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January 30 Do Democrats Make Their Kids Eat Peas?SCENE: Dinner. Steve and Ben sit side by side. I am across from them. We are eating BBQ chicken, mashed potatoes (well, Ben's eating bread. He doesn't like mashed potatoes) and peas.
BEN: I'm all done! (He's eaten his bread, one bite of peas, and 2 bites of chicken)
MAMA: OK.
BEN: Now can I have ice cream?
MAMA: No. Ice cream is for boys who eat all their dinner.
Ben immediately shovels in another bite of chicken.
BEN: Now can I have ice cream?
MAMA: No. You have to eat all your peas and chicken before you can have ice cream.
Ben eats another bite of chicken and one bite of peas.
BEN: OK! I'm all done. Now can I have ice cream?
MAMA: You have to eat all your peas before you can have ice cream.
BEN: I did!
MAMA: Then why are there still peas on your plate?
Ben immediately eats a bit of peas.
BEN: Now can I have ice cream?
Repeat this a few times. Seriously.
PAPA: Does he know what "all" means?
MAMA: Ben, you have to eat every single pea before you can have ice cream.
Ben eats another bite of peas. Actually, he eats a single pea.
BEN: Now can I have ice cream?
MAMA (trying hard not to laugh): No. You haven't eaten all your peas.
BEN: I did! I ate every single pea!
MAMA: Then why are there still peas on your plate?
Ben shovels in another bite of peas. I should note here that in fact I am not exagerating the number of times we went thru this process. In fact, I may be shortening it for your reading pleasure. I should also note that when Ben takes a bite of peas, he manages to only get in 3 or 4 peas at a time. And I gave him maybe 2 tablespoons of peas. Not all that many. And Steve kept laughing. While he suffers from the flu.
BEN: Now can I have some ice cream?
MAMA: Nope. You have to eat all your peas.
Papa reaches over and scoops the peas closer together.
PAPA: This is why kids want to grow up and move away. They have no power. They didn't pick peas to eat. They didn't pick how many peas they have to eat and they just have to eat them until they can get to the ice cream. It's arbitrary. It's an arbitrary use of power. You're just like Bush! You're such a Republican.
BEN (after shoveling in another spoonful of peas): Now can I have ice cream?
MAMA: Nope. You have to eat all your peas. And what? You don't think Democrats make their kids eat peas?
In the end, after Steve said, "Have a heart! Don't make him chase after every single pea!" Ben got his ice cream. Peach. With sprinkles.
And I should point out that Steve is, in fact, a Republican. I started out as a Democrat when we met. I have since become much more Republican as I've gotten older tho I try to fight it. Steve likes to poke the bear...
January 29 I'm Tired of Wiping off Your Kisses!Ben has given me kissing rules.
I must not kiss him. Because, get this, he's "tired of wiping off your kisses!"
When I do kiss him, I must only kiss him on his hair. Not his skin.
But, I may kiss him when he gets hurt. And then only where he got hurt.
Booger. Thank God Steve is back......because I need the sleep. January 24 Steve is not a slacker...Lest you all think from my previous post that Steve was being a slacker by watching the game while Ben and I suffered from our various maladies, I wanted to point out what he was doing all day Saturday.
He built a playground for our neighborhood.
Yup. We have (had) two playgrounds in our neighborhood. Made of wood. Coated with arsenic. Splintering. Rocking off its supports.
Dangerous.
So, one of our local moms spent the better part of six months researching, talking, investigating, pricing, negotiating and she got us two new playgrounds made of top of the line plastic and plastic-coated metals. New slides, new swings, new monkey bars.
I was so excited, so convinced Ben would absolutely love the new playground that I volunteered to help build it.
Trouble was, I got a nice hacking cough a few days before the building day. So Steve went in my place.
Steve got to spend an entire day in the rain, working in 6 to 8 inches of swampy mud, putting together a new playground for his kid.
When I swung by around 3:30 to get him back, he had mud on his nose and his toes. He had mud on his knees and elbows. His boots were coated. In fact, we stripped him down in the garage before letting him in the house, he was so muddy. Bummer of it all is that even tho Steve spent all day Saturday putting it together, Ben still can’t play on it. Today they were using buckets and pumps to empty the holes surrounding the supports so they could pour concrete. We’re still a few days away from playing… January 22 Why there have been no blogs this week...I can sum it all up by showing this evening's exchanges:
MAMA: cough, cough. Hack. Wheezing cough. Hacking cough. Cough. Cough. COUGH.
BEN: Mama! I think I need another diaper!
PAPA: Go 'Hawks!
Yes, the Seahawks are going to the Super Bowl! Wahoo!
But I didn't get to watch the game. I was furniture for a very ill little boy who has thrown up twice tonight and gone through something like six poopy diapers (altho to call them "poopy" is a real stretch. All smell... no solids...) since lunch. I mostly tried not to cough because every time I did so I got the what-for because Ben couldn't hear the TV.
Steve, the healthy bastard, went downstairs and got to watch the game while I watched, for what must have been the 19th time today, Rescue Heroes.
Sigh... Here's hoping things firm up tomorrow... January 13 Screw 1953 -- 2006 Rules!The weirdest phenomenon is occurring in Seattle right now - people are actually starting to root for more rain.
Most of you probably already know (or simply assume) that it’s raining in Seattle right now. You’re probably thinking “it rains 300 days out of the year in Seattle.” However Seattle usually doesn’t get a lot of heavy consecutive days of rain. It’s often rainy for a few days (usually through the weekend), then we have a dry day or two (still cloudy, usually Monday), then more rain for the weekend.
This year we’ve been getting real rain. 12.08 inches since December 19th – that’s more than 3 inches above average for this time of year. It’s actually become something of a joke. Valerie and I have been bantering back and forth for a couple of days:
Steve: Guess what? Valerie: What? Steve: It’s raining. Valerie & Steve: <giggle>
This year is something special. It’s been raining since before Christmas – 26 days to be exact. And it’s not just me know knows this – everyone in Seattle knows. 26 days. Yesterday was 25, tomorrow 27. Then, hopefully, 28. Why is this seemingly stupid and arguably depressing information on everyone’s lips?
Because we’re going to break the record.
That’s right – it’s become somewhat of a competition. A matter of pride even. As of today we now have the second most consecutive days of rainfall in recorded history for Seattle. The record, however, belongs to 1953 where they received 33 consecutive rainy days. That’s right. 33 days. Only 8 more days to go.
We’re totally going to win. Nothing but rain in the forcast. Plus, we’re way better than those people in 1953 – we can do 33 days in our sleep.
We’ll show them.
Damn 1953’ers. After this year no one will even remember 1953 – nobody cares who’s number 2. They’ll see – 2006 rules!
[Posted by Steve] January 12 Cast of CharactersWell, another new year is upon us and in case you've just stumbled upon our little corner of the universe, allow me to make some introductions.
Ben
Ben doesn't need much introduction as virtually his entire life is here. This blog was created to share Ben's life with his out-of-town grandparents and aunts and uncle.
So far, it's even been partly effective as about half of Ben's grandparents read it!
Ben is three and almost a half years old. He's supremely active. He's very bossy. He's very LOUD. We think he's quite bright, very stubborn, and rather dependent when it comes to playing. And, he's, well, three.
ME
aka Mama, Val, Valerie, Miss Valerie, and even, occasionally, Mrs. Serdy.
I write the blog. (I control the blog. And all things in it. Altho, especially when questions regarding penises (Penes? Penisi? Peni?) are concerned, I default to Steve's opinion.) Primarily. Steve (more on him later) has mentioned he'd like to write something but has yet to do so.
I am a 30-ish wife, mother, daughter (I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I will not be contained... Oops. Channeled a little Meredith Brooks there...)
I like to cook, read, write. (As you'll see by the sheer amount of words here.)
I stay home and raise Ben. And take care of the house. And buy presents for everyone we buy presents for. And, well, house management. Haus Frau. Housewife. Suzy Homemaker. Domestic Engineer. Stay-at-home-mom. Whatever you'd like to call it.
I'm hardly ever diplomatic. I am often opinionated. And I'll let you know. I know entirely too much about food so should you have a question or want a recipe, I'm your girl. Be warned, however, that I will answer your question. Perhaps even in excruciating detail.
Steve
aka Papa. Even Ben's friends call him Papa.
Steve works for our living. He's been at Microsoft for 12 years now which means he is a dinosaur in the company. In fact, fewer than 5% of the people working there have seniority over him, timewise.
Steve loves, LOVES, LOVES scuba diving. He enjoyed woodworking before we had Ben; now he has no time. He enjoys playing computer games, especially those that allow him to take over the world, which simply feeds his closet-megalomania. He caters entirely too much to his clingy, needy, absolutely gorgeous, black and white cat, whom he loves more than me. Quite possibly, he loves Ben more than me. And maybe Pixel too.
Scout
Our spoiled black and white monster cat. 11 pounds. And he's too thin. Every night he meows at Steve until Steve lays just right on the couch. Every night he curls up on Steve's lap and Steve falls asleep watching the TV.
Pixel
Our other spoiled cat. Orange and white. 20 pounds. And he's too fat. I'm allergic to his nose. Seriously. He likes to rub his nose on me and I break out in a red itchy rash.
Benjamin-the-Fish
Ben's pet. A Beta.
Rainbow
Ben's other pet. An algae-eater. With a black stripe.
Fuzzy Cow
Obnoxiously colored blue, yellow, and white soft stuffed cow. Well, it used to be soft. We've washed it too many times to be really soft anymore. (And by "it," I mean "them." In an effort to never be without a cow, we have slowly and over time, I swear, ended up purchasing 6 cows.)
(And to be fair, Ben doesn't like the last cow. We call it Soft Cow because it has never had its paws sucked on and therefore never been washed. It is plush, soft, well-filled out. It's my favorite...)
Ben needs this cow (these cows) to sleep and to comfort himself when he's hurt or sad or lonely. He used to suck on the cows paws and there wasn't nothing like those nasty old damp crusty blackened paws. Especially when you got a paw in the eye after your man whipped a Ninja Death Cow at you.
Fuzzy Cow is surprisingly aerodynamic.
Family
Ben has 2 grandmothers (Grandma Mary, Grandma Sam), 2 grandfathers (Grandpa David, Grandpa Frank), 2 great-grandmothers (Grandma Lucile, Nana), 1 great-great-aunt (Aunt Doris), 2 aunts (Aunt Karen, Aunt Lisa), 1 uncle (Uncle Jay), and 1 cousin (Cousin Josh) that he sees on a quasi-regular basis. (OK, in some cases, he's seen them once. Or twice. But these are the relatives we are closest to.)
Friends
We have been part of a mommy group (PEPS) since Ben was 8 weeks old. The kids from this group are Ben's friends. (Not the kids he goes to preschool with. Not sure why.) The women/mommies in this group are my friends. Wanna quick rundown?
Mom / Kids
Debbie / Luke and Max
Maribeth / Truman and Mona
Lora / Lexie and Janalyn
Nikki / Emily and Alex
Barb / Sammy and Nathan
Others
Other cast members will cross in and out of this blog as their actions warrant. And I don't respect anyone's privacy. Unless, or course, they bring me chocolate.
Dove chocolate.
Dove dark chocolate.
Or Ghiradelli.
Dark.
Ben's Sleep Log, Day 3 (reprise)Booger-boy did it again.
Woke up at 5-ish.
AM.
Claimed, when I told him to go back to bed, that his pants were wet. His diaper was too full.
Grr.
Went to change him only to discover his pants were fine.
Looks like Ben has found his next "monster." In other words, he's found the silver bullet that will get me out of bed to walk him back to his room.
Not sure what to do next. Sigh...
Must say, I'm getting pretty grumpy. Maybe I'll stay up late reading so I can be extra, extra, tired tomorrow when the little guy wakes up early.
January 11 About our Book ListsI find it interesting what people read. I find it interesting how often they read books.
To wit, I have three lists here:
Val's Reads for 2006
Ben's Reads for 2006
Steve's Reads for 2006
The books listed here are not necessarily recommended. They are simply what we have read. New books will be posted after we have read them. If the lists become unruly (which is distinctly possible in Ben's case. We read 6 books a day, at least), then I will drop back and punt.
Which basically means I'll do something else but haven't figured it out yet. I *wish* I could take the credit...Yesterday (Tuesday evening), Steve and I are watching the Colbert Report.
Steven Colbert: I've always thought fear was an underused tool when dealing with toddlers. Ply them with patience and praise and they'll be in diapers till the 5th grade.
Sometimes I feel that we will be in diapers till the 5th grade. Sigh.
Yes, it's perfectly normal. Yes, Ben is supremely busy. Yes, Ben is also supremely afraid of being left out of something. Yes, Ben knows when he's about to go when he's naked. No, Ben hasn't learned how to pay attention to his body when he's fully clothed.
I'm assuming he won't go to kindergarten in diapers, but Steve's given me the challenge of getting him potty trained before our next vacation. (He doesn't want to pack a week's worth of diapers. We almost didn't have enough when we went to Grand Cayman. We had exactly one left when we boarded the airplane home...)
Granted, we haven't planned anything and the one vacation we're considering is in October, but, dang. That seems like a daunting challenge today! Seriously, Absolutely, Completely JinxedTuesday night
Ben woke up at 5:00.
Woke up again at 5:30. Poopy. I swear, if that boy were actually potty-trained, I'd think he pooped on purpose to get me into his room.
Monday night
Ben woke up at 11:30.
Ben woke up at 1-ish.
Ben woke up at 5-ish.
And when I say, "Ben woke up," I mean he woke up, closed (slammed) his door or didn't, walked into our room, stood by my side of the bed, and either sighed or patted my ass until I woke up, stood up, held his hand, walked him back to his room, tucked him in bed, and left.
Erg.
All this just hours after I wrote that he was successfully sleeping thru the night. January 09 Eleventeen Ninja Death PillowsBen's learning how to count to higher and higher numbers.
Sort of.
He can consistently count to 29. What comes after 29? Twenty-ten.
When he gets going too quickly, tho, eleventeen comes after 16.
And, my boy Steve (that would be my husband for those of you who aren't keeping up with this blog) throws a wicked pillow. Yesterday (yes, yesterday) we had a three-way pillow fight. Well, Steve whipped a pillow right at my face (he claims he wasn't looking). Hit me right in the eye with the corner.
All stop.
No more pillow fight. My eye leaked tears for about a half hour.
It still hurts today.
Still.
Erg.
End of Ben's Sleeping LogThe booger is just sleeping peacefully away. Now I can see it in print so I think we'll just quit the sleeping log for now. Till he stops sleeping thru the night again, at least! January 07 Ben's Sleeping Log, Days 5 and 6Day 5 (Jan 5)
Ben slept through the night, sort of.
Ben woke up at 8:20 PM, frightened. He was afraid Dyno, the big yellow stuffed dinosaur that will be coming to his preschool in three weeks for a safety presentation, was coming into his house and his bedroom. We had a long talk about how Papa and I would guard the door until we fell asleep, and then Scout and Pixel would guard the door to make sure Dyno didn't get inside.
Yello Dyno: http://www.pactforkids.org/yd.htm
Well, after we snuggled for a loooong time, he snuggled right up under his covers with his fuzzy cows and slept till 6:23 AM.
Day 6 (Jan 6)
Again, Ben slept through the night; I'm so proud. In point of fact, he did wake up early, at 5:52 AM. When I told him to go back to bed, he told me he couldn't. His diaper leaked and he had pee on his leg. Poor kid.
And lest you judge me for having a three-and-a-half year old child not yet potty-trained, Ben wore a pull-up today and peed in the potty 3 times all by himself. Well, with reminders from Steve. She didn't say, "No, thank you."Ben doesn't know how to lie.
Or, more specifically, he doesn't know when it is in his best interests to lie.
Friday, our mommy group met at my house. As we moms hung out downstairs, we suddenly heard:
LEXIE: No! NOOOOooooo! I DON'T LIKE THAT! WAAAaaaah!
Lora (Lexie's mom) and I sprinted up the stairs together. (Almost always when Lexie cries, it has something to do with Ben.) Well, Lora went straight to a crying Lexie and I approached Ben, who was standing nearby and holding a small stuffed octopus.
MAMA: Ben, what happened? Why is Lexie crying?
BEN: I put this in her face [shoving the octopus in my face].
MAMA: And what did Lexie do when you put the octopus in her face?
BEN: She said no.
MAMA: And then what did you do?
BEN (speaking very quickly): She didn't say, "No, thank you," so I chased her with it.
January 05 Ben's Sleeping Log, Day 3 and 4Ever since I started writing this log, the little bugger's been sleeping thru the night.
Wednesday
6:23 AM
Ben walked out of his door just as Steve walked out of our room to wake him up.
(We must wake him up before Steve goes to work or Ben's whole day is shot.)
Thursday
6:18 AM
Ben walked into our room with his Fuzzy Cow and asked to play the "Boo" game.
I'm so thrilled.
I'm so rested. January 03 Capitalist at the Tender Age of Three...Christmas 2004: Ben receives a ceramic dump truck bank from Grandpa Frank. Ben proceeds to spend the next year finding, stealing, begging, cajoling, asking for all the change he can to put in it.
As of Christmas 2005, he had upwards of $31 stashed in there. Not a bad haul for a three-year-old.
Christmas 2005: Ben receives a wallet from Aunt Karen. It's an old-1980's-school style nylon and velcro wallet. Bright red with blue trim. Came with play bills and coins. Ben quickly dumps the play money out to put inside his cash register (also a gift from Aunt Karen).
Shortly after Christmas 2005: We go down to Factoria Mall as a family. Factoria Mall has a plastic and foam ferry boat climber (yes, only in Seattle would a climber be in the shape of a ferry boat). Factoria Mall has a children's museum (just re-opened after a year of renovations). In a long line between the ferry boat and the museum is a row of coin-operated rides: a carousel, firetruck that goes back and forth, helicopter that goes up and down. A few others I've forgotten.
Everytime we go here, Ben begs for quarters to go on rides. Gets seriously disappointed because I don't have any money. (I never have any money. I pay for my two-dollar Starbuck's with my credit card.)
So, for this trip, I tell Ben he needs to pull some quarters out of his dumptruck bank and put them in his wallet. When his quarters are all used up, we'll be all done with rides.
Well.
I've created a monster.
He has not put together the idea of money with the idea of getting what he wants. And, even worse, he feels like he should be able to get whatever he wants with his money because it's, well, his.
Case in point. Today, as we geared up to go to Cold Stone (ice cream place. Completely bad for my resolutions), Ben found his wallet and announced that we were going to go to Acapulco Fresh on the way to Cold Stone so he could use his own quarter to get himself a gumball.
And he just couldn't understand why I said, No.
After all, it was his money. "You're not a bad father!"BEN: Can Papa make me a carry-mummy?
STEVE: Yes, but only because I've been a bad father today.
BEN (to Mama): I love him! He's NOT a bad father!
Explanation:
carry-mummy: we wrap Ben up in a towel after bathtime like a mummy and carry him, all wrapped up, back to his bedroom.
bad father today: Steve called around 4:30 to say he'd be leaving in about 10 minutes. I called him around 5:45 to see where the heck he was since he wasn't home when I pulled the meatloaf out of the oven.
Mmmmm..... meatloaf... Ben's Sleeping Log, Day 25:10 AM
Or thereabouts. I couldn't bring myself to look at the clock.
Click. Click. Click.
Ben plays with his doorknob. I lie (lay?) awake waiting for him to come out. He doesn't. I fall back asleep.
6:11 AM
BEN: Mama! I slept to the 6!!
Explanation:
I bought Ben a digital clock, pasted flag stickers above the proper position, spent 15 minutes working with Ben to locate the 6 so that he would stay in bed until at least 6:00 AM. Doesn't always work, but he's so dang pleased when he does sleep till the 6...
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