Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Two Sides to Every Story

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Her Side of the Story

I do worrywart really well. I returned home earlier this evening from a lovely day with my mom in New York City, where we celebrated my birthday with a nostalgic lunch at Junior’s and a Broadway show, The Farnsworth Invention.

As I turned into the driveway, I noticed all the lights on in the house, lights on in the garage, but no car. I went inside – my husband had set the alarm – and everything was in disarray. The TV was on, the newly bought Christmas tree was lying on the floor. I tried calling my husband’s cell phone, but it rang inside the house. He didn’t take it with him.

I got very nervous, very fast. I was shaking and had trouble thinking straight. Hell, I was even looking on the floor for signs of blood! I was terrified that something had happened to one of the girls. After a minute or two of absorbing the scene, I gathered my wits about me and found the phone number for the emergency room of the local hospital.

I was panicking, my hands were shaking, and I dialed the number. I explained the situation and asked if my family was there. Good news was that they weren’t. Bad news was that I had no idea where they were. Then I started thinking that everything just had to be ok. It just had to be ok.

To pass the time, I started folding laundry. It was the worst job of folding that I’ve ever done (and I truly suck at folding laundry). I watched every car that drove by. Finally, our minivan turned into the driveway.

His Side of the Story

It had been a somewhat hectic afternoon for Papa. They brought up all the Christmas ornaments from the basement. He then went with the girls to buy a tree. Found one he liked, but the place only took cash, so he had to find an ATM. Which he did, of course. Brought the tree home. Got it into the house. Tried to put it on the tree base.

But the tree base was broken. He tried to fix it (looked for tools in the garage, which explains why the lights in the garage were on when I returned), but the tree toppled over.

He interrupted the girls’ TV time to drag them to find a new tree base. They went to Bed, Bath & Beyond. No luck. Sold out. Tried Target. No luck. They’re sold out. Even took the time to indulge Chloe and quickly visited Game Stop, so that she could check out the Game Boy games.

A very long 45 minutes after I arrived home, he pulled into the driveway with the girls. I burst into tears of relief, but I was also pretty angry. He left the lights and TV on, because “it was just a quick errand.” This coming from the French boy, who has always berated me for wasting electricity by leaving lights on in the house. He thought my reaction was completely disproportionate, I think. To him, it was no big deal. He hadn’t been gone for long.

What a way to end the birthday weekend! Thankfully, my brood is healthy and happy. Off to Florida tomorrow. We’ll see what trouble they get into while I’m gone…Ugh!

Chief Mom Officer Musings, Good for a Laugh

That Was Then, This Is Now

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Pardon me for feeling a bit nostalgic today. It’s my 39th birthday. With only one more year to go before the big 40, I’ve been thinking about my youth a little more than usual. Spending a lot of time with Chloe and Sophie over the last few months has also caused increased reminiscing on my part, to be sure.

Continue reading That Was Then, This Is Now →

Chief Mom Officer Musings, Good for a Laugh

It’s the Alarm Clock, Stupid!

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I love Fridays. Mostly because the dawn of a Friday means I’ve just about survived another week of parenting. An added bonus is that it means the husband gets to enjoy the girls for the next two days while I try to avoid (not always successfully) doing anything with the girls that I don’t think is fun.

Continue reading It’s the Alarm Clock, Stupid! →

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Daddy’s Little Girl

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Sophie did not have a very good day today. It was mostly because I was around more than usual for a Thursday, which is her day with our beloved babysitter, whom she also sometimes calls “Grammy.”

Because of the crappy weather, I ran some errands and returned home a few minutes after Sophie had fallen asleep for her daily nap. Impeccable timing on my part. She wasn’t yet in a deep enough sleep not to hear me walk in. So she woke up in a very bad mood and cried and cried – the snot streaming down her face and onto her shirt. She finally calmed down, I went off to do some work, and she temporarily returned to her normal, happy self while playing with our babysitter, and then with Chloe and her friend.

The good times weren’t to last, however. Papa came home early, but he needed to go upstairs to work for another hour or so. Sophie caught a glimpse of my husband before he climbed to the attic, but she’s only two and doesn’t know the difference between 4 pm and 6 pm. For her, it was time for Papa stop typing and start playing. But Papa wasn’t ready to play. Shortly after he had closed the door to the office, she used her little legs to follow him all the way up the stairs. And she was stymied. The door was locked.

She lost it, and cried and cried some more – the snot streaming down her face all over again. She hollered one of her frequent laments: “Papa! Papa! Papa!” But there was nothing I could do, really. When I tried to hug her, she pushed me away. When I tried to comfort her, she went into the sunroom and closed the door behind her. When I really pissed her off by trying to show her some love, she ran into the coat closet and hid.

I chuckled at that move and Chloe did too. When Sophie finally emerged from the closet, she was still completely hysterical. And there was still nothing I could do. So I started to laugh a little harder. At which point, Chloe berated me. “Mommy, that’s not funny. Sophie hiding in the closet was funny. But she’s very sad.” And despite myself, I laughed some more.

Chloe then took over. And she did her best to console her little sister. It was very poignant. But no luck. Not until the three of us went upstairs to my bedroom, and I offered to host a session of jumping on the bed. At that, Sophie started to rein in the sniffles. And when she started to jump, the sniffles stopped. And the first hint of a smile appeared on her cute little face.

A little while later, Papa made his long-awaited entrance. Jubliant screams ensued. Not to mention silly faces like the one in the photo above. Happiness!

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

“I’m a Little Distracted”

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Chloe’s Grammy (my mother) called a little earlier. Chloe and I each picked up a handset at the same time. Grammy asked Chloe how she was doing. “Fine,” was my daughter’s succinct reply. Grammy then inquired whether Chloe knew that she’s babysitting on Saturday.

This babysitting gig is very exciting for my husband and me, by the way. We haven’t had a date night in months. We sacrifice EVERYTHING for our children. We are MARTYRS for our kids. That’s not really true, but after spending countless days and nights, mostly nonstop, with my little ones, a night out is something to treasure. Anyway, the two of us will actually be celebrating my birthday by going out to see a movie that’s not a children’s cartoon, and to a restaurant for dinner that’s not the local pizzeria. Yippee.

Back to my little story. In response to my mom’s initial query about Chloe’s knowledge of her imminent visit, Chloe first said, “Yes,” and then said, “Actually, I didn’t know you were coming.” After a brief pause in the conversation, Chloe suddenly chimed in and explained her wishy-washy answer. “I’m a little distracted because I’m watching my TV shows right now. Goodbye.” At least she’s honest.

Scorecard:
A fulfilling telephone conversation with Grammy: a dime a dozen.
Watching an episode of “The Suite Life of Zack & Cody” for the twentieth time: priceless.
Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Barnyard Animals

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Sophie loves her new wooden fold & go barn. It was a Hanukkah gift from her grandmother, and she drags it all over the house. The toy comes with seven realistic-looking farm animals: pig, turkey, dog, horse, cow, sheep, lamb and goat.

She seems to favor the dog and the horse, and I’m not sure why. She takes them everywhere with her. To Chloe’s bus stop in the morning, for rides in the car, to the couch for her nap. She also likes the turkey, but I think it’s more because she likes saying “turkey” out loud than because she has any real affinity for the poor bird.

Sophie is all business when she plays with the barn. She is careful to lay the animals on their sides for bed. And Sophie has instituted rules when the animals are sleeping: (1) the doors to the barn must remain closed, (2) we must not touch the animals, and (3) we must be quiet. Earlier today, we serenaded the inanimate objects with two of her favorite songs, “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” and “Now I Know My ABCs.” I think they all had a nice nap.

She is proud to show everyone who enters the house her new toy. And she is, not surprisingly, loathe to share it. With anyone, including her immediate family members. She is very concerned about their well-being and their happiness. Most amazingly of all, it’s been three days and she hasn’t yet lost one of the figurines. It’s true love, I think.

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

The Evolution of Sophie’s Speech

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The ability to talk and to make oneself understood using speech is fascinating to me. It’s incredible that little tykes, barely two years old, with a whole lifetime ahead of them, begin to express themselves verbally at such a young age.

Chloe was a late bloomer. She started to talk after she turned two. We attributed this to a couple of things, but mostly because we speak both French and English at home. Now that she’s almost 7, we can’t get her to shut up. Sophie, however, is another story. Sophie’s first words predated her second birthday by a few months. In the beginning, Sophie, like most children, started to speak one incomprehensible word at a time. There weren’t many words, but she used them whenever the opportunity arose. Rather quickly, she began to increase her vocabulary.

For several months, we were convinced she was speaking some form of a Slavic language. Witness the accompanying heartwarming video of Chloe reading to Sophie. After a few seconds, you’ll hear Sophie’s mysterious dialect, as well as a few attempts to repeat words. This video was shot in August, about a month before her 2nd birthday.

Her speech has progressed impressively since then. She is now speaking in full sentences and increasingly repeating new words. The Slavic-sounding babbling has evolved into an almost perfectly understandable English.

And in a sure sign that we have another talker on our hands, I will share the following anecdote with you. We were having dinner at my Mom’s last night when Sophie, suddenly frustrated by something (I don’t remember what it was), came up to me and exclaimed, “Darn it!” She was very proud of her verbal acumen, and grinned at her own cleverness. But when we all started to laugh at her choice of words, she marched away in huff, clearly annoyed that we were not taking her seriously. That, of course, made us laugh some more. But it wasn’t over. Hearing the continuing guffaws, she dramatically turned around (not unlike Scarlett O’Hara) to face her giggling tormenters and cried, “That’s not funny!” Barely two, and yet she managed to get the last word in. Ironically enough, the rest of us, with an accumulated 150 years of talking experience, were speechless.

Chief Mom Officer Musings, Good for a Laugh

The Telephone Magnet

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It happens every single time. The phone rings, or I make a call. I’m having a conversation with someone, and it’s usually a conversation of substance, whether it be with friends or family, or business-related. Suddenly, out of nowhere, one of my two darling (the italics are there to signify sarcasm, by the way) daughters starts yapping away in my free ear. About something completely inconsequential, of course. And when I’m having a really great day, it’s sometimes both of them at once.

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