I am the couch, the couch is me.

SO I just realized that I am the couch and the couch is me. Yesterday I wrote how our couch is tired and old but too good to throw away. That's an analogy for me! I am tired and old. The kids are beating on me every day, I'm getting frayed around the edges. I've been peed on. But my husband still likes to climb on every now and again. I bring everyone in the house comfort. The dog sleeps in my lap. Yes. I am the couch and the couch is me.

Detective Work

Potty Training. Again. What a drag. The first time I was really ready for it, ready for the moment my son would start to use the potty. Eager, definitely thinking about it on a regular basis and talking about it periodically. Not so for #2 (har har). As baby girl starts to show interest in things peculiar to the facilities we must take her cue. But what a drag. Tonight I was a detective. I discovered a new, very fresh suspicious looking stain on the chaise lounge section of our couch. A really wet stain but I couldn't find an empty cup around, so . . . hmmm. Judging by the size of the stain I could imagine my naked girl perched there, the weight of her chubby little legs causing the spill to roll in telltale patterns. It's probably pee. But she's practically lived in the potty all night - how could one person, much less a little baby girl, wet so much? I walked away but later, after bath time, I went back downstairs and sized up the spot again. I sniffed it this time, just to rule out the pee theory, and it has no odor . . . but then, she's been drinking juice and water and milk all day, doesn't consume any pollutants, why should her pee smell? It's not like she has smelly old drunk guy at the bar pee smell. I remember this guy we used to call Frank the Bank until after a few years he morphed into Frank the Stank. Ah, my past . . . As for the couch, it needs a facelift anyway and this is the final straw. I'm planning to buy new foam rubber to make replacement cushions and several yards of fabric to recover everything. I think the people at the foam rubber store will even cut it to my specifications. There is a foam rubber store up here and I know there is one on Alan street (turns into 1st Ave.) in NYC. Otherwise, there are several online. Custom made slip covers are an affordable way to revamp a tired old couch. Of course, the couch needs to have good bones, a solid and well built framework to recover. Our couch is too nice to throw away, but it is so beat up from the kids, the dog and especially the frequent cushion and pillow cover washings. Removable covers are key but next time I will need more durable fabric, one that will hold up to many washings. Anyway, back to baby girl, we are so proud of her, of course, and I tell her so a lot. That's all there is to potty training, let them have accidents and praise them often. That and a little CSI work as well.

5 Signs Spring has Sprung!

Signs that spring has sprung here in Maine aren't always obvious, well, at least not if you are looking for things like warmer weather and blooming flowers. Indeed, we may be getting another snow storm on Monday. Luckily, though, spring snow isn't lasting (knock on wood.). Still, there are some sure signs of Spring and I've listed 5 of them here:

1. Spring Fashions -- Despite the frigid temps, Mainers start donning spring like fashions under their Carharts and Cabelas. Snow boots get swapped out for rain boots, fleece for Thinsulate. Even I have traded turtle necks for T-shirts under my sweaters. The first year we were up here, I was much weather-wimpier than today and was dressed for full blown winter on a sunny day in April when I was shocked to see Mainers at the grocery store wearing shorts and jellies! The shock was, of course, over the jellies. Where did they even get them?

2. Maple Syrup Sunday -- Today is, in fact, Maple Syrup Sunday, a day when the local syrup producing farms open their sugar shacks for all to see how they boil the sap down into that delicious stuff we love to eat on our pancakes. That's right, sap, from trees. Maple trees. Contrary to what Aunt Jemima and Mrs. Butterworth may tell you, real Maple Syrup is made by tapping maple trees in the early spring, collecting the sap and then boiling it down. It takes about a gallon of sap to get a half a pint of syrup. The price doesn't seem so high now, does it? And ooooh, man, it is sooo good. Nothing compares with fresh maple syrup. Yum.

3. Egg Hunts! Every community around sponsors an Easter Egg hunt with an appearance by the Easter Bunny! We went to one at a local firehouse and the Rabbit arrived on a fire truck. It was thrilling. I kept an eye out for any trouble, because I've heard of poor egg hunt etiquette in other places (http://www.autoreviewonline.com/breaking/story.asp?ID=14227) but there wasn't any. All the children had smiling faces and baskets of plastic eggs filled with toys and candy. Then, the Easter Bunny bought the plastic eggs back for 1 cent each so he could be sure they were all recycled. My son won a raffle! And his prize was a toy gun - shocking right?! But it blows bubbles and he loves it. He asked if he could kill the dog with it, I thought, hmm, we should be so lucky, but said, "no, honey, this gun will just blow bubbles at her." Our dog is very annoying, but we do love her, but I digress. . . .

4. MUD. Maine's spring is also commonly known as mud season. As the snow melts, the earth can't absorb it fast enough, I guess due to the amount of ledge? Or maybe just the volume of water. Anyway, it is super muddy here and everybody walks around in muddy boots and shoes for a few months, right up through black fly season.

5. Black Fly Season - This is a time in late spring, generally from Mother's Day to Father's Day when these gigantic gnats come out and eat you alive. They are vicious and leave blood running down from their bites. They get little kids behind the ears and dogs on the belly. Insidious creatures - too bad our bubble gun won't kill them!

Gosh, I hate to end with black Fly Season . . . How about we end with wildlife instead. What I have noticed so much this spring are the three deer that are living in the woods where we've built our home. I'd normally call it "our yard" but really it is more their yard, at least it used to be before we came. We have this big doe and a medium size one and then a little baby one and they eat from our bird feeder every morning and evening. We didn't see that all winter, so they must be a sign of spring here in Maine. Nice, right? Happy Spring every one!

Drastic Measures

It wasn't until I had kids for awhile before I realized I was doing things I once said I'd never do before. It is so easy to look at another family and think, oh, we'll never be like that, before you really are like that. When I was pregnant with our son, friends of my husband came to visit with their two small children, I believe they were 2 and 4 years old. At that time, we lived in a tiny apartment in Manhattan and were not set up for children at all, certainly not for toddlers. But, we didn't know that. We thought our 750 square foot apartment was huge (compared to our last two places in the city it was pretty big - it was about 10 feet wide and 75 feet long, no doors, what is known as a 'railroad'). We probably told our unfortunate friends, who were crossing the ocean to stay with us, that we had plenty of room. Uhg. If I'd known then what I know today I would never have considered inviting them to stay with us in such a place, or else if we did invite them I would have prefaced it with dramatic warnings, like, you will be forced to sleep together in one room, there will be no door to shut and separate yourselves, you will be staying with non-parents who think they understand parenting because they are pregnant and reading lots of parenting magazines and what to be expected books . . . Oh, they deserved a warning. I think at one point I actually expressed concern that their boys might pee on the furniture when they were running *gasp* diaper-less after a bath. Man, I ought to repent for that one.

Anyway, the point is, or was, that the Mom was having a birthday and all she wanted was to go out shopping by herself. My husband and I whispered together about how sad this family was that all the Mom wanted in all of the bright big city was to get to go out alone for a few hours and try on clothes, totally unmolested by her kids. All she really wanted was to get away from her family. Just for a little bit. Oh, we said, we'll never be like that . . . we laugh about it now, we laugh at who we used to be.

Today I spanked my son.

One of my I nevers. It was horrible and I have no idea if it was the right thing. Here is what happened - he bit his baby sister and broke the skin. She bled. Now this is probably my fault because baby sister has a bit of a biting issue and we have laughed that she learned it from our awful little biting dog. So now big brother may think that, hey, she bites and they think it is funny. Or else, maybe he thought, hey, she bites, I'll bite her back. Or who knows . . . the thing is, he did it 2 days ago and left a big, mouth shaped bruise. I gave him a time out, we talked about it and then we talked about it some more. He apologized, he studied the bruise, I thought it was a done deal. But I thought wrong.

When I discovered the bite today, I took little sister, who was sobbing her hurt cry into her brother's room. He was standing with his hands over his eyes, his admission of guilt. I asked, "did you bite your sister?" he said, "Sure, I did." I showed him what he'd done and said, "now you will have a spanking." But first I dressed her wound and calmed her down. And then I went back to his room and sat on the bed and pulled him across my lap old school style and gave him 3 spanks.

Oh God.

Parenting is so hard.

If somebody, like a random stranger, drew my child's blood I would totally flip out on them but what do you do when it is your own child who has drawn the blood? Uhg. I resorted to drastic measures. Drastic Measures.

Simple Soup

How to cook, how to cook. Quite a conundrum for some. I'm here to set the record straight - cooking is easy! I've decided to make a new blog about it - check out my new site, SimpleSoup. I remember how challenging and intimidating cooking was before I had my epiphany so I've decided to put together my recipes as well as techniques for preparing them together in this new page. In addition to being tasty and easy to prepare, my recipes are wholesome and healthy. Oh yeah, and pretty inexpensive too. In fact, I started making a lot of items from scratch because it was easier on my grocery budget. Like pancakes, for instance. Why buy pancake mix at a premium when you can make chemical and preservative free pancakes for half the cost? Speaking of pancakes, it is Sunday morning, traditionally pancake day at our house, so have to skedaddle, or should I say, skegriddle? probably not . . .

Bon Appetite!

Lead From the Heart

Imagine a letter size sheet of paper, 8 and a half by 11, folded in half lengthwise. That's what's happened to my posture. My shoulder blades are slowly working their way towards each other, they're going to meet in the middle. Soon, I think. Here's what I have that the paper doesn't. A great hunch developing behind my neck, at the top of my spine. I'm folding in half. I'm not thin like a piece of paper, though, I am more like a top shoulder round in a family pack. Grab one of those bad boys and fold it in half and there's me!

How it happened doesn't matter . . . but I know I used to have great posture. I prided myself on my great posture, my great boobs pointing the way as I walked around, gazing down over my cheek bones, smiling at people, proudly, as if to say, look at me! Look at my great posture! Now I'm a sloppily folded, cheap piece of steak. I could blame it on breastfeeding. I could blame it on driving. I could blame it on curling around a pint of Harp at my local pub for hours a day every day for years too numerous to record. I could blame it on the calender, the sun, the moon, the Moonpies I ate last week on vacation, but really the cause of my condition doesn't matter. Here's what matters, I'm going to stop the fold.

A few days ago, I started leading with my heart. If you've ever practiced yoga, you know what I mean. For those who haven't yet had the pleasure, do this: pull your shoulders back and lift your heart towards the ceiling. Now, drop your should blades by trying to pull them away from your earlobes. Are you with me? Your chest should be reaching up and out, your back slightly arched, your shoulder blades back and down. It feels awkward and unnatural, at least it did for me at first, because I have been folding up for years now, but as I grow accustomed to my new posture I like it!

I'm not alone, I saw hundreds of folding women last week on our vacation. Perhaps leaning over the umbrella stroller at the alligator wildlife park made me aware but once I started to notice I saw women all around me with the same concave posture as me. And I thought, what body language is this? We're all folded in half, right down the middle, shoulders wrapping outwardly, hearts shrinking inwardly. What does this mean? I don't know. Maybe nothing but bad posture. But I do know that I didn't used to be this way and that something about leading with my heart is satisfying, more satisfying than just sticking my tits out. It is the very idea of leading with my heart that I really love. Like a small spiritual step, an affirmation that the heart and what is in the heart should lead the way, light the path (cue in "Love is My Religion," Ziggy Marley). Either way, I look a lot better, so there you go, my message for today, follow your heart.

Vacation from Vacationland

Travelling with small children . . . ah, the family vacation. Such fond memories from my childhood. Our family took an annual car trip from New Jersey to Florida to see the grandparents. I recall hilarious exchanges with my brother in the back-back of our Volare station wagon as we barrelled down I-95. Travel was simpler then. Billboards didn't contain smutty ads and we were free to roam around the car, car-seatless. Ah, the 70s. The free-wheeling, free-loving 70s when 70 mph was speeding, not the speed limit.

Our family is on vacation this week and just like the family vacations of my youth, we are in Florida visiting the Grandparents (and the great-grandparents, too!). We didn't drive, we flew, and all in all the travel wasn't so bad. Our vacation started out with a bout of violent vomiting on our Son's part. Airport check-in was easy, the children were well-behaved, we did not get searched at security. All was well. We found our way to the Wolfgang Puck bar, reflected on how airport food has improved and drank two of the extra large (for just $1 more) beers while the kids climbed around on the comfy leather seats. Afterwards, we split up and followed the children around. I took the girl, she was very cute as she ran from traveler to traveler and sneaked a touch at their carry on bags. I was drunk enough from the beer I wasn't even upset when her cheap disposable diaper failed us both. The flight was smooth, one of our party cried and struggled for 2 of the 3 hours, but overall it could have been worse. She bit me but it didn't break the skin. It was a great trip. My only regret was not wearing snot-colored clothing because after a few hours of holding our 28 pound "infant" in my lap I was very nearly smeared entirely over my poor choice of a black shirt. Everyone knows how snot-revealing black is so I really should have known better.

After arriving here and settling in for two days, we loaded up into my Dad's big SUV and drove just over 600 miles in just under two days to see the great-grandparents. The travel part was not much fun, although thanks to our son, who claimed to need the restroom every 20 minutes or so for a large part of the trip and had to be availed since he is, after all, just 3 years old, we got to see many road-side stores and attractions we normally never would have. Most memorable sight: alligator heads and Florida oranges, stacked neatly together and priced just right.

Vacation from Vacationland isn't over yet, but I offer these tips to other intrepid travellers out there:
1. Wear snot-colored clothing, even if your child is well. Undoubtedly you'll be snotted, but you can maintain an unsullied appearance.
2. DO NOT attempt to spend the night in a double hotel room with two little ones unless you have plenty of alcohol on hand and a very good sense of humor, as well.
3. Be sure to have a fade function on your vehicle's stereo so you can drowned out the crying from the back without blasting their little ears.
4. Be sure to see roadside attractions through the eyes of your little ones. It is a very exciting and scary world!
5. Save several days for just hanging out. Life at home is so planned and scheduled, let life on vacation unfold on its own.

More tips are sure to come, but for now, that is all from this Vacation from Vacationland.