on the joys of organized chaos and big-kid friends

As I've mentioned, my son turns 2 in a few weeks.  Though this is a happy event to which I'm greatly looking forward, there's also a lot of stress that goes along with it.  There's presents to buy, a party to plan, food to prepare, and the "I can't believe my baby's turning 2" tears to shed.

Of course, most of his day-to-day routines won't change.  His preschool uses the same schedule for moving classes up as the public school system does so, there at least, he's been in the two-year-old class for weeks.

However, I will admit that I've been very nervous about him moving up from the nursery to preschool children's church.

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How then, should we pray?

Most adults, particularly those who have been Christians their entire lives, pretty much figure they have praying down-pat.  Maybe some are more formal, starting out with a "Dear heavenly Father", while other people are more casual.  For some reason, I think almost every 20-something girl leading prayer in a group starts off with, "Dear Jesus, we just come to you right now..."

But you know who really has prayer figured out?  Pre-schoolers.  On any given Sunday, my children's church kids range in age from 2 to 5.  Lately, they've all gotten more comfortable, and they all really want to pray.

Of course, it's normally, "Oh, I want to pray!" followed by 30 seconds of throat-clearing, and then something disjointed and totally unrelated to the lesson.  Pretty soon, everyone in the room wants a chance to get to say a prayer.

And I let them.  It may take up a few extra minutes we really don't have, but I'm never going to tell a child, "No, we don't have time for you to pray right now."

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Such a romantic day, you'll cry rose petals and vomit cupids.

Remember back when you were dating or newlywed, what Valentine's Day was like?  You started it off all romantic, maybe breakfast in bed, or meeting somewhere for a nice breakfast or brunch.  Maybe flowers got delivered to your workplace or classroom for you (or were left waiting for you on your car, along with a lovely note).  When you got home, you got all pretty and primped up and went out to a high-end restaurant, where you ordered wine and dessert, and maybe received a nice gift of chocolates, or even jewelry.

Then you had kids.

Here's how my "romantic" Valentine's Day has gone so far...

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Mommy Date Day!

The bad thing about yesterday was that the only time I could get an optometrist appointment was smack-dab in the middle of the day; both too early and too late to make going in to work feasible.

That was the only bad thing about yesterday.

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I would be happy for $75,000.

You may have heard about the recent study published stating that a $75K annual salary is the threshold at which money can buy you happiness; any money on top of that doesn't contribute to your day-to-day mood.

And, of course, all I can think of reading that study is, "I'd be freaking ecstatic for $75,000!"

I could go into all the bills I could pay, the car I could buy, etc., but I figured it'd be easier if I put it into mommy units of money. Here's what $75,000 could buy a mom.

353,120 size 5 Luvs diapers

4,033 pounds of Enfamil AR formula

63,613 Circo colored bibs

3,302,358 Luvs Ultra-Clean baby wipes

17,061 pounds of Gerber baby food

5,361 Fisher Price Light-and-Glow Seahorses

8 years + 4 months of childcare (at my son's preschool)

I'd love to hear some other moms chime in here. What could you buy with $75,000?

I'm an ambulance-chaser.

First a bit of background: My husband generally picks my son up from daycare, as he gets off before I do. Today, due to circumstances at his work, I had to pick my son up. Both of our workplaces and my son's preschool are very close to our house. One main road takes me from my office, past my husband's workplace, past my house, and to my son's preschool. Okay, got it? Eh, close enough.

I had just pulled onto the main road off my office's campus when sirens interrupted my wailing along with the radio. (I was listening to Taylor Swift very loudly, and between her twang and my singing, didn't hear the sirens at first.) I pulled over to the side and, once the ambulance passed, got into the lane behind it.

Then it turned right. And I realized that it was heading down the road that leads to my husband's work. And my son's preschool.

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My family talks with our hands.

If, like me, you sat through "Meet the Fockers", you may remember that the only redeeming character was the adorable signing baby.

And if you watched the video linked above, you saw an even cuter little baby signing with her mom. And you may be thinking that is impossible.

But it's not! I tried baby sign with my son when he was very young, starting around 4 months, and he never really got into it. He understood a few signs, but he never reciprocated and, since I was the only one working on it with him, there wasn't a lot of consistency, and I gave it up.

But they recently introduced baby sign at his daycare, and HE LOVES IT. Being a boy, he doesn't have the same level of vocabulary his female-majority classmates enjoy (again, he understands a lot, but doesn't repeat a lot back). Unless he knows the sign for a word. If he can sign it, he can say it.

This may seem counter-intuitive. A lot of people worry that signing with their baby will cause their child to speak later, since they'll just be using the signs. But signing actually helps a child understand the principles of communication, and that words and meanings are associated with objects. Also, the signing adult, consciously or not, is typically communicating better with the child, facing them so that the child can see the sign, but the child is also watching their mouth and learning how to form the words.

If you have, or are expecting a little one, pick up a book on baby sign. It's probably only going to run you about $20, and you could be doing both yourself and your child a huge favor.

When the problem is YOUR kid...

Just last week I got a call from my husband as he was driving my son home from daycare.

"Well," he said, "there's been another biting incident."

Oh no, I thought, not again.

"He got bitten by one of the little girls in his class."

My first response? "Oh, that's great!"

Now, I'm not sadistic towards my son, nor do I think teethmarks make for attractive body modification. But this was the fifth time the daycare reported my son had been involved in a biting incident...and the first time he was the one bitten.

That, and it had been a good long while (and still has) since he bit anybody, so I was (and still am) hopeful that that phase is largely behind him. And if another kid has to become the biter of the class to take the title from him, well, that's cool, my kid's tough.

Not that I don't feel for the other parents finding out their daughter's a biter. I still remember my son's first biting incident...:cue flashback music:

When we went to pick him up, the teacher informed us there was a write-up of the incident on his daily report (which usually just says things like "He loves the playground!" and "He had three helpings of applesauce!"). But, this day, his report stated this:

"He bit another child during playtime. He was put in time-out for 1 minute, and given a talk about how our teeth are for our food, not hurting our friends. He gave the other child a hug to make-up, and they played nicely the rest of the afternoon."

The kicker? The 1st time biting, when my son had to sit in time-out (only 1 minute, but still) and get a lecture? He was 10 months old. He couldn't even walk yet.

I guess, biting phase-wise, he was just an early bloomer.

Mommy in the middle: The lost generation of mothers

I don't meet a lot of other moms in my demographic. Or, any, really. I seem to fall smack-dab in the middle, agewise, of everyone I know who has kids around my kid's age. It's either moms who conceived accidentally when they were still practically kids themselves, or the women who wait until the 401k is secure and the mortgage is stable before charting their ovulation calendars and getting pregnant in the oh-so-in-vogue 28-30 age range. I belong to neither of those groups. I had my son at age 24, after three years of marriage to my best friend. (And I'm not calling my husband my "best friend" in some sort of cheesy way. I mean the guy with whom I still stay up late to watch cartoons, drink beer and eat pizza, and play DDR with, just like we did in college. One of the few people who curses at the tv as much as I do watching sports, and who possesses an even greater love than mine for SNL digital shorts. THAT husband/best friend.)

So, I got a little off-track there. But, yeah, I don't know many moms my age. That's not all so bad though. I tend to get along better with people a little older than me. I've even made some mom-friends at church through "Mommy's Morning Out", and bible studies, and prayer groups and things. But there's still another glaring difference: I work. And not just some little admin job a few days a week to help pay the bills, or substitute teaching. I'm the breadwinner. I have a career, and no intention of leaving it, even if I financially could. In fact, if we could afford, my husband would be a stay-at-home-dad. As much as I love my little monster, the idea of being home every day changing diapers and making snacks, singing along with "Yo Gabba Gabba" (though it is really awesome, for a kid's show), is almost physically painful for me. I only took 3 weeks of maternity leave when my little man was born, and by the end of it I was craving adult interaction so badly, I'm surprised I didn't resort to drastic measure, like ChatRoulette. So, the acronym SAHM does not, and will never, describe me.

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