crazedparent

Hasta lu-Lego....

I was over Lego blocks a few months ago. But wah wah wah, it's not all about me. It's about my boys and how much they love playing with their precious, tiny, annoying Lego sets.

I tried to be patient. I tried to show them Lego love. I even took every single set of Lego directions and placed them, one by one, into cover sheets and stored them in big binder so that our conversations would go like this:

"Hey mom, where's the directions for the big Lego crane?"

"Oh, here honey, just pull them out of the binder."

And that's exactly how it went. Until yesterday. I walked into the playroom and discovered this Nastique Mess.

Then the conversation when like this...

"Please help me clean this up. Or your Legos will be gone. Forever."

"Like in the attic gone?"

"Like in the attic. For. E. VER."

Guess where the big ol' Rubbermaid box of Lego blocks is now resting?

In the attic. For. E...aww cripes, who am I kidding. They will be in the attic until the boys work me over one day complaining they have nothing else to play with in the house. And I make them swear on their desserts and favorite books that, oh yes, they will take care of their Lego shiz. And they'll be all, "Yes, mommy! We promise!"

The next day, you'll find me right here, in the same spot, cutting, pasting and republishing this very post.

If this doesn't make you love him...

...then your heart is just made of stone, sister. Cold, hard, stone.

Rick Springfield was on Oprah yesterday. Once again, praise sweet jesus for YouTube.

Should I be embarrassed to admit that I had a silly smile on my face the entire time I watched this video? And this one. And this one too.

Busy much?...

After three days away from my illin' wee one, his big brother and the hubs, the crazedparent fam has been back in full swing...with sickness for all. We've all had, some worse than others, the hellacious cold/flu that hit the Q. last week. And he is still sporting the runny nose, seal cough and puffy eyes after seven days. From what I've read around the blog hood and what I've heard from friends and family, it's everywhere. And if it hasn't hit you yet, just run for cover until June.

But life does go on. And so does work.

This afternoon I was sitting at my laptop tappity-tapping away while Six was using his little Vtech Nitro Notebook from the grandparents. He was writing a story. But it turned into a note...think he's trying to tell me something? 

Just another day in the battle...

The day before the first official "team gathering" for my new gig, Q. comes down with a a cough and runny nose. It progresses to a fever. He is up all night crying, achy breaky, talking in his sleep. He comes into our bed at 5 a.m. to cuddle, still sporting the raging fever.

I have a photo shoot a few hours later and am consumed by thoughts of my little guy home sick. I'm used to being the caregiver -- it feels odd not being home to offer snuggles and love. This week is about Murphy's Law. An "it never fails" moment where mama has a can't-be-missed agenda and her little one gets the worst. bug. ever.  With a little pout and "I want Maaaaaaaama" thrown in for good measure.

I thank my good fortune at having a husband who can work from home in a pinch when our kids are sick and I need to go into the office. 

I throw myself to the mercy of the Airborne queens and kings, begging for the rest of the family to be spared of this nasty little illness.

And I say a most special prayer for the makeup artist who rocks the eye concealer to hide my dark circles after a late night.

Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters...

Best-selling author Jodi Picoult sent out her latest e-mail newsletter over the weekend. I've always enjoyed her writing since I read her book, Plain Truth.  It was published in 1999 and when I emailed her back then to let her know her work was inspiring, she responded within a few hours and without a doubt it was actually Jodi Picoult hitting the "send" button.

Picoult's newsletter included a note that the Fanning sisters -- Dakota and Elle -- pulled out of appearing in a movie based on Picoult's bestseller, My Sister's Keeper. Why? "...because Dakota Fanning, who was cast as Kate, did not want to shave her head." They would have starred alongside Cameron Diaz.

Dakota is 14. Elle will be 10 in April. You just know there was a serious slap fight between those two when Dakota pulled that 'tween diva move.

It's always better in the car...

"Mommy, we're already on our street and you didn't put on the song I asked for."

"That's okay, I'll turn it on in the house."

"But Mom, it's better in the car, you know."

Oh yes, the gal who has driven for miles to listen to certain songs, knew exactly what her six-year-old son was talking about.

We drove right past our house and around the neighborhood for four minutes so he could listen to his current favorite song. Six sang the chorus as loud as possible, making the extra drive 100 percent worth every second. I imagine that when I'm older and he's off in college, I'll hear this tune on the radio and immediately remember that moment. And how neat yet frightening it is that he takes after me so much.

Rookie parent checklist: Must learn to pick deadbolt locks...

I walked out to the garage, tossing some clothes in the washer. As I closed the lid, I heard the familiar flick of the door stop being pushed up, the door being pushed shut...and the "click" of the deadbolt lock switch.

Q. locked me in the garage. A Happy Valentine's Day gift, I'm sure. My spare key was in the house.

"Q., please turn the switch on the door and let Mommy in."

He giggled.

"Q., open the door. Now. Open the door. Mommy needs to get in the house. We have to leave to pick up Six at school."

Another door slammed. He closed the door between the kitchen and dining room so he couldn't hear me. I walked outside to the backyard and peered through the French doors into the dining room. He was laughing and refused to even look my way.

My cell phone happened to be in my coat pocket, a rare occasion. I usually keep it in my purse. I called my husband, who tried to provide as much comfort and counsel as he could. "Pretend your leaving. Open the garage door." This caught Q's attention and made him cry. The door, however, remained closed. Adding further frustration, our house was in complete lock down -- not a window to slide open, no side door ajar. We've had a string of robberies in our hood of late so we've been extra cautious about locking up.

After twenty minutes of trying to convince Q. he could open the door, I gave up. I called my husband back and told him he needed to come home to let me in the house. As I waited for him to arrive, I watched Q. through the old cat door, left by the previous owners. He was sitting at the kitchen table eating a muffin. He'd peek out at me with a smile on his face, "Come in, Mommy! Come back in the house!" The kid was killing me.

I decided I needed to hear a voice that would help me find humor in my rookie parenting move. I called Stefania, who not only helped me laugh but also shared her own "kid locked me out" experience (Thank you!!)

Grammy picked Six up from school for me and we three, along with Luna, stood in the garage waiting for the hubs. Q. would poke his face through the cat door. He continued to smile cheerfully at the attention he was receiving because of his misdeed. Finally, finally, nearly an hour after this entire debacle began, he opened the door. And Q. got the longest time out of his young, nearly three-year-old life. The tears flowed from his large, brown eyes. The pout was pitiful. Like I cared.

Q. has earned the nickname "Sneaky Pete." He puts Curious George and Dennis the Menace to shame. I guess I should be grateful that the puppy was with me and not stuck in the house with Q. They would have been sharing sugar cookies on the floor.

A spare house key is now secure in our garage. Right next to a nice big bottle of Ketel One vodka. If Q. tries to lock me out again, mama's gonna set up shop on the washer and sip a martini. Care to join me?

Get crafty: A simple Valentine...

Typepad is not my friend right now. I called quits on it when it didn't save my post about the Valentine's Day gifts I made for my boys. I even had step by step instructions. I waxed poetic about how my mom gives me a Valentine's Day gift every year, and has done so since I was in grade school.  And how I didn't have a real Valentine to call my own until my senior year in high school. He sent me a dozen long-stemmed red roses, which arrived during Calculus class. (I married him.)

Typepad, you know the error of your ways. What you did was ugly, you cold, heartless blog platform.

But the crafty cards I made? Su-weet.You can make them too. Pretty paper, scissors, tape, and a heart-shaped sugar cookie (or any kind) wrapped in a little bag (plastic wrap will do). I call it a "Pocket Heart."

Get crafty: Valentine's day crayon hearts, part two.

Always working down to the wire, Six completed his Valentine's day crayon hearts project tonight on the eve of his class Valentine's day party. Part one was the melting of crayons pieces to make new heart-shaped crayons. For part two, he had to package 28 crayons for his classmates.

Here's how it all went down...

-I bought 2"x3" white place cards by The Paper Company (available at Michael's and sold in packs of ten). Using colored pencils*, Six wrote out his classmates names an signed each card. While he started out using the red pencil, he quickly branched out to other colors and added personalized artwork for each friend.

-Each crayon heart was dropped into a 3"x4"clear treat bag from Wilton (also available in bags of 100 at Michael's).

-Six folded the place card over the top of the treat bag and sealed it with a staple.

The cuteness factor: Six selected each crayon heart based on what he thought his classmate would like, such favorite colors or styles. He wanted zero assistance, which was nice, and he could actually complete all of part two on his own.

Check out my Flickr page for a step-by-step of Valentine's day crayon hearts, part two. The lighting wasn't fantastic and Six wasn't in the mood for re-taking photos.

If you are making crayon hearts for Valentine's day, leave a comment with a link to your photos/posts!

*He started out using markers but it was tough for him to fit names on the small place cards. The colored pencils were easier to use for this project.

Slash/Mom: new beginnings...

Today marked the the start of a new job. A new chapter in my slash/mom life. I can't dish details (yet), but it has me in a tailspin of excitement. (And Maya's Mom peeps, no worries. I'll still be conjuring up wicked featured journal topics and challenges for you.)

While I will continue to work from home, I had to attend a new employee orientation this morning -- something I haven't done in nearly seven years. In my pre-kid days. Back then, I arrived to a new employee orientation in a newly purchased red leather jacket from Florence, new shoes from Siena, and fresh off the plane from a two-week romantic vacation in Tuscany.

This time, I still had the digme attire. That casual-writer-style look with my geeked out glasses. I was trying to play it cool. Polished, professional yet my independent, freelance self. But I had a diaper in my purse. Q. crumbs on my sweater that remained unnoticed until mid-way through the morning. And dog drool on my pant leg.

I stood in line waiting to get the employee badge I will rarely have to use. About 15 people stood behind me. I checked my email on my iPhone and dropped it back in my purse. And then I heard the faint sound of music. A ringtone? No.

Andy Z.

I pulled out my iPhone and realized that somehow I accidentally brushed the screen and turned on the iPod component. I frantically tried to turn off the sound as Andy Z's voice boomed: "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!"

"It's for my sons," I explained with my embarrassed giggle. "Andy Z....kid's  tunes."

Everyone laughed and we continued our wait. A few minutes later, the young, 20-something gentleman behind me began whistling. The tune? Uh huh. You guessed right.

"I'm so sorry. You're going to have that song stuck in your head all day."

"It could be worse," he answered and continued to whistle.

He was right. It could have been the Wonderpets.