My Little Monkeys

     When Joshua was born I thought about swaddling him in bubble wrap and/or buying him a miniature baby helmet to protect him from his bigger brother.  Instead we just spent most of our time looming over Joshua to protect him from his incoming big brother who was usually running, often flailing and always bazonkers.  It must be hard for a 3 year old to understand a baby.  They don't talk, play or even make silly faces.  Still, Liam did love his baby brother from the start and he "patiently" waited for Joshua to be able to crawl, and then walk and now run.  And finally, they're on the same level now for playtime.  It turns out that 5 year old humor is complimentary to 2 year old humor.  While a 5 year old laughs whenever he says "poopy diaper", his 2 year old brother will almost always laugh just because the big brother is laughing. 
    It turns out Liam is really funny... to Joshua.  In fact, Liam is just plain awesome in Joshua's eyes.  Joshua will do just about anything Liam will do.  Liam taught him how to jump in puddles, roll down the stairs and even knock over blocks and make a general mess of things.  The other night I overhead Liam trying to persuade Joshua to jump down two steps instead of just one.  "Come on Joshua, you tried one step, now try two! I can do three!  Can you do three steps?"  I answered the question for Joshua with a definitive "No."
     My little brother and I used to chase each other in circles around the house until he would get too close. Then I would fling open the fridge door into his face and the whole scene would erupt into tantrums.  Similar things seem to happen in my house.  Instead of running in circles, Joshua and Liam prefer a more cooperative approach. They start at the end of the hallway (which to me is rather short, but to them it's the Autobahn), run and then hurl themselves onto our big chair.  Then they burrow into the cushions, leap off and go back to start at the end of the hallway again.  This usually can continue for awhile until someone gets squished or trampled or pushed over during the race (because Liam doesn't already have enough of an advantage in height, he sometimes needs to get Joshua out of the way). 
     Joshua and Liam love to dress alike. They particularly like to wear their superhero costumes and they don't at all mind when I dress them up as "twins" with the same shirts.  If Liam has his umbrella, Joshy wants his umbrella (and it better match).  If Liam is wearing his Crocs, then Joshua wants his Crocs.  If Liam is in the pool, Josh wants to be in the pool.  Joshua even likes to hang out with Liam in the bathroom.  Liam may even be his favorite person, especially since Liam doesn't change his diapers and Joshua does hate to have his diapers changed.
     Hmmm... maybe this whole copy-cat thing could work to my advantage.  Liam does, after all, have some good habits.  Tonight Liam was eating his lettuce so Joshua also ate his lettuce.  Joshua hates lettuce.  He didn't seem too happy with it, but he ate it anyway.  Later in the evening Joshua even watched intently and copied how Liam brushed his teeth.  Maybe I could get Liam to teach Joshua how to use the potty, get dressed by himself or at least blow bubbles in the water!  Nah, that's not usually how parenting works.  You can't always choose which behaviors the little ones pick up on.  I might have been the one to teach my brother how to count to 10... but I was probably also the one who taught him how to jump off of swings (face first into the dirt).

Father's Day Gift

     I would like to think I wouldn't nag my husband on Father's Day. But just in case, the powers that be have made it impossible for me to do so by taking away my voice.  An unexpected Father's Day Gift for my beloved husband, the father of my children.  I knew it was about to happen so at 11:15 last night, with my voice starting as a barely audible sleep and tapering off into a faint whisper, I listed as much of his honey-do list as I could muster.  It wasn't Father's Day yet so it's okay.  And now it hurts to talk so when I asked him on his special day to get Joshua dressed, it physically hurt me to do so and asking him to get me the air pump for the slip and slide was also a strain.
     I don't think I'm too much of a nag but I certainly do ask him to do a lot.  On a positive note, it's not as though I'm sitting on the couch while asking him.  Even though I'm officially sick (or allergenic?) today I still have made breakfast, emptied and loaded the dishwasher, swept the deck from those pesky helicopter thingies, gone grocery shopping, changed poopy diapers and tended to the children dutifully.  And out of all of the grand scheme of things, he does way more than I venture to nag him about.  Yesterday with no prompting whatsoever he put the edging on my garden and he mowed the lawn today (yes, on Father's Day but it was totally his own idea).
     No matter how much we each do, no matter how well our team works, there's always just more on the list than either of us could possibly do (and we refuse to hire out).  So even though we're doing the laundry, paying bills (usually), mowing the lawn, changing the children, etc... it just still seems like a lot is left undone.  Like the paint chipping on our sidewalk and the garage decaying before our very eyes for lack of paint, the awning of the playground ripped and flapping in the breeze waiting for its new roof, the car windshield cracked by a hailstone, the garbage stinking up the kitchen even though guests are arriving and (most emotional for me) my goose (or duck?) still unglued from it's foot with a hole in its belly in the downstairs bathroom.  Oh no!  I just inadvertently nagged my husband.  Even without a voice, my nagging is out of control!
     Hmmm... I think on Monday I'll call the insurance company about that crack in my windshield myself.  If I get my voice back.

Why I Think Glue (and dry cleaners) Are Really Super

     Joshua sure does love his plastic farm animals.  He likes to group them and have them make noises and walk them in and out of his barn. And I really can't blame him, because I really like my farm animals too. 

     I have (or had) three of them.  A miniature ceramic cow and a sheep.  The most recent addition is a larger white duck that sits outside on our sidewalk (whereas the cow & sheep reside on our entertainment center).  No one ever comments on my farm animals despite the fact that they are always dressed for the appropriate occasion and, more often then not, coordinating with each other.  The cow and sheep are irreplaceable only in that I happened upon both of them for sale at the same bargain store, different times, for the cost of $1.  If they had a pig, I would have bought that one too.  They're irreplaceable though because I just can't imagine my luck striking once again to find the same ceramic box with a (different) animal at the bargain discount store.  The goose was more premeditated.  It started on a trip to Florida where my mother and I just couldn't get over the fact that a lady had a goose dressed in a raincoat sitting on her front lawn.  We drove by another day later in our trip and the goose was wearing a different outfit.  Years later, I just had to have that goose (or duck, I'm not picky).  Luckily my mom picked up on the hints and found one for me.  I knew it could be trouble.  Afterall, it's ceramic and it sits on a cement walkway..

     Why do I like my farm animals so much?  Maybe it's because I don't have a girl to dress up.  Or maybe it's because my farm animals don't fight back or voice opinions ("No Melmo shirt!").  Maybe it's because I'm an Elementary School teacher so I like cute things like dressed up farm animals.  Whatever, just don't begrudge me this little joy that I get seasonally as I change their clothes from St. Patrick's Day frock to Easter Bunny suit.  I even dress them up for Halloween (the cow is usually a ballerina, the sheep is usually at a luau despite the cool temperatures and the goose dresses as a witch).

     I let Joshua and Liam help me dress up the animals, which may be my downfall.  Afterall, they are used to plastic farm animals and ceramic ones are a bit more delicate.  So tonight as Liam was dressing the duck in his Uncle Sam Hat ("Mommy, why do all of the duck's hats have beards?"), I was a little concerned but too careless to think much of anything.  But when Liam said uh-oh on his way out the door, I knew it would be trouble.  Of course, the sadness I felt didn't quite compare to the look of panic in poor Bill's eyes when he went to investigate.  See, Bill probably hates that duck. I can't imagine a man would have any interest in having a duck on his sidewalk dressed for the seasons.  I'm pretty sure he thinks it's lame.  Either that or he doesn't even notice it's there.  But Bill does know that I am emotional and that I cling to silly little things.  He remembers how sad I was when I put my new wooden cutting board into the dishwasher and part of it broke off.  And so it was. The duck was separated from his pedestal and one of his legs came off.  Perhaps most problematic is that he has a hole in his belly.  We salvaged the pieces but the outlook looks grim.
     And this is when I get really sad, and pitiful and say, "I can't have anything nice."  I lost my super-cool Camelback water bottle at a meeting the other day. The boys experimented with my Victoria's Secret perfume (high class, I know).  A waitress spilled coffee on the new dress I had treated myself to at Bill's work Christmas party,   My yoga balls have both been deflated (one seriously punctured).  I left the new tea kettle boiling so long it ran out of water and started to burn off its own coating.  I left my Havarti cheese in my lunch box overnight so I had to throw the rest away.  Pity me.
     But then I remember... the dry cleaner got that coffee stain out of my dress.  Bill glued the cutting board back together and (assuming I don't put it in the dishwasher again) all is well.  It takes me years to go through a bottle of perfume so there's still plenty left in the bottle.  And that ceramic cow?  It's leg has been fractured twice.  And both times I've fixed it with superglue.  Isn't that what superglue is for?  Fixing up our stuff so we can continue on having nice, if not flawed, things for ourselves.