We've got spirit, yes we do...

I'm reading a great book called The Happiest Toddler on the Block, a sequel to The Happiest Baby on the Block, which I buy for absolutely every expecting mom I know. The jury is still out on the toddler version, though if Dr. Karp can prevent meltdowns the way he claims then he's been worth every second of time I've spent reading.

In Chapter Two - and that's only as far as I've gotten so we haven't cured meltdowns yet - Karp talks about how children fall into three temperaments. Most are "easy," a few are "shy," and then a small portion are what he calls "spirited."

Parents usually know they have a spirited child because they're the 'more' kids. More active. More impatient. More impulsive. More defiant. More intense. More sensitive. More rigid. The No. 1 recommendation to parents with this toddler personality type: Keep them active. Get them outside to play -- a lot. These kids need to burn off their energy and work through their moods, experts say. They also need firm structure to keep them safe and stable -- and lots of patience.

Jackson sure sounds like a spirited sort, but since he's our first I can't be sure. Maybe all kids are like this, I thought. Dr. Karp suggests a test to determine your child's temperament:

Go to an uncrowded place, release your child's hand, and pretend to turn your back for two seconds. (Keep a close watch out of the corner of your eye.) What does she do? Stand there? (Easy.) Grab your coat and cry? (Shy.) Run away without looking back? (Spirited.) The answer will give you a pretty good reading of your child’s temperament.

Here are the pictures we took yesterday at the Cherry Blossom Festival after we let Jackson out of his stroller. Sense a pattern here?

Food fight

I've mentioned before how there are just some things that I just don't understand now that I'm a parent. And there are some things that I understand exclusively because I'm a parent (ie: drive-thru pharmacies).

Jackson doesn't read books. At ALL. It's not that we don't try. In fact, every night at bedtime we pull out a book and read it, but all he wants to do is open and close the pages. Finally, we've identified a book that Jackson seems to like: The Very Hungry Caterpillar. The little holes in the middle of the pages distract him long enough for me to read each page.

But as I was reading Jackson his bedtime story tonight, in between this incessant opening and closing of pages, I had one of those perplexing parent moments. What the heck kind of lesson is this book for a kid?

Let me sum this story up for you: A little bug wakes up, is hungry, eats for seven days including absolute JUNK on the sixth day, is so full he wants to pop, goes to sleep, and wakes up beautiful.

Uh-huh...If it was that easy I'd weigh ten pounds less.

Has anyone ever considered that there's an obesity problem in this country because too many kids read this book when they were little?

Then they do

Ok, I admit it. I am not a "stop and smell the roses" kind of person. I try. And for a few fleeting moments every now and then I do stop to take a quick break to soak in absolutely everything that's amazing with my life. But for the most part, it's run run run.

On the weekends, I wish for 15 more minutes of sleep when Jackson wakes up. Then it's time for breakfast. Then constant entertainment until lunchtime. Then lunch. Then he naps, and I scurry around to get dishes, vacuuming, laundry, yard work, and anything else done during those sacred two hours. (Who are these people who read books during nap time and why am I not organized enough to ever be able to do that?!?)

Yesterday, while I was hustling around during Jackson's midday snooze, I straightened up our room, folded two loads of laundry, made and ate lunch, cleaned up the kitchen, washed the dishes, and then decided to get a head start on dinner while Chad was out working in the yard.

I threw some music on and was buzzing around with a sort of efficiency that only belongs to the parent of a toddler. I was halfway through a song before I stopped to listen to it.

Now you've got time that's all your own, you've been waiting for so long for this day to come...Then they do. 

Ah, Trace Adkins. I hadn't listened to this song since before Jackson was born. A song about a parent who is constantly wishing for their kids to grow up...and it happens in the blink of an eye.

Oh crap, I realized. Someday - probably someday really really soon - I'm going to realize that my little guy is totally self-sufficient and I'd give absolutely anything to have some of these days back.

Secretly, I sometimes wish for teenagers. Or grown-up kids. At this rate, I'd even take the elementary school ones I could toss outside on a nice day with a "don't come in 'til dinnertime" charge. I would give anything to sleep in, or read a magazine while my kids played, or get any iota of housework done without one eye constantly planted on my child who has no fear of anything. Parenting something this mobile is completely exhausting.

But on the flip side, someday I know the ear-to-ear grin I get just for walking in a room will disappear. And little things like riding in a wagon or singing the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" won't elicit shrieks of excitement. Instead, someday - probably sooner than I'd like - I'll get a hurried wave out the door and maybe an obligatory hug before heading out for an afternoon of who-knows-what. I'll have time then to cook dinner and read books and nap. I'll have time for me.

I'm sure I'll love that life, too. But I'm sure I'll look back at these unpredictable, crazy days fondly, and wish for them every now and then. So during these times when it feels like we're on a treadmill from 8 a.m. until 8 p.m., I tuck a few special moments away in my memory for those days I'll actually be able to sit and think about the way it used to be.

I just hope I don't lose my mind between now and then.

Mending wall

When Chad and I moved in to our new house, we knew we were going to need to replace the fence. It was so old it was rotting - you could see right through to the neighbors. So when we got our tax refund back, we called our trusty landscaper, bought some fence panels, and scheduled the work.

Fine. Done. End of story.

Until I got an email at work from Paige, our landscaper. It said only this, "Ellen, please call your neighbors" - and included a phone number.

Oh, $#&!^. I thought. That is the last thing I want to deal with. Some pesky neighbors sticking their nose in the business of what we are doing on our property. I braced for the worst. And then I had Chad call them. (Yes, I'm spineless that way.)

Turns out our neighbors have a dog, and we're all lucky they were paying attention when they sent Fido out in the middle of the day to go to the bathroom and they had no back fence. (Oops. Ok, should have given them a heads' up about this little project.)

But here's why they were really calling. These neighbors, who we have never met because they live on another street, said they agreed the fence needed to be replaced. And - no questions asked - they wanted to contribute toward the cost. (What?!?!) Chad told them the fence was on our property and we had intended to pay for it ourselves, but they insisted. Fine, he said: if they wanted to chip in a little we would welcome it but it was not required. They asked us to call them back when we got the final bill.

So Chad called today to give them an update on the cost. Because 1/2 of our fence covers their backyard, they reasoned, they would pay us for 1/4 of the cost. In other words, $350 right back into my pocket.

As Robert Frost would say, "Good fences make good neighbors." And in this case, our neighbors are very good indeed.

Three is a crowd

A friend of mine with two kids (2 & 5) was looking for a babysitter in a pinch, as she and her husband had conflicting responsibilities after work.

Could I watch the girls on Tuesday night from 6-9, she asked? She'd drop them off and pick them up. I offered to feed them dinner - and she actually took me up on it (eiks). While I was putting on a confident front, I was a little skeptical. All day, I psyched myself up for this. I mentally prepared for meltdowns, accidents, separation anxiety, food fits, and everything else under the sun.

Around 6:45, Chad called to say he was leaving work. I was just sitting them all down for dinner - one was in a high chair, one taste-testing the milk (skim vs. whole) and another was carefully selecting which dining room chair to sit in. "You ready for three kids?" he joked.

I'm fairly certain he didn't like my answer.

It was a breeze. Three hours passed faster than they have in ages. All the kids played together, ate with no complaints, Jackson took a bath and the other two watched a movie until their mom picked them up. It was actually fun. (Did I just say that?)

Don't count me in for another bambino anytime soon - and I'm under no false assumptions it would always be that way - but in a fleeting moment I actually considered that three might be better than one. If I could only fast-forward through the first rough months, you might actually sell me on it.

Weekend update

This is embarrassing. I haven't updated this blog for almost three months. (This is what happens when an active toddler and a crazy job collide.)

And this is also embarrassing.

Jackson goes to daycare every morning looking cute and crisp. On the days we have somewhere important to be (ie: the doctor) or I actually take a video of him (as was the case here), Jackson will soak through or dirty the clothes he's taken in and be redressed in something too tight and too short.

So while you watch his latest accomplishment, and his pride over the ability to move the little balls from here to there, please keep in mind that he doesn't walk around with skin-tight clothes as often as this may imply.

I'm going home

Earlier this month, we went back to Illinois. (Rachel and Connor went with us. Two moms and two babies on a flight means that most people got out of our way - and prayed they weren't seated next to us.)

True to form, I took almost zero pictures. Actually, I took about 11. But these are my two favorites...

Playing with his first tractor

Learning how to play the piano