Two months and counting...

Our place has now been on the market for two months. We were encouraged to put it on the market in mid-January so people could take advantage of the tax incentive that is due to run out in a month. So far, nothing.

We've had lots of open houses and showings, but not much interest. While I am thankful for the work our realtor is doing, it's a real drag. For one, your place has to be spotless. Try doing that with two kids. We had to rent a storage unit to get rid of a bunch of stuff so our place wouldn't look crowded. Then we have to haul all the toys into the storage place under our stairs every time there is a showing. The toys remaining in our place have to be picked up, neatly organized, and out of the way. "Looks bad with toys everywhere." That was a helpful piece of feedback, wouldn't you say? Plus, and here's the kicker, all the showings and open houses are in the middle of the afternoon, which means the boys don't get to nap. And y'all know how much fun little kids are when they are being dragged around and not allowed to sleep.

Here's hoping lightening strikes soon!!

Talk nice to me!!!

Brice. Oh my. That child. God has big plans for him; I'm convinced of it. I am determined to raise him right and teach him well. And apparently, Brice has the same plans for me!!

For the past six months, he has been correcting me and calling me out on any unsavory behavior. He even pauses in the middle of his tantrum, when I have raised my voice ever so slightly, to point his finger at me and proclaim, "mama, talk NICE to me!!!" All I can do is laugh. Sometimes. Other times I childishly point my finger at him and say, "no Brice, YOU talk nice to ME." We are quite a pair.

A few months ago, he started this:
He was in his highchair, throwing a tantrum. Instead of walking over and slapping him upside the head, I exhibited a tiny bit of self control and refrained. Instead, I did one of those really deep, annoying, self-righteous sighs. Over and over. Again, he paused, mid-tantrum and said, "mama, don't [really overdramatized deep, annoying, self-righteous sigh]. I cracked up. So did he. Now it's our thing. When I want to grab him by the scruff of his neck and throw him out into traffic, instead, I sigh. Deeply and loudly. Then Brice does the same. And we both laugh.

Trickle down attention span

I've never had much of an attention span. Except maybe for when I was really young. We had no computers (or any technology, really) and the amount of television and phone time we could have was severely limited. So I read. And played with my dog, listened to music, rode my bike, and hung out with my friends. I could sit for hours and read or just walk and daydream.

I can't really do that anymore. And I don't think it's just because of the kids. Although I blame them, primarily. I think partly it's lack of discipline to force myself to focus on just one thing. Too many magazines. Too much web surfing and emailing and a general lack of engagement with whatever or whomever I was actually engaging with (sorry for the poor grammar).

And of course having kids doesn't help. I'm rarely doing just one thing. Usually i'm doing several things at a time, and I hate it. I hate that feeling of never finishing anything--a task, a thought, a conversation. I often leave social situations riddled with guilt over all the conversations I couldn't finish with people. Did they think I wasn't interested in them or didn't care about what they were saying? I sincerely hope not.

I need to stop. To take more time to do nothing--constructively. To do nothing but read. Or write an actual (gasp!) letter. I don't have much alone time during a typical day. But I have some. The bills and laundry can wait (it pains me to say that). The computer can definitely wait. I need to figure out how to be present again--present to life, present to myself, and present to God.

New Year's Eve Balloons

I tried for like, twenty shots, to get a picture of them sitting with their balloons. No such luck. Here's the story:
On NYE day, I took them to the local party store to pick out their NYE balloon. Harry chose the Elmo one (what else?) Brice originally got the Big Bird one (he is so over Elmo!), but that deflated within 24 hours. So, we went back and replaced it with... a purple princess balloon. He was talking about it even when Big Bird still had some life left in him. So when I told him we were going to get a replacement balloon, he said, "I want the purple princess balloon." Now, as a mother of two boys, I hadn't even noticed the purple princess balloon. But he had. And he wanted it.
As soon as we got home, he pulled it down to our level and pointed to each princess and said, "talk to me about her." (I think he got that from preschool). So we talked about each princess and why she was special. He loves his balloon. He loves being able to identify each princess. He really likes Cruella Devil (no big surprise there), from a preview on a Disney video. Anyway, just thought i'd share. We got a real kick out of it.

Our weekend

Brice got sick on Saturday

Harry got sick on Sunday


I somehow managed to stay healthy and made my first Beef Burgundy. It was gooood.

'sup

A few folks have asked me how the napless wonder is doing lately, so I thought i'd update. He's sleeping a little better. This past week he fell asleep each day with Brice in the same room. A few times he woke up screaming and I was able to get him back to sleep in the PNP in our bathroom. A couple days he actually slept 2+ hours before waking. So, there's progress. I remain hopeful.

The really exciting news, however, isn't sleep-related. Tomorrow (Monday) we put the condo up for sale. I'm hopeful we'll sell quickly (like, in 6 months) so we can finish selling out completely and move to the suburbs. I always swore I wouldn't be that mother. We'd drive a station wagon (not a minivan). My kids would go to museums, not playgroups. They would grow up taking subways and taxis and go to urban schools, not those safe, snotty, suburban schools. But now, after several years in the city (15!) and two kids, I realize that the real snob was me. I thought everyone that moved to the 'burbs was a sell-out. Abandoning the city, abandoning the schools that needed them, etc. Now, after having taught several years on Chicago Southside, I have very complicated feelings about the urban schools and what the problems/solutions are. But I digress.

Anyhoo, we finally bought a minivan and I LOVE it. It's sportier than my Honda. The doors open by themselves. There is a DVD player (that my husband very rightly accuses me of using too much; c'est la vie!) I heart it. I really really heart it. And now I can't wait to move to the 'burbs. I want a basement; a yard; neighbors. Maybe i'm selling out? I don't know. But i'm not losing any sleep over it. Strip malls and chain restaurants--here we come!

Not Fair

I don't know what's wrong with him. First it was switching to one nap--bound to be some bumps. Then it was all four molars at once--must've hurt. Then I tried (and tried) to put them together for naps. But the child will not nap. He always screams bloody murder and sometimes falls asleep. For an hour...maybe. I've tried putting him in the bathroom, again, nothing. He just won't nap. My child went from two good naps to screaming his bloody head off and not napping AT ALL. I don't get a single break all day. My two year old is ornery and tantrum-y most of the time, and then when he goes down for his three hour nap, my 18 m/o turns ornery and tantrum-y. UGH!!!!!!! What one year old doesn't nap??? THIS SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Going on two months with maybe an hour nap. Kill me. Just kill me now.