Sometimes pyjamas just aren't worth the trouble

After bath today:

Husband: ok baby, let’s put your pjs on

Girl: no!

Husband: come on, Girl, pjs

Girl: no!

Husband: Girl, it’s time to put your pjs on

Girl: don’t wanna!

Husband: Ok, sweetie, but it’s cold, let’s just put your pjs on and go read a story.

Girl: story?

Husband: Yes, pjs, then story.

Girl: no, don’t wanna!!

Husband: do I have to get mad at you? Ok, Girl, I’m getting really mad at you! Put your pjs on!

Girl: DON’T WANNA PJS!

Husband: fine, be naked, I don’t care.

….

So, we’re home now.

Happy Birthday, Darling Girl

Today you are two years old and every day that passes I’m starting to remember details from the first year of your life. Memories I thought I had lost forever, or rather, never acquired, from all the stress, heartache and craziness of your daddy’s illness. But now I’m starting to remember. Sometimes when I cradle you in my arms just so, and you look up at me, I remember your face when you used to nurse. You were so different as a baby, and yet it’s still you.

You’re only two years old, but you’re the most strong-willed little person I know. Things have to be just so, and yes, you always have an opinion about everything. You’re starting to become bossy. You tell all of us what to do, and you do it with your mean face, with your teeny index finger jabbing pointedly towards my face. You have no middle ground, if you hear “no” it’s the end of the world, you drop to the ground, face first, crying and yet two seconds later it’s all forgotten and you’ve found something else to get into.

You always wake up with a smile. It brightens even the most depressing day. And when you’re up, you’re UP! Your whole attitude to life is: why walk when I can hop, skip or run. I really hope that never changes.

You’re starting to use full sentences. I don’t always understand them, but when I don’t you repeat them till I get it, or you take me by the hand and show me, or you mime them, like the other day when you were reminiscing about the spew-fest you initiated the night before. You kept saying that you “vomit” but I didn’t understand, so you cried “mama!” exasperated and bent over at the waist and pretended to vomit. It was so realistic, and it was so clear that you were telling me to stop being such a dolt, that all I could do was laugh.

You love your brother so much, your sun rises and sets with him. This makes me so happy and I hope your relationship always stays like this, that you always have each other to count on.

You’re funny and sassy and you have  a fully developed sense of humor. I’ve learned to watch out when you come at me with a glint in your eye cause I’m going to get played.

You’re a big drama queen, when you need me you NNEEEEEEEDDDDD me, when you don’t want to do something you really won’t do it, and if you don’t like something you leave us in no doubt about it. It’s equal parts exhausting and funny.

You WILL NOT let me put your hair up, for love nor money, when I try to put it behind your ears so it’s not in your face you start shaking your head like a dog drying off until your hair’s all over the place again, cause that’s how you like it, damn it!

You’re so affectionate, you give me lots of kisses but never when I ask for them. You hug me tight, you hold my face in your little, sweaty hands and look deep in my eyes, you won’t go to sleep if I don’t hold you and rock you and you always want me to sing “You are my Sunshine”.

You love cheese and meat and pasta and chicken but you WILL NOT eat any vegetables unless they are artfully hidden.

You are so smart, you notice things I never would, you never miss a thing. We have to be careful what we say in front of you and I swear sometimes you understand even when I’m spelling stuff out.

You have no middle ground, it’s all black or white, you are not reasonable, you cannot be convinced. You make me crazy.  You want what you want when you want it. You have to have my whole, undivided attention. You’re so big already but you’re only two years old. Don’t grow up too fast, cause I can’t stand it.

I love you miles and miles, you are my sunshine, you make my heart sing.

Linking up today with Shell for Pour your heart out @Things I can't say and Wordful Wednesday @ Parenting by dummies

I need bigger arms

I have two kids, one comfortable lap and two arms, sounds like that should be enough, shouldn’t it? Apparently, It is not. I need bigger arms. I’ve already mentioned the hell that is bedtime at our house; recently the situation has taken a significant downturn with the introduction of a new point of contention: my lap. Used to be that I would hold the girl for a while, sing to her, cuddle a bit while the boy hung out with daddy, brushed his teeth and did secret “man stuff” (I don’t know either, do they wrestle, have burping contests, lie there staring vacantly into space with their hands down their pants?) and then I’d put the girl down and hold the boy for awhile, sing, cuddle and whatnot.

Now for some reason everybody wants to sit in my lap together, like when they were teeny tiny, except now they’re quite large, and wiggly. So now at the tail end of the entire, exhausting, infuriating ritual we have an additional five minutes of pushing and shoving on my lap, of elbows in my ribcage, of heads banging against my shoulders, my chin, and occasionally my nose. Let me just say that it is in no way pleasant or comfortable for anyone involved, but for some reasons they need this further reassurance that I do, indeed, love them the same.

So I need bigger arms, à la elasto-girl, just until they realize that they don’t actually both fit in my arms at the same time and the previous way was better. Which should be any day now cause we all know how reasonable toddlers and preschoolers are, right?

Hyped up on Halloween

Today I finally understood the meaning of the words “sugar high”. I had always been one of those people who scoffed at other mothers’ tales of crazy kids hyped up on sugar, my reasoning was that if your kid couldn’t handle a little sugar without bouncing off the walls then you should probably start testing his blood sugar levels cause we do have a pancreas for a reason and more than likely the hype about sugar was due to the fact that most kids overindulged at parties and what was making them bat-shit crazy was being with twenty other kids, that just hyped each other up by association, not the sugar. Eh. Well, tonight I stand corrected.

I mean I still believe the above, to an extent, but we also don’t have an awful lot of sugar in our house. I’m not a food nazi by any means, I just try not to give them to much junk since they’re little enough that I still have some sort of say in the matter, I just had no idea what happened when they got a little… ahem… extra sugar in them.

Tonight, well tonight, I had three kids bouncing off the walls (my two plus a friend). The girl was mostly whiny and tired, the boy and his friend were like two whirling dervishes - on crack. Even after I finally managed to get him settled down enough to get in bed he still laughed maniacally, and frankly a little eerily, for a good ten minutes.

Anyway... one of the things I had always regretted most about living and raising my children in Italy was that they wouldn’t share the same experiences I had growing up in America. No Saint Paddy’s day, no Fourth of July fireworks, no Cinco de Mayo, no fall activities, no Halloween, no Thanksgiving with family (we do celebrate thanksgiving but just our little family and the occasional friend) and more… so many no’s… let’s not even talk about all the stuff they’ll be missing as they get older (like sports and high school stuff), but one of the no’s I regretted most was Halloween cause I loved it growing up, it’s the biggest kid’s holiday in my book. So to be able to take them trick or treating was so exciting (and a little emotional, but I’m just a total emo lately).

To be honest it was a little depressing too, from my point of view. When we lived in Milan no one trick or treated (save for one lone kid in my building, who I fussed over every year), but since moving to Cuneo a few kids have come every year, actually it seems that every year there are more. So I figured it was “done” here and since this year my kids were old enough, the weather was acceptable (you can read about last year’s Halloween experience here), and we had a couple of friends to join us, off trick or treating we went.

Very few houses opened their doors, those who did basically handed one kid out of the group a small handful of “grown-up candies”, clearly stuff they happened to have lying around their house at that very moment, and grunting went back in. No comments on costumes, no pretense of being frightened, no acknowledgement of the kids (and grown ups) in their get ups, honestly it would almost have been better if they hadn’t opened their doors at all.

Thankfully all the shop owners in our little town square were handing out candy and making a big deal of it so the kids were happy and excited and I managed to swallow some of my anger. But it got me wondering if all the trick or treaters I get (and there are many, considering we’re in Italy) just go to the shops and then my house cause I’ve got it decked out (relatively, just a few cobwebs and spiders and a couple jack’o’lanterns) cause ringing at all the other houses is frankly pretty depressing.

The husband, ever the problem solver, suggested next year we put letters in all our neighbors’ mailboxes explaining what Halloween is about and what they’re supposed to do possibly adding a Halloween themed sticker in the letter that they can put out on their doorbell if they want to participate (and actually hand out candy – not last Easter’s tiny easter eggs) so the kids know where to go. A sort of Halloween handbook if you will.

I’m totally doing it, I’m also pretty sure they’re going to hate us... but what the hell, just look at these faces:

The Boy had his pirate costume from saturday's party on and decided at the last minute he wanted to be Thor.

The Girl is a cat today because saturday's wonder woman costume would've been covered by her coat (there's a tail back there too...)

Our first "Trick or Treat" or as they say in Italian: Dolcetto o Scherzetto.

We'd had no luck so far, you can tell by our dejected pace. Also, that red thing on my butt is my tail...

This is where we got stale easter eggs

no answer

No answer, just some curtain twitching.

So sad... where's my candy... meow...

Life is looking up... got some candy! (also, this picture was taken about 30 seconds before she threw up all over me and herself. Though after a quick wardrobe change - ears and tail still intact - we joined the others again and finished up at the shops.)

We're happy here, we got a decent stash!!

P.S. Tomorrow you’ll find me guest posting at Taming Insanity, check it out!