Tired topic

I'm sure you're tired of me complaining about the ex's wife. I know the topic is over used. One might think that I'm the angry ex who's having trouble letting go. Not so. Let me fill you in on the last, oh, I don't know, 5 years...

About 5 years ago, I started dating Ben. Scooter didn't meet him until we'd been dating for 2 months. So...5 years ago, she wouldn't have met him, yet. But my ex knew about him. When scheduling his parenting time (he liked to re-arrange to fit his schedule), I may have mentioned that I had plans or something to that effect. Apparently, around that time, the ex accidently discharged his weapon inside his apartment, the bullet lodging in his downstairs' neighbor's bathroom. If the neighbor hadn't reported it, it would have gone unreported. Shortly after Scooter met Ben, the ex crashed his police cruiser into a firetruck.

The ex, by then, was on his 4th or 5th girlfriend post-move out. The only part of that which bothered me is that Scooter met every single one of those girls. I personally don't think you need to expose 3 year olds to all of your dates. But that's just me.

Fast forward a year and 4 months, and Ben and I got married. Scooter was 4. Shortly after that (or before that?) the ex started dating his current wife. Unremarkable except for the fact that within weeks, she was the one picking Scooter up from daycare, and soon after that, she was the one dropping Scooter off at home. I was a bit disappointed in the ex's apparent laziness, but to be honest, I was somewhat pleased that the level of care at her dad's house had improved somewhat.

For the next few years, the ex's girlfriend and I pretty much got along. I would not have called her my friend, and I doubt she would have done the same, but we had a working relationship. That is to say we were friendly at soccer games. She had some of the same gripes about him that I always have (he doesn't plan anything unless it's something he wants to do, then it'll all be planned out, w/o any communication back to you about it), etc. He moved in with her. Nothing really changed.

Last year, I proposed to the ex, our move to Portland. It was met with agreement, and tentative plans for summer vacation time. I did not consult the ex's girlfriend. I didn't think I needed to. Oh, boy, was I wrong. Overnight, she went from cordial to cold. Rather than any sort of discussion or compromise, we went straight to court. One minute, I had agreement with the ex. A week later, I was served with a restraining order. In it, my daughter's birthday was wrong - about 3 years off. A few months after that, mediation attempts broke down with the ex saying, "I cannot agree to anything you say. What will people [insert: new wife - oh yeah, they got married last fall] think of me if I just say ok?" I had offered to let him not pay a penny in child support if he'd just let us move and not have to go to court. He insisted.

Court was interesting. Actually, it was the hardest 2 days of my life. The ex's new wife (can I just call her Vicky?) sat outside the courtroom (for no reason) both days. She looked horrible. Not that she was ever particularly good looking, but now, instead of being hidden by hair products and make up, the negativity couldn't help but shine through. She has since tried her best to disrupt my time with Scooter. She has tried her best to insert herself where I already am. Half the time, I feel like my emails to the ex are being read and answered by her. It's nonsense. Fast forward to last night, she was with Scooter and her dad in the Starbucks we met at for the parenting exchange. The policeman I spoke with when I filed the police report a few weeks ago recommended that we do exchanges in public, so that's what I'm doing.

So there she was, sitting at the Starbucks. And she still had that sour, horrible look on her face. If you google, "sour faced old trout" you'll get an idea of what she always looks like (or...at least whenever I'm around). Here. I'll help you out. Imagine Vicky:

But with this look: 

Oh, yeah. And she's 5 months preggers, which in a normal person would mean that she's 10-12 pounds heavier than normal. But on her, it means each arm is 10-12 pounds heaver. Not to mention the gut. *shudder*

You get the idea...

Halloween

I'll post pictures tomorrow (or later this week) of the kids looking like pirates. I just wanted to write a quick (or long) blog about my day so far. You would expect Portland to be a good halloween city. I mean, 1/2 the residents are pretty much dressed for the ocassion every day. But today was special. First off, I got to wear jeans to work. Bonus! On my way in on the train, I saw a woman with cat whiskers and ears. I wasn't sure if it was normal, or dress up, though. I once saw 4 people dressed as characters from Alice in Wonderland on the train. On a Tuesday. In August.

I hopped off the train and started my walk into work. A guy on a bike passed me. He was wearing one of those elmo furry vest costumes w/ the hood that's like Elmo's head. Ok. Not too strange. It was a little chilly, and the Elmo head covered his helmet perfectly. He said, "good morning!" in an Elmo voice. Hm...ok. That's funny. I got into work, and a woman came out of the bathroom wearing a tutu.

At lunch, I headed down to Pioneer Courthouse Square to pick up my monthly train and bus pass. I saw 2 zombies. As I passed a food cart, there was a sign in the window, "I'm sorry, we're closed today due to a zombie attack. We will rise from the dead to serve you tomorrow." I saw a girl with a darth vader mask on. To be fair, I'm pretty sure I've seen her before, though.

On my way back into the office, I saw a woman, dressed normally, except she had a crown on. Maybe she's royalty? It has been a fun halloween, so far. But I'm sure I could write a post with similar happenings on any other day of the year in this city. It's what makes living here so fun.

volunteering is hard

I volunteered at Scooter's school again today. This time, instead of an hour in her classroom, I was there for almost 3 hours in the cafeteria. It was amazing. I sat next to a woman who is in a women's singing quartet, and they went to the all black production of Oklahoma last night. I've heard great things about that show. *little pang of jealousy*

Anyway, the point of me being at school today was to help with the Passport Club. This is a PTC (parent teacher club)-run addition to the kids' curriculum. Each child has a passport, which is kept with their teacher. Each month, they are given a list of countries to find on a map. There are 5 levels (1st-5th grades). They may choose to study however many levels they want. Levels 1-4 are countries, and then level 5 is the capitals of the countries in level 1. For example, this month level 1 was the following countries: USA, Brazil, Australia, Thailand, and Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). So...in order to complete level 5, you also needed to know the capitals of those countries. Could you do it? I can, now, but I wouldn't have been able to a month ago. Studying with Scooter has helped my geography skills as well. Anyway, the theory goes if the kids to all 5 levels each month, by the end of the year, they should know where all the countries in the world are located. And the levels change each year, so in theory, if you remember all the capitals from each of the years before (and you do all 5 levels all 5 years), you'd end up knowing a boat load of capitals, too.

But in reality, there are some kids who study this stuff, and some kids who don't. You know the statistic that 20% of Americans can't find the US on a map? That didn't quite happen this morning, but it was close. I didn't test Scooter this morning. I waved and encouraged her, though, and guess what? She got to bang the drum for knowing all 5 levels. YAY!! I'm excited to see what next month's countries are.

Today's song

In case you missed it in August, I'm on a Jens Lekman kick. He's great. For a while, I had switched to Richard Hawley, but I had to go back to Jens.

It's nice, fall music. Or something. Plus, he's Swedish, and who doesn't love the Swedes. I guess he came to Seattle earlier this month, and I missed it. I was probably listening to Richard at the time. ha ha ha.

Anyway, I forgot my book this morning, so I was "stuck" staring at people on the train. Luckily, the blind man that caught my eye yesterday was riding again today. Yesterday, he had an e-reader (well...some electronic braile device). Today, it was a regular braile book. Fascinating stuff. And the great thing about blind guys is that they never catch you staring at them. Except, I'm sure they know. So I try to only glance every 30 seconds or so.

So while I was being extremely rude this morning, I was also listening to the ol' ipod. Guess who was playing? Two songs caught my ear this morning. "Another Sweet Summer's Night on Hammer Hill" and "The Wrong Hands." The ASSNoHH song is currently not available on Youtube, so you're losing out. The "SSNoHH" is on there, but it's a completely different song. For real. The SSNoHH is this groovy, up beat song - it's like a party. The other one, however, is very sad and dark. Mostly about people being beat up on hammer hill. But I guess both things can happen on a sweet summer night. Anyway, an excerpt of "The Wrong Hands" is on youtube. I'll post it here:

<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/U2T1UYIOFlk" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

Did that work? Anyway, the basic premise of the song is that his ex girlfriend is dating someone else. His response is that he doesn't mind her leaving, but he doesn't want to see good love fall into the wrong hands. For some reason, that strikes me as really sweet, and as weird as it may sound, it reminds me of Ben. I wouldn't want our love to fall into the wrong hands, either.

I've never really understood hoodie vests

If you need a hood, you probably also need sleeves.

This week is a ho-hum week. The in-laws were here for a blink last week/weekend, but they had to go back home for a small work-related emergency. Our whole house feels sad about that. Scooter is still trying to figure out a way to get one or more of them to stay longer. Even though they're already gone. Bubba just comments on everything in relation to Grandma and Grandpa. I got out my high-heeled boots to show Scooter that Italy does, in fact, look like a boot (she begrudgingly agreed). Bubba said, "Mama has boots. Grandpa has boots, too!"

I've had hives on and off, almost daily since September. I've been doing a lot of internet reading about it today. Mostly, I've been checking out eMedicine because that's where my husband works, although I'm pretty sure he didn't edit the article(s) I read. It looks like I need to start some antihistamine therapy. Long term therapy. I took claritin the first few days I had hives, then switched it up to benadryl. Neither of them really took care of the problem. This article recommended upping the dose of claritin. I guess I'll try that for a while. Anyhoodle, the hives are likely caused by stress or a food additive, and not a contact allergy. My hair also started falling out a few months ago (more like 6 months ago, now). Chronic hives are also related to the third trimester of pregnancy, and hair loss occurs 2-6 months post partum. So, either I'm having a backward pregnancy, or it's stress.

I'm not feeling particularly stressed, but it could be that I've lived like this for so long, now, that it's my psychological "new normal" and my body is the only thing rebelling against the ridiculous nature of life. Scooter has asked to get off the phone with the ex immediately upon his calling just about everyday for the past couple of weeks. I hope she's doing ok. I often wonder what's going on in there. She has such an interesting take on her world.

passion?

I used to be a little "hot headed" at work. Not to the point where it was altogether detrimental to my career, I don't think. But I've never really had a problem speaking my mind. Actually, maybe it was a problem. If it was in my mind, chances were, it was coming out of my mouth, unfiltered. So maybe I was lacking in "tact." In my defense, the company for which I worked was owned by a tall white guy. The "executive leadership" consisted of 3 tall white guys. If you incorporate the manager levels (when I was still at that level), you were looking at 4 tall white guys, and me; later, 4 tall white guys, a couple of mid-sized white guys, one white girl and me. In other words, the leadership in that company was rather homogenous. So have I been told to shut up and toe the company line? Yes. Yes I have.

Fast forward to the past year. I'm in a new career in a much larger company (I went from 48 employees to 10,000). Suddenly, I have a reputation of being quiet and "steady." Like...nothing really ruffles my feathers. I do excellent work. I have a great rapport with my customers (I like to call them users). I'm a trusted advocate. What has changed? I mean, other than the job and the company? I can give you a few theories.

First off, work-wise, I'm MUCH less stressed. I no longer feel like the success or failure of a business component rests on my shoulders. I used to have that feeling every waking moment of my life - even after any financial incentive for success was taken away. Even after managerial control of the program was taken away. Because, honestly, you never really lose that feeling when you create something. I think more importantly, though, is that I now realize that work is work. It's not life and death (even though now that I work in healthcare it IS more life and death than most other jobs). In other words, this past year has kind of taught me what really is important, and for me, it's my family. So when given the opportunity, I will go volunteer in my daughter's classroom. And if the boy is feeling under the weather, I will stay home with him. And the office politics of who is assigned what and how will just roll off my back. Who cares if you have 50 requests outstanding, and I only have 30 (or the other way around). Will we end up doing an unequal amount of work? Or as we have requests closed out will others always be there to replace them? Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? No. Not really.

Post # 200

There's actually already 201, but I took one down, so this is the 200th visible post on my blog. Congratulations for making it this far.

There's a lot I could be writing about, but a lot of it is rehashing what's already been said. For example, on the potty training side of life, my son pooped 4 times on Saturday, one of which actually made it into the toilet. Barf. Also, the ex reared his ugly head again. I filed a police report that will go no where and really do nothing. Yay. (sarcasm). We're still paying big todds pricing for pre-school care at daycare. Love it. (more sarcasm).

I volunteered in my daughter's classroom on Monday. That was fun. A bit bizzarro. Do you ever go places where you just feel like you don't belong? A third grade classroom is one of those places for me. The PTC (parent-teacher club - it's not an association at this school) runs a few educational programs in Scooter's school. I volunteer for 2 of them: art literacy and the passport club (geography challenge). Monday was art literacy. One of the PTC volunteers gave a presentation on Emily Carr. Afterward, we helped the students make their own Carr-inspired landscapes focusing on using emotion in their lines (I don't think that actually happened), and differentiating between foreground and background (maybe this happened? it's hard to tell). And then school got out, and I brought Scooter home with me. It was fun.

Also on Monday, I was mortified when Bubba threw an A#1 fit in the parking lot after Scooter's soccer practice. I don't really have any friends in Portland, yet. I mean, I have coworkers that I can eat lunch with or whatever, but as far as doing stuff on the weekends - it's all family. And so far, I'm fine with that. But it would be nice to have a friend who could go out with me or baby sit the kids or come over and play cards or something. So anyway, I've been secretly courting a woman whose child is on Scooter's soccer team. How would one secretly court someone else, you ask? It's easy. You never talk to them. You smile sweetly anytime you see them. You wave occasionally, but not consistently. You know...you basically act like you're in 6th grade and have a secret crush on them. Anyway, it was during that A#1 fit of Bubba's that my secret friend-crush walked up, very easily and nicely put her two kids in their car, which, horrifyingly, was parked right next to ours, and got ready to go. We ended up ready to pull out of our parking spots at the same time. I waved and mouthed, "sorry!" She waved and mouthed, "Good job!!"

My sister advised that my next step should be to pull her hair on the playground and then send her a note folded like an envelop. I'm wishing life was as easy as it was in grade school.

Potty Training Chronicles III

I can't really blame him. He had no accidents in preschool (after 2 days of 2 accidents per day), and he "went" directly before we left for Scooter's soccer practice. He also had a pound of strawberries after "holding it" for 2 days. I think we all know where this is going...

I took Bubba with us to soccer practice. We got his ball out of the car, and he proceeded to kick his ball around the track surrounding the field. He kicked and ran 3/4 of a mile before the tell-tale look came across his face. You know the one. The kind of panicked concentration face. The one where his mouth is half open and he has a far away look in his eyes. Yeah. That one. The port-o-potty was being used at the moment (what are the chances?!), so we started the long, slow walk back to the car. One might call it the brown mile. I called Ben on our way to see if he could rescue us with something - anything to not have to smash poop-pants into a car seat.

While we waited, I became a resourceful mom. We happened to have taken Ben's car to practice tonight. Bummer, since I generally keep a plastic grocery bag in my car for trash. Ben doesn't like the aesthetics of the trash bag hanging off the stick shift, and frankly, neither do I. But sometimes, function trumps looks. As it was, however, we had no trash bag. The lucky thing about having Ben's car is that we did have wet wipes on hand. Yay! I opened the tailgate and stood Bubba up in the back. Shoes, socks, pants, underpants all came off, and I noticed a ziplock containing bug spray and sunscreen in a nook back there. Hooray!!! I dumped the contents of Bubba's underpants along with the used wet wipes into the ziplock. I finished wiping the boy up, and then used a fresh wet wipe on my hands, followed by hand sanitizer. Tadah! Just as I was finishing up, Ben drove up with a plastic grocery bag and a fresh pair of underpants and jeans.

Dirties went into the grocery bag, and cleanies went onto the boy. As we were fixing that up, Scooter walked up. Practice was over! We made it! Kind of. If I thought cleaning out warm underpants in a toilet was gross, I soon realized that cold dirty underpants is even worse. The bright side is that we now have a lot more clean laundry. I do at least one load per evening...

Happy pirates

The kids and I went shopping for Halloween costumes last night. Bubba has been fascinated by pirates for a couple of months, now. He'll pretend to be the captain, and we're all his crew. He'll march around the house saying, "Yeeargh! I pirate!" or "I'm a happy pirate" in a sing-song voice. He even closes one eye while holding sharp objects (the closed eye is his "eye patch"). So we kind of all decided that he should be a pirate for Halloween. It'll give him the opportunity to wear his pirate outfit whenever he wants to after the holiday, too.

Scooter originally wanted to be a fairy. This girl has been a fairy/queen/princess of some sort since she's been old enough to make her own decisions about such matters. Year 1 (infant), she was a cow. Then, tigger, a dog, Dora, witch (with a fairy wand and sparkles on her face), Snow White, Snow Princess, and last year was full on fairy. So when she said, "Oh, I don't know. A fairy." I put my foot down. No More Fairies! She decided she really wanted to be a pirate, too. That way, people would know that she and Bubba belonged together when they were trick or treating.

You see, Scooter and Bubba have never spent Halloween together. Mostly because Halloween has been the ex's holiday of choice. My theory is that the ex likes to show other people what a "great dad" he is without really having to spend a lot of one-on-one time with his daughter. He has always worked on Thanksgiving and Christmas, bailed on Easter, gotten babysitters for New Years (you get the idea), but rain or snow, he's taken her trick or treating. It's nice to hear strangers tell you how adorable your daughter is. Not that it's been a huge loss that the kids haven't spent Halloween together. This is only Bubba's 3rd time celebrating it. But it is the first year he will actually go door to door, and it's likely the first one he'll really remember. It's important for Scooter, too, this year.

Ever since she came back from her dad's this summer, she and Bubba have been inseperable. He LOVES following her around, and surprisingly enough, she loves having him follow her around. She feels extremely close and protective and proud of him, and he worships her. It was important to her that people know that they belong together, so I was happy to get them little pirate outfits, even if they don't exactly match. Scooter's is below. We couldn't find black tights, so she'll wear white with scars all over them. Bubba's is here, too. Can you tell who will be who?

The ex will be in town for "his" holiday, but Scooter and Bubba will still be trick or treating together. Whew! We'll see how all of this turns out.

Preschool

Preschool started today for my little one. Well...kind of. It mostly started today. We just don't get the SEVENTY-FIVE dollar PER WEEK price break until he goes accident free for a week. Here's to hoping for next week...

This morning, when I woke little Bubba up, he was not happy about being awake. This is no surprise. He's never been much of a morning person. Example: the morning after he was born.

He still makes that face every morning, M-F. And as is the cliche, he'll wake up at the same time as normal on Sat and Sun on his own, in great spirits.

Anyway, after making that face at me for several minutes this morning and fighting with me about the potty, I asked if he was excited about preschool. Every other day for the past 2 weeks, he's been looking forward to preschool. Bigger and cooler friends, better toys, more independence...what's not to like? Except on Friday, when they moved all of his stuff over for good, someone cried. Getting your news from a 2 year old is probably bad practice. But from what we gathered, either Bubba cried, or one (or both) of his "big todds" teacher(s) cried. And now, Bubba no longer is looking forward to preschool.

When I dropped him off this morning, I suggested that we take off his coat (as I always do). He agreed, and started to make for the big todds room, where we used to hang his coat on a hook. Today, I ushered him over to the hooks in the preschool 1 class. After that, I spoke with one of the employees about his potty habits this morning (once at 6:20am), and went to get my hug and kiss from Bubba. He suggested we go back to see his big todds teacher. Hm...no. Today we're staying up front until the preschool teachers come in. And then the kicker, "daddy picks me up and takes me home?" "Yes. Daddy will pick you up today."

Hopefully, this little bit of anxiety straightens itself out. Because I'm really looking forward to an extra $300 a month. So is my lawyer...

The Potty Training Chronicles part II

Have I mentioned that my son is terrified of going poopoo on the potty? He's got pee pee down, but when it comes to number two, well...it's just not going to happen for a while. Which is fine, except I have a gag reflex like my father. I gag changing diapers, much less peeling poop-filled underpants off a 2 year old with socks on and washing them off in a toilet. Oh, Lord. Just typing that made me gag a little.

Needless to say, my life has become a nightmare. Since he's terrified to "go" on the potty, he saves it up until the evening. We'll sit and sit and sit on the potty with nothing, then 5 minutes later, he'll run off to his room or to the study for 20 seconds and come back with a book and a certain aroma about him. And then it's time for me to cry on the inside while I gag on the outside. Last night was one of those nights. He had just sat on the potty and gone pee pee. I went back to the kitchen to clean up dinner dishes. Ben was in his office and Scooter was doing homework at the table. Bubba ran to the living room, hugged the couch, and then threw a pillow onto the floor. That was my cue to go pick it up. And there was the familiar odor of what my evenings have turned into. Ugh.

Several minutes of clean-up later, and we were in Bubba's room to put a pull up on (we're out of clean underwear). We pulled it up, and he gave me a long hug and said, "Thank you for cleaning my poop up, mom." Awww...what a sweet heart. Except, wait. Nobody should have to clean your poop up, kid. And I got the foreboding suspicion that I'll be hearing those words again and again for the next 20 years or so. Hopefully his hugs and thanks won't have lost their luster by then.

Oh, Snap!

Guess what I learned yesterday? If your house has been on the market for more than 6 months, it no longer shows "days on market" on trulia. I know this not because my house is still for sale (we sold it in May, sheesh! keep up, people!), but because a certain ex's old house is still for sale. They moved into their new house in July. Hooray for double mortgages! Not really. I lived that life for a long, long time, and to be honest, it totally sucks.

When breaking down the expenses of the past year, $38,000 in lawyers' fees was not the only thing sucking our savings dry. Mortgage + rent took a chunk of dough, as did flying back to Omaha twice per month for 9 months. Oh, yeah. We also paid for Scooter to fly out whenever she visited - plus our own tickets to accompany her. So when I feel a bit of joy at seeing the ex's house sit on the market, don't think poorly of me. Kharma's a bitch.

Besides, he still hasn't paid child support. I guess it's only 6 days into the month. And I already know he won't pay. He did, afterall, visit Scooter for 30 hours on the last weekend in September. I'm still waiting to see his affidavit and expense break out from that trip. I guess I should call the clerk of the court tomorrow. He's supposed to mail a copy of all of that to me, but you know how cops are with court orders. Oh, wait... So, yeah. I'll call the clerk of court tomorrow, and likely my lawyer after that. I miss that guy, anyway. We used to talk nearly daily, and through the course of sending him every email I've ever written and copies of all my journal entries, that guy knows me probably as well as my own husband does. It's weird to suddenly stop talking, even if I was paying him for the priviledge previously. Are lawyers kind of like phone sex operators that way? Maybe more like psychologists. I guess there's a reason why they're called counselors.

So anyway, I've been getting phone calls lately from the ex (and his taun-taun Vicky wife) because Scooter turns her phone off. She does it everyday. Now...one might think that this is her normal phone behavior, and I should encourage her to turn her phone on. Except for one thing. When she's not at my house, I can call anytime day or evening, and her phone is on. She may not always answer, but it's always on. The only time I've called and her phone was off was for a day or two after something happened that angered the ex (like...my expressing to his boss my desire that he follow a court order, or my explanation that I intend on following the court order, etc). This leads me to believe that Scooter is purposely turning her phone off in an attempt to avoid conversations with her dad.

I don't blame her. After she talks to him, she often times sounds sad, and asks me to hang out with her one on one for a while, "just to talk." We never talk about her phone calls, but usually fill the space with friends, school, homework, and weekend plans. On tap for this week? A quick trip to the coast followed by a bbq at the aunt and uncle's house. But first, a soccer game.

'rent

As in, slang for "parent." Or actual rent. I have both on my mind today.

For starters, I have forgotten to pay my rent everyday so far this month. Luckily, I have until midnight tonight before it's late. Whew. Please remind me. I have honestly meant to do it every day so far, and by the time I was near a checkbook, I have forgotten. Such is the story of my life, I guess. I like to fancy myself fairly intelligent, but I have a memory like a sieve. It comes in handy for rinsing vegetables and straining spaghetti, but it's not that great for anything else.

And onto parenting. Bubba is going to move up to the young preschool class on Monday. He's ready. We're ready. I was less ready until I found out there's a SEVENTY-FIVE dollar per WEEK price break for moving. It made the decision much, much easier. There are now 75 more reasons to move him up. Per week. I was chatting with Bubba's current teacher about the move this morning. She had mentioned that there are only 5 kids in the preschool class right now. They're just waiting for kids to be potty trained. Apparently, by the age of 3, their school policy is to have kids move to the preschool room. Bubba is only 31 months, but he's ready. There's another kid who is 3 years and a couple of months who will move with Bubba, and two other kids who are already 3 who will not move up yet. The reasoning? They are at square 0 with potty training.

Bubba's teacher mentioned that when it comes to potty training, it really takes a committed parent as well as committed daycare staff. It can't be accomplished solely at daycare. It makes me happy that Ben and I aren't lumped in with the lazy parents. Our kid is the youngest one being considered to move up in this batch. Is it because he's a little smarty pants? Maybe. But I'd like to also think it's due to Ben and my commitment to our kids. Scooter is doing well in school and her self-confidence is growing. Is it because we accept the bare minimum out of her? No. It's because we work with her to make sure her homework is getting done and to make sure she goes above and beyond to accomplish other goals: passport club, battle of the books, etc. School is important. Education is more important than soccer, period. And as far as Bubba is concerned, potty training is important. Not just for the $75 a week in daycare costs and the $50 a month in diapers and wipes. But for his confidence and education. He's ready for pre-school intellectually and socially. We just need to get him there in the bathroom.

The Rage

Bubba's been sick. I think we know this. Fever for 6 days, runny nose, etc. He also always ends up getting diarhea when he gets a virus. Everytime. Ugh. This time, he also got a double ear infection. The fever lasted the requesite "one more day" advised by the doctor, so we put him on antibiotics. Ugh. The fever abruptly went away the day after the antibiotics started. He got a rash almost as soon as the fever went away. And then the rage started.

Violent, crazed outbursts would follow simple instructions such as, "Let's go sit on the potty." or "Come read a book with me." It was scary and weird. I had never heard Bubba scream like that until this weekend. He would lash out and try to hit people or things. He would throw himself around. It was like he was possessed. At one point, I started googling things like, "fever, rash, rage toddler" to see if those symptoms were indicative of an illness. I got on emedicine and webmd to see what I could do about this.

My friend who was visiting from out of town made the comment that Bubba might have the "rage virus" from the (zombie) movie 28 Days Later. And really...it kind of fit. He has the rage virus. My poor baby is turning into a modern day zombie. We'd better not let any of his bodily fluids get on us, or we'll be doomed to raging around, too.

I was shocked. Bubba has always been such a sweet boy. I know he has a little more of a mind of his own than #1 did, but he's never really been of the tantrum sort. I never knew. It's got to be hard, though. Scooter really only had me to deal with. As long as I was somewhat consistent in my behavior, she knew what to expect. There was no two parent dynamic - if I do this to mom vs dad, what will happen, etc. Who is actually the boss here, anyway? Dad? Mom? Bubba?

That said, I remember distinctly at least 2 ocassions where she and I had tantrums (mostly her). And, of course, both were in stores. The problem there is that I was a single mom - there was nobody to cart the kid out to the car while the other parent finished the errand. In my case, we carted ourselves to a secluded area of the store, waited it out, and then continued on our way. So at least Bubba's weekend-long tantrum was, for the most part, confined to the privacy of our own home. In looking at Scooter today and the helpful, kind, intelligent girl that she is, I do need to remember that she, too, was once a two year old and had trouble dealing with the stresses of a two year old's life. Sometimes, I don't WANT to wear that shirt. How can I express that, other than a huge freakout? It's the only way, sometimes. This will pass.