I am not your jungle gym

Let me go ahead and ask it right now:  Does anyone else's 5-year-old expect his or her parents/grandparents to be human jungle gyms that he/she can climb on all the live-long day?  Or is it just my kid?

N is a bundle of energy, a constant whirling dervish of spazz.  She gets home from school and is on and off the couch, running around the living room, smashing her face into the recliner, chasing her brother, laying upside down with her feet over the back of the couch.

When her grandmothers visit, N hangs on them like a monkey swings on ropes.  She jumps on their backs. Dangles from their necks.  Lays on the floor, inches her legs up their legs, grabs their hands, and then flips over.

I don't know how much of this is that she is 5 (almost 6) and kids this age just act this way.  Or if it's because she behaves so splendidly at school that she has to get her funkies out when she comes home.  Or if it's that she sees her wild-ass 2-year-old brother running on the couch and jumping on things and wants to do it too.

I try to roughhouse with N the way I do with G, but it is difficult because she has legs that go on forever, and she uses said legs to kick whenever I try to tickle her.  And she is so lanky that I inevitably get some bony body part rammed into my hip or thigh or arm.  I hate to say it, but it is more fun and less dangerous to wrestle with the squishy toddler than it is the gangly kindergartener.

Plus, the toddler has never gotten used to having mom all to himself, so he is way less demanding than N, who had all of me for almost 4 years.  That much undivided attention set a precedent that she is in no way ready to let go off.  When I tell N that I need to stop whipping her around to rest, she badgers and badgers me to continue.  She might suggest a different activity, but it always involves me exerting energy that I simply don't have these days.  I guess G just doesn't know to expect much out of me to begin with.  He's happy with whatever little playtime with me that he gets.

Tonight I was spinning the kids on the hardwood floor---holding their hands while they sat on their bottoms, twirling their arms in circles.  I did it any number of times to both N and G but eventually had to stop because.....dammit, I was tired.

I know N just wants to have fun, but I seriously get tired....literally physically tired....trying to be the human playground equipment that she seems to want me to be.

Old age, here I come

I will be 37 this year, but you'd think I was 4 steps from the grave.  Ok, maybe 8 steps.  It is just becoming increasingly apparent to me that I'm not such a spry hot chick anymore (as if I ever was.)

In the summer,  I used to never have to wear sunglasses.  The rays never bothered me.  But when I was pregnant with G in 2007 I had to purchase very dark shades.  I thought it might just be pregnancy, but it didn't go away when the placenta exited.  It is to the point that now it is bothersome to not have my sunglasses on in the snow.  Yes, the reflected light from the whiteness just about does me in.

And then there's the fact that I call everyone under 30 a kid.  Because they are kids.  They look so darn young with their bright eyes and doughy skin.

I posted a new FB profile pic and was a little shocked by the lines on my face.  I'm not ready yet to call them wrinkles.

Of course there is also the fact that I am hearing "new" music via my kindergartener and her Alvin and the Chipmunks songs.  I'd never heard Beyonce's All the Single Ladies, Pink's So What or Corinne Bailey Rae's Put Your Records On, but I have now thanks to the Chipettes.  I fully expected to hear unknown music once my children were teens, but the 5-year-old??  That's just pitiful.

The bedroom experiment, the crib that broke, and it's just Saturday

On Thursday night I had a potentially brilliant idea that came to me when I was nursing M to sleep and D read books to both N and G in her bedroom.  Once I got M to sleep, I figured I'd go get G and get him into his crib, but D had already put both kids to bed.

When I came downstairs I suggested we room N and G together for about 6 months or so, until August when N goes back to school for first grade and M is 10 months old (and will hopefully be in a routine and on a schedule.)

Originally I hadn't wanted to room N and G because I didn't want to disturb N's sleep since she has  school all day.  But a number of factors made me think rooming the two older kids might be a doable option right now.  First of all, they go to bed at the same time each night.  Secondly, they wake up at about the same time each day.  Third, G seems to all of a sudden be a little more mature.  He is talking in more complete sentences.  He is kinda over board books and is much more interested in reading 32 page picture books of Clifford, Curious George and Arthur, which makes reading to them simultaneously much easier and enjoyable.

Anyway, we told N we were gonna try to room her and G together and see what happened.  Two nights now without a bit of trouble getting them down to sleep.  N did tell us she got G out of his crib this morning and read him books in her bed, and then they both fell asleep in her bed, which I cannot prove since I was asleep, but which sounds highly adorable.

So we did all this with the intention of moving M into the smaller bedroom.  I have had sinus drainage and a cough this week, so I think I have been keeping him up with my cough as much as he has been keeping me up with his baby sleep noises and nursing requirements.  This afternoon D started taking down his crib in our room to move.

And then the crib broke.  Two plastic pieces that hold the sliding side up broke in half, rendering the entire bed unsafe and useless.  I called Pottery Barn Kids for replacement parts but have been getting the run-around.  Even if I hadn't, there is no way to get replacement parts TODAY, so D went out to buy a new crib at Wal-Mart.  The cheapest he could find.

The entire evening was spent putting the new crib together.  And then moving the glider into the nursery.  And then moving the boxes that held the new crib downstairs.  And then moving the PBK crib against the wall to wait to see if we can replacement parts.

It is now 8:52 pm, and I am starting my 2nd glass of wine, which explains any run-on sentences and jumbled stream of consciousness blogging.

In addition to all this, the kids and I went to a Valentine' Party this morning, and I hit the library to get books for N and G this afternoon.

Some ice cream and then my ass is in bed.

Yeah, I don't think I'll teach elementary

For awhile I been considering getting certified to teach elementary-age students.  I am currently certified to teach grades 5-9, but I thought it might be a good idea to branch out to avoid boredom (assuming I ever get back into the classroom).

And so I purposely took my graduate classes (to renew my certificate) in elementary reading.  I really learned a lot in general about helping kids read...even middle schoolers...and was introduced to all sorts of literature that I could use in either an elementary or middle school classroom.

But lately I've been thinking that elementary is probably not for me.

Because my kindergartener drives me frackin' bonkers.
And I thought it was just her.
But after leading last night's Daisy Troop meeting, I think all 5- and 6-year-old girls would drive me bonkers.

In a recent blog, I complained about how N won't sit down at supper.  Or ever.  She is a constant ball of jumping around, saying "Mom, watch this,"  "Look at this,"  "Hey Mom, check this out."

And virtually all the other girls at the meeting were the exact same way.

My experience last night made me remember how I felt after helping out at N's Christmas party at school.  I think I blocked it out because I was so darn fatigued after the fact.  Those kindergarteners just yammered and didn't focus and got up and down and had ants in their drawers.

It makes the moodiness of middle schoolers seem like a walk on the beach.

Although I know I won't handle my own kids' middle school moodiness as easily as I handled my students, back in the day when I wasn't somebody's momma.

For the record

I did not intentionally become pregnant with M.  I took the birth control pills as prescribed.  I don't know how many times I can say this.

Yes, I did say I wanted 3 kids

BUT

In no universe would it ever have been my choice, plan or desire to have a 2-year-old AND a baby.  Never.

AND

I have said at least a couple times how when N started kindergarten and I was back in a school building again, I kinda got the teaching bug. I got the rush that I used to feel when teaching, when planning lessons, when working with kids.

And that feeling was surprising to me.  I didn't expect to feel that way, but it was nice.

It was also nice to have a breather from having both kids underfoot all summer long.  I felt renewed with only having 1 kiddo during most of the day.  I began to think about what life would be like when both kids were in school, and I could either go back to work or volunteer in the kids' classrooms.

So had I not been 8 months pregnant, it is entirely possible I would have said "Forget the idea of 3 kids.  I want Carrie back."

BUT

I was 8 months pregnant.

And I did not get pregnant by myself.

The year-long "discussion"

My husband and I have been having a discussion for a year now.  It began a few moments after we stopped crying a year ago when I found out I was pregnant.

This morning another iteration of this discussion occurred.  It went something like this:

Me:  "D, can you move M's crib into my closet this weekend."
(For the last 2 nights, M has slept like utter shit.  Like up at least 5-6 times.  Probably as a result of cutting his two bottom teeth.  Please note my closet is fairly good-sized. Certainly large enough for a crib.  In addition to the teeth, I think I may be going to M when he's just making sleeping sounds, so I'd like for him to be a little further away from my bed.)

D:  "I don't think we ought to get new floors because you'll change your mind about buying another house."
(For the record, I have not said I am even considering wanting another house.  I am totally fine with G and M sharing a bedroom and staying in this house.  And even if we were to put this house up for sale, we'd have to get some kind of new flooring because our floors are crappy looking.  And on top of all that, D and I barely managed to go looking for a new mattress last weekend; how in the hell are we going to search for a new house.  Oh, and how the hell am I going to keep our house "show" worthy when I can only do the bare minimum now.  And finally, how the hell are we going to afford it when I am scraping loose change to try to pay for flooring?)

Me: "I don't want M to be all the way in another room because when I have to traipse to him multiple times a night that will wake me up completely."
(Also, I am not ready for them both to be in the same room because the last thing I want when nursing M in the middle of the night 5 times is to have G awake 5 times too.)

To be perfectly honest, I don't know where the conversation went from here.  I only remember the last two statements:

Me:  "Ok, so how about you start getting up with M?"

D: "I have to go down and get N's breakfast ready."  (Escapes to the kitchen)

I am becoming increasingly frustrated by this conversation for any number of reasons, which I will list below, not in order of importance or significance.

1. We refinanced this summer.  Dumb to move now.

2. We can't afford a significant mortgage increase.  So why bother for 1 extra bedroom?  (And technically, we have a bedroom in the basement with a closet and full bathroom, so once N is a teen, she can go down there.)

3. Well, I guess we could afford a mortgage increase, but that would mean no money for eating out, purchasing Xbox games, and going on vacations.  And I don't want to be house poor.

4. Our house is in the elementary school resides.  If we move, we chance having to switch schools.  And N's school is too fantabulous for us to fuck with moving.

5. We would have to spend a chunk of change to make "improvements" on our house, like new flooring anyway, repaint, etc.  Or we'd have to do it ourselves.  I can barely find time in the day to pee.  D still hasn't painted the spot in the basement that I had my cousin fix this past summer.  I asked that it be painted before M was born.  M will be 4 months old on Sunday.

6. We have 3 kids and toys taking up every inch of space in our house.  If D was being transferred and it was out of our control, I'd manage something to show the house to potential buyers.  But to willingly walk into that nightmare???  No thank you.

7.  The people behind us moved to Georgia last summer, and their house is still for sale.

8. The people behind us have had to lower and lower and lower their asking price.  I'm sorry, but I ain't giving my house away for nothing.

9. Before M was born I read the book, The Millionaire Next Door, and most people who have accumulated sizable wealth stay in the same house.  They don't keep moving on up, like the Jeffersons did.  They build equity, and they pay off their homes.  They don't carry a mortgage until they are 83 years old.  I would like to get this house paid off before N starts college.  So that we can pay for college.

I just can't see any rationale reason for moving.  I have quite enough on my plate right now without taking a big heaping spoonful of relocating.

From now on, when I see this "discussion" coming, I am going to refer my husband to this post.  Save myself some breath.

Stupid is as stupid does

I generally think of myself as pretty darn intelligent, witty and well-read.

But some days, I am a bloody idiot.

Like this afternoon, when I took all 3 kids to the grocery in the rain at 5 o'clock the day before a snowstorm.