Secret: Mommy Doesn't Know Everything....

Maya and her infamous head :)

Each child is utterly and completely unique. When I began this adventure called motherhood, intellectually I knew this fact, but somehow I never managed to completely comprehend exactly HOW different each child was. When Ellie was born, I was afflicted with all the worries and joys of a first time mother, each breath was counted, every ear piercing wail meant she was dying and those first gas induced smirks were a certain sign that my child did in fact love me (those smirks still means she loves me). Once Maya made her entrance into the world, I was filled with certain smugness, I had done this once before and survived.... I knew what I was doing. I wasn't going to be that nervous, paranoid, newbie mother any longer. I had earned my mommyhood badge and this second child was going to be a breeze because I definitely knew what I was doing. WRONG.

As it turns out, Ellie was an exceptionally easy baby. She (and I) only dealt with a week or two of sleepless colicky nights and then she rapidly adjusted to her little life with her characteristic sunny disposition. Being a first time mom, I was in no position to appreciate the godsend my first child was. My mother insisted that she was a very easy baby, but out of my infinite wisdom and experience, I thought she was nuts. Didn't she see how much the kid cried?

When Maya made her grand debut, I was utterly confident. After she had had been a permanent resident for 2 weeks, my confidence was shaken. Where was my happy baby? Why wouldn't this new child stop crying? And why in God's name was she constantly soaking my clothes with spit up? Obviously I wasn't as knowledgeable in the mommy area as I had previously assumed. As both kids have grown older and developed very different personalities, I am continually forced to accept that I am (sadly) not omnipotent.


Confessions of a (toddler) drama queen

Ellie is a drama queen. Each and every incident in her 6 year old life is something to write home about (or in her case, proclaim loudly at the top of her lungs to the whole world... preferably from the top of a roof or chair or high object). For example, when Ellie was around 2 or 3, she was routinely sent to her room for some misdeed or another. One particular time, her feelings were especially injured and upon discovering that she was being banished to her room, she stamped her foot, declared "You are not very nice" and promptly fled to her room, sobbing the entire way. A peek into her room revealed her laying face down on her bed, sobbing as though Justin Bieber had cut his hair and her world had ended.  At the ripe old age of three, she was the picture of teenage angst.

I'm scared to see what actual hormones will do to the child.

Ellie has also informed me (quite matter of factly) that when she grows up she is definitely going to marry two guys, Joe Jonas and Michael Jackson. I can guess where the whole Jonas Brother thing came from (we will be cutting down on her Disney Channel consumption). And I'm mildly upset that she didn't at least pick the cute one. (Come on, Ellie... Nick is the only cute one in the entire group!) But I'm completely stumped as to how or why the King of Pop is the unfortunate object of her affections. I tried to explain to her why a relationship with Mr. Jackson just wasn't in the cards for her, but somehow I don't think I made my point clear.

Me: Ellie, I don't think you can marry Michael Jackson, he's dead

Ellie: Oh. But is he married?

Me: Ummm.... no. But honey, he's dead.

Ellie: Oh, that's ok. He doesn't have a girlfriend does he?

Me: No, he doesn't have a girlfriend. But he can't have a girlfriend, he died a few years ago.

Ellie: That's ok. I'm going to marry Michael Jackson.

Me: Ummm.... sure?

I cannot wait to tell this story at her future wedding (which hopefully isn't to A. Michael Jackson or B. a Michael Jackson impersonator). I also pray that she gets over her polygamy thing.


I swear Mommy still loves you...

Injuries, whether large or small, are inevitable in childhood. What is completely  unpredictable is how each child will deal with them. Maya spends a good portion of her day being doctored up from painful encounters with counters, floors, sidewalks and other sharp objects because she hasn't quite mastered the art of coordination (hands, feet, walking, floor... it's alot of work for a 2 year old). But unless the injury is truly serious, most times she just brushes herself off and continues to calmly destroy my house. She even takes vaccines and doctors visits calmly and in stride. On the other hand, Ellie may have inherited a thing or two from her mother.

Fun fact about me: I am a wimp when it comes to needles.

I am convinced the only reason that I've survived childbirth three times is because a wonderful doctor somewhere invented epidurals. When I was 17, I managed to almost cut off my toe with a paper cutter (long story). 14 painful stitches later, the doctor informed me that I would need tetanus shot. I just had sliced my toe and survived the stitches by grinding my teeth and thinking not very nice things about paper cutters and doctors. But the moment they mentioned a shot, I dissolved into tears and begged the nurses to reconsider. Did they really need to? I would be good, no needles please??? I kept up the meaningless promises and shameless begging until they actually gave me the shot. Then I realized, oh, that didn't hurt. God help Ellie if she has kids.

Kiki: You're going to stick what, where?



The differences between my children have never been as clear as it was in today's adventure at the pediatrician’s office.  Ellie began eying me worriedly the moment we set foot in the doctor's office and began pestering me "Mom, I don't have to get shots today, do I? Do I? DO I?" When I reluctantly informed her that she did have to get a few shots, she proceeded to hide under examination table.

Maya excels at the suspicious glares

Words cannot describe the absolute ridiculousness that ensued once the doctor made her appearance, and the necessary shots were trotted out. I must have been extra sleep deprived when I made the appointment, because all three girls were due for shots at the same time. When the menacing trays of vaccines entered the room, Ellie was still cowering under the examination table, Maya was cheerily greeting the nurses and Kiki was spitting up on me. I handed my youngest geyser *ahem* child, off to the male nurse (who looked really uncomfortable with his baby holding duties), and proceeded to coax/ drag Ellie out from the table. Thankfully Ellie is still a rather small child and I am still bigger, because she was clinging to that table leg like a starving leech. Maya was curiously peering around my legs, "Ellie... huh?? Why??? Ellie, owwie?? Huh??" Once my oldest was finally positioned on the table I was faced with another issue, how to get her pants down? It took both the nurse and I several minutes to finally get her ready (she probably scarred every other small child in that clinic... her screams were horrific). She sobbed nonstop until the actual shot happened, during which she stopped in surprise... oh.... it didn't hurt that much. But then she saw blood, and the waterworks started over again.




Kiki modeling the cherry tomato look

To be fair, we did the process chronologically (also by how difficult it was to catch them). Next up on the chopping block was Maya. She willingly submitted to the indignities of the poking, stabbing and pinching of the nurses (while Ellie was still sobbing away in the background). She cried briefly after the initial pinch, and then the smile made its reappearance. I heaved a sigh of relief, at least one child wasn't going to hate me forever for subjecting them to needles. Kiki had her turn with the needles (she's too young to really argue about the process). She turned an attractive shade of tomato red and screamed at me in anger. And then, thank God, we were finally done. I felt like a butcher. Pull 'em up, yank the pants down, patch 'em up and grab the next one. We staggered out of the doctor’s office, Ellie still had tears streaming down her face (the lollipop helped quell the louder sobs) Maya was still cheerfully greeting strangers and Kiki was still spitting up.

Yet another fun fact: karma works. I put my mother through hell when I had to get shots.

So the lesson learned here? I still have many lessons to learn. Motherhood is an ever evolving, ever changing, ALWAYS interesting adventure that never is going to end. Thankfully each child is different, a doctor's appointment with 3 drama queens would have been even more disastrous and my laundry pile with three spit factories would be a nightmare. God knew what He was doing. I obviously don't.