This post is going listy because it’s been sitting here in my browser for a full 11 days, mocking me. I don’t have time to do it right, but don’t want to scrap it, so…here we go.
We’re into our second year with Snow Angel, our Elf on the Shelf. The shine’s apparently gone; they are fearless now, fighting openly in front of the elf. I’ve deflected their comments about other families having an elf for each kid (I am not hiding TWO elves every night for 25 days, thankyouverymuch) by telling them that because they are so good, Santa only had to send one elf to watch them. Now I’m thinking about getting a second elf to pull out when the bickering gets particularly intense.
Our house is becoming the gathering spot for our families. We have the space, and if the grandparents visit us, they don’t have to clean up a mess afterwards. One of our challenges in the past has been dining space; we have a 4-seater dining table, the leaves of which were sold many moons ago by my grandfather’s second wife, so either someone had to eat standing up or some adults (okay, me) ended up at the kiddie table. This year, inspiration hit: We simply bought a board, drilled a few holes in it, and boom — instant leaf. We didn’t opt to stain it, at least not yet, so I am working on putting together a collection of holiday tablecloths. And eventually we will need more chairs; I have a couple of nice folding chairs, but to seat us all means the lawn chairs come into play. But it feels good to have us all together at the holidays. Now we just need to work on getting living room seating for everyone.
Oatmeal, it would appear, gives me hangover-level headaches and makes my skin itch. Oatmeal. The blandest of all bland foods. Is too much for me.
Speaking of food sensitivities, our month without dairy passed fairly uneventfully. Whatever the kids’ digestive issues are, it doesn’t appear dairy is the culprit. I’ve put the next round of testing off til January because I’m testing wheat/gluten next, and I can’t bring myself to deny them Christmas cookies.
I’ve joined another social network. Like I have time for the ones I’m already on. (I tweet maybe twice a year since FB and Twitter packed up their toys and went home. Three people talked to me on Twitter, but FB has everyone from my childhood neighbors to people I used to work with.) Feel free to friend me; when I have 5 minutes to rub together, I swear I’m going to sit down and figure out how to replace the crying taco picture.
My son is on the cusp of big-boydom and, like his mother before him, is really feeling Peter Pan right about now. He wants to be a big boy, and will tell me he is not a baby — “I will do it!” is a common refrain. But the idea of someday being an adult is totally overwhelming, and nothing I say changes his mind that growing up is a trap, so he refused to grow past being a “boy-man” to being a man, full stop. (He was totally touched to hear that being a mommy was far and away the best part of adulthood, though.) And he’s still bummed that my milk is gone; he spent an hour yesterday snuggling with me and trying to come up with strategies to make the milk come back. (One such theory revealed that he took the comments about my milk drying up pretty literally; he appears to think I have milk powder in my breasts, and that adding water will fix the problem.) Potty training, though, may actually happen; wet diapers are all but nonexistent, and the poopy ones are fewer and further between. So we’re in this weird limbo. I am both devastated that he doesn’t automatically seek me out upon waking anymore and elated to get to know the little boy he is becoming. (Also pretty excited about not having to change poopy diapers anymore, to be honest.)
Setting the thermostat to 66 at night has completely eliminated my nighttime hot flashes. I occasionally wake up because I am cold, but never because I am hot. And I sleep so, so well. I understand all of the older people in my life much better now. Doesn’t mean I’m setting my air conditioner to 66 in the summer, though.
In researching learning differences for my daughter, I came across a description of dyscalculia, and my whole life suddenly makes sense. Nobody ever would have dreamed that I have a learning difficulty because I test well. The rest was written off as quirks (at best). I’m glad I know now, so I can help my daughter develop better coping mechanism than “blurt something out and hope for the best.”
After one too many YouTuber remarks in my 16-hour work day (I believe the sass to break the mama’s back was a complaint that picking up two toys was “hard work” and therefore I must do it for him), I took away Kai’s tablet, refusing to let him watch it without supervision. I’d intended to give it back that evening…but he was too busy playing with toys and reading books to ask for it. Then I was going to give it back over the weekend, but he didn’t seem to miss it. It’s still sitting on my fridge a week and half later. Next year I might become one of those scheduled screen time moms. I don’t think screens are bad — he’s learned so much from those videos. But I do think some boundaries are in order. And until YouTube lets me block specific channels, supervised viewing is the answer.
I am working on some recipes, but I want to polish them up a bit before sharing. I’m actually taking some time off around Christmas this year, so watch this space. And if I don’t get time to post before the new year, I hope your holidays are merry and bright.