Grateful For The Four-Legged Kids

E and V are so time-consuming and demanding that I have not had a chance to mention my first two kids: Lucy and Stubby. Both dogs are getting old now, and sometimes it takes a sad situation to remind me about my four-legged kids who love me just as much as the two-legged ones, if not more.

Our friends' dog Jerrianne recently had to have a biopsy, and our friends are still waiting to hear the results. If the growth on her spleen turns out to be cancer, she may have only one to six months to live. Jerrianne is only nine, two years younger than Lucy.

I feel so lucky that Lucy and Stubby are relatively healthy (so far) in their old age and active and loving life. They have accepted E and V into their pack, even though we spend considerably less time with them since the kids were born. They are wonderful dogs and wonderful first children for me. I'm so grateful to have them in my life. I can't even imagine how I could cope with our friends' situation.

So make a wish for, say a prayer, or however you commune with the universe, please ask for Jerrianne to be OK. Her parents are holding their breath and hoping that with enough love, their baby can heal.

Stuff I Love: Smashbox Sheer Focus Tinted Moisturizer

Well, it's been a long time since I've doled out any loving. I have of late settled into a nice quiet routine, and nothing has given me a quantum leap in my quality of life, until now.

What I Love: Smashbox Sheer Focus Tinted Moisturizer ($30 USD 1.7 fl oz)

Why I Love It: Yes, I'm not a make-up girl. I still don't really know how to apply mascara without it looking goopy. Which is precisely why I like this product. It actually feels like moisturizer, that happens to have a sheer tint to it. It also has SPF 15 and anti-oxidants, which I need and you need, too, because, let's face it, we're getting old.

You may wonder what this is doing on my mommy blog. What does this have to do with parenting? It's because I don't get nearly enough sleep any more (guess why), and I can no longer roll out of bed looking decent to the world. And I am a better role model to my kids if I feel good. (Follow my train of thought here, we're almost at the destination.) And when I look better, I feel better.

Hey before I got fat(ter) and had fewer gray hairs and got at least six hours of sleep a night, I only needed moisturizer and lip balm before I left the house. Now I need just that little bit of help to make my skin tone even and lessen the under-eye circles. But I still hate that cakey feeling of foundation. So there you have it. This is the product for you if you hate wearing make-up as much as I do.

Yes, You Are My Performing Monkey

Over the last month, I have seen the passing of my grandfather and the marriage of my little brother, and with those two events, a swarm of relatives come through our part of town. Many of them were meeting my kids for the first time.

Of course I am going to show them off, they are so cute! This mommy is proud of her munchkins, especially since I never thought I had the stuff to be a parent in the first place. And especially when the kids are at such cute stages in their life: E, with his adorable pre-school stream-of-consciousness non-sequitors, and V, with her flirty charm and drunken-master walking.

So naturally, when the parade of aunts, uncles, and cousins came to town, I wanted them to see all the things my kids do that make me laugh, make me proud, and make me melt. Which means of course that they did NONE of the things that make me laugh or melt. Would E shake his booty? Would V blow kisses? Not a chance. At one point, I asked E to say something in Mandarin, to which he replied with an icy glare that said, "I am not your performing monkey! Leave me alone!"

Is it wrong for a mother to want to share the joy? I guess they give private performances only.

Milestones!

It's been a busy month, and hence, I have gone AWOL on the blogging front lately. But a few things happened over the last month that are worthy of acknowledgment.

First, V is finally walking. Congratulations to my little diva for finally becoming bi-pedal! Granted, she walks like she's drunk most of the time. And she's not that steady. But having tasted the freedom of walking, nothing can deter her - not tripping on her own feet, getting knocked down by the dogs (or E), or the accidental run-in with furniture (that f**ker came out of nowhere!).

Secondly, E is pooping in the potty! I had pretty much given up, but I caught him making that tell-tale face one day and whisked him onto the potty seat. After he realized that he wouldn't fall in and get sucked to the ocean (like his Lightning McQueen undies), he became more open to putting his poo-poo in the potty. And in case you're wondering, he gets 5 stickers, "potty candy" (aka, fruit leather), and a trip to the car wash for his efforts.

Both of the munchkins are very proud of their achievements, as am I! Mommy's tired arms thank V, and the planet is happy E is putting fewer diapers in the landfill.

Anywhere But There...

The trials of E's potty training continue. He has gotten fairly good at letting us know when he needs to pee. But it seems like he will poop anywhere but in the potty. Argh!

We have tried everything to sway him, from praising, singing songs on the toilet, playing games, giving him a special toy to play with on the toilet, and bribing him with food, TV priveleges, candy, toys. We've swirled more dirty underpants in the toilet (and accidentally flushed one pair away) than I can count.

I've been reading every article I can find online, borrowed countless potty training books, and even signed up for a personalized "potty training" consultant (they really do have consultants for everything, don't they!). One piece of advice we haven't tried is to let him watch while Daddy poops on the toilet. I'll give you one guess why we haven't tried this yet.

The articles say that for boys, they should watch Daddy, and girls should watch Mommy. Since Daddy was reluctant, I gave it a go myself. I realized why they recommend having your child watch the parent of the same gender; E spent the entire session asking me where did Mommy's penis go. "Is it hiding?" "Is it sleeping?" "You forgot it?" "It fell in the water?" "You flushed it like Lightning McQueen underpants?" He didn't even notice what I was doing because he was so pre-occupied with the whereabouts of my penis.

So we're going to have to convince Daddy to let E watch him take a dump. I think I am going to have to bribe him with food, TV priveleges, candy, or toys.