New Digs

Claire made an early transition from her crib to a bed. She was only 20 months old, but we were getting ready to move into a new house and I wanted to keep "new" things to one thing at a time, so I moved her out of her crib about 6 weeks before we moved out of our house. With Claire it really wasn't a big deal - at 18 months she could walk down the stairs, retrieve her sippy of milk and a yogurt out of the fridge, get a spoon, climb in her booster seat and have breakfast while Jason and I were still sleeping. While it was nice, it was also a little scary. But she was always very independent and really still is. Chloe is a different story. At 26 months old, she is just now climbing onto the couch by her self. She doesn't get stuff from the pantry, and asks for help with about everything. I was afraid that she'd form an attachment to her crib if I left her in there for a long time, so I decided to boot her out.

I ordered her new furniture and bedding a few weeks ago, and a week before it all came in I listed her crib furniture on Craigslist. Within hours, we had several calls and 2 days after publishing the ad, the stuff was sold. The family wanted to come pick it up pretty quickly - about 4 days before Chloe's new bed would be delivered. Thankfully, we called and were able to shorten the wait to just 2 days. That still left 2 days of Chloe having no bed to sleep in, so I gave in to Claire's begging to let Chloe sleep with her in Claire's bed. Jason thought I was nuts.

Night one: We get them to bed late, around 8:20 after shoving Claire's bed up against the wall so Chloe couldn't fall out. 8:30 - potty trip. Chloe tags along with Claire to observe. 8:40 - Claire is caught red handed in the bonus room, getting Chloe's Baby for her. 9:00 - Claire starts wailing that Chloe punched her in the nose. Chloe looks very guilty and says "sorry, Taire." I threaten them that one more sound and they will be separated. 9:01 - not another sound until morning.

Night two: Again, they get to bed late, around 8:15. 8:16 - not another sound! I was very impressed!

Once Chloe's bed was setup and it was now bedtime on Night 3, she protested having to sleep alone in her room and asked to go back into Claire's room. Thankfully she didn't really have her heart set on that, and settled down to sleep in her new bed. Each night since then (and every nap,) she has gone to bed without a sound and called for us to come get her in the morning. Much different then Claire coming down to make breakfast for the family!

So, the transition to the big girl bed was super easy and painless. We (Jason) worked this weekend on moving wall hangings, filling holes in the wall and spot painting. Everything is coming together, although she has much more furniture storage to fill up!

It Ain't Easy Being a Tomato

at least around here. Jason and I have had a long standing battle for years around the cultivation of fresh vegetables.

Him: Don't dig up my grass
Her: Fresh veggies taste way better then grocery store ones
Him: Don't dig up my grass


In our old house after 4 years of badgering, I finally won the right to a very small patch of grass that became my vegetable garden. I grew some tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers and okra which were all very good, except the okra yielded enough to make one serving of fried okra. One. From 5 plants. The next year, Jason veto'ed the mini-garden and I planted a lone soldier tomato plant in an exisiting flower bed. I put a little fence around the lone plant to protect it from vultures (aka, Sable and Cujo) but Sable managed to squeeze her way into the fence and help her self to many a green tomato. Poor Cujo could do nothing but beg Sable to pass out some loot to him outside the fence - and you can only guess how many times she was willing to share. So that garden year was also a bust.


Once we moved into our new house, Jason was clear that not a single blade of grass was going to be sacrified for any tomato plant. Nor would he allow for an "ugly" tomato plant to be planted on the front yard side of our fence. Finally, at Lowes I saw my perfect solution - a container planter with a built in support cage - tomatos meant to grow on a deck! I bought one while Jason was out of town (hehehe.) After a week or two, it was pretty clear that this Big Boy was going to out grow the small support cage and we needed a better option. I went to Lowes (again, while Jason was out of town) and bought a larger pot and a metal tomato cage that I could just stab into the pot soil, and then transplanted my masterpiece into the new pot. Unfortunately the old too-small cage was entangled in the branches already, and I literally had to rip off several branches to get the poor thing out. Broken branches aside, Big Boy was ready to go in his new digs, and I watered him into bliss.


A few more weeks pass, and the monsoons of Greenville start. That limited the times I had to go out and water the plant since it was getting a little soaking nearly every day. After Memorial weekend gave it 4 inches of rain, I noticed, through the window and the downpours, that it had a lake of water in the pot. Once the rain finally stopped, I dumped the water and realized that the stupid pot did not have a drainage hole! I see that the plant has sprouted roots out of the lower part of the stem and the leaves are turning yellow. I've drowned my poor, hard earned tomato plant. :*(






Jason shows some sympathy and comes outside with a giant drill bit ... and WHOOSH ... I could hear a sigh of relief while the poor thing drains out a gallon of excess water.

Today we are on the road to recovery. My little fighter has new growth amongst the yellow leaves.



And I am proud to announce the budding of....





Our first tomato. *sniff*

Hairy Situation

My hair is not curly - more like a frizzy wave that I squelch with my beloved flat iron. Frizz and pouf are my enemies - and I was thrilled with Claire's lovely, long loose curls that just shined and were frizz free.

Chloe's hair was much darker at birth - and she kept her hair through her first year, instead of the nearly bald dirty blond that Claire had (or didn't have.) As Chloe's hair formed into the standard little girl mullet that always happens until you finally break down and trim the back, it... well... got curly.

It seems as the weeks and months go by, it just gets curlier. While getting my hair cut one day I asked my hairdresser what to do with it - she confirmed that curly hair tends to get curlier as kids age, and I needed to throw away her brush and invest in a wide tooth comb. Obediently, I did as she suggested and also picked up conditioner spray and spray gel.

Monday I consulted my curly haired work friend on how to manage the hair as it grew longer and more wild with the humidity. She pointed me to her favorite products and curly hair websites. Seriously? Websites dedicated to the care and products for Chloe's type - complete with frequently asked questions, articles on hair types and message boards that were answered by "experts" in the field. This was perfect for me.

I've now educated myself on proper curl care: no pony tails, no brushes, shampoo as little as possible, and the "rake and shake" technique. I'm browsing the product selection - Chloe will be the only 2 year old with more hair care items then her mother. Today I sent her to school without her usual pulled back 'do and tried a little spray gel after letting it dry naturally. Her teachers mourned her new shorter "hair cut" until I let them know that I did NOT cut her hair, but the humidity had just taken over. Maybe some different product will help....

She's All Ears ... and earrings

My stance on ear piercing for little girls has always been to allow her to choose when she is ready. Some people like to do it as babies or when the girls are old enough to do all the cleansing and turning that the new earrings require - either is fine with me, but I was OK with doing it early as long as the piercee wanted and understood the responsibility/pain/permanence etc.

Claire has been talking on and off about getting them done and I would explain that you have to take good care of pierced ears and clean them a lot and, oh by the way, it HURTS to have them done. Like a shot. Claire would always change her mind and say Nah, I'll wait until I am 5 1/2 (or whatever 1 year older then her current age is.)


This morning was different, because Claire is now four and three quarters old. Yesterday she asked me when she would be four and three quarters (having grown tired of being four and a half) and as it turns out, today is Claire's four and three quarters birthday. So she got up today saying that she has reached that magic age where you can withstand the pain of having your ears pierced.


We went to the mall this afternoon searching for Crocs for Chloe to replace the ones that are now crunching up her toes and Claire pulls us by the hand to ... what store? ... Claire's! Without any hesitation or mind changing, she picks out some Hello Kitty starter earrings and is up in the chair ready to go. She asks to sit on my lap during the stick and the gals at Claire's were nice enough to do both ears at once.






My stomach churned from the time we set foot in the store until... well, it is still churning with nerves now. Claire sat on my lap, still as a statue while they drew the dots on her lobes, lined up and POW! We now have permanent holes in her ears. *sniff*






In 9 seconds, the girl went through all the "rules" to take care of the new bling and we were on our way. Jason was so proud of Claire's bravery (what about mine?) that he promised her some "Silly Bandz" - the current rubber bracelet craze being pumped in masses right out of China. Four sold out stores later, Claire is sporting her new kitty earrings and a set of knock off Silly Bandz (ours are Zany Bandz, but hey.... close enough.)

A visit to The Big House

No, not jail. And not the University of Michigan's stadium either.

The other big house.

Kindergarten.

Claire even woke up nervous - a visit to her future school home for a tour and information session. Next year is the big kindergarten entrance, and the school had a great program to try to make the transition easier on the entering class.

The morning started in the cafeteria and a trip through the lunch line for some goldfish and apple juice to keep the little ones occupied while the school administrators bombarded the parents with information. Claire felt immediately at ease with the smell of tacos wafting through the food prep area - all I could think about was the cnn.com article about how under-nourished our school lunch programs are.

We took a seat at a table and I missed the first 10 minutes of the Principal's opening comments while I stared at the district calendar that was passed out. 17 days. From August until December they are out of school for 17 days - more then my entire year's worth of vacation. I go into math mode calculating babysitter costs, vacation splits and grandparent availability. Because I have to relate everything to a math problem, I see that there are 100 days of school from August until December. So, 17% of those days are not spent in school. Realizing that I could easily tailspin into these thoughts for a good hour or two, I cleared my head and focused back onto the topics being presented: dress codes, whether peanut butter is allowed and the speech from the school nurses on the proper way to bring medications to school.

After the intro's we started on the school tour - our group was headed by the outgoing PTA president and her incoming replacement. She showed us a real kindergarten class in progress, the media center (what I knew as the "library"), the science lab and the art room. Everything was brand new and the kids and teachers all looked engaged. Finally the highlight of the tour game - the practice bus boarding while the parents watched in 90 degree heat.

Claire seemed ready to make the leap to kindergarten, and her teachers sighed at the end of the day that she did chatter about her big kindergarten visit for the rest of the day.

When Life Hands You Bananas

I wouldn't say that I am a banana snob, but I do have my preferences. My bananas need to be a greenish shade of yellow without a spot of brown. Right at that point that the peel is a little tough to peel off. Not to brag or anything, but I have a unique talent to select bananas at the store that are still green but will turn to a perfect yellow - not the dreaded bunch that goes from green straight to brown. Yuck.

Because I was not the one to make the banana selection last weekend, we ended up with three freckled and sorry looking bananas this morning. I didn't even consider trying to sneak them into Chloe's breakfast - they were just that past their prime. A wave of domestic air happened to pass through the house at the exact moment I was opening the trash can to toss the foul trio into. I rounded up the girls and we raided the pantry for flour, brown sugar, eggs and butter and whipped up a loaf of banana bread on the fly. After we banished Chloe from helping (a.k.a. throwing glass bowls around and grabbing a softening stick of butter) Claire took over banana mashing duty (ick!) and ingredient stirring while I dug a medley of spices out of the cabinet to toss in.

"Cleaning" out the bowl

Mmmm... no need for the dishwasher now!

One hour and five minutes later our masterpiece was ready and starting to cool. Everyone had a piece or two for their afternoon snack and it was a hit! Even Jason dug in. I guess even non perfect bananas have their place in life!

Go away, Tooth Fairy!

The tooth fairy made a fly by of our house this past week. Thankfully she was shoo'ed away and everyone still has all their original baby teeth.

It all started a few weeks ago when Claire took a spill on slide steps at school. She slipped on the steps and hit her mouth on the metal steps - there was a lot of screaming and a little blood - but no loose teeth, so we thought all was well. Two weeks later she was laughing at something and I did a double take - her front tooth had turned gray. Dr. Google explained that an injured tooth takes a couple of weeks to turn due to the nerve in the tooth dying.

I'll admit I was sad. I couldn't decide what was the lesser of two evils... a gap toothed child before her time, or a discolored glaring front tooth. Most people said the dentist would surely pull it - making me cringe the thought of pliers going into that sweet mouth. My vain side wanted her to remain with a perfectly white baby toothed smile that I loved so much. Kids do go through that awkward stage from ... say, 6 to 15 when they transition to baby teeth, to too large teeth, to braces to a nice smile. I did not want to rush into that stage! Every time I looked at her it was that tooth that I saw! All weekend I wondered what the dentist's verdict would be.

The verdict couldn't have been better. Not only is the dentist's main goal to keep the tooth in the mouth as long as possible, there is a very high chance that the tooth will turn back white as the body cleanses out the dead nerve. And if it doesn't, which is rare, the dentist does a simple procedure which creates a hole in the back of the tooth to get the yuck out, patch with tooth enamel, and viola! The white tooth has returned. Claire did have some pretty severe cracks in her enamel in both of her front teeth from the fall. X-rays showed no permanent damage to the root or the permanent teeth. Her permanent teeth, according to the dentist, were waaaayyyyy up there - not surprising since her first tooth did not show up until she was 13 months old and the pediatrician was threatening head x-rays if they didn't come in soon - "you know, to make sure she does have teeth in there."

So now we wait and avoid: biting hard food like apples, carrots, pizza (? that is hard?) and temperature sensitive foods like ice cream and soup. Yeah, right. I'm sure Claire is going to swear off ice cream for the next 3 years.