This Girl

This one didn't come with an instructional manual either.  But it would have been nice.

Mimi's awesome PreK class is celebrating Seuss week, and yesterday was mismatched day.  Mimi took her task quite seriously.

She picked out the headband and "Patrick's Day magic bow tie" (as she named it) while shopping with me yesterday morning.  She wore them as she ran around JoAnn's (ugh, I hate JoAnn's) like a chicken with her head whacked off, and occasionally I could hear, Hey, why is everybody laughing at me???

Really, Mimi?

Mommy, why are they all laughing at me?  I'm just wearing my Suess day clothes.  That's not very nice.

Another PreK mom told me how Mimi was showing everyone her dance moves during circle time, so I told Mimi that I had heard about this.  She suddenly made a mad face and said, But I'm not ever, ever dancing at school again.  Everybody was laughing at me!

I explained they were laughing because she was funny.  Mimi, don't you know that you're a funny kid?

Mommy!  I'm not funny!
Then what are you?

I'M CUTE!!!!

Sheesh.  And she is pretty cute.  Let's just hope the elderly lady we saw who was seriously stooped over thought she was cute, too.  Or let's just hope she was very hard of hearing because Mimi had some very loud and silly opinions about why she was walking like that.  Seriously, instruction manual, please.

Now that Mack is in preschool for 2 whole hours a week (we're bumping up to another morning in a couple of weeks!  4 whole hours -- goooo, Mack!), Mimi and I get some quality time together.  Yes, it's awesome to have her when she doesn't feel the need to compete with her brother.  She told me at least a thousand stories about Olivia the Pig over coffee and chocolate milk at Starbuck's.  Who doesn't love stories about pig?

Thank goodness Mimi isn't the only silly girl I know.  This one comes a close second :)  

And by the way, I am NOT pregnant with a baby.  Just in case you were wondering.  I actually already had it, and if you're confused it's because you weren't paying attention . . . he he he.

Until there are more shenanigans . . .

Growing Up

I noticed this week that my children are no longer babies.

You see this kid?  Super Stinker?  He's finally not sitting in a high chair with a sippy cup.

At one time in my life, I would consider other things success, but this week in my life THIS is a huge success.

And he's so proud of himself.

He was making a crazy mess in his high chair and throwing everything on the floor.  But put him at the counter with a real cup of milk and he's so careful.  He even smiles and claps for himself after almost every sip.

Up until a couple of months ago, I pretty much thought most everything I was doing with my children was wrong.  They weren't doing enough for themselves.  Mimi wasn't interested in learning to write letters and numbers.  Mack wasn't talking much.

But after a revolving door of therapists (Mack is getting speech therapy, occupational therapy, AND developmental therapy), I have learned two things:

ALL CHILDREN ARE DIFFERENT.

ACCEPT CHILDREN FOR WHO THEY ARE.

Whoa.  Heavy stuff.  Of course I should know this.  Duh.  Every person is different.  I should be accepting.  But not with my children.  They will be exactly who I mold them to be.

Yeah, right.  So what I'm learning through all of Mack's therapy is that children are not all nurture.  Of course I should do my part in trying to teach them to be wonderful little people, but there is a whole lot going on in their little bodies that I cannot control.  It's just the way they're wired.

So now I can let myself off the hook.  It's not my fault!  I'm not such a bad mom after all!!  Yay, me!!

Anyway, the reason all this therapy started is because Mack has something called Sensory Processing Disorder.  It's not cancer.  He's not going blind.  We will be okay.  But our little family has some things to work on because Mack is wired a little differently.

This is going to sound crazy, but I was sooooo relieved to hear that D word -- disorder.  I wanted to shout from the rooftops "This is not all my fault!  The tantrums and the not talking and the social issues.  Not all my fault.  Hooray!"  Many moms put too much pressure on themselves and I have been one of those.  I have tried not to, but there were just so many things with Mack I couldn't "fix."  Have you met my family?  My husband, my daughter, and I know how to talk.  Why can't we teach Mack?  I was an English teacher.  Why can't I teach him to talk?  Why does he shy away from social situations?  The rest of us like people.  Why does he destroy every freaking toy in sight?  His father and I don't do that.  I tell him no.  What gives?  Why can't I raise him exactly the same way I raise my daughter and get the same result?

Because I can't.  Because all children are different.  And I need to accept my monkeys just the way they are.

If you know anything about this SPD business, please hunt me down because we need to talk.  I know no one who has a child with this (other than the over-sensitive kind, which he is not), and totally thought it was made up bologna until I took a little test on-line and holy moly I checked every single box for his type.

Does he crash and destroy?  Yes.
Does he grind his teeth and stomp?  Yes.
Does he shy away from eye contact?  Yes.
Does he stuff his mouth when he eats?  Yes.
Does he barely react to hurting himself?  Yes.
Does he have trouble regulating himself?  Hell Yes.

And the list goes on and on and on.  Basically, Mack doesn't process sight, touch, and sound the same way most of us do.  He may hear what I say, but it totally doesn't register if a lot is going on.  He sees so much that he can't focus on one thing.  He doesn't feel comfortable sitting still and must constantly move to feel everything around him.  And if he isn't regulated, then he can't learn to talk or be social.  Therapy is already helping me see exactly what this is and how to help him cope with these symptoms. I've learned that we need to keep his environment as calm and comfortable as possible, and then he will begin communicating.  Remember sitting in Biology when you were hungry, tired, and upset from a recent break-up?  How could you focus to learn when your needs weren't met?  So now I just need to make sure his needs are met.

One thing the therapists told me to chill out about is the pacifier.  Mack's strength is knowing that he is about to freak out, and he tells us this by asking for his paci, trying to leave the room to get away from too many people, or other ways.  In the past I tried to make him deal with whatever was bugging him, but now I've learned to let him have his minute and he can rejoin the group after he has a break.

So the Darby home has been a bit calmer and the little guy has begun talking more.  His favorite phrase is "Dere you go" in a sweet little sing-songy voice.  He finally says "milk" instead of pointing and crying at the refrigerator.  Also, he's paying a bit more attention to others.  He occasionally walks up to random kids (usually really cute girls) and gives them a hug and pats their heads.  He also pushes, but he has a sweet smile on his face as he's doing it.  Somebody needs to explain to the crying victim on the floor (and the parent) that he's just saying hello . . . 

He's still as sweet and snuggly as always, and Clint and I were relieved to hear that it's okay to "baby" this one for a little bit longer.  Being hard on him isn't the best solution like it may be with his sister.  

Yes, he is standing on the counter.  And, yes, he would totally jump if I wasn't standing right there.  I can't take my eyes off this one for a second.  Which is why I am exhausted All. The. Time.

While this does affect the way he communicates, he is still taking in a lot.  Mack is a smart little boy.  He is very visual and can figure out puzzles and memory games quickly.  He likes to clean up and organizes his Goldfish Rainbow crackers by color.  He has many of the Gangnam Style moves memorized.  And so does his daddy.

He's obsessed with electronics and knows how to find anything (and change settings) on our phones and computers.

But most importantly, he is so, so very sweet.  He lets me hold him and sing to him, and he rubs his sisters eyes and hugs her when she cries (even if he caused it).  He likes to laugh and dance and he smells really, really good.

And moving on to this little girl.  She never ceases to surprise me.

Just a few months ago I was so very frightened that she would fail preschool (if that's possible).  She didn't care about learning and just wanted to play.  Kindergarten is serious business these days, and I was very worried my daughter who barely meets the cut-off date would make it with the older kids.  The list of items she needs to know before starting kindergarten was a lot longer than her attention span.  She wouldn't sit for ten seconds to finish coloring a picture.  She didn't want to attempt to do anything for herself.  And she didn't care.

During Christmas she wrote her name.  Then she randomly started asking me if mouse and house rhyme or dog and log.  If she hears a long word like situation, she wants me to clap out the syllables with her.  She asks me who the author of her bedtime story is.  She wants to know if frozen pizza is healthy (and I say of course).  She wants to know why we don't hibernate and how long it takes for a Halloween pumpkin to decompose.  Tonight she sat at Fernando's and colored the entire Mickey Mouse eating a salad page INSIDE the lines and didn't touch her food until she finished.  And there it is.  Her curiosity has gotten the best of her and she's ready to learn.

I have always known Mimi is smart -- but I had begun believing that maybe academically not so much.  I had dinner with a friend recently who told me that she just wasn't ready and that learning would happen suddenly.  And suddenly it has.
  

When I was in first grade, I sat at my big square desk with my gigantic pack of Crayolas (with the built-in sharpener) and worked on my coloring pages like it was my J-O-B.  I pretended to be interviewed for a segment on Sesame Street or the Disney Channel about my amazing coloring abilities.  Wow.  We've never seen a six-year-old able to choose such the perfect shade of Cyan.  But somehow that was pretty much all I did for the first half of the morning in Mrs. Shumaker's class.  I had forgotten about this until recently.  I didn't want to learn to read early.  I still wanted my mom to tie my shoes.  I had no interest in phonics or telling time or adding buttons in a jar.

All children are different.  Accept them for who they are.  And suddenly it has happened for me, too.

I've changed 4 light bulbs . . . and had lots of Starbucks coffee.

We're almost one month into January, and I've been busy, busy, busy changing those light bulbs and flossing my teeth . . . and doing some other things that I'll get to later . . .

Mimi has been doing a lot of this . . . 

and this . . .

and of course this . . .

and FINALLY, finally, finally, finally sat still long enough to write her name.  Geez, this girl could care less about things such as that.

Yesterday I was struggling to get her to sit down and finish her what should be a 10 minute assignment from preschool and something hit me . . . I was a lot like her at this age.  I jumped from toy to toy to coloring page to cartoon to puzzle and could give a crap about learning to write letters or numbers or even think about reading.  Why should I learn to read when I like the way my mommy does it so much?  Yep, she and I aren't too different.

But her "family project" for the month was to dress up a paper doll for cold weather.  Oh, my!!  I was so excited about doing this!  Um, I mean I was so excited about doing this for with Mimi!!  And guess what -- she was so excited about it too!!  

We may not have loved our letters, but we love making clothes.  Whatever, she'll eventually learn to love David Sedaris and 1,000 page Ken Follett books like her mommy.  And get an English degree . . . and do absolutely nothing with it.

Anyway, it's close to Valentine's Day, so I made this dress for her that she wears like every other day.  She's starting to be more opinionated about her attire, and I've gotten a lot of, "Mommy, those pants with the floppy things (ruffles) on the bottom are soooo not cute.  Nobody will like those.  Can I just wear my pajamas?"  So I had to learn to sew a knit dress.  And she loooooves it!  

Knit dress at Starbucks.  Mimi also loves overpriced pastries like her mommy.

Comfy pleather chairs are awesome!

This guy likes Starbucks, too.

After playing in the snow Saturday, Mimi told me we deserved a treat, so she rolled into Starbucks on a sled.  Fun stuff.

Seriously, I have a bit of a problem with this coffee joint, but they are EVERYWHERE and it feels like I'm giving myself a break when we go.  I need to find a cheaper obsession.  Like bubblegum or collecting rocks.

Do you see this pic?  I'm not even kidding.  What do I do about this????

She has no idea that she's supposed to think boys are yucky.  She LOVES them.  Like kisses at least one of them every time I drop her off for school.  It's not in a lovey dovey kind of way but in a, "Oh, you're a boy like my cousin Nick and will let me play with your Lego's and electronics and race car tracks and I associate that with giving you a kiss."  I have tried to explain that she should ask before kissing them, and she looks at me like I have four eyes.  I apologize to the moms and nannies, but they tell me that their boys love her and don't mind.  Whatevs.

I took a photo of this a few days ago, and oh my goodness she looks so old.  By the way, here's the link to the pattern for this top -- oooooh, how I LOVE it!  

When there's no snow on the ground we have to find something to do, and the Nature Museum is one of my faves.  There's a fun butterfly/sauna-type area that makes the whole trip worth it.

See this cute little thing on the left?  Guess what she says . . . y'all and ma'am and adds extra syllables to words! That's right!! Mimi has a southern friend in the city whose momma is from Mississippi!

She may polite, but she's a whole lot of fun, isn't she, Mimi?

This guy loves to color now.  Like sit for at least ten minutes and color.  I'm in shock.

Actually he's done a lot of things that have shocked me lately such as walking in his preschool class by himself with a sneaky, sneaky smile on his face.  Of course we still have to work on his not standing on tables or stealing others' snacks or throwing toys absolutely everywhere, BUT we're making baby steps.  And I'm okay with that.

I could stare at these blue eyes allllllllllll day . . .

His sister taught him to eat snow.

 She's even trying to eat it off of him . . . at least it's not the sidewalk, right?

 Mack also loves to dance.  Get low . . . 

 and lower . . . and lower . . .

 And he's smitten with his daddy.

 He's so bad, bad, bad, but I am still head over heels for him.  And I think he kinda likes me, too.

In other news, I had my first spray tan and IT. WAS. AWESOME.

I highly recommend one for all your important events.  A wedding, a formal party, Sunday brunch, a play date . . . I mean, why not?  If you're fat, who cares?  Tanned fat looks better.  If your teeth need to be whitened, the tan makes them look even whiter.  Need to work out?  I think the good places can even draw in some definition.  I'm not even kidding.  Forget the tanning beds and lather on the SPF 40.  You no longer need the sun.  Just see the girls at Buff Beauty.  And you're welcome.

So after being tanned, plucked, blow dried, manicured, pedicured, and Spanxed, Clint and I hopped a plane to Hotlanta and partied the night away with his amazing co-workers.  I LOVE his company.  If he ever quits, they have to hire me.  I can, hmm, I can maybe spell check all their memos or something . . . oh, wait, Microsoft Word does that?  Well, maybe I can pick up Starbucks for everyone.

 Heh, heh, heh . . . look at that white guy . . .

 I also attended my first ever NHL game, and WE WON!!!  By we I mean Blackhawks, and they beat the Redwings.  And I pretend to be a fan now.

In other news, I am having a baby.  Well, I sort of already had it, but it's very small and still keeping me up late at night and waking me up early in the morning.  I haven't quite been ready to share her yet . . . but, okay, you twisted my arm . . . but just a peek because she's still growing . . .

mimi & mack

On raising bebes French style. Oh, and my son was kicked out of preschool yesterday.

Since both of my children turned four and two years old in August, I felt it was finally time for their check-ups, um, at the end of October.  My four-year-old daughter measured around the 12th percentile for height and weight while my two-year-old son is in about the 90th.  This equates to Mimi being only about an inch and a half taller than Mack and one pound heavier.  No wonder strangers ask if they are twins.  I really should start saying yes, but the girl is quite precocious.

During this exam Clint and I learned that Mimi is completely healthy.  We also learned that she is quite dominant.

No . . . you've gotta be kidding me . . .

Clint and I smiled with a little pride and a little embarrassment, and the exam continued with Mack.  While he is also quite healthy, we knew a certain question was coming.

"Is he putting together two or more words-- "

"No."  And I completely cut her off.  I then went on to justify my worth as a mother by explaining how Mimi was saying many words by her first birthday and could recite her ABC's by 16 months.  At Mack's age, we were easily having conversations with her.  I couldn't just stop there so I kept telling her how I've worked with small children and was once an English teacher.  I talk with him and read to him and narrate his every move.  Oh, and he has significant hearing loss in one ear.

The doctor didn't seem a bit concerned about my insecurities and told me that he has two things working against him -- since he does have normal hearing in one ear, this shouldn't hinder him much but it could.  We discussed following up with an ENT, but this wasn't her main concern.  She said that the main cause is his dominant older sister.

Oh.  Cue inadequate mommy guilt.  This girl who we've molded to be so entertaining and outgoing could possibly be keeping her brother from talking.

She asked if we'd heard about the book titled Bringing up Bebe, which we had not, and she gave a small explanation.  Basically an American who was trying to raise a child in Paris noticed that French children were calmer than American children in public yet were still bright and happy.  She pointed out how we were constantly giving Mimi attention during the check-ups -- both positive for being funny or negative when she was interrupting -- but when we finally ignored her, she stopped begging for our attention and found a toy to entertain herself.

I always do a little eye-rolling when someone recommends a parenting book to me.  How to potty train, how to sleep train, how to let them cry, how to breast feed, how to introduce solids, how to teach toddlers to read, how to teach toddlers calculus.  I mean, really, who has time to read all these books that each contain overwhelming yet vague strategies?  All of their information contradicts another expert and most of these authors had pretty crappy childhoods themselves from what I've read.  And now this pediatrician wants me to read about Parisian babies?  Really?

But there was something about her that seemed very warm and motherly, so after a week of procrastinating I ordered the stupid book on Amazon.  And it's not half bad.

Let me start by saying that I am only half-way finished, but I think I get the gist.  I'll summarize what I've gathered:
-Americans are too in our children's faces.  We overstimulate.  We feed too often.  We worry too much.  We're too attentive.  We stop our lives as women to transform into mothers.  We do not feel like worthy mothers unless we're exhausted, overweight, and have completely given up the idea of having a normal conversation with another adult until our children move out of the house.
-Parisian children are not picky eaters and eat only at family mealtimes.  They rarely interrupt their parents.  The moms are skinny AND babies are sleeping through the night by 3 months old.  They pause before attending to their children.  Moms do not make a big deal out of breast feeding, forcing the child to read early, or having to go back to work.  It's okay for the mothers to still be fabulous women while still being loving, nurturing mothers.

So far, so good, right?  As I read, I noticed that I once lived somewhat within this realm.  Both of my children slept through the night relatively early -- Mimi around 16 weeks and Mack around 8.  I owe much of this to forcing myself to listen to their cries, going to the bathroom, and then getting some water before actually picking them up.  I tried to calm them and check their diaper before feeding them and eventually they realized food wasn't necessary when the rest of the world was sleeping.  Two points for me.  Clint and I continued going out to dinner when Mimi was small (I didn't cook, so this was sometimes necessary), and attempted to go and do as we always had.  I had a job, which gave me other purpose than being a mom, and it forced me to have more balance.  Mimi was happy with us and happy at day care, and I felt that her life was balanced and wonderful.

Then I got pregnant and hormonal with Mack.  My job wasn't a happy place for me anymore, and I began feeling that maybe I would get more out of my only job being to raise Mimi.  Then I also realized that while she was bright some other children were involved in activities and learning things that she didn't know yet.  This combo turned me into the stereotypical American mom.  Overstimulating, overanxious, worried, obsessive, and insecure.

Sigh.  So I'm re-evaluating exactly what kind of parent I want to be for the umpteenth time.  I want my children to be happy and have fun but also have some healthy boundaries.  I want them to be able to play by themselves or with each other and not always need attention from me.  I want to make them feel important but not that they are the most important.  Because I am important, too.  As is every other human.  In order to do all of this, I must, of course, make a list.  I love a list.

1.  I will be clear about rules without yelling or freaking out.  I will speak to them as if they are actual humans.  Mimi, you WILL stop at the alleys and corners to wait on me before crossing.  Mack, you will NOT throw your food in the floor.
2.  I will not interfere when they are playing quietly by themselves.  Do you do this, too, or am I the only attention-hungry mom?  Mack will be quiet and happy pushing a toy car back and forth on the floor, but I feel like a terrible mom if I'm not in his face asking him to repeat words.  "Wheels.  Those are wheels.  Mack, can you say wheels?  And they're round.  Like circles.  Can you say circle?"  Seriously, Mom, get out of my face and let me play with my car . . .
3.  I will encourage them to play with each other instead of me.  Mimi constantly wants me to watch her do her freakish ballet moves or to tell me a joke that always ends with the punchline, "Banana Pants!"  I just realized I never say to her, "Why don't you show your brother?  Why don't you teach him how to do it?  Wouldn't that be a fun game if Mack joined in?"
4.  I will sit on the couch with a good girlfriend and coffee without interruption from my children.  This one will take a while and may never happen, but I'm making it a goal.  We had a play date at the home of a wonderful friend this morning, and it was a bit crazy at times.  But most play dates that include my children are a bit crazy.  All of our children love each other and had so much fun, but looking back I realize one of the times that the friend and I were able to have a conversation was when we were cleaning up toys in her son's room and our children were running around like banshees in the den.  I kept calling for them to come help, but then I thought Why interfere?  They are finally having so much fun together and letting us be adults.  They can help clean in a few minutes.  Also included in this goal is having an uninterrupted meal and phone conversation.  I realize these might also never happen while my children are awake.
5.  I will hold my children more accountable.  Mack can totally climb up the stairs and walk down the street by himself.  Mimi can get her own snack and milk out of the refrigerator.  Mack can clean up the crackers he spilled on the floor.
6.  I will pause before responding to their every whim.  Mack has learned to throw a fantastic fit, and he continues to throw them because Clint and I always respond quickly to get him to shut up.  Yes, Mack, you can have ANYTHING you want, but for the love please stop freaking out!!!
7.  I will stand my ground and not let snobby North Side moms dictate how I raise my children.  My other Chicago friends know exactly what I'm talking about.  That mom who gasps when my children are too rowdy at the park or find out I haven't enrolled them in gymnastics, Spanish, Mandarin, theater, and the Latin School.  Those moms who love to point out that my child may have offended hers (yet failed to notice how her own child instigated it all because she was too busy talking with her designer on the phone).  That grandmother that yelled at Mimi, that mom who attacked my sweet friend at Little Beans while she was nursing her baby, that mom who accused my former nanny of ignoring a child because she wasn't in his face nonstop.  Those stupid women can shove it.

And on another note, Mack was kicked out of preschool yesterday.

I can say that I'm exaggerating, but I suppose it's true.  He has been attending a once a week, 2 1/2 hour class at the private school that is at our church.  This is the same school I discussed a few posts back, and I even toured it for Mimi.  I didn't feel it was the right fit for Mimi, and now I must face the reality that it's also not the right fit for Mack.  Honestly, it's not the right fit for me either.

I told my mom about this on the phone this morning, and she immediately said, "Wha??" to which I responded, "I know, right?"  When I tried to talk with Clint about it last night, he got all reasonable and devil's advocate on me, and then I shut down and said forget it.  So this is why a girl should just call her mom first.  We need reassurance that we're fabulous and perfect moms and how dare they?!

So anyway, the story goes like this.  The class is called "Time for Twos."  Not "Time for Almost Three-Year-Olds."  Yet almost every child in the room is at least 7 months older and acts more like a three-year-old while Mack acts exactly like a boy-with-a-dominant-older-sister-and-a-slightly-neurotic-mom who just turned two.  I was SO excited about this class because Mack dearly needed time away from me.  Let me get something straight -- I do NOT do attachment parenting.  You can co-sleep and nurse until your toddler is four and never have a babysitter and home school and what-not, but I do not.  Studies show and African tribes and yada yada yada, but I do what I know.  My mother was knocked out when she delivered me.  She barely nursed.  I was in Mother's Day Out (this is a 2 day a week, 9-2:30 type of preschool at many Southern churches) from as early as I can remember.  She dropped me off at the door without tears, and I couldn't wait to play with my friends.  I love my mother dearly and I never had attachment issues.  Stay at home moms in Chicago have no such option as Mother's Day Out (how much have I complained about this?) until the child can attend preschool at three, which I think is just waaay too late.  Other than babysitters, these kids are up their mom's butts until three and then they have to figure out how to deal with it.  So I wasn't shocked when Mack threw a fit each time I had to leave him in this class.

Anyway, the teacher immediately pointed out how Mack was not able to communicate or join the group like the others, and she was constantly trying to make sure he was safe while keeping the others engaged in group activities.  I'm sure I did some eye-rolling the first time we had this convo because, seriously, she expected me to believe she could keep a two-year-old engaged in a group activity?  Moms are required to volunteer once a session, and I did notice that he was more immature than the others in the class because, well, he is several months younger and not talking much.  All of the children played well and explored, and they appeared to act like normal two-year-olds.  The girls played quietly and wanted to be read to while the boys jumped from activity to toy to activity.  I expected Mack to be awful because I was there, but the only trouble he seemed to cause was trying to take pretzels from others and punching buttons on the radio.  I didn't quite see this safety issue that the teacher kept telling me about but whatever.  He didn't seem to be at the others' maturity level, but as a former teacher I know that younger children will eventually learn from the older ones.

She and I had this convo several times, and I continued putting my foot down.  He met the requirements of being a two-year-old, I was not going to show him that his crying will get him out of my leaving him, and he will eventually learn from the older ones.  Yesterday, he was especially clingy and fussy when I dropped him off, and I was having trouble getting Mimi out of the room, which made my stress level ridiculous.  When I returned, he was so focused on him painting that he didn't even notice I had arrived.  Mack was happy to see me and to show me his blobby painting.  He didn't cling to me and he didn't try to pull me out of the door.  He was happy and painting just like the others, so I thought this was encouraging.  I asked the mom who helped that day how things went, and she said he did cry for a few minutes after I left but then played well.  I was feeling we had finally reached a new milestone when his teacher came over to me with a kind smile but then said, "Mack is just not a good fit for this class right now.  Why don't we try in a few months in the spring session?"

On a different day I may have continued my fight, but yesterday was not the day.  "You know what -- you're right.  This is not a good fit."  She tried to justify and comfort and sugar-coat, but I stopped her because I didn't need an explanation.  She was completely right.  This was not a good fit for any of us.  She is a kind person and wonderful teacher who has devoted so much to this school, and while I may not agree with this two-year-old mold, I need to respect her opinion and vision for this class.

I will continue with Little Gym and the occasional YMCA swim class because we totally fit in these places, and I'm okay with that.

In the meantime, I'll just ignore my children, smoke cigarettes, and eat pain du chocolat.  Hey, it works for the French.    

        

Fall!!!!

Oh, golden trees, how I love thee . . .

Last year when Mimi was in Kiddie College she began playing "school" at home.  She pretended to be Miss Kelly, and I can remember her asking, "Mommy, what is the season?" to which I would respond, "Fall."  Then she would say with much enthusiasm, "What did you say?!  Say it louder!!"  And I would have to yell, "Faaaaallllllll!!"  And I was quite happy to yell about my favorite season.;)  And I'm even happier that my blog is finally catching up.  Fall!!!!

Mimi started her soccer classes at Lil Kickers again, and we had plans for Mack to love it as much as she does.  He had other plans.  Those plans were not joining the class and running away at every chance.  After 15 minutes of this, Clint threw the little monkey over his shoulder and informed me that we can try again in the spring.  Mack didn't seem to mind.

 Being silly before she ran her little legs off in soccer.

Dogpile on Coach Gomez!

Mimi is also taking karate.  Hi-ya!!

Her class is at the Little Gym and is about half karate and half gymnastics, which is really fun for Mimi.

Mack also started taking a class at the Little Gym, and this is what he has to say about it . . .

Just kidding:)  He loves to run around and jump on bouncy things and hang on rings and fling his body against mats.  The Little Gym was made for my monkeys.

And now for the update on the public/private school dilemma I had (that you can read about here).  By the way, thank you so much for your suggestions and words of encouragement because there are WAY too many educational options in this city.  A few days after my post I toured the perfect little school and the potential four-year-old class for Mimi where Mack attends.  The girl who gave me the tour is named "Mimi," (I'm not kidding) and she did a wonderful job of showing me the perfect little classroom, teacher, and students who sat perfectly still in a perfect circle.  They were absolutely precious and I was comforted to see how well they listened to their teacher and worked together.  She gave me some background of the school and told me about their goals and mission, and she explained the way they teach and why.  It reminded me sooo much of where I attended preschool and kindergarten.  She was amazing, and I loved her and the school.  Here's the problem -- I wasn't sure Mimi would love it.  I don't think this is the right place for my free-spirited little monkey.  She craves chaos and imperfect circles.  Suddenly the decision that had been eating away at me for days became quite clear -- I knew as soon as I left the building exactly where she belonged.


As soon as the teachers and Rahm got it together, Mimi returned to her school.  I noticed on the first day back that the students appeared to not have skipped a beat.  As soon as Miss Jami appeared, they ran to find a place in line in their new school shoes and backpacks that are bigger than they are.  The parents appeared happy and friendly, and Mimi talked nonstop on our walk home.  She loves to step out our door and meet a little girl who lives down our street to walk to school together.  Mimi eagerly grabs her hand and talks her head off without even remembering her name sometimes.  She is excited to see her friends each day, and she met me at the gate Friday dragging a little boy behind her who she said was "adorable."  He is twice her size and so, so sweet, and I'll have to admit that he is quite adorable.  Miss Jami and Mrs. Vickie seem to enjoy Mimi's silly personality (which was a relief -- not all appreciate her), and Miss Jami told me that she loves how Mimi is nice to everyone and has no problem saying how she feels.  Uh oh.  I asked exactly what she likes about Mimi saying how she feels -- because my Little Bit doesn't hold back.  She said she doesn't flip out, but she definitely lets others know when they've crossed the line.  Ms. Jami told me this is great because many of the others don't use their words yet, and they are learning how to do so by watching Mimi.  Wow.  She's exactly where she's supposed to be.

And I'm excited that she's in a school that still needs a little help from the parents.  So I made some pillows for the toddler room.  

 Yay Jahn!

I'm also in the process of cutting out about 45 orange pumpkins and loving it.  Hooray for being a preschool mom and using construction paper!

It's fun to get Mimi from school and share a snack with her on the couch while she watches Spiderman cartoons.

But some days this is what we do instead.  Preschool is even too much for my energetic monkey sometimes.

In other news, my building has continued to be awesome with a new family with two little girls.  Mimi is in heaven and asks me every morning before her eyes are open if she can go downstairs and play at Izzie's house.  For the first time, we're actually having play dates without one mom being present.  I mean, we're in the same building so why not?  

Here's Mimi and her new BFF Izzie at the zoo munching on snow cones.   

And being princesses . . . 

Chicago is awesome, by the way.  One really cool thing that happens at the beginning of fall is Circus in the Parks.  This year the park 30 feet away from our front door was able to host a circus, and it was amazing!

The Big Top!

Can I honk your nose?

Mimi and one of her boy BFF's, Spiderman.  His love of all things super hero has prompted Mimi's new infatuation, which is awesome because I was getting a little tired of all things princess.  

I feel like my hubs always gets the shaft in my posts, so here he is, the infamous Mr. Darby.  He's the head of our family, pro-golfer wanna-be, and lover of dogs:)  A few weeks ago we ventured to the northern burbs to visit a sorority sister from college, and that is where he met this sweet baby.  By the way, do you see that screened in porch and green yard with trees?  Makes me start to consider the burbs . . . I just said consider -- don't get your panties in a wad.  We're city folks for now.

We're trying to soak up this wonderful fall weather as much as possible with daily trike and wagon rides because we know a Chicago winter is right around the corner.

Back to the monkey on the left for just a few minutes.  I'm still madly in love with him, but he's such a stinker.  He's doing great in his little 2-year-old class at his school, but the teacher has definitely pointed out several times how he's much younger than the other 2-yr-olds in the class and how it's sometimes difficult for her to pull him down from climbing on everything.  And I began feeling all self-conscious and defensive.  I mean, it's a two-year-old class, and Mack acts exactly like a two-year-old.  My sister told me to just stop asking how he's doing, and I think she has the right idea.

During Mack's class, I get some fun Mimi time.  His school is near downtown, so I love taking her to see some sights.
 
I think the Trump Tower is gorgeous.

Mack and his buddy, William, who is another sweet neighbor (This post is all over the place!  Sorry for being unorganized).  They are practicing crawling through the trenches, I suppose.

Mimi and some buddies at the park.

Buzz is making sure the animals get to the farm. 

Mack loves push toys, so this Strider might be perfect for Christmas.

We took a building field trip to a pumpkin patch.  It was fah-reezing but such a fun day.  Love my little pumpkins.

Because of a late spring frost, the apples are tiny.  That didn't stop Mack from occasionally stopping to taste a rotten one.

Bethany throwing my monkey around.

My husband, the Unibomber.

Awww, the Darby fam.

Just pulling on a couple of tailfeathers.

The two little ones in my building, Lucy and William.  I could eat them up.  So stinkin cute.

Sweet girls.

Remember Mimi's new love for super heroes?  Check out the Halloween costume.  Love, love, love it.  I think she's even talked a few of her BFF's into also being Supergirls. :)

Poor Mack doesn't have a say in the matter.  Every Supergirl needs a Superstinker.

 And one more shot of that gold tree just for fun.