Cake Determines Gender?

This summer our family has been introduced to a new kind of party; the "Gender Reveal" party.  For people who are not aware, this is a new trend in which a pregnant couple, who are planning to learn the gender of their child prior to delivery, have a party and learn the gender at the same time as their guests. 

We have attended two gender reveal parties this summer and our children came along to both for a backyard afternoon style affair.  Upon entry to both parties guest were encouraged to choose what they thought, boy or girl, and either wear their choice or cast a vote.  Of course our girls hoped for girls both times.  At both of these parties the soon to be mom & dad learned if they were having a boy or a girl from cutting into a cake and discovering pink (at one it was actually yellow as it went with the girl décor better) or blue.

At one party our girls' wish came true and the inside of the cake indicated it was a baby girl inside the soon to be mommy's tummy.  They were elated and felt as though they had won something for being right.  At the other party the baby was determined to be a boy and this is when the questions started.

A few months back I learned that I was going to be an aunt and I couldn't have been more elated by the news.  Soon after, the mommy to be asked me if I had told my girls that they were going to have a new cousin to which I replied, "no, I assumed you didn't want everyone in the world to know".  Not taking my head seriously the mommy to be laughed and shared the news with my little ones. 

After that my oldest went around sharing this with everyone she spoke to

"My baby (referring to her little sister) is getting too big.  So they are growing me a new one, but I have to wait until Christmas to see it".

As her mother I was given some sideways looks and some congratulations until I could explain that I was not expecting but instead her aunt.  Thankfully now the news is out and those awkward moments have passed; however, the gender reveal parties have struck a whole new kind of awkward.

I believe being incorrect on the baby's gender sent her to a very thought provoking place and she asked my husband "how does the baby get out of the tummy"?  My husband side stepped around this question and gave me a heads up that I would be handling that one. 

After some consideration I decided I would just answer the question directly and not make it a very big deal.  A few days later she came and asked me the same question "how does the baby get out of the tummy"?  I looked at her and said very casually "well women's private parts are called their vagina and that is where the baby comes out".  She looked strangely at me and said "oh mommy that's so silly", and walked away.  At this point I kind of thought we were in the clear until a couple more days passed.

Now this is our four year olds new favourite game.  First she stuffs a baby doll up her shirt and says "I have a baby in my tummy", followed by "oh, it's coming out of my privates" and finally "now I have to cut the cake and see what it is; it's a girl"!

Hopefully this game ends before school starts!

Ignorance is Bliss

Ignorance is bliss.  The longer I have been a mother the more I understand how true this statement is.  I believe that I am not alone in my choice to often ignore what is happening around me.  I am a firm believer in letting things happen and often utter the phrase "just work it out girls".

I am now able to turn a blind eye to many situations I never thought possible.  Sometimes I just sit back and watch the scene unfold.  The other day my oldest was in the yard playing.  I could clearly see she had to use the facilities as she sat on the ground rocking, looking somewhat like a dog with worms.  I hollered out to her "time for a bathroom break" to which she replied "I don't have to".  A few minutes later as my husband and I watched out the window, she dropped trousers and squatted in the grass in the back yard.  My husband and I looked at each other and started laughing.

There are times when I take the looking the other direction approach just a little too far.  While trying to unload the dishwasher and get dinner started, I willingly ignored the other room because it was silent (never a good sign with little ones in the house).  I later walked into the other room to find stream on the living room floor created by the little ones with both my girls sitting beside it pretending to be at the beach.  In this instance, my choice to embrace the silence and try and frantically get some things put away created a lot more work! 

Other times, I holler over my shoulder without even looking to just work it out because I do not want to be judge and jury yet again and decide who had what toy first.  This situation is a 50/50 split; sometimes they figure it out and sometimes someone walks away crying. 

This ability to choose to ignore situations is a skill that I did not posses pre children.    Pre children I was a crazy control freak and referred to myself as "passionate" because I had an opinion about everything.  Now I refer to my youngest as "passionate" and am getting much better at going with the flow.

I guess with chaos also comes calm. I perceived my life was much busier and more important than it was.   Don't get me wrong, I can still tap into my emotions and be as crazy as ever; it just is slightly more infrequent because I am too busy cleaning up various liquids my children have spilt all over the floor.  

Telling Stories

In our house each night includes the same routine.  A race upstairs followed by bathroom breaks, teeth brushing and books in mommy & daddy's bed.  Finally piggy back rides and spins to their beds, a song, a kiss, a hug, and out the door.  As it sounds, it is quite the production and sometimes takes upwards of 45 minutes to get them both in their beds for the first time.

They share a room, so lots of nights this first drop into their beds is followed by many trips upstairs by yours truly, and warnings that they need to get back to bed and go to sleep.  Sometimes I actually just stomp up the bottom few stairs as a warning.  As I do this I can hear their feet scurrying around the room and jumping back under the covers.

For over four years this has been our routine and like it or not we are kind of stuck with it now to some degree.  Looking back I think I am sure we could have made this nightly chore much faster and kind of kick myself for not knowing better at the time.  I wanted to share this because we are coming to the end of an era in our house and I believe this routine might end up being stretched out even longer.

My oldest turned four a few months ago and her comprehension is now far enough ahead that pulling the wool over her eyes is becoming increasingly difficult.  Like most people I know with small ones I am tired at the end of the day.  I mean those kids wear me out!  So on more than one occasion I have been known to paraphrase a book or two, or perhaps skip a page here and there if not enough attention is being paid.  I mean sometimes things just need to move along a little faster.   I for one am sick of that white bunny Ruby always being such a bossy know it all and take a creative story telling approach.

However, over the last few weeks I am able to get away with less and less creativity.  I am constantly being told that I have missed a part, or a page, or that it doesn't go that way.  One of the biggest problems is that sometimes the corrections she is telling me about are actually not even in the story.  They are from other nights in which I was taking creative license and no longer remember what I had said. 

The other night during her giving me lectures for reading inaccurately I told her that she could just go ahead and read the story then.  Now I thought I took creative license, while this kid was another story.  That was the longest story with absolutely no plot I have ever sat through.  It included a song that I did not understand the words to, dancing and parts where I was expected to interact.  Really big mistake.

So for now I am going to have to read the actual stories as they are written; or, maybe a better idea is that it is time for some new books.

Too Old?

How old is too old?  This is a loaded beginning to any sentence and the way a recent conversation began with my husband.  One night not so long ago he turned to me and asked "So how old is too old to have a belly button ring?"  "Why do you ask, because my stomach is eating mine" I replied.

Now, I know I usually tell stories about my munchkins; however, this is related because my body looks the way it does because of them.  I have been told many times in the past that I am probably too old  to still have a belly button ring.  People are actually very surprised to find out that I kept it proudly through both pregnancies.  

Anyone  other than my children or husband would not even know that I had it.  My abs have not seen sunlight for probably five years.  My oldest regularly presses on my stomach and states "Your tummy is squishy because you grew babies in it, right?"  They both think that I am so lucky because I have a jewel in my tummy.  

Usually when people tell me it is time to get rid of it I don't think much of it.  I snuck out at lunch one day at school when I was 14 and got it pierced.  It wasn't until about three years later that my parents even realized I had  it pierced.  It has been a part of me for so long that I can't really imagine life without it.  In fact I have had it longer that I have lived without it. But when my husband commented on it I got thinking- is it time to retire the belly button ring?

After a lot of thought I decided that maybe he was right and that I should take it out.  Clearly, a 29 year old mom of two with a serious case of mommy tummy having a belly button ring is quite ridiculous.  So the other night I took it out.

After it was gone and I looked in the mirror at my stomach I thought it looked odd.  My usual bling was not there and I can honestly say I wasn't sure that I liked it.  

I think it was about 20 minutes later I felt sad about its lack of presence.  I decided that too old or not I am not ready to live without it and put it back in.

Maybe I will try again at 30.

Riding in Cars with Girls

We do a lot of car travelling in our house.  First of all, we kind of live in the middle of nowhere and any sort of town, grocery store, or gas station is 20-30 minutes away.  In the summer time, we fairly regularly live between two locations that are approximately eight hours apart.  There are times during the summer months that my husband and I do this trip weekly.  This being stated, it is fair to say that both of our girls are fairly used to car trips. 

I feel as though this makes us pretty chill travellers.  Typically, I can pack us up for a couple of weeks without much stress in about an hour; however, we have had our fair share of travelling disasters.  Our first trip after my oldest was born; she was 10 days old and we had to continually stop to feed her.  Our typical eight hour trip took us over 12.  Our first trip with our second whom was a terrible traveller  she screamed for three hours consecutively.  Our oldest kept saying, "she sure does cry a lot", and when she finally fell asleep we were all too scared to speak.  We took our oldest to Belize for three weeks when she was about 9 months old.  Three plane rides there and back, cramped seating, breast feeding in public and her trying to scratch the tattoos off of the guy sitting next to us, we arrived.

Each time we decide to attempt to travel with two little ones, I build it up in my head that it is going to be a horrific event.  I dread how many times they will ask, "are we there yet", how many unplanned stops we will need to make for bathroom breaks, how many gross public bathrooms I will have to encounter (I secretly believe my oldest wants to try out every public bathroom she can and loves to poop in public), and how much unsatisfying road food I will end up shoving in my face.  Travelling with kids is just so much more work.

This year we went to Tennessee and oooooh how I dreaded the car ride.  I tried to convince my husband that we should fly, but upon researching the location of the airport compared to where we were staying, he decided that flying would not make sense.  So off we went in the car.  Ten hours later we arrived at our destination to find ourselves locked out of the place we were staying at on the side of a mountain.  Literally the yard was angled down, so needless to say not a lot of outdoor play in the yard while waiting.  We spread blankets and toys on the porch and my husband and I drank wine out of the kids sippy cups until we could get the access code to get in (had I known at that time we were in a dry county I would not have shared my wine).  After six days of touring around the area, we packed everyone back into the car and headed home.  After another 10 hours, many bathroom stops, and a couple of crying fits, we made it. 

Thinking back to the specific events of each time we travel, they are pretty horrific, which is why I probably always dread going away.  Somehow each time we return home I convince myself that it wasn't so bad and it could have been worse.  Logically thinking of course it could be worse, it can always be worse.  Yet here I am in the beginning phases of planning our next family trip.

Disney here we come!