Mom-I-Am

Where have I been?Drum-roll

2010-04-14T23:48:00.003-04:00

For those of you who have been wondering if I died, I am alive!

Is anyone out there who was wondering or am I just kidding myself? Hello! *echo*
As much as I love being a Mom and sharing about it here with you all, I also love capturing each passing moment of my kids' childhoods with my camera.

Because everyday I miss yesterday. And photographs help me relive each passing day.

And then one of the photos I took got selected by BBC for their blog.

So I have made a new blog dedicated to photography. *Drum-roll*
SymaKPhotography.wordpress.com

Please check it out.

Then check my website out:

http://symakphotography.com

And if you like it there, become a fan on Facebook!

Your comments and suggestions would mean a lot to me.

I know I have treated this blog like Cinderella me being the step-mom, but I love both my blogs. And I will continue blogging here too.

Memorials and Monuments - Sundays in my City

2010-03-14T07:37:00.013-04:00

Pictures taken at Vietnam Memorial, Washington DC.The Three Servicemen look towards the black wall that depicts all that lost their lives in the war. This is a memorial to those who served in the war, both living and dead.
Pictures taken at The Korean War Memorial. This memorial honors members of the United States Armed Forces that served in the Korean War, specially those who lost their lives in combat, the ones who are still missing and the ones who were held prisoners of war.

For more Sundays in my City, visit Unknown Mami.

Because you're Mine, I walk the Line

2009-10-29T14:56:00.006-04:00

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds
Because you're mine, I walk the line

I find it very, very easy to be true
I find myself alone when each day is through
Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you
Because you're mine, I walk the line

As sure as night is dark and day is light
I keep you on my mind both day and night
And happiness I've known proves that it's right
Because you're mine, I walk the line

You've got a way to keep me on your side
You give me cause for love that I can't hide
For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide
Because you're mine, I walk the line

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds
Because you're mine, I walk the line

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgsOhJRLP40

Pictures were taken at Skyline Drive. Walk the Line by Johnny Cash.

The Story - Sundays in my City

2009-10-11T08:17:00.012-04:00

Torn

Fallen

Stepped on

Picked

Home

For more Sundays in my City from around the world, visit Unknown Mami.

Are you smarter than a 4-year-old?- (mixed up edition)

2009-09-13T04:30:00.001-04:00

Three facts about Dimples:

Fact 1- She makes up words and/or uses random words at random times. She fills in the blanks of sentences with any word that may or may not be part of an existing dictionary.

When the lamp refused to turn on, she declared it was frustrated. And then asked what frustrated means.

One of her favorite words these days is dizzy. She uses it for anything, in any sentence, to describe basically any kind of emotion. Its a skill, really, to be able to do that.

And then there are other words that you won't find in the English language that we know of at least. Words like, kishikaala or sayviyaa or other words that only she can pronounce.

Fact 2- She loves wearing dresses. So much so, that she refuses to wear any other form of clothing. I have to threaten her that all her pants, shirts and shorts will go to the poor and needy if she does not want them, for her to sometimes consider my pleas. Yeah yeah, I'm a bad mom.

Fact 3- She loves Chuck E Cheese's. Me, not so much. And I mean not just the place, but the actual mouse. Yes, my 4-year old gets all jittery and weak in the knees when Chuck E walks by, and I am not even kidding. I wish I was.

*********************
So the other day when Hubby announced, 'Let's go to Chuck E Cheese's!' Dimples was literally doing jumping jacks.

And as if she wasn't high enough on that news, I picked out a dress for her to wear. She giggled, she laughed, she glowed when she smiled.

Thanks Mama for picking a dress for me, I wanted to wear a dress. I like this dress. Oh its so pretty, Mama. I always want to wear a dress, right? I think my head is a little . . . mixed up.

I could not keep myself from laughing out loud. And since I have explained to Dimples that I don't laugh at her, but because I think she's cute, she laughed with me. (Yes, it wasn't easy to laugh at her cute remarks before I explained this to her. Now she knows. Now we laugh)

Dimples: I'm serious. My head is all mixed up. My mind is all silly.

Me: Its not silly, cutie. Its smart and cute.

Dimples: No its silly sometimes. And mixed up. Why do you yell at me?

Me: (Whoa! Where did this come from?) When did I yell at you?

Dimples: Sometimes.

Me: Oh. Yeah. . . sometimes. I shouldn't.

Dimples: Is your head mixed up too?

Well if it wasn't, it is now.

For more Are you smarter than a 4-year-old? check out the Loser edition.

Sundays in my City - A day at the Park

2009-09-13T00:00:00.005-04:00

These pictures were taken a month ago, on a beautiful day at a beautiful park. Sorry, I have been cheating for the past few weeks, but I will shoot some new pictures for next Sunday hopefully.

Going through these reminded me of how much fun summer was. It also made me realize that I am obsessed with pictures of water.

For more Sundays in my City from around the world, visit Unknown Mami.

Chatty Dry-Cleaners in 'What the Hell??!!'-Wednesdays

2009-09-09T10:08:00.015-04:00

There are too many times in one's life when one feels the need to say, 'What the hell??!!'

I will keep it sugar-coated the rest of the week, but on Wednesdays I will let it all out. You know how you feel bloated after eating beans, or something milk-based if you are lactose intolerant, and you HAVE to fart to feel good. And it feels sooo good once you do. On Wednesdays, dear readers, I will fart. Or burp. Whatever helps.

I go to these dry-cleaners that are nameless. They are the $1.75 Dry-cleaners. That's all they have up on their window and on their receipts. They do a decent job dry-cleaning, so I don't really care that they don't have a name. They are located pretty close to where we live, and I have yet to find any other dry-cleaners in my area, charging just $1.75 per item of clothing (certain restrictions apply). So I go there pretty often.

On one of the registers at the nameless Dry-cleaners, though, is a guy. This guy likes to chat. I don't. When I am running errands, the girls are either with me pulling at my leg, asking/crying/demanding to buy them candy from the candy machine that the nameless dry-cleaners have mindlessly installed at the entrance. Or, I have left the girls at home with Hubby, who keeps calling every minute to ask me when I will be coming home and telling me how one or the other or both girls are crying for Mama.

I'm not in a chatty mood in either cases.

I want to do exactly what I went into that nameless place for. Drop off and pick up. Nothing more, nothing less.

That guy has other plans. Every. Freaking. Time.

On this particular day, I was dressed up to go somewhere, and we wanted to pick up the dry-cleaning on the way. Hubby and the girls waited in the car, while I went in.

Damn it, he's there even at this time.

I waited in line and prayed that I would end up at a register other than his.

The line moved.

Next.

Next.

Next.

Damn it! My turn to go. His register open.

I go and before I can tell him my phone number, he says my last name.

Yes, that's right.

I do go there practically every day, so I guess I should not worry about him recognizing me AND my name. And being able to put those two together. I shouldn't, right? I did freak out just a little bit, though.

I looked at the shirts, jackets, dresses, trousers wrapped up in plastic moving on that moving machine dry-cleaners have. I think its pretty cool. I wish I had one of those at home, to move things around.

Are you married?

Did he just ask me if I was married? Does he not see this rock I wear on my left hand? Or is he trying to tell me its too small for him to see? Well you want me to shove my finger in front of your face for you to see better, nameless dry-cleaner guy?!! I can shove a different finger too, that's right next to my ring finger, if you want. No, really you want me to do that??!

Yeah.

I waited for the moving machine to bring my Hubby's clothes. Can it move ANY slower? Jeez.

You look good.

I looked at him. I wanted to punch him right in the middle of his two eyes. Do I thank him, or do I tell him to F off? I should show him the finger now, right?

Thanks, is what I said.

Is that how you get dressed when you get married?

Can you SEE that I am trying here not to punch you? Can you SEE that I am in no mood to carry on this freaking conversation with you? Can you . . . wait a minute. WHAT?

I'm pretty sure I just looked at him with my mouth a little open, and a frown on my face.

Is that how you get dressed when you get married? Everyone does it differently.

Now I don't know where the hell he is from. I don't know where the hell he thinks I am from. But I did not look like I was going to my own wedding. I did look better than I do on most days. But I would look better than I do on most days even if I brushed my hair regularly. And take some time to take the crud out of my eyes. Okay that's an exaggeration. But I did not look like I was dressed for my own wedding. Already wearing my wedding band. And didn't he just ask me if I was married?

The moving machine stopped. It stopped, oh it stopped. I could jump in joy right then and there. He handed me the clothes. I snatched'em away. I wanted to get out of that nameless place.

Thanks, I said again. Because I'm a good person who does not punch people even when she wants to, that is why.

Best of luck with your wedding!

I ran out clutching on to my Hubby's dry-cleaned clothes, realizing he had not asked me if I was married in the first place. He had asked me if I was getting married. To which I had said, 'Yes'.

That cleared the confusion a bit. But still my perception of that creepy moron at that nameless Dry-cleaners remains the same.

And yesterday, he winked at me. I took my eyes off of the moving machine for a second to look at him, because I could feel him staring at me, and he winked at me.

What.The. Hell??!!

For more 'What the Hell??!!' - Wednesdays, check out:

http://mom-i-am.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-hell-wednesdays_28.html

and

http://mom-i-am.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-hell-wednesdays.html

10 not so tiny toes

2009-09-07T06:17:00.001-04:00

I love Giggles but she has freakishly BIG feet.

Giggles is the bloggy name for my 18-month old daughter. She wears toddler size 8 shoes. To give you an idea of how freakishly big her feet are, let me tell you that my 4-year old Dimples has recently moved to size 10.

Don't get me wrong, I love Giggles. But she has BIG feet.

The morning after she was born, I remember the pediatrician coming into my room after doing my one-day-old baby's checkup in the nursery. After he told me that everything was fine with my newborn, he asked if I had any questions for him.

I asked, and I quote without any exaggeration: Are her feet too big?

Thank goodness the doctor understood that I was probably high on medication or tired from the labor and birth process, or simply not right in the head, and he did not laugh. At least not on my face.

Doctor: They are what they are, Miss ymK.

He did smile, though.

The other day Dimples asked me if she could paint Giggles' toes, and after a little convincing she made me say yes.

In a little while, Giggles came running, showing me her feet, saying 'Pity?' (Pretty)

I looked at her feet with 8 of her toes painted pink, 2 telling the tale of her squirming and making it impossible for Dimples to finish the task, and I said, 'Very pretty!'

Because when I think of the Top Ten Pretty Things in my Life, her big feet are right there close to the top.

They are pretty when she curls up her toes while she waits by the kitchen sink, as I fill up her sippy cup with water.

They are pretty when she spreads out her toes if she steps on something she considers dirty.

They are pretty when she tiptoes.

They are pretty when covered in sand.

They are pretty when covered in chalk.

They are pretty in her size 8 flip flops.

And they are pretty when she tries on other's flip flops.

And I tell her: With those pretty big feet, I mean big yet pretty feet, don't worry my dear, you are getting there.

Sundays in my City - Chicago

2009-09-06T08:43:00.015-04:00

Chicago is not my city either, just like New York isn't. But I visit Chicago often as well.

During one of those visits, we visited Millennium Park.

The Cloud Gate was my favorite there.

Its mirror-like surface reflects Chicago skyline, which makes it a perfect place to take pictures of you with the skyline in the background.

You can even walk under it to take a picture of your own reflection, since it is shaped like a bean.

And this is what you you see if you look up standing under it.

We did get a bit carried away with the camera, which is nothing new. Happens to me all the time. Dimples, though, does not share my obsession, I mean passion for taking pictures. She got bored.

Dimples: This is embarrassing.

Me: What is?

Did she just declare at 4 years of age that her Mom embarrasses her? I am not yet ready for that. The kid was going to get a lecture.

Dimples: Sitting in a baby stroller. For a long time!

Well, if she had not been running around and complaining about getting tired, I would not have strapped her in her baby sister's stroller, would I?

I told her she should not let things embarrass her so easily. But she did have a point.

So we took her to another attraction at the park, The Crown Fountain.

She had a great time getting drenched in the water flowing out of strange people's mouths. Everyone has a different definition of embarrassing, it seems.

For more Sundays in my City from around the world, visit Unknown Mami.

'What the Hell??!!'-Wednesdays

2009-09-02T11:23:00.001-04:00

There are too many times in one's life when one feels the need to say, 'What the hell??!!'

I will keep it sugar-coated the rest of the week, but on Wednesdays I will let it all out. You know how you feel bloated after eating beans, or something milk-based if you are lactose intolerant, and you HAVE to fart to feel good. And once you do, it feels sooo good. On Wednesdays, dear readers, I will fart. Or burp. Whatever helps.

Have you ever seen what you make your kids watch on TV? Some of it is CRAP. Yes it is.

Take for instance an episode of Dora the Explorer. Yes, that little girl that is never home, going around the world with no adult supervision, on random adventures.

Baby Jaguar, who is Dora's cousin Diego's friend, (since we cannot call him his pet, God that would be so wrong) is hanging from a branch of a tree, and is about to fall into some thorns or something prickly and scary. Two other friends of Dora's are in trouble too at the same time on different locations. So ofcourse Dora and Boots (Dora's friend monkey) try to decide for what seems like a good half hour, which friend to help first.

Baby Jaguar is the lucky one to be picked first, and off they go. Now you would expect they would hurry the hell up, since the poor jaguar baby is hanging for his dear life, calling for help. But first Dora has to find a short cut.

And who do we ask for help when we don't know which way to go?

The map!

Now the silly song plays for a good five minutes, while Baby Jag is dangling in air.

I'm the map, I'm map. Okay yes we know, can you hurry it up please. You stupid son-of-a ... map.

They find a short cut, and are on it. Finally they reach the tree, but do they save the freaking, hanging jaguar? No.

They have to play games even at this crucial point in Baby Jag's life. Freaking arrange the pictures in the right order game.

Which picture comes first? Take the ladder out of the backpack. Give the ladder to Baby Jaguar. Or Baby Jaguar giving us a hug?

Take the ladder out of the freaking backpack. Take. It. Out. TAKE IT OUT NOW.

By this time, I am sitting at the edge of the seat, biting my nails, cursing out loud. Finally Baby Jaguar is safe. If I were him, I would have eaten both Dora and Boots right after their charade of a saving mission was accomplished.

I mean, what the hell??!!

Then there are Max and Ruby. Max is the most annoying kid you would ever come across. No, really. If you think your kid is annoying, or that a kid at a certain playdate was annoying, you have not seen Max. He communicates in words rather than sentences, repeats the same word all day long, and does not listen to anything his sister tells him to do. Yes I said sister. Because I have never seen their parents. Never.

Ruby the big sister, who keep in mind still sells girl scout cookies, takes care of Max. She feeds him, takes him for playdates, cleans up the house, does all the gardening, even changes his jammies a hundred times to puts him to bed. Without ever yelling at him. She talks in that honey-drenched tone that makes you want to punch her in the face. She is better than a lot of us Moms. And that is what makes her annoying.

How is it not child labor, I fail to understand. I mean where the hell are their parents??!!

Dimples loves Max and Ruby, but after I noticed that she had adopted Max's one-word language, I told her she is not dealing with no silly Ruby here. If Max was my kid, that one-word lingo would not have stayed for long. That kid would have gotten his ass whooped. But thankfully, Dimples understood. And no ass whooping took place.

And what the hell is up with Tigger and Pooh? I think both sound like pedophiles. Eww.

Mommy's little princess

2009-09-01T10:12:00.007-04:00

The first time I left Dimples at a daycare, she cried and screamed and held on to my leg as if never to let go. In the car, I sat and cried before driving away.

This happened for a few weeks. I cried every day.

But one day, she didn’t even notice that I left. I kept looking through the window at my baby busy playing with the toys, in the daycare lady’s arms.

That day, I cried the most.

With time, she grew up into a big girl and I grew used to her being one. Or so I thought.

Today a chilly morning woke me up to the end of summer. It was Dimples' first day of pre-K.

She went to her new classroom, shook hands with her new teacher and sat down at a little desk. I took a few pictures, gave her a few kisses (okay, more than a few) and left the room. As I waved to her from the doorway, she waved back.

And with a big smile, she whispered, 'I'll see you later.'

No screaming, no crying, no pulling at my leg - she would see me later.

But I did not cry today.

Maybe because here's what I made her wear to school. And she loved it. So maybe there is still some time before she turns completely into a big girl.

And that is a good, warm feeling.

Sundays in my City - New York

2009-08-30T00:13:00.001-04:00

I don't live in New York, but sometimes I wish I did. It is close enough that we can drive up there and back the same day. We go there often.

I thought I would share some pictures I took during one of those visits.

The Red Ship
Standing in Line
Liberty

And while you are here, all you Sundays in my City contributors (and other bloggers), check out my Friday Find. I'm sure some of you would relate.

For more Sundays in my City from around the world, go to Unknown Mami.

Friday Finds

2009-08-27T16:29:00.003-04:00

Story of my life.
How many of you see yourself in that short-haired, naked stick-gal?

http://xkcd.com/77/

'What the Hell??!!' - Wednesdays

2009-08-26T02:30:00.001-04:00

There are too many times in one's life when one feels the need to say, 'What the hell??!!'

These moments don't necessarily happen on Wednesdays, they can happen anytime, anywhere. But since there seems to be a popular trend in keeping the title of a category to rhyme OR sound similar to OR start with the same letter as that of the day its posted, (Foto Friday, Wordless Wednesdays, Sunday Shout-outs, etc.) I thought I would be doing the trendy thing, by writing about these 'What the Hell??!!' situations on Wednesdays.

So, I don't hold any particular grudge against the day Wednesday. It just happens to start with the letter W. Sucker.

I will keep it sugar-coated the rest of the week, but on Wednesdays I will let it all out. You know how you feel bloated after eating beans, or something milk-based if you are lactose intolerant, and you HAVE to fart to feel good. And once you do, it feels sooo good. On Wednesdays, dear readers, I will fart. Or burp. Whatever helps.

So, this past Monday as I am visiting some of your blogs, and my kids are happily watching some crap on TV, and I have the living room blinds and windows open to let the kids see the beautiful day outside (keep in mind, I had no intentions of actually taking them outside. So like a bad Mom I was just tempting them), I hear voices too close to my windows for my comfort. Two big guys discussed drilling, banging and making my afternoon a nightmare for that day. They used different words, but all we care about is what they meant.

I closed the windows, pulled down the blinds. I did not want some strangers looking into my living room, and complaining about me to the AAP about how much TV I let my kids watch.

I thought that would make bad things go away. But I was naive.

After I put my 18-month old, coughing, sneezing Giggles down for her afternoon nap in the girls' bedroom upstairs, and take 4-year old Dimples in my bedroom upstairs so she does not wake little sister up, I see shadows outside my bedroom blinds. What the hell??!! How am I supposed to put a kid to sleep with two big guys hovering outside my window? Has anyone met a 4-year old recently?

'Who are those guys, Mama?'

'What are they doing there?'

'How did they get there?'

'Did they use a ladder?'

'Can they see us?'

And the creepy thing is, they probably could.

So, there goes naptime for one kid. And as if that wasn't enough, they start drilling and banging and pulling off the walls for all I could tell by the noise. A sick kid sleeping in the next room, hello!! I mean, what the hell??!! Seriously.

After a few failed attempts of trying to get Dimples to forget about the HUGE guys playing rock-climbing (for all I knew, since I did NOT get any notice from the community management about any kind of drilling and banging needed on my windows) and to ignore the LOUD noise all that drilling and banging made, I gave up. And went and grabbed my phone. No not to call anyone.To make a video of the huge guys playing peekaboo with us through my blinds.

Yeah. Let them know how it feels to have one's privacy intruded. As one of them sorta, kinda peeped inside, and caught a glimpse of me aiming the phone at them, I could almost hear him say, 'What the hell??!!'

Maybe I will share the video clip on an upcoming 'What the Hell??!!'-Wednesday. Because right now I don't know what the hell is wrong with my phone's downloading capabilities.

Sundays in my City (Love birds)- revised

2009-08-22T16:09:00.019-04:00

What should a couple do when they get a chance to spend time alone with each other, after months if not years? Clean thoughts needed here you dirty-minded people.

Why are they not able to spend alone time with each other more often, you ask? Good question, but I can confidently say that you don't have any kids, if you even thought of asking that. You haven't met MY kids, for sure.

Kids. Crying, screaming, whining, complaining, demanding kids. Possessive kids who pull on Mama's hair and push Papa away if they get a glimpse of the two of them sitting on one couch. Kids who yell,'Mine!' and cling to Mama's legs when Papa asks Mama to sit by him. Kids who keep turning Mama's face towards them with their tiny hands when she is trying to listen to something funny or important said by Papa. Kids who bang on their toys with all their might, and yell at the top of their lungs when they catch Mama having a conversation with Papa from across the living room. (Since Mama cannot sit on the same couch with Papa, remember?)

So, the best date for parents of such kids?

Para-sailing. You get to sit next to each other, and all you hear up there in the sky is each others' voice. And if you are lucky you might even see dolphins. We did.

Photos taken by the boat crew at Virginia Beach. And yes we did tip them.

For more Sundays in my City from around the world, visit Unknown Mami.

******************************************************
It was not scary. It was the most romantic date. Not scary and recommended for all couples who have kids.

There are Some Things Money Can't Buy- (Post-pregnancy Edition)

2009-08-18T09:07:00.006-04:00

Some people are ungrateful, they just cannot help it. They always see the glass half-empty.

Or, maybe they are just hormonal, since they just had a baby a month ago. Who knows.

A Facebook friend's status stated:
Was so excited to fit back into my pre-pregnancy outfit, only to have my 4-year old spill grape juice on my jeans, and my 2-month old pee over my shirt.

I commented:
Detergent to wash away grape juice and pee stains: $10 (more or less)
In case stains don't go away, buying new pair of jeans and shirt: $50-100 (depending on where from)
Fitting back into your pre-pregnancy clothes: Priceless.

A Song (as we walk towards Target)

2009-08-17T23:39:00.004-04:00

Walking towards Target, I lock the car, and give Dimples and Giggles my hands to hold.

Me: I have two little princesses (I croon)

Dimples: Holding your hands

Me: Holding my hands

Dimples: One has a doll in her hand

Me: One has french fries in her hand

Dimples: One is wearing a green dress

Me: One is wearing a pink one

Dimples: And another princess in the middle.
Her name is Mama

Two Hearts

2009-08-13T14:24:00.003-04:00

She always argued about having two hearts. Hubby and I tried explaining to her that she has one, but she would not listen.

'I have two hearts,' she would always say.

And I finally asked Hubby to back off, thinking that maybe somehow she means she has a bigger heart, maybe that would mean she would grow up to be a very kind person, kinder than usual. After all, she has two hearts instead of just one that Mother Teresa had. I am a mother, and I tend to think good things about my kids. I'm a mother, I don't have to explain my reasoning. So stop snickering at me, please.

Today, she kept pulling down her shirt and laughing. It made me a little uncomfortable since I don't want my daughter growing up to be a flasher, you know. So, I asked her to stop. She giggled and kept going at it. I asked her why she was doing that. She said she wanted to look at them, pointing to her *gulp* nipples.

Now I am not even sure if they are called that on girls her age. And before writing this post, I tried doing a search for the right word as I didn't want to sound anatomically incorrect. But as I sat there with the vacant Google bar staring at me, waiting for me to put in a word, a phrase, a question, I did not know what to ask for without generating pictures or sites of X-rated nature. After a few failed attempts, (that DID generate the stuff I was afraid of, even though I was being cautious) I gave up, and hoped I was using the right term in terms of anatomy.

Anyway, so I asked her why she liked looking at them, and after the obvious first answer, 'because' she shared with me that they are funny. I asked her if she finds her nose funny, and she replied 'No!' in an offended tone.

'Then why do you find these funny? These are also a part of your body', I said.

'But what are they called?'

'Umm. . . that's your chest.'

'Yes, but this is my heart,' she pointed to one of them.

'No, baby. Your heart is inside your body.Remember we read that in the book?'

'No, its outside. See? One, two.'

This heart, Mother Teresa also had two of.

*Sigh*

Are you smarter than a 4-year-old?- (Loser edition)

2009-04-29T13:59:00.008-04:00

She is going through a phase where she has to be in the front, when we are coming down the stairs, going up the stairs, walking towards the car, or anywhere. I hope its a phase that will pass.

So, as I was coming downstairs, she told me to stop and wait for her to catch up.

I stopped and waited.

She went ahead of me. I followed.

She reached the last step first, because well, she was in front of me.

'I win! You lose, Mama. But its okay to lose,' she declared.

I smiled, jumping on the opportunity to teach a thing or two about life,'Yes the important thing is that we try, and never give up. Its okay to lose sometimes.'

'Yes, but you lose. And its okay to lose.'

'And it makes me happy when you win,' I smiled radiating with motherly love.

'And it makes me happy when you lose,' she laughed deviously.

And as the little devil ran to me for a hug, I hugged her right back. So what if I had just been punk'd by a 4 year-old.

Black Eyed Peas make a song for my kid

2009-04-28T11:29:00.006-04:00

Boom Boom Boom Gotta get-get!

Boom Boom Boom Gotta get-get!

Hubby and I were dancing (read shaking, moving, rocking but NOT dancing) to this song in the car, on our way to pick Dimples from her grandma's. Since I try not to listen to most songs with Dimples in the car, and since I tell myself that its okay to listen to them with Giggles as she doesn't understand the lyrics yet, I was savoring the moment.

I looked at Giggles sitting in her car seat, and shook my head and hands insisting her to dance with us. She gave me a strange look for a minute or two, saying with her eyes 'Are you right in the head?' and I thought its for obvious reasons, anyone who sees us dancing would look at us that way.

Then she finally gave in and joined us, and she is way better than us. I wonder where these girls are getting their dancing genes from, both Dimples and Giggles. Not from us, trust me.

But in the middle of the song, I started laughing uncontrollably. Hubby was curious to know why, and I have a feeling you are too. Let me explain.

I realized Giggles had not been astounded by our nerves to actually ask her to join in our pathetic dancing attempts, but at Black Eyed Peas for making a song for her!

Boom Boom is what she calls her milk- the milk she drinks, which is my milk-you get the point. Don't ask me why. I have no idea why. All I know, is that whenever she gets hungry, she comes to me, pulls on my shirt (down or up, whatever is convenient for her) and demands, 'Boom Boom'.

I remember telling my sister that its good that she doesn't say 'milk' when she is pulling my shirt in public, and she said, 'You think Boom Boom is any better?' She had a point.

She sees me changing, she goes 'Boom Boom.'

I bend down to pick something up, and she gets a glimpse of the source, and she goes, 'Boom Boom.'

The other day I went to Victoria's Secret. Just because. And found out they were giving away a $5 coupon just for trying on their new bra. Well ofcourse I picked one up, and headed right to the dressing rooms. And as I tried it on, you guessed it right.

Giggles kept singing 'Boom Boom Boom!'

So if you are ever at Victoria's Secret (or any similar store), and you hear a kid going 'Boom Boom', I must be in the dressing room next to yours.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cKnTLrDbcw

She dreamed a dream

2009-04-23T15:40:00.009-04:00

She has recently started talking about her dreams.

Dimples: I dreamed a dream, Mama.

Me: What was it, baby?

Dimples: I dreamed that I was doing ballet at home.

Hubby: Really? What were you wearing?

Dimples: My ballet clothes. My ballet tutu, and my ballet shoes, and my ballet shirt, and my ballet backpack.

Hubby: Do you have a ballet backpack?

Me: No, she saw that in her dream.

Hubby: Oh, okay. So you had a backpack in your dream, but not in real life, right?

Dimples: Yes, but you know what? Life is but a dream! (giggles contagiously)

Maybe I should sign her up for the ballet classes again.

Petition to Pee in Peace. Please.

2009-04-20T01:50:00.002-04:00

Category: Human Rights

Target: All those who won't let us pee in peace.

Background:

Four years. I have forgotten how it felt to pee without any interruptions. Four years. That is how old my daughter is.

This petition has been long overdue. Reading about a mom's good shower turning bad at badmommymoments confirmed that I am not alone. Reading the comments to her description of her plight (which was great as usual. Description, not plight) showed that she is not alone. Together, us moms can make a difference.

Sign the petition and spread the word. Tell your friends, family, co-workers on phone, email, twitter, facebook, whatever medium you choose. Its us against those tiny intruders of our Pee-time.

Petition:

Let us Pee in Peace.

Because you do not let us eat in peace. Or shower in peace. Or sleep in peace. Or shop, or cook, or drive in peace. Let us pee in peace. Please.

We, the Mamas/Moms/Mothers, want you to know that when you see the bathroom door closed, it means you can not come in. We want you to know that, this is not the time to show us your art, or to sing to us the new song you made up. We are not interested. Not at this time. We are peeing.

We know that you were part of our bodies once, and your kicks to our bladder sent us running to pee quite often, how can we forget. But once that cord was cut, you have your own body, we have our own. And we don't feel comfortable peeing while you watch. It is just not right.

And its difficult to keep pulling our shirts down in attempts to cover as much as possible, especially with your running commentary about the various sounds you hear while we pee and poop. And we don't want to know how many plops you heard. Its disgusting. And embarrassing.

It would be highly appreciated if you could go find something else to do while we pee. And keep your little sister (or brother) busy too. We would like to spend these few minutes not worrying about what she is eating (toilet paper?) and what she is falling into (bath tub?).

Yours sincerely,

The Undersigned

Clip art licensed from the Clip Art Gallery on DiscoverySchool.com

Mama in the bathroom sign made by me, though.

"I paint forms as I think them, not as I see them." Picasso.

2009-04-13T16:13:00.017-04:00

Hello and welcome to the Art gallery of an upcoming artist, Miss Dimples. Playing with all abstract styles: cubism, neoplasticism and expressionism, here she presents some of her masterpieces. (Her Mama, being the lazy and forgetful mom that she is, had forgotten to send some of these masterpieces to the aunts and grandparents they were made for. This is her effort at redeeming herself. Mama's favorite: Carence.)

Art lessons are also available if payments are made in the form of candy.

Sun, Water, Sky by Dimples from early 2008.
Orange and Purple washable paint on paper.

Flower by Dimples from 2008
Pink and Orange washable paint on paper.

A bird suit by Dimples from 2009
Black washable non-toxic marker on paper.

House with a jelly fish by Dimples from 2009.
Green washable non-toxic marker on paper.

Rocket ship by Dimples from 2009.
Red, Green and Black washable markers on paper.

Carence by Dimples from 2009.
Non-washable black pen on paper.

Background:
What is this?
For the nose to play with.
But what is it? A carence.
What's a carence?
This is a carence. You go round and round, and put your nose here. (pointing at the dark spot which on further inspection turned out to be a slit in the paper. Perfect for a nose to fit in.)

Pretty Dinosaur by Dimples from early 2008.
Washable Orange paint on paper.

Angry Dinosaur by Dimples from early 2008
Washable Brown paint on paper.

Letters to Santa by Dimples from 2008, some time around Christmas.
Non-washable unidentified marker OR pen on green and yellow paper.

Pretty for Mama by Dimples from 2008
Non-toxic washable Blue, Red, Yellow, Green and Black paint.

"I paint forms as I think them, not as I see them."
Picasso.

For abstract art by other famous artists, and to see how Dimples and they share brilliance in abstract techniques, check out:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abstract_art

Take those art lessons, and you can be famous too. No admission without candy.

Loser

2009-04-13T11:30:00.014-04:00

Dimples was little. We were visiting family. The other girl was older than Dimples. They were given something to eat (cereal or something) and the older girl finished first and declared, 'I win!'

We clapped and smiled. (trying to remember if this was announced a competition. No, it wasn't.)

'I'm a winner. She lost. She is a loser.' We stopped smiling. Hubby would have punched the older girl, if only she was older enough. And also if she was not a girl. Minor details.

We tried explaining to her that when Dimples finishes her cereal, she would be a winner too. 'No, she lost. She is a loser.'

********************
I would like to get a Vera Bradley bag one day. I love the colors, the prints, but I don't like the prices for bags that are now made in China instead of USA. I mean I can buy similar bags for much less somewhere else. But I would like to get a Vera Bradley. So I entered for a giveaway last fall for their Puccini Morgan. The Vera Bradley retailer near my place is never busy when I go there, so I felt confident that I would win this bag. (Each retailer could give away one bag)

Finally the day came when the winner was to be announced. I did not receive any phone call. The day was over.

I did not win the bag. Someone else did. They were the winner. I was a loser.

**********************

Three Bay B Chics and Hot Caramel Mocha recently had a Chic Chat giveaway. Other bloggers like Kathy B from the world according to me, Grand Pooba, and Optimistic Cynicism also participated, put up vlogs, and made us laugh and think. It was great fun to watch them talk about blogging, no doubt about it.

But I also entered for the fabulous giveaway, and I knew I would win.

But I didn't. These fabulous ladies did. They are the winners. I am a loser.

Now if it were Dimples in my place (who had entered this giveaway and lost) I could have said to her:

It's Okay.

There were a lot of other people who entered the giveaway, you were not the only one.

You were not the only one who wanted the prizes.

Everyone cannot win.

You will win next time.

But its me who lost. And I know there were a lot of other people who entered the giveaway. And I know that I wasn't the only one who wanted the prizes. And I know that everyone could not have won. And I know that I did not win this time. But I wanted to. Damnit.

Dimples is a better loser than me. I whine about losing, which makes me a bigger loser. And then I whine in front of the winners, which makes me the biggest loser. Shame on me.

(Congratulations to the winners, and good job Three Bay B Chicks, Hot Caramel Mocha, the world according to me, grand Pooba, and Optimistic Cynicism. I kid.)

Photo courtesy of: www.ximnet.com, mrsrandball.blogspot.com/2007/11/rooting-for-...

Go Fetch!

2009-04-09T13:27:00.005-04:00

Last night, out of the blue Dimples made a request.

'I want a pet', she said.

'A pet.' I repeated.

'Yes. We can go to the Zoo, and get a pet for me. Like a Lion or a Monkey. I will bring it home and when Giggles is sleeping I can play Fetch with my pet.'

I wonder if this has anything to do with me stopping her from playing Go Fetch with her little sister.

And who gets a pet from the Zoo? Not sure about Monkeys, but I have a feeling Lions will be offended.

Hand-made Party game-Pin the Hat on the Cat

2009-04-09T11:38:00.022-04:00

I know I'm obsessing over Dimples' non-pink Birthday party, but if I blog about it, somehow I convince myself that its part of the planning and working for the party. So, it takes the guilt away. Kind of.

Okay so I will make this a short one.

One of the games I am having at the party is:

Pin the Hat on the Cat

What you will need:

1/2 blue poster board

1 white poster board

1 foam board

pencil

red crayon

black crayon

glue

scissors

some thumb pins

How to make it:

Look up a picture of the Cat in the Hat on the internet, or on your child's book. Sketch it out on the white poster board with a pencil. Color in with red crayon/pencil.

Then cut it out.

Paste it onto blue poster board, to one side like on the book cover.

Outline with black crayon. (Don't forget the whiskers)

Cut out the letters for PIN THE HAT ON THE CAT and paste them onto the blue poster board. (You could buy a stencil to do this, so your letters won't look as crooked as mine. But I think the crookedness looks Dr. Seussy. Or I comfort myself.)

Pin up the blue poster board onto the foam board.

Make a hat just like the one your Cat is wearing, and have the kids pin it up on the Cat.

Sit back, and watch your kid have fun.

You might also be interested in the party invitations. Happy planning!

Stop teasing me, Google. And, stop stalking me.

2009-04-08T09:46:00.009-04:00

I just noticed the ads Google is putting up on my blog about having birthday parties at those indoor rental bouncy places. Also about hiring someone to plan your party.

Did you somehow miss the part about me deciding to do it at home partly because of financial reasons? And you think you can convince me now that I am half-way through my planning?

Don't you tempt me, Google! Don't you tempt me.

Dimples' Mama is going to throw her a great non-pink, Dr.Seuss themed party at home. You'll see.

Because you see everything, don't you? You scare me sometimes, with maps.googles.com, and that world Google where I can see even the car standing outside a home in Australia- you see everything.

It was scary when I started getting ads on my Gmail account about the things I discussed in private emails to my friends. You read all my emails don't you?

Now you read my blogs.

You know where I live.

You are one big stalker, Google.

Need to kick some Black-Belted Butts

2009-04-06T14:00:00.006-04:00

Its like I am speaking in a foreign language that Dimples does not understand, when I say 'Hurry.' Or, any other words that fall in the synonym category or close-to-being-a-synonym category for that matter.

Quick.

Fast.

Speed it up.

I might as well be saying limpora, brinka, or fibikoon. Yeah, they don't mean anything, but for Dimples they are all the same. Meaningless.

It is a constant struggle to get her to do anything.

Breakfast lasts until lunch time.

When asked to go pee, she tells me that her pee pee won't work. I ask her to try anyways, and after spending (read wasting) a loooooong time convincing, when she finally does try, sometimes she tells me, 'It doesn't work. Maybe it needs new batteries!'

Bedtime is a torturous routine.

Finish milk. I want apple juice. No, finish your milk. (takes 15 mins on good days)

Go upstairs. I need to play some games on the computer. No, its bedtime. You have to wake up early. Just for a little while. No, you will be tired in the morning if you don't go to bed now. Just one game, Mama. Please. Dimples, Please. Mama is tired and sleepy. Giggles is tired. Please Mama, pretty pretty please. *sigh* Okay, I'm going to put Giggles to sleep. When I come back, you have to go up with me.

Then, finally when she comes up, its the pee pee wars. Takes forever getting into her jammies. Wants me to tell her 3 stories every night, and long ones. Then she wants a facial, pretend one. Then a song while I scratch her back. And then a foot massage. Sometimes the requests for the foot rub and back scratching come together, so I am singing, scratching and rubbing at the same time- dozing off from time to time. Me, not her.

And then leaving home, to go anywhere takes forever. She does not grasp the concept of 'running late'. She moves at the same turtle pace no matter what.

Hurry up please. We are running late.

Can you please go wear your shoes? I want my party shoes. Look around they must be somewhere. No, I don't see them. Wear the pink ones. No, I don't want to. Go wear your sneakers, please. No. Party shoes. Look for them then! No. You! You look for them.

I find the party shoes right where she had taken them off.

Take your jacket. I can wear it by myself! Okay, do it quickly. We are running late. This is how my friends wear their jackets. (placing it on the carpet, and trying to show me some damn trick.) We don't have time for this. I am putting Giggles in the car. You have 1 minute to come.

I put Giggles in the car, and come back in to get her. She is still standing there without her jacket. I grab her jacket, and tell her to move. I had to open the door. Well, I just opened it. Hurry up. I had to be in the front. *sigh* Go ahead. Oh. I had to get my baby (her doll). We don't have time. Please lets just leave. I'll be right back.

Anyway. So we finally get wherever it is that we were going, but we are obviously late. Its okay to be a little late to the doctor's office, or a playdate. (or, maybe not, but moving on) This time, we were late to her Tae-Kwondo class.

As frustrated as I was with the struggle to get there, I was pretty impressed by her during the class. She listens to the instructor, tries to do as told, and mostly succeeds. Unlike some other brats who think its bedtime, or playtime. One kid is lying on the mat, oblivious of whatever is going on around him. The instructor has to pull him up a number of times. And then he starts running and giggling. My kid needs to learn to manage time better, but otherwise she is a gem.

Try doing all this at home. Its not easy.

When the time comes to get a sticker after class, Dimples in her white Karate suit goes to the instructor. The giggling, running, lying-on-the-floor kid is behind her in line. With a smile she looks up to the instructor, eagerly awaiting her sticker, and she is told, she cannot get one because she was late. I see the smile vanish from her face. I feel bad for her, but in my heart I understand that she needs this to make her understand.

But then, its the giggling, running kid's turn to get the sticker. And he did. Oh no you didn't. You black-belted son-of-a-*bleep* instructor. You break my daughter's heart, and give that freaking kid a sticker, who was distracting everyone in class?

Its about time I get a black belt myself, and kick some black-belted butts.

Dimples' non-pink Birthday Party- the Theme

2009-04-03T22:18:00.003-04:00

Dimples will turn 4 in a few weeks, and like any about-to-be-4-year-old little girl, she wants a pretty party in pink.

Its not that I don't hear her, I do. But in our close family we have kids her age that are boys, and I cannot not invite them to her birthday party. I would love to throw a tea party for her, with tiaras, wands, and even wings, but I don't know how excited the parents of those boys will be to see their little men in pink.

For her first birthday the theme was butterflies. The boys got books about bugs, to tie it to the theme. It worked out well.

I still haven't figured out how to make a pretty pink birthday party work with boys, though. So, Dimples will have to wait for that. And no need to feel sorry for her, because she will have fun in any party thrown for her, and she would complain about something no matter how great that party is. That's just how little girls are, or is it just my little girl?

After spending hours trying to decide on a theme for her 4th birthday bash, being the Seuss-loving Mom I am, I am throwing her a Dr. Seuss themed Party. (You would think, considering my obvious love for Dr. Seuss, this should have been the first theme to come to my mind. But trust me, it was not.)

The Cat in the Hat, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish and Green Eggs and Ham are some of the very first books I read to Dimples. She could not understand, let alone read those colorful books, but she loved them.

So, when I told her she would be having a party with Thing 1 and Thing 2, The Cat, Red Fish Blue Fish and Horton; that her party would be blue, green, yellow, white and red but not pink, Dimples smiled with a twinkle in her eyes and said, 'I love red!'

You'll be in my heart

2009-03-30T15:07:00.006-04:00

Dimples and Giggles were watching Tarzan for the first time. Somehow we missed the beginning and started watching from the time Kala found Tarzan.

Dimples: Where are baby Tarzan's Mama and Papa.

Giggles: (pointing to the TV showing closeup of baby Tarzan) Ba-ba.

Me: (clapping my hands) That's right, its a baby!

Giggles: (pointing to the TV showing closeup of Kala) Mama.

Like baby Tarzan, baby Giggles just knew. Something inside of me ached as I smiled at my eager-to-learn Dimples who had grown smarter than a baby.

As glad as I was that my curious 4-year old knew that Kala was not Tarzan's Mama, it was a soothing realization that my one-year old knew that she was.

Lyrics: You'll be in my heart

Come stop your crying
It will be all right
Just take my hand
Hold it tight

I will protect you
from all around you
I will be here
Don't you cry

For one so small
you seem so strong
My arms will hold you,
keep you safe and warm
This bond between us
can't be broken
I will be here
Don't you cry

'Cause you'll be in my heart
Yes, you'll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more
You'll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You'll be here
in my heart always
Always

Only a baby can

2009-03-28T07:34:00.002-04:00

It was Hubby's Birthday a few days ago, and Dimples, Giggles and I got him a Cookies and Cream cake. These days Cookies and Cream is my favorite. Hubby likes some other kind of cake, but being the good wife that I am, I don't want him eating too much cake. His health is more important than mine. Yes, I am an angel like that.

Apparently Giggles liked the cake too, as all day yesterday she ate quite a bit of it. So much so, that whenever I kissed her, I smelled cookies and cream. I kissed her more than usual yesterday. And I kiss her a lot usually.

But by evening, when I pulled her out of her high chair, I could smell something more than just the Cookies and Cream. I smelled her diapered butt, and the stink gave away what was inside. She was a combination of cookies, cream and poop. As I carried her to the changing mat, I wondered. . . How are babies capable of smelling so deliciously yummy yet disgustingly stinky at the same time?

Good Things Come in Small Packages

2009-03-27T11:22:00.009-04:00

Note to Self (and other moms out there):

Do NOT ignore when you hear Dimples (or your older kid) yelling, 'Thing 2 (insert your younger kid's name) is not listening to me!'

Yes, you hear these words a LOT, but that does not mean you can pretend you did not hear the girl while you are busy laughing at a post on your favorite blog. Because you might still be laughing when a tiny thing quietly comes to pull at your arm while you are trying to maneuver the mouse- you have not looked at her yet. But once you give up the fight between her tugging at your sleeve and your determination to stay on the computer, you will not be laughing anymore.

What I learned from the experience:

Thing 2 was not giving back the Black Marker to her elder sis.

I should never ever ignore a 'Mamaaaaaa'

Thing 2 probably overheard me asking her Dad to keep a goatee. I appreciate her strong desire to please me, despite her being a girl, and so little. Her dad should learn something from her!

Thing 2 is always ready to strike a pose when I take out the camera.

Written on her shirt are these words: Good things come in small packages.

Thing is right. My little Thing 2!

I hereby vocitate . . .

2009-03-17T01:39:00.005-04:00

I have gotten used to being a Mom of two. Which must be the reason why I adopted two instead of one word, when I went to Save the words.

I starrify* (meaning to decorate with stars) Mommy Knows for this cool idea. Ink, consider yourself starrified as well for your contribution to this fun cause of adopting these poor, dictionary-rejected words. Let me warn all others though, before you get all excited/butt-psyched* and Pitt-Joliefied to go adopting - it is a little freaky. When the words call out, 'Hey!' 'Over here' and 'Pick me!' it is difficult to concentrate on the task at hand.

But once I did concentrate, I liked vocitate which means to name, or call. She sounded and looked strong yet lovable. So, I adopted her. Then as I was ready to leave the site, I stumbled upon ictuate. It gave me an itchy feeling. And on looking up its meaning, I found out why. It means to repeat, often excessively. I had to adopt ictuate. It reminded me of the itch I get in my hands to pull my hair, and the itch in my throat to scream when Thing 1 repeatedly kicks on the boingy door stopper for instance. Or when she keeps asking for something I've told her she cannot have, repeatedly. Icuate was born for me to adopt. It kept calling me ictuatedly- I had to adopt her. But I don't like her very much.

I like vocitate. I can use it to give names to the writers and blogs I like. For instance:

I hereby vocitate badmommymoments the most fun-teresting or even fun-terest-ic mom blog.

I hereby vocitate Kathy B of the world according to me the Coolest Mom.

I hereby vocitate Lost in subarban Bliss the GPS for moms.

And so on.

I can have a button made like a certificate, and give it to the blogs, or posts I like. I need to find someone to make me a button.

And Ink, lets have a play date for vocitate and starrify. Ictuate won't go. She is grounded.

To take part in this cause:

1. Go to Save the Words.
2. Announce your word and its meaning on your blog. Use it as often as possible for the rest of your blogging life!
3. Link back to the person/blogger who memed you, and use their word in your post.
4. Choose 6 bloggers to tag and announce them in your blog.

starrify* (Ink's word), butt-psyched (ck's word)

Waiting . . .

2009-03-15T08:12:00.001-04:00

She would not give me candy
She does not give me Coke

She would not let me bite her
and stops me when I poke

I was walking on the couch today
She told me I would fall

I went to walk on the bed instead
I heard her say, 'Don't Fall.'

I think she hates me walking
Well, Big girls do not crawl!

I was happy eating the Red Crayon
She came and took it away

I found a yummy-looking penny
She said, 'That's not for play.'

She does not let me eat ANYTHING
I don't know what to say!

She took the phone from my hands
I wanted to give you a call

I wait for you to come home Papa
SHE is no fun at all!

Coming Soon to Mom-I-Am

2009-03-14T06:44:00.000-04:00

Confessions of a (new) Bloggaholic will be coming soon to a blog near you. http://mom-i-am.blogspot.com/

ymK will star in a story about addiction, withdrawal, relapse, and dependence. Read about a girl who gets sucked into the web of blogging.

Featuring Dimples, Giggles and Hubby.

Quote of the Day- March 12th '09

2009-03-13T04:00:00.000-04:00

Don't keep saying everything. . . everyday.

Said by: Thing 1, between sobs and tears.

Said to: Mom. Mama. ME.

Said why: She kicks the door stopper. (You know, those annoying things on the walls behind doors that go 'boingggg' for a long time after you have touched them?) She kicks it three or four times. She knows it annoys me.

I tell her not to do it.

She kicks a fifth time.

'Don't do it...(with her eyes on me, and a faint smile on her lips, kicks yet again) ...again.'

I stare speechless for a second.

Then I start explaining how what she did was wrong on so many levels.

Said when: As soon as I start my explanation.

(Ask, and I can post a picture of a door stopper. I wish I could post an audio clip though.)

Note to self: Let kids be stinky

2009-03-13T03:00:00.000-04:00

No more of those 'No more Tears' shampoos and bath washes. Actually, no more of any kind of shampoo and bath wash. Dimples and Giggles can stink all they want.

No more bubble baths, Dimples can go play in mud instead.

No more nice smelling lotions, they can scratch themselves all day long. Dry skin or Cancer? I choose dry skin.

No more soft wipes, Giggles butt is getting cleaned with a wet towel.

Check out:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/03/12/AR2009031202940.html?nav=hcmodule

http://safecosmetics.live.radicaldesigns.org/article.php?id=414

Also,

http://safecosmetics.live.radicaldesigns.org/article.php?id=426

ND* (not detected) by the way does not mean that it is safe. According to the article:

Why “No Detect” Doesn’t Mean No Problem

Some products tested for this report did not contain formaldehyde or 1,4-dioxane. However, that does not mean the products are safe. There is no guarantee that other samples of the same product are not contaminated. Also, there are no legal requirements for children’s products to be made with the safest ingredients possible. As a result, it is common to find chemicals of concern in brands marketed to children.

Product Name	1,4-dioxane (ppm)	Formaldehyde (ppm)
Lotion
American Girl Hopes and Dreams Shimmer Body Lotion (Bath & Body Works)	ND*	310
Baby Magic “Soft Baby Scent” Baby Lotion (Ascendia Brands, Inc)	ND*	570
Baby Magic “Soft Baby Scent” Baby Lotion (Ascendia Brands, Inc)	0.92	610
Baby Magic “Soft Baby Scent” Baby Lotion (Ascendia Brands, Inc)	ND*	330
Johnson’s Bedtime Lotion Natural Calm Essences (Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies)	ND*
Mustela Baby Body Lotion (Laboratories Expanscience)	ND*
Tinker Bell Body Lotion (Goldie LLC)	ND*	220

Shampoo
CVS Baby Shampoo (CVS/Pharmacy)	0.92	350
Johnson’s Baby Shampoo (Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies)	ND*	200
Johnson’s Baby Shampoo (Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies)	1.1	210
L’Oreal Kids Extra Gentle 2-in-1 Fast Dry Shampoo – Burst of Cool Melon (L’Oreal USA)	0.95	260
Suave Kids 2-in-1 Shampoo – Wild Watermelon (Unilever)	0.69	ND*

Liquid Shower Soap
American Girl Hopes and Dreams Glistening Shower and Bath Wash (Bath & Body Works)	14
American Girl Real Beauty Inside and Out Shower Gel – Apple Blossom (Bath & Body Works)	6.3	210
American Girl Real Beauty Inside and Out Shower Gel – Apple Blossom (Bath & Body Works)	5.7	220
American Girl Real Beauty Inside and Out Shower Gel – Apple Blossom (Bath & Body Works)	18	150
American Girl Real Beauty Inside and Out Shower Gel – Sunny Orange (Bath & Body Works)	35	ND*

Bath Wash
Aveeno Baby Soothing Relief Creamy Wash (Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies)	1.4
Aveeno Baby Soothing Relief Creamy Wash (Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies)	1.7
Aveeno Baby Soothing Relief Creamy Wash (Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies)	4.6
CVS Kids Body Wash – Blueberry Blast (CVS/Pharmacy)	0.75	54
Equate Tearless Baby Wash (Wal-Mart Stores, Inc.)	0.63	290
Gentle Naturals Eczema Baby Wash (Del Pharmaceuticals, Inc.)	6.4
Grins & Giggles Milk & Honey Baby Wash (Gerber Products Company)	2.8	400
Huggies Naturally Refreshing Cucumber & Green Tea Baby Wash (Kimberly-Clark)	3.2	410
Johnson’s Moisture Care Baby Wash (Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies)	3.9
Johnson’s Oatmeal Baby Wash – Vanilla (Johnson & Johnson Consumer Companies)	4.2
Mustela Baby Shampoo (Laboratories Expanscience)	2.8
Mustela Dermo-Cleansing Gel for Hair and Body Newborn/Baby (Laboratories Expanscience)	3.9
Night-time Bath Baby Wash (Target Corporation)	3.6

Bubble Bath
Barbie Berry Sweet Bubble Bath (Water-Jel Technologies)	0.65	440
Dora the Explorer Bubble Bath (MZB Personal Care)	1.5	130
Hot Wheels Berry Blast Bubble Bath (Water-Jel Technologies)	2.8	100
Mustela Multi-Sensory Bubble Bath (Laboratories Expanscience)	1.7	ND*
Sesame Street Bubble Bath – Orange Mango Tango (The Village Company)	2.8	340
Tinker Bell Scented Bubble Bath (Goldie LLC)	11	420

Baby Wipes
Huggies Naturally Refreshing Cucumber & Green Tea Baby Wipes (Kimberly-Clark)	ND*
Huggies Soft Skin – Shea Butter (Kimberly-Clark Global Sales Inc)	ND*	100
Kirkland Signature Premium Unscented Baby Wipes (Costco Wholesale Corporation)	ND*
Pampers Baby Fresh (Procter & Gamble)	ND*
Pampers Calming – Lavender (Procter & Gamble)	ND*

Hair Relaxer
Dark & Lovely Kids Beautiful Beginnings No-Mistake Nourishing No-Lye Creme Relaxer, Normal to Course Hair (SoftSheen-Carson, owned by L’Oreal USA)	ND*
Dark & Lovely Kids Beautiful Beginnings No-Mistake Nourishing No-Lye Children’s Relaxer System, Fine Hair Types (SoftSheen-Carson, owned by L’Oreal USA)	ND*	ND*
Soft & Beautiful Just for Me! No-Lye Conditioning Creme Relaxer, Children’s Super (Alberto-Culver Company)	0.27	ND*

Hand Soap
Pampers Kandoo Foaming Handsoap – Magic Melon (Procter & Gamble)	0.49	310

Sun Block
Banana Boat Kids UVA & UVB Sunblock Lotion SPF 30 (Sun Pharmaceuticals Corp.)	ND*
No-Ad Sun Pals SPF 45 UVA/UVB Sun Protection (Solar Cosmetics Labs Inc.)	0.46

Toothpaste
Colgate Kids 2-in-1 Toothpaste and Mouthwash – Strawberry (Colgate-Palmolive Company)	ND*

Dolls in the Dollhouse

2009-03-11T12:13:00.000-04:00

I ask Dimples to let me have five minutes to myself and to do something on her own.

She wants to make a card for Papa, and needs my help spelling 'Papa'.

Find something else to do please.

Making a puzzle, playing with her dolls, coloring or taking pictures all require me to be there with her, according to her.

I suggest she plays with her dollhouse. She does not have dolls for the dollhouse, she complains. She can use any of the 20 plus dolls she has, I advise. She looks excited, and goes away. I sigh in relief.

She comes back after three minutes, jumping in delight. 'Mama, look! I was playing with my dollhouse. Look, the babies are sleeping, and the Mama is watching TV.'
You might not see, but both Dora and the naked baby are sleeping on beds. Mama is all dressed up, with her hair done, sitting in front of a tiny TV, while the house looks like a mess.

I was embarrassed! That is an exaggeration, I try comforting myself. I don't look half as good sitting in front of the TV.

A big hug, and extra time to spend with Dimples.

Why?

2009-03-11T03:13:00.000-04:00

To A aka Thing 1:

Why would you paint on the wall with your pink cupcake?

Why would you paint your toenails red sitting on the couch?

Why would you apply very berry nail color to my new and favorite yellow purse?

Why would you put lotion on your head?

Why would you do this ten minutes after I give you a shower, and right before we have to leave for a party?

Why would you cut your new corduroy pants at the ankle?

Why would you do this at a friend's place, and right before we have to leave for another party?

Why would you insist on giving me a pretend facial, right after searching for God-knows-what inside your nose?

Why would you insist on drinking the dirty bath water?

Why would you think that I don't see you doing it?

To Z aka Thing 2:

Why would you stand in front of the TV when big sis is watching her cartoon?

Why would you turn it off when its her favorite cartoon?

Why would you throw big sis little truck in the toilet?

Why would you try to get it out of there?

Why would you reach right for your dirty butt when I'm trying to change your diaper?

Why would you touch your face, my face and everything else before I get a chance to clean your hands?

Why would you insist on feeding me a cheerio covered in spaghetti sauce?

Why would I eat it just to see your smile?

To A and Z:

Why would you look as innocent as when I first saw you at the hospital, when you sleep?

Why would I forget everything crazy (or to drive me crazy) that you have done today, when I watch you sleeping tonight?

Z helper

2009-03-10T08:54:00.000-04:00

As I unload the dishwasher, two tiny hands are eager to help.

Z hands me spoons, I say 'Thankyou!'
Z hands me forks, I take them away quickly.
Z reaches for knives, I stop her.

Then Z helps load it up.

Takes out her 'picnic basket' and goes for a stroll with it.

Then brings it back and puts it in place. (To the best of her efforts)

Oops, almost forgot to reload.

Thanks my little helper! Mama loves you.

Barbie for my girl? No, Thanks!

2009-03-05T22:39:00.000-05:00

I have never bought a Barbie for A. Nevertheless she does have a few among the 20-25 dolls that she has. All gifts. Because when people go gift shopping for a little girl, all they can think of is :

1. Doll
2. Doll
3. Doll
4. Makeup
5. Makeup for doll

My girl likes playing with cars, robots, dinosaurs as much as she does with tea sets, tiaras or magic wands. So, please enough with the dolls. All other kinds of gifts are appreciated. Thanks.

And especially, no Barbies please! Let me explain.

My daughter loves trying on different outfits. There was a time when she changed 8 outfits in a day. (Thank goodness those days are over.) She thinks her dolls share her obsession, so she undresses them ... but then either loses interest, OR does not find a better outfit to put on, OR has trouble putting the outfit on. So, her dolls are almost always naked. (I would like to think the reasons mentioned above are the only reasons...) So, on her toy shelf, she has one bin for 'Dolls' and another for 'Doll clothes'. I don't mind a pacifier sucking baby-looking doll sleeping naked under the dining table. What I do mind is a huge breasted Barbie in the middle of the living room.

Now, don't get me wrong. I did play with Barbies growing up. I still have the dolls and fond memories of those days. But I also remember a too-young-to-have-breasts me thinking to myself, 'I don't have those. I'm a girl too...' (Well, I still don't have those...but staying focused on the subject...)

I don't want A getting any such ideas. She's not even 4 yet.

And what's with a 50 year old Barbie getting tattoos? Talk about mid-life crisis!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3ZKVTrWxDk

http://news.sky.com/skynews/Home/World-News/Tattoo-Barbie-Parents-In-US-Voice-Concern-Over-Message-Of-Doll-Featuring-Body-Art/Article/200903115235033

Baby Kangaroo?

2009-03-04T16:45:00.000-05:00

So, Z is a little more than a year old now, but she either thinks that she and I are from the Kangaroo family, or she has a weird concept of human gestation period. Or, human gestation. Period.

I will tell you what I think she thinks.

Baby is conceived. (Let us not go into details, I don't want to know if she knows the details.)

Mama carries baby in her tummy for 9 months.(Although now doctors say its 10 months? But that's a topic for a later post.)

Mama goes to hospital.

Mama cries and yells in pain if does not take pain meds, scratches herself crazy if does take pain meds.

Mama pushes baby out.

Dad cuts the umbilical cord.

Now, we know all that! What makes me think that Z has a strange concept of human gestation?

Z thinks that after the umbilical cord is cut, baby spends 13 more months (and counting) attached to Mama's breast, or her leg.

'Mama, you're the best!'

2009-02-27T12:04:00.000-05:00

It was one of those days...

Me: 'A!'

A: 'Yes Mama.'

Me: 'Come upstairs please.'

A: 'Okay mama.'

I give her a shirt. 'We have to go to Giant.' ( Yes, I know that's all where I take you. Not to the park, not to the playground, not to play in the snow, or to ride your bike in summer- I take you to Giant, to CVS, to Target.)

A: 'Ohh!! I love Giant!' (uh-okay...love it? really? isn't that a rather strong word to use for a grocery store? Well, at least she has not started using 'hate' as fervently. At least not yet.)

A: 'We don't have any cereal, we can get some cereal.'

Me: 'Yes.'

A: 'And we don't have apple juice. Do we have apple juice?'

Me: 'No it finished.'

A: 'So, we can get apple juice. I like apple juice. And apples. Do we have apples?'

Me: 'I think we do.' (Do we? I have been procrastinating about getting groceries for a while...)

A: 'I don't think we do. We can check. But I checked in the banana hanging thing, and there weren't any apples. So, you can check in the banana hanging thing, and get apples. okay?'

I smile.

A: 'And we have to get fruit rollups! Don't forget fruit rollups! Grandma has fruit rollups and cookies.'

Me: 'Okay....' (Yeah I know Grandma's pantry and fridge actually carry things they are made for.)

A: 'And cereal straws. We don't have cereal straws. Grandma has cereal straws. We can get cereal straws. Heyyyy, where did the hamper go?'

Me: 'In the other room.' (Because its overflowing, and was getting in everyone's way, so I deal with it like I deal with any other problem in my life: I hide it, and pretend like its not there anymore.)

She laughs, 'Silly hamper!Where are my pants?'

Me: 'I'm looking for them.' I give her the only one that's not in the hamper.

A: 'Thankyou mama.' Starts struggling with the pants. 'It has a hole!!' (oh you noticed, eh?? Just wear'em kiddo, go with the flow! I hear they are back in fashion. Not that I would like her to follow this kind of fashion, but did I mention this is the only one not in the hamper or washer??)

To her I say: 'I can't find any other, baby.'

A: 'Oh, I like these pants!' (uh-oh. really?)

Me: 'Were you wearing socks?'

A: 'Yes. I took them off.'

Me: 'Where are they?'

She hands me one pink and one white.

Me: 'They don't match.'

A: 'Yes. One is mine, one is Z's.'

Me: 'But weren't you wearing these?'

A: 'Yes. You gave them to me.'

*sigh*

Me: 'Can you go find matching socks please?'

A: 'Okay.'

With Z in my arm, as I look through drawers for socks, hoping to find a decent pair of pants too, I feel bad for my kids. It was one of those days, when everything is waiting to be done - not enough grocery in the house, hampers overflowing, dishes towering in the sink... and I let these days come too often. I'm failing at this, I'm failing my kids.

'Mummaa' Z brings her face in front of mine. I look into her eyes.

'mmmwah!' a big, sloppy kiss that has the power to get not just my cheek but my eyes wet too.

A runs back in, 'Mama can you please close this button?'

I button up her pants, with a hole at the knee.

'Thanks Mama. You're the best!'

Really? Do you know there are moms out there who would not make their kid wear pants with holes, nor socks that do not match in size or color? Please don't find this out any time soon.

'The Cow that says Mooo?'

2009-02-21T11:12:00.000-05:00

'Old Mac Donald had a farm
Eeeii Eeeiii oooooo
And on his farm he had some cows
Eeeii Eeeii ooooo
With a Moo Moo here, and a Moo moo there...'

Somehow Old Mac Donald and his animals had found there way into my bath time routine with A, ever since her very first bath. Before she knew her alphabets, numbers or colors, she knew all her animal sounds.

Old Mac Donald's farm became one of her favorite places. Farm animals or not, all lived there happily meowing, woofing, roaring, tweeting, and mooing together.

The other day, while trying to keep A (who is now 3 and a half years old) awake in the car ride home, I showed her the tiger's face at a gas station.

'Roarrr!' she beamed. 'What does a tiger eat Papa?'

'Cows', answered my husband from the driver's seat.

'Noooooo', she started giggling as if it was a joke.

'But it does, baby.' He insisted.

'The cow that says "moooo"?' Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Somehow I had a feeling, she was not ready to understand the food chain yet. My husband got the message too.

'Oh look what a pretty car that is!' I changed the subject.

For now she forgot. For now, all is well at Old Mac Donald's farm.

'God is a girl!'

2009-02-20T17:29:00.000-05:00

We were not talking about God. I don’t remember exactly what we were talking about- dolls, teacups, being nice to her baby sister- but I know it was not about God.

I said something like, ‘That doesn’t make God happy. You want to make Him happy don’t you?’

And with a smile on her face, my 3 year old replied, ‘Its a girl!’

‘Who is a girl?’ I asked her, amused.

And with a know-it-all smile, she replied, ‘God is a girl!’

‘How do you know?’

‘I just know it!’

Well, if she knows it, then what am I to say to a 3 year old, who is proud to be a girl, and is learning that God is the most important being- more powerful than all the superheroes she know. She will learn on her own, or maybe I will.

The Car of my Choice

2009-02-20T16:05:00.000-05:00

I have never liked the shape of minivans. They are neither sedans, nor SUVs. I like big muscle cars. Or sleek sport cars. Minivans remind me of lizards. I hate lizards.

So, this past weekend when we went car shopping, I did not want a minivan. The sedans were not big enough for a family with/who is planning to have more than 2 kids, and the SUVs did not look safe. Trust me, I tried hard to convince myself that they are safe, but if one of my kids has to sit in the third row, I would feel guilty sitting in the driver's seat with all the airbags around me.

Finally when we looked at a minivan, I understood. This was what we needed, if I wanted to have more than the two kids I have now. I looked at the SUVs, I looked at the sporty cars, and realized I would have to wait. For now I am a mom, and no other car looks better than a minivan.

Washing Hands in the Clouds

2008-12-28T09:31:00.000-05:00

One day (and this was not recently, but I wanted to write about this) my daughter and I were in the car. Looking out the window she asked me 'What's that?' She was a little more than 2 years old back then I believe, and after a little effort on my part I realized she was pointing to the clouds.

'Those are clouds', I said and was happy to teach her a new word. But to my amazement, staring at the clouds she said, 'I wanna wash my hands in them.'

Clouds do look like something we could wash hands in, don't they? I wonder who learned something new.

I Can Do That!

2008-12-27T18:02:00.000-05:00

When my daughter was still too young to read, I bought a set of 5 or 6 books by Dr. Seuss and P.D. Eastman. It became a nightly routine to read one (or mostly all) of those books to her before she went to bed. My favorite- Are you my Mother? Her favorite- The Cat in the Hat.

So when I saw The Cat in the Hat I Can Do That! game at a store recently, I had to buy it. And good thing I did. My daughter loves how the fish, the ball, the rake, Mom's dotted gown and more are all there for her to play with. Great fun for the whole family, my husband and I had a great time trying to jump over and crawl under the Trick-a-ma-stick! And not to forget it encourages the 'I can do that' attitude in kids. And what parent does not want that, right?