called, I walked into the class and I was greeted like a rock star.

Peyton was sitting in the middle of all the kids on the reading rug. When he saw me, his face lit up and he smiled the biggest smile. He didn't want to take the time to make his way through all the kids, so he climbed over the couch in the middle of the room to get to me. He gave me the greatest hug and exclaimed, "It's my mommy!" He was just so proud to claim me as his.

So we made our way up to the reading chair and there was a little chair right next to it where he got to sit. I could tell by his excitement that it was obviously a very prestigious position. I pulled out the books I had brought from home and let him choose which order we read them in.

He would stop me every once in a while with big, smiling questions:

"I've been looking for this book everywhere! Where did you find it?"

"How come you didn't tell me you were coming?"

"Are you coming again?"

He loved showing off his books. Especially the Blue Ramone "Cars" book that "Is actually two books! And it has stickers in the middle!"

One of my very favorite moments came as we were reading Blue Ramone. Peyton interrupted me to ask the class, all teacher-like, "Now, who has a blue shirt on?" And the kids went wild pointing out all the blue on each other. So cute!

He saved his favorite book for last. Peyton has "The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog" memorized. Have you read it? It's hilarious. Plus, you get to yell when you read it. And it's where he learned the phrase: "Oh, for Pete's sake!" Which he loves to say very, very dramatically as he lands his palm across his forehead.

After that was nap time. So as the teacher put out all their mats, Peyton chose two of his books to read during rest time. He was just so proud to have his own books in the class. And before he settled in he gave me about twenty thousand hugs and kisses and "I love you's."

When I left, I was grinning ear to ear. I immediately called James and told him all about it. With tears in my eyes and all the happiness a mother can hold.

I will never forget this day.

This One Totally Has a Moral

In California, where I used to live, there are 0.0002 bugs per capita. I totally haven't done any research on that. But I know. I KNOW. Here, in Iowa, there are 999 billion bugs per capita.

I've been pretty good about accepting it. Partly because now I have two impressionable kids and I don't want them to learn that the right way to react when seeing a bug is to run screaming from the room. Even though, obviously, that is the ONLY SANE way to react. I try to be brave. You know. For the kids. I like to think I've grown as a person because of it. But really, I'm kidding myself. I might be saying, "Look, kids! A Wolf Spider! Nature is so neat! Let's get a book and learn more about it!" Yeah, I might be saying that out loud, to my kids. But inside? Inside, my soul is dying. And I was just kidding about that "Let's get a book and learn more about it" crap. I don't do that.

So a few days ago I had to take some Piggy Bank Craft Kit pictures (I am the Plug-Freakin'-Master!). And since piggies belong outdoors, for the most part, I needed to take the pictures outside. I have not been appreciating our backyard lately for two reasons.

Reason 1: It's freaking hot, yo!

Reason 2: Japanese Beetles have infiltrated our county this year. Yay. For. Us.

Reason 1 I can deal with. Reason 2 gives me the creeps. Those things are everywhere. And while I do believe that pesticides are the answer to EVERY BUG SCENARIO, and we've sprayed our yard, they're still here. The correct way to spray for bugs is to attach that bug killer spray nozzle to your hose, and yell, Scarface-style, "Say hello to my little friend!" and open fire. I don't think my husband did it that way. And that might be why they are still partying in my backyard. (Nice try anyway, honey! Love you!)

I know the beetles can't hurt me. But they buzz. I find that buzzing insects are much more scary than the non-buzzing variety. You know what else Japanese Beetles do? They dive bomb me. I swear it. And just the other day I had the joyful experience of one embedding itself in my hair. Icky Icky, double ICKY!

So, back to my Piggy Bank photo session. I'm outside in the overrated outdoors. I'm trying to hurry because it's hot and I don't want a beetle to land on me. I don't like their little claws, either. Anyway, I speedy, speedy, speedy take the pictures and go back in the house. I'm safe at last. Make sure to go back and read that last sentence in an ominous tone. And add the "duh duh Duh!" you're-totally-doomed sound effect.

I'm in the process of hooking my camera to my computer when I feel something on my back. Something like little beetle claws. Of course. I reach back and try to grab/throw it off me. I'm quickly searching around on the floor but I don't see it so I start to freak out. And I instantly get all sweaty and icky and I'm wearing a spaghetti-strap flowy-type dress and I'm worried that the beetle got inside when I tried to grab it.

So I go into emergency-panic-mode and strip the dress off up over my head and go running half-naked through the house to the bathroom. Because I NEED TO MAKE SURE IT'S NOT ON ME! The front door happened to be closed, but it wouldn't have mattered at that point. PANIC-MODE! Who cares who sees you in your underoos when you're fighting for your life? I leap over my kids who have been oblivious to my emergency.

"Mommy! Why are you naked?! Where is your dress?! Why are you running?! What are you DOING?!"

And as I'm turning this way and that in front of the mirror to make sure that my soul is not being eating alive by a Japanese Beetle I realize something. At my age, you really cannot strip a dress off your body as fast as I did without pulling at least a dozen mini-muscles in your back and shoulders and arms and I really need to do some more yoga or something.

I guess the moral is that I might be too old to be scared of bugs. I should be more scared of pulling a muscle or breaking a hip.

Turns out, the beetle had landed under a chair. So we found it and killed it. Because it is NOT my responsibility to save stupid MF-ing bugs that make poor decisions.

THE END

And one more thing. Do you see what I just went through to create my Piggy Bank Kid Kit? Dedication, baby. Dedication.

Because We Don't Enforce Proper Dinner Etiquette

So we're in the middle of eating dinner. Ella declares, "Be right back!" She jumps off her chair and disappears into her room. A few seconds later she emerges:

Bam!

And a moment later Peyton leaves the table. He returns:

Bam! I know, he's totally in his own gang in this picture.

West Siiiide!

As punishment we made them go outside with empty pillowcases. And in order to come back in, they had to say, "I'm crazy diaper-head! Gimme some candy!" again and again until James and I fell over laughing.

Okay, maybe it's not really punishment, it's more like Dinner and a Show. You just can't beat that kind of free entertainment.

So then, the next day, Ella comes out of her room with a diaper on her head. Again. It's the new fashion from her fall line:

I mean, what are you supposed to do when your kid looks THIS CUTE with a diaper on her head?

Let her wear it, that's what you do.

Because Nipples Are Circles, Obviously

Peyton, Ella, and I read together every night.

Dream World:

I tell my sweet, well-behaved children to go pick out a story. They each choose an age appropriate book and calmly bring them over to me.

Peyton says, "You can read Ella's first, if she wants."

And then Ella says, "Oh, that's all right, older brother, we can read yours first. We read mine first last night, and we should be fair."

Reality Check:

I tell my whackamo kids to go pick out a story. It's like the Running of the Bulls down the hallway. They choose their books as fast as humanly possible and race back to me. There's a lot of screeching and shoving of books at me. "Mine first!" "NOOOO! I got here first!" "No! Mommmmy! I go first!" "MOMMMMMMMY!"

Dream World:

We cuddle and read and discuss character traits and plot twists.

Reality Check:

We're in the middle of reading a "Cars" book.

Ella declares, "Peyton! You have nipples and me have boobies!"

I tell her that they both have nipples. I don't even bother with the boobies part. Because, really, is this going to be some kind of great teachable moment? It's doubtful.

Ella points out a circle in the book and yells, "Nipple!"

Peyton finds a circle and yells, "Boobie!"

And then my kids must have smoked some kid-crack when I wasn't looking because they start to have that wacky kid high. You know the one - when kids are so struck with the sillies they are almost hysterical with the laughter and the squealing.

I try to keep reading but it's a "Cars" book so there are a lot of car tires. Which means there are a lot of circles. Which means that Ella and Peyton begin a frenzied rush to point out all the circles as they shriek "Nipple! Boobie! Nipple! Boobie! NIPPLE! NIPPLE! BOOBIE!"

And then it turns into a song, "Nipple! Nipple! NIPPA NIPPA NIIIIIIIPLE!"

So, ummm, yeah, I'm pretty sure I didn't miss out on that teachable moment opportunity.

Wait a second! They totally practiced identifying circles.

Sha-Bam! Even though I didn't help or encourage them. And even though they are 3 and 5 years old and have known for quite some time how to identify a circle. It totally counts. I am the BEST PARENT EVER.

Dream World:

Story time is over. My children get into their beds and THEY STAY THERE. And then I go into each room and we talk about the best parts and worst parts of our day and we give hugs and kisses and we say goodnight. And my children continue to STAY in their respective bedrooms. And there is peace and quiet in the house.

Reality Check:

"Okay, great! You are both very strange. It's why I like you. Go get in your beds."

They get into their beds and from the living room it sounds like they're playing Marco Polo:

Kid One: "NIPPLE!"

Kid Two: "BOOBIE!"

Kid One: "Oh look! There's a BOOBIE!"

Kid Two: "BOOBIE! NIPPLE! BOOBIE!"

And then one kid or the other appears randomly in the hallway to yell "NIPPLE! BOOBIE!" in my general direction before racing back to bed.

Dream World:

You are totally jealous of my perfectly-executed bedtime reading routine.

Reality Check:

I pour myself a much-deserved glass of red wine. Or three. While I watch "Weeds." Because Nancy is a terrible parent and she deals drugs. I judge my parenting skills by comparison. And that means I AM AWESOME.

The Opposite Side of Parent of the Year

James: "Where are all the scissors?"

Me: "In the pile of magazine stuff on the floor."

James: "Seriously? On the floor? Why do we even bother making the house baby-proof? Why do we have toilet locks...."

Me: "I don't even think we need those things anymore."

I was in the middle of reading about the Jon and Kate plus Eight scandal, so I wasn't really paying attention, but I'm pretty sure the rest went something like this:  "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, irresponsible, blah, blah, blah..." 

And then I hear Ella humming the "Brusha Brusha Brusha" song that we sing sometimes when the kids brush their teeth. I glance up from my laptop to see her smiling and pretend-brushing her front teeth with a closed pair of pink kid scissors. Smiling. And Brushing. Peyton (because he's a fan of lax parenting) and I looked at each other and busted out laughing. Well played, Ella. Well played.

For the record, I know she NEVER would have touched the grown-up scissors. She knows better. But I'm pretty sure she just chose sides and picked her favorite parent. And it's not the one who leaves sharp objects laying around all willy-nilly. 

Point: James

A Warning To Parents

My warning to you: Don't buy your kids kazoos unless you have already made yourself an appointment at a Kazoo Relief Spa, or at the very least, invested in some excellent ear-plugs.

This is undoubtedly the MOST STUPID purchase I have ever made in my entire life. Oh my dear Lord, what was I thinking?

When I saw the kazoos in the dollar-bin section at Target I thought, "Hey! These will be fun! Peyton and Ella don't even know what a kazoo is! What kind of parent am I that my own kids haven't yet experienced the joy of a kazoo?" I'll tell you what kind of parent I was - a smart parent. And I'll tell you what kind of parent I became when I decided to invest two dollars for two kazoos for my kids - an idiot parent.

This is what I remember from childhood - kazoos make a funny noise and they are super fun. I remember marching all around the house blowing my kazoo like the leader of my very own invisible parade. I remember making impromptu kazoo bands with anyone else who happened to have a kazoo at the ready. Oh the joy!

Peyton has been wanting his own drum set. I've been putting that off because of the inevitable racket. By purchasing kazoos, I have personally invited a louder, more hideous noise into our peaceful home. What I realize now - kazoos are the perfect parent torture devise - even more effective than drums could possibly be.

So within five minutes of Peyton and Ella learning how the kazoos worked we had a new house rule: You can only make loud kazoo "music" in your room with the door closed. Only quiet, quiet, quiet, quiet kazoo sounds are allowed outside the bedroom. But somehow, the rule keeps getting broken and sweet little children are kazooing all over the place.

How did our own parents live through kazoos? What kind of superhuman auditory strength did they possess? As I raise my kids, I keep adding to the list of Why I Love My Mom. That she, too, had to suffer through all this kazoo nonsense definitely ranks up there at the top of the list.

Oh well, at least the kids are happy!

Kicking the Two Binky Habit

Getting Rid of the Binkies: Take 1

I had always known that when Ella turned 3, we would get rid of her pacifier habit. We only let her use her pacifiers when she sleeps, although if she could have her way she would have a binky in her mouth 24 hours a day. Peyton never used a pacifier, so this is new territory for us.

I did lots of research and decided that having her "give" her binkies to a new baby would be a good option for removal. I told her her Auntie Ali and Uncle Josh's baby, Hayden, would need the binkies. But baby Hayden hasn't been born yet, so Ella didn't really understand. Instead, she decided that her cousin Noah could have them. When they were younger, Ella spent the majority of her time trying to steal Noah's pacifier out of his mouth, so maybe she feels she owes him.

Here's Ella taking one of Noah's pacifiers back in the day. I'll tell you what she's thinking: Ha ha cousin, try and get it back. What's that? You can't, because you're stuck in Exersaucer baby jail? Being 3 months older than you is really starting to pay off.

So we had a plan. She could have her pacifiers for her nap, but then we would pack them up and mail them. Naptime came, disaster struck. We could only find one pacifier. Here's some pacifier background on Ella. She has to sleep with a minimum of two pacifiers - one for her mouth, one in her hand. It has always been this way.

As her third birthday approached, we threw away the pacifiers as they got cracked and didn't buy any new ones. So at this point I knew we owned three binkies. One was in my husband's car at his work (I really have no idea why), she had one, and one was missing. She had two this morning and now she had one. Did I mention she HAS to sleep with two?

Peyton, Ella, and I searched high and low. If you've ever searched for something with two little kids, I don't have to tell you: I did the searching. They mostly walked around the house calling out, "Binky! Where are you Binky?" and playing with whatever toys they came across.

Anyway, "we" emptied toy boxes, drawers, laundry baskets, entire closets. "We" moved couches, cabinets, and beds. "We" took off sheets, blankets, and couch cushions. It was nowhere. And now that I had seen what was under my couch cushions, I had to add "vacuum unidentified old food pieces" to my To Do List.

I asked Ella if she had put it somewhere special and she said, "Yes," but she really didn't know where it was. And if you are thinking - Seriously, it's a freakin' pacifier, let her deal with it - you have a point. I would have if it had been a regular day. But I knew this was her Last Binky Hurrah and I really wanted her to get everything she could out of it.

After (I'm not joking) an hour and a half of searching, I promised her I'd keep looking but that she had to take a nap. For the next hour she cried the most heart-breaking cry I have ever heard. In between sobs, she would call out, "Where are you, Binky? I love you, Binky!" Remember the first time you got your heart broken? This cry was EXACTLY the same.

So of course, I caved, and I promised her that she could have her binkies for one more night. But I still could not find that freakin' purple pacifier anywhere. And of course, she didn't sleep.

About 5 minutes after she got out of bed she went into my closet and brought out a purple binky.

"Ella! Where did you find that?"

"In boot."

"Did you put it there?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"So it won't be lost."

Excellent. Excuse me, sweet little girl Ella, while I go pour myself a nice big glass of wine. And while I'm drinking, I'll be reminiscing about the twenty-seven times we've watched the episode of "Caillou" in which the mom loses her car keys and Caillou finds them in her snow boot. Hey, Caillou, guess what? Even though you are an innocent little cartoon boy, I just put you on my Shit List.

I told my husband the story when he got home. James had never been a fan of the Cold Turkey approach. So he convinced me to let Ella keep just one binky for one more week as a way to wean her. During this time I decided to switch to the Binky Fairy tactic.

Getting Rid of the Binkies: Take 2

So, after Ella's nap a small gift bag appeared on our doorstep. In it was a letter:

Dear Ella,

I am the Binky Fairy. You are 3 years old! That means you are a Big Girl now and you don't need a binky anymore.

Please put your binky in the bag so I can have it.

Then check the bag in a little while because I am going to leave you a Big Girl present.

Love,

The Binky Fairy

Ella seemed to agree that the Binky Fairy was a good plan and happily threw her binky in the bag. After bath time we checked the bag and the Binky Fairy had brought Ella her own set of Big Girl TinkerBell car keys. Get it? Caillou and the keys? The Binky Fairy has a fantastic sense of humor.

At bedtime, Ella was fine. An hour later when she wanted her diaper changed:

Me: Ella, I'm so proud of you. You are such a big girl now!

Ella: Yeah! No more binkies!

And then we High-Fived.

Seriously? Can it be this easy? Is it possible? I've heard stories about it being this easy. I always thought they were made-up stories. You know, Feel Good Stories to make you do something that you might not want to do. Like when "they" say you forget about the pain of childbirth. When I gave birth to Ella, my epidural didn't work. I'M STILL WAITING TO FORGET ABOUT THAT.

Next day at naptime (brace yourself):

Ella: Me can't find binky. Me check in dishwasher.

Me: Remember Honey, the Binky Fairy took your binky because you are a big girl now. You don't need a binky anymore.

Ella: Me check in dishwasher. (She checks in dishwasher.) Nope, no binky!

Me: No more binky, the Binky Fairy took it. Remember?

Ella: Oh! Okay! Me like Binky Fairy! Wonder what she bring next?

And then she went to sleep. Seriously. She went to sleep. I totally fooled you with that "Brace Yourself" warning, admit it. I had to do it, because even as I reread this post, my heart starts to race a little when I get to naptime. Yep, I was so nervous that I'm still affected. Post-Traumatic Getting Rid of the Binkies Take 1 nerves.

It's been two weeks and I'm just posting this now. Why? Because I still can't believe it was that easy. I keep thinking she's going to wake up one night and start cussing "What the hell, Mommy! Where's my freakin' binky? I've put up with this for 2 WEEKS! Screw the Binky Fairy, Santa has never pulled this crap!"

But she hasn't renounced the Binky Fairy. She never even asks about her pacifier. The closest she's come is to say, "Mommy, remember when Binky Fairy brought my keys? I love Binky Fairy."

Here's to you, Binky Fairy! You made my Kick-Ass List (and that's the good one).

How to Buy Yourself 2 Hours of Free Time

When we first moved into this house, we were thrilled that the previous owners had decided to leave a backyard playset behind. It had a slide and a couple of swings and it was a little worn, but our kids loved it. Unfortunately, our backyard backs up to a large field and we get these super strong winds that rush through during the spring. Despite the 11-inch spikes that anchored the playset into the ground, within 5 months of moving in, it toppled twice. The second time we found it 20 feet from it's original location and it was pretty much destroyed. You would think we lived in tornado alley or someth... wait, never mind. Anyway, we threw the wood pieces away, but kept the plastic slide and swing pieces just in case we wanted to be great parents and make the kids another playset. Those stupid pieces have been in our garage for 8 months.

And here's the part when my husband James really impressed me. He secretly brought the slide in and positioned it at the bottom of our basement stairs. He put a bunch of pillows at the end of the slide since there is wall about 3 feet from the stairs. If he didn't put the pillows there, the kids would probably be smacking their heads into the wall each time they slid down. Peyton might have enjoyed crashing the first couple times, but I bet it would've gotten old pretty fast. Also, I would have had to do some actual parenting to make sure they stayed safe. This way, Peyton and Ella can be all crazy if they want and they are protected by a mountain of cushion. And I get to watch soap operas and eat Bon-Bons. Okay, I don't really, but I totally could!

The first time they saw it, they played on that slide for 2 hours, and I'm not making that up. It's 5 degrees outside, and my kids are out of breath and sweaty playing on a slide. Ever since then, every time I ask them if they want to go play on the slide, they screech, "Yeah!" And then I'm rewarded with at least half an hour of free time.

James just got some major bonus points. Which is good, since I start his bonus points at zero at the beginning of each new year. Just kidding - I love you honey!

Did you notice that my kids decided not to wear matching socks today? If you did, you also get bonus points. Your friends and family should be proud.