Saturday, April 30, 2016

Dear Bora,
I'm so glad you brought up the "let's never tell our kid about..."  K, who is 3 and half, calls the ice cream truck the "music truck."  After seeing our friends' kids have uber-meltdowns when the ice cream truck comes down the street right before dinner, we decided to a) never buy our children ice cream from the truck because if you do it once you will have to do it every time or face the wrath of an ice cream deprived child and b) not even tell our children the truck sells ice cream in the first place. Hence the name "music truck." It's not totally a lie. It's a truck that plays music. How long can we keep it up?  Just like your Duplos, I think we have until school. Too bad our children eventually spend time with people outside of our family who will expose all of our half-truths. 
Love, Kate
Dear Kate,

C loves Legos.  And of course, being only three, I'm referring to Duplos by Lego.  Honestly, I am seriously considering never introducing him to real Legos and I'll give you 3 reasons why:

  1. You can't accidentally vacuum up Duplos.  The vacuum just pushes them out of the way.
  2. You are much less likely to accidentally step on them and if you do, you will probably not teach your kid a new swear word.
  3. Legos are expensive! You can find "out-grown" Duplos on Craigslist super cheap but people keep Legos forever.
How weird do you think my kid will turn out if he somehow makes it to adulthood not knowing that smaller Legos exist?

Love,
Bora

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Dear Bora,
I don't know why but when you mentioned mansions, it immediately made me think of that game MASH. You know, the one where you choose a list of boys you might marry, how many kids you'll have, what kind of car you'll drive, and of course whether you'll have a Mansion, Apartment, House, or Shack. Even as a tween, I knew MASH was far from prophetic and that I had  bit more choice in those matters than how many spirals my BFF drew in the paper before I said, "stop."  Thank goodness I did not end up living in a shack that is full to bursting with my 9 children... though I wouldn't say no to that convertible I was promised. 
Love, Kate
Dear Kate,

Last night I was debating to myself about what to do with my morning on my day off.  Do I get up extra early and enjoy an hour to myself with a cup of coffee or do I try to sleep in until 7 AM?

I might as well have been debating whether I would prefer to buy a mansion vacation home lake-front or mountain-overlook.

My morning started with a baby-turning-toddler kicking me incessantly in the stomach like an angry kangaroo at 4 AM.  This was followed by restless sleep until 6:15, and finally awaking only 15 minutes later than every other day to the pitter patter elephant-like stomping of a very-nearly 3 year-old running to the living room to play with his Legos.

On the bright side, the baby slept in, so I did manage to get a cup of coffee to myself.  On the other hand, sleeping in caused her to pee through her diaper, drenching our sheets.

At least I was already planning to do laundry,
Bora.




Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Dear Kate,

As I've said before, my daughter doesn't really talk.  She has signs for milk, finished, and more.  Despite being very vocal, she doesn't really use any words other than the occasional "Hi!" that gets added to her princess wave.

Which is why I was more than a little surprised yesterday when she threw a book off the couch, looked at me, and pointing at the book said, "Get that!"

I know I should just enjoy the moment, but... she could have at least said "please,"
Bora.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Dear Kate,

I know you must be getting sick of talking about puke (pun intended), but since I usually just write about what's going on in my life, that's what you get to hear about.

Last night, I kept thinking, "If we can just make it through the night. Please let us just get through one night without having to change the sheets and bathe a pitiful, crying 3 year-old in the middle of the night." Well, we made it through the night. Turns out that it is about equally as not-fun to change the sheets and bathe the crying kid first thing in the morning. The sad part is, I can't even try to get him to puke in a bucket because he keeps throwing up in his sleep. Poor kiddo.

I have a feeling that his "special blankie" that was already starting to disintegrate has lost about half it's lifespan in wash-cycles during the last week.

Love,
Bora

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Dear Bora,
I cannot one up you with my puke story, but I'll share it anyway. Today, I was at a 5 year old's birthday party- a little girl from K's class. I knew none of the parents but since K really likes this friend, we went anyway.  It was at one of those places with indoor bouncy houses and K was having a blast while I tried to make small talk. After cake, K went down the big slide a few times. Then she came to me and said, "I'm going to throw up."  And then she threw up all over both of us. I barely waited until she stopped vomiting before I left. I don't imagine we'll be invited to very many more parties. 
Ready to be vomit free,
Kate

Dear Kate,

I retract my previous worst puke post. C just threw up boiled eggs, liver sausage bagel, and cherry jello.

In the car.

I'm about to go start the preliminary hosing off.

Wish me luck,
Bora

Friday, April 22, 2016

Dear Bora,
If we didn't look so much alike and share an amazing sense of humor, I would wonder if we were really related. While your children are scaling your furniture, I had to actually bribe my daughter to jump off her bed into a pile of pillows. I think the solution to both our problems is 2 weeks of Cousins' Camp at our parents' house. Maybe our kids will rub off on each other and they'll find a happy medium between overly cautious and reckless endangerment. 
Now our only dilemma is figuring out what we'll do with 2 child-free weeks on our hands!  Start your list!
Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

R is not quite 15 months old but she is already scaling the furniture. I can't tell if we have a future traceuse on our hands or just an avid tree climber like her mother. (A traceuse is a female who does parkour, by the way - I just looked that up).

Something about having an older sibling to show her how it's done has pushed her to test her physical limits. Yesterday, she was doing circuits - climbing onto a small chair, then balancing on the back of the small chair, then climbing onto the end table, then onto the back of the couch, then down to the floor, then back to the small chair and repeat.  The whole while she was just squealing in delight.

Today, she realized that her new-found ability to pull herself up on the kitchen chairs means that all counter-tops are now at her disposal simply by pushing said chair where she wants it and climbing up.

I don't need to baby-proof my house.  I need to traceuse-proof it.
Bora

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Dear Kate,

There are times when I have to stop and remind myself to enjoy the present moment.  You know, like pausing to enjoy C being super silly rather than getting annoyed that he's drawing with his yogurt on the kitchen table.  I mean, I don't have to let myself get mad.  It's just yogurt.  We can laugh and he can help me clean it up instead of it turning into some giant fight.

The key here though is "REMIND MYSELF."  I do NOT need some random person saying, "Cherish every moment, dear.  It goes so fast!"

Every moment?  Every moment?

I feel like it's just been too long since that person was woken by a kid (very rightly) upset because he woke up to find he was sleeping in a pool of diarrhea, you know?

Will get back to the cherishing tomorrow,
Bora.

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Dear Kate,

I pretty much let my kids eat what they want/ will (within reason). I do not force them to eat what we are having and they often have strange combinations of foods for dinner. I have never regretted more my decision to allow R to eat mostly liver sausage and black olives for dinner than I did the moment she threw up on me tonight.

Mommy-daughter showering is becoming a thing in my house.

Love,
Bora

Monday, April 18, 2016

Dear Bora, 
I find it incredibly interesting to discover where different parents draw "the line" of what's ok and what isn't. We spent some time with friends this weekend who don't allow their kids to say the following words: pee, poop, or butt. They will, however, allow their children to climb and jump off the following objects: the couch, the kitchen table, and an 8 foot tall privacy fence.  I, on the other hand, will allow K to say vagina and crap, while I won't allow her to jump on the bed or throw toys at visitors. Though I totally respect different families having different rules, it was pretty hilarious to have their 8 year old run over to tell me, "K said the f-word!" In this instance, the f-word is "fart."
My kid's got quite the potty mouth. 
Love, Kate

Sunday, April 17, 2016

Dear Kate,

C saw a man walking with a fishing pole down by the lake this afternoon.  After he had been staring for quite a while, I said, "He's going fishing."

C kept staring for a moment.  Then he turned back to me, "Like Jesus?"

Not many anglers in the family,
Bora.
Dear Kate,

C and R were jumping up and down on our bed this morning while the husband was still sleeping.  C was yelling, "We're ninjas! I'm a ninja!  R is a ninja!  We're ninjas!"  The husband was not amused but I'm sure it's only because the irony of a screaming ninja was lost on him at 7:15 on a Sunday morning.

I'm the mom of ninjas!!
Bora

Friday, April 15, 2016

Dear Kate,

C asked me what the white stuff on his Frosted Mini-Wheats was.  I said, "That's the sweet part."

He now asks for Mini Sweets.

As with most sweetened breakfast cereal, he's probably more right than wrong.

Love,
Bora.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Dear Kate,

Do you ever have one of those days where something happens that makes you wonder if anything will ever be funny again?

Today is one of those days.

There's no joke in this post.  Nothing funny.  Just a pause.  A moment to remember a friend.  To grieve with her. To lift her up in this dark moment.

Perhaps some day in the future, I will try to make her smile again with these nonsensical posts, but today, I will just grieve with her.

With love,
Bora.

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Dear Kate,

I may never get to see you this summer.  My "part time" job is turning out to be part-time only in the sense that it takes slightly less than the million hours per week that it would suck out of me if I were "full time."  You know that scene in Princess Bride when they use The Machine on Wesley and it sucks years off of his future lifespan until he's mostly-dead?  That was modeled after jobs in healthcare.

The next person to tell me anything along the lines of, "Well, at least you are only working part time" is going to get kicked in the teeth.  My anxiety about my job and for my patients is not part time and that is the hardest part of my job.

Mostly dead after my long day,
Bora.


Sunday, April 10, 2016

Dear Bora,
Sorry for not writing lately. I was busy enjoying one of the perks of working for the public school system: Spring Break. In the same way that I cannot imagine being paid 6 figures, I cannot fathom a life without Spring Break (and Christmas Break and Summer Break). I also understand that these 2 things are probably connected. Anyway, I do realize that the fact that my whole family has off for these big chunks at the same time is very uncommon and so we try to always make the most of it. Usually we go camping on Jekyll Island for Spring Break but we had an incredible opportunity come up: the chance to spend 8 days in Israel. It was amazing. I plan on telling you all about it this summer when we meet up at Mom and Dad's house (and we convince at least one grandparent to take the kids on a walk so we can have an entire 30 minute conversation without being interrupted 47 times). So start looking at your calendar. I'm free all of Jine and July. I'll schedule our trip to Hawaii around you. 
Love,
Kate

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Dear Kate,

So as it turns out, I've likely been having migraines my whole life and am only now figuring it out because they got worse after having babies.  I would wonder why no doctor figured this out after writing "chronic severe headaches" in my medical history on every intake form at every doctor's office I've ever been to, except that I know from experience on the other side that it's because when the doctor would ask, I would always say, "Yeah, I've always had lots of bad headaches" and shrug. I am 100% positive that he or she thought, "well if it doesn't bother you that much..." and moved on.

The only reason I'm probably getting treated now is that it's really hard to minimize dry-heaving in between patients at work.

Turns out skull-crushers are migraines,
Bora.


Monday, April 4, 2016

Dear Kate,

My daughter is so talented that she breaks even break-resistant tempered glass dishes with ease.

Sweeping up glass shards,
Bora.

P.S.  Yep, so thrilled that her little hands can reach on top of the kitchen table now.

Sunday, April 3, 2016

Dear Kate,

Our Grandma and Grandpa were visiting yesterday.  Nothing like having your kids meet "new people" to make you realize how strange your children really are.

Great Grandma:  I love you hair, C!
C:  Thank you.  It's made of chocolate, you know.
Me: (to myself) .... what??

Also, we went to Chick-fil-A for dinner and neither of my children would eat anything except for the blueberries and mandarin oranges that they picked out of the fruit cups.  I know!  They are super weird, right??  I mean, who doesn't like Chick-fil-A??

Love,
Bora

Friday, April 1, 2016

Dear Kate,

Before having children, I never realized how uncomfortable someone else's fever could make me.

As I lay awake last night, I imagined that this must be exactly what it felt like when Laura Ingalls Wilder's mother put hot irons wrapped in flannels in her bed.

Well.... except that I wasn't freezing to death in straw-tick bed in a one-room shanty in the middle of winter on the prairie - I was just lying in a very nice bed in a well-insulated house in the spring time.  And I didn't have scalding hot irons wrapped in flannels... I just had a hot, naked baby that wanted to touch my skin all night.

Other than that, it was pretty much exactly the same,
Bora.