This Little Piggie

My Aunt, Lisa, has three boys. And she told me one day, while I was bemoaning bribing Mikie to do something, that it isn't "bribery" it's an "incentive". In my head, I do feel less guilty when I think of it that way.

After our trek to the Woodstock Fair, I took Mikie to Snip-Its for a much needed haircut. I hate Snip-Its. The "stylists" (and I use the term loosely) never seem to do a good job cutting his hair. And, part of the reason is that the position the computer screen that shows little animated video clips of hair cutting tools above eye level. Who gets there hair cut and it told to look at the ceiling? So, even the most skilled stylist would have trouble given the fact that every child in there inevitably looks up at the screen instead of down at their toes.

In an effort to get Mikie to follow directions, I told him that he could have an ice cream if he sat very still and followed directions. I regretted my promise after the fact, since my patience had worn thin at the hair cut place. Regardless, we went to Cold Stone and paid for some overpriced ice cream.

For whatever reason, Mikie decided to further test my patience by forgetting how to use the spoon that came with his ice cream. After about five futile attempts at getting him to use his spoon like a normal person, I did the next best thing. . . pulled out the camera to document my misery for all posterity. Click on the picture for a laugh:Well, at least we know in spite of his appearance, he IS related to me. Because only my child would stick his face into the ice cream bowl to get every last bit. Of course, I wait until I have eaten the majority of the ice cream first, and drink the melty part. But, he has 26 years to perfect his technique.

Love, The Trahans

The Woodstock Fair

This post could more aptly be titled "Why a Pregnant Woman Should Not Take Her Four Year Old Son to the Fair". But, I thought that was too long.

Every Labor Day weekend, the town of Woodstock, CT (where I work and Mikie goes to school) hosts the Woodstock Fair. It is an event. People in the town talk about it all year. If you aren't going to the fair, something must be wrong with you. And, the traffic is horrendous (for all of our friends in metropolitan areas, you would laugh at their concept of "traffic").

We had gone to the Fair last year, and Mikie had a great time. So, I decided to take a day off from work, and treat Mikie to a day at the Fair. My motivation was somewhat selfish, since they sell ride bracelets on Friday that let you ride all day for one price. Because tickets are almost $1 a piece, and even the kiddie rides take 3 tickets, I figured we only needed to hit 5-6 rides each to justify the $32 cost for two ride bracelets.

We arrived around 10:45 and waited in line for 15 minutes for the ticket window to open to get our bracelets. This is where the fun started. I will be the first to admit that one of my biggest symptoms of pregnancy is moodiness and a complete lack of patience. Not that I am the model of patience on a good day, but my tolerance for whining and or stupidity is at an all time low. The line, though long, moved pretty quickly. Each group quickly stepped up to the window, handed the cashier their cash and coupons, grabbed their bracelets and change and ran off to the rides. As we stood their, Mikie informed me that he had to use the potty. There was no way, after 20 minutes of waiting, that I was leaving this line to run to the bathrooms. Although I was annoyed that he didn't use the bathrooms 30 minutes ago when we stopped at Crabtree, I calmly asked him to hold it until we got our tickets. After all, there were three families in front of us.

There was now only one family separating Mikie and I from our bracelets. . . a family of 9 (mom, dad, grandma and 6 KIDS). Imagine my frustration when I realized that EACH CHILD WAS PAYING INDIVIDUALLY!!!! Yes, mom would announce "Sarah, it's your turn". And, Sarah would walk up, give the cashier her cash and coupon, and wait patiently for her change and bracelet. 7 TIMES I HAD TO WATCH THIS (mom, dad and grandma evidently not caring that they got their tickets together). I was half tempted to tell Mikie to go pee on the women's shoes, I was so exasperated.

We grabbed our tickets, and started running to the bathroom. Or rather, I was running. Mikie, who normally runs EVERYWHERE, seemed to have lost all energy while standing in line. He followed me (about 3 feet behind at all times) in a zombie like state. We successfully made it to the bathroom, and were now free to hit the rides, almost 40 minutes after we first arrived.

Unfortunately, instead of riding rides, Mikie preferred to gamble away his money in an effort to win cheap toys. And, every carnival staff member seemed to take prey on his enthusiasm. I couldn't walk five feet without someone yelling at me "Hey, Mom, pop a balloon and win a prize" or "Hey, Mom, $5 buys two chances for him to win." It got to the point that I wanted to yell, "Hey, I am NOT YOUR MOM. So stop calling me that!" Of course, there were a few that Mikie wanted to desperately to play, that I gave in and "donated" my cash to the fair for him to play. We are now the proud owners of a cheap plastic sword, identical to the one he won last year, and a Batman pillow large enough for a hampster, complete with suction cup so you can attach it to your window. Woo hoo!

We did enjoy a few rides. Unfortunately, not enough to justify the cost of the ride bracelets. Here are some pictures:

Mikie and Mom riding the Ferris Wheel

A view of the fair from the top of the Ferris Wheel

Mikie riding the train of pick-up trucks

He really enjoyed those trucks

Mikie and Mom riding the Dragon Roller Coaster

Shortly after the Dragon Roller Coaster, Mikie informed me he wanted to leave. Even though we didn't get our money's worth, I was pretty much fed up with dealing with Mikie at the fair. So, we cut our losses and headed for home.

Next time I decide to take a Friday off, I may rethink keeping Mikie home with me. At least until my patience returns.

Love, The Trahans

Mikie's Secret

For the last five weeks, Mikie has kept a big secret. For the first time, we have let him share it (see below):

Yes, it's official. We are expecting. And, in the last five weeks, Mikie has made a number of amusing comments in reference to this pregnancy, which I have been stockpiling, waiting to share them after we were clear of the first trimester.

THE BABYSITTER

On Sunday, July 20th, Mike and I hired a babysitter so we could go out to see "The Dark Knight". After enjoying a nice evening out, we were totally caught off guard when we returned home. The babysitter greeted us by saying "Mikie says there is a baby in your belly. Is there a baby in your belly?" My initial thought was, "What made him think that?" In actuality, there was a baby in my belly. However, we hadn't shared this fact with ANYONE, not even our parents. And, we planned on telling Mikie last of all for two reasons. First, if something went wrong we didn't want to disappoint him. And second, he is the WORST SECRET KEEPER EVER!!!!

We told the babysitter we weren't sure yet (which, since we hadn't been to a doctor yet wasn't a complete lie). In the morning, we woke Mikie up, who swore we told him there was a baby in my belly while he was sleeping.

BROTHER OR SISTER?

Mikie has been telling us since shortly after Christmas that he wants a brother. Unfortunately, we now have to explain to him that while we are having a baby, it could be a brother or a sister, and we don't know which. So, one evening, when Mike told Mikie to come give me a kiss goodnight, Mikie stuck his face right up against my stomach. At this point, he yelled, "Hey, baby. Are you a brother or a sister?"

Obviously, we are still working on patience. Like his mother, it is something he lacks.

JASON VARITEK

On August 9th, we drove down to Misquamicut to visit Grandma Kerrie and Grumpy and let them in on Mikie's secret. When Grandma Kerrie asked what he was going to name the baby if it was a brother, he answered "Jason Varitek". Completely unprompted by Mike.

GIRLS AND PINK

One night I asked Mikie what color we should paint the baby's room. He said if it's a brother, it should be green. I asked what color we should paint it if it's a sister.

Mikie: "If it's a girl, we should paint it pink because all girls like pink."

Mom: "I'm a girl and I don't like pink."

Mikie: "ALL girls like pink, Mom."

Evidently, I either don't qualify as a girl, or didn't get the memo that I am supposed to like pink.

DO I LOOK PREGNANT?

For whatever reason, I am a lot bigger at three months than I was with Mikie. Or four years gives you rose colored glasses when it comes to being pregnant. However, I thought I was doing a pretty good job of keeping the fact that I was pregnant a secret. Granted, wearing a lab coat every day does a lot to hide your waistline. But, no one had said anything to my face. However, I came home one evening wearing a new top I got at Ann Taylor (which was NOT a maternity top) and Mike started laughing. I asked what was so funny, to which he said, "It's just pretty obvious your pregnant when you wear that top." I will admit, it was cut somewhat similar to the maternity tops I have. But, I wasn't ready to hear that I looked pregnant so, I turned to Mikie for support. . .

Mom: "Mikie, does Mommy look pregnant?"

Mikie: "No, you just look fat."

Mike: "Mikie, obviously I haven't taught you anything. You should never say that to a girl."

While I can laugh about it now, it was not funny at the time. But, I guess I asked for it. What else could I expect from a four year old.

Last week, I asked him the question again. This time, he answered "No, you look beautiful." Unfortunately, when I asked him if he was lying he said "Yes."

I am sure that over the next 6 and 1/2 months, Mikie will come up with plenty of other amusing things to share with you. In the interim, here is a picture of our littlest addition:
Love, The Trahans

The Menu

Yesterday, Mike was trying to feed Mikie breakfast:

Mike: "Mikie, what do you want for breakfast?"

Mikie: "What is there?"

Mike: "We have pancakes, waffle toast, and cinnamon swirls."

Mikie: "What else is there?"

Mike: "We have pancakes, waffle toast, cinnamon swirls, pancakes, waffle toast, and cinnamon swirls."

Mikie: "Are there donuts on the menu?"

Like we're running a diner. At least he knows what he wants.

Love, The Trahans

Empty Threats

Mikie has taken to making threats lately when he doesn't get his way. Except, the threats are things that would hurt him more than us if he ever followed through on them. His favorites are "I'm not going to be your friend anymore" and "I'm going to find another neighborhood to live in". But, he is starting to expand his repetoire.

For example, on Thursday of last week, he wanted desperately to bring his blow up guitar and toy car that he got at the Crabtree picnic into daycare. Now, they have asked parents to limit bringing toys to school on Friday only. One, it is less disruptive during class. And, two it is easier to keep track of who brought which toy one day of the week, rather than every day. Mikie understands that he can only bring toys to school on Friday, and was therefore desperate to convince me that it WAS Friday (thinking it was easier than trying to convince me to let him bring a toy in on a Thursday). Now, while I wished it were Friday, it obviously wasn't. At this point, he switched tactics, telling me that if he couldn't bring a toy to school today, he wouldn't bring any toys to school ANYMORE.

After 10 minutes of standing in the parking lot, trying to rationalize with him, I gave in, angrily telling him to get his toy and get out of the car immediately.

This evening, he pulled another threat. We had gone to Red Robin for dinner, but Mikie decided he didn't want the hamburger he ordered. I forced him to eat some of my chicken strips. Of course, when it came time to go to bed, his belly was conveniently hungry. And, not just for anything, but for blueberries. Unfortunately, I hadn't bought any blueberries. We tried to convince him to eat grapes, but he was adamant about eating blueberries. The conversation proceeded as follows:

Mikie: "Mom, I have a great idea. You can go out to the store and buy some blueberries and bring them home so I can eat them."

Mom: "All the stores are closed. We can buy blueberries tomorrow. Eat something else instead."

Mikie: "I have a better idea. Dad can run to the store so fast, he can drive Lightening, and get the blueberries. . . "

Mom: "No one is going to the store for blueberries tonight. All the stores are closed. Eat some peanut butter crackers."

Mikie: "Okay, but if there aren't any blueberries for me to eat in this house, than I am going to stick my head out the window."

Mom: now completely exasperated "Well, go open a window because we don't have any blueberries!"

At this point, Mike could not contain his amusement any longer. He was mumbling "open a window" through his laughter. This only prompted Mikie to laugh, too, and me to get annoyed at the two of them.

Some days I wish he'd follow through on some of these threats. It would make my life easier (or at least more amusing).

Love, The Trahans

Grocery Shopping

Have you ever seen a woman with young children using the self-checkout at the grocery store? Probably not. And there is a very good reason why, as I recently discovered. . .

Mikie and I went to the grocery store one evening after work. I needed to deposit a check, and figured we could pick up some groceries while we were there. The grocery store has a nack for strategically displaying kids books near the bank. And, since Mike and I encourage Mikie's love of reading (ie buy most books he asks for), I agreed to buy him the activity book he found. It actually looked neat: it came with models of the finding Nemo characters that you could put together to show the insides of each animal (clown fish, dolphin, shark, crab, etc.)

Of course, we still had shopping to do, and Mikie desperately wanted to open the book and start assembling the characters. Pushing him through the store (and not in a cart, I literally used my hand to direct him down each aisle), we managed to collect the few groceries I needed. By this point, I had a choice:

1. Do I stand in one of the three manned checkout lines, waiting patiently behind people with carts overflowing with groceries, all the while explaining to my child that he cannot open the book until we pay for it, or
2. Do I opt for one of the deserted self-checkout lines, which would allow me to pay for the book and leave the store in minutes?

Obviously, I chose option #2. What sensible (more likely, impatient) mother wouldn't? The smart ones, that's who.

Of my five items, what was the first thing I scanned? The book. Rookie mistake. Because, if you have ever used the self-checkout, you know that you must "Place your item in the bag" and LEAVE IT THERE. Every time you remove an item from the bag, the computer locks up on you, because it can't keep an accurate weight and thinks you are trying to shoplift. So, everytime Mikie put a finger on the book (even if it was still in the bag), the machine locked up saying "Please wait for attendant". Of course, the attendant could have easily come over and pressed some buttons that allowed my child to take the book, allowing me the freedom to finish scanning my items in peace. But, the attendant was busy bagging at one of the manned lines while talking to her friend, oblivious to what was going on at the self-checkout line. So, Mikie and I suffered through scanning the remainder of the items.

When I got home and began to tell my story to Mike (looking for sympathy), he said "Why did you scan the book first. I would have scanned it last!" Not exactly the sympathy I was looking for. I chose to believe that he would have made the same mistake. Either that, or he already had a similar issue and never admitted to it.

Happy Shopping.

Love, The Trahans

Water Sports

When I was pregnant with Mikie, we had gone in for an appointment where we were supposed to hear the heartbeat for the first time. We lived in panick for 24 hours after a nurse and two doctors couldn't find a heartbeat with their Doppler device. They sent us the next day for an ultrasound. The problem: our very active fetus was swimming laps around my uterus. He would float over to one side and kick off with his legs, zooming across the monitor to the other side. At the time, we joked he had the makings of the next Michael Phelps.

Fastforward four years. Mikie is obsessed with swimming and all water related activities. We took him to the beach and I was convinced he would want nothing to do with the ocean. And, while I love Misquamicut (especially seeing Kerrie and Norm), the waves aren't exactly calm. Even after being knocked off his feet and washed ashore, Mikie still wanted to go back in the water again (after he spit all the sand and seawater out of his mouth).

Here is some footage of Mikie swimming at the pool at Grandma Pookies house. I don't know how much swimming he did, but he loved jumping in:And, most recently, footage of Mikie at the Crabtree & Evelyn company picnic this week. They had both a moonbounce and a water slide. When they advertised the water slide, I have to admit, I thought they sent the "Fun Committee" to Walmart for a Slip & Slide. When we saw the water slide they rented, I regretted not bringing a bathing suit. However, it was only 75 degrees outside, and the water came straight from the well. To warm up after one of his many trips down the slide, Mikie asked for some ice cream (which he incidently inhaled through chattering teeth). We apologize in advance for the video; Mike couldn't tell what slide he was coming down. . .I don't know if the Olympics are in his future; but beach bum or surfer may be up there on his list.

Love, The Trahans

Friendly's

This weekend, we went to Pennsylvania to visit my mom, dad, and sister. As with most of our family, we quickly realized that no one wanted to spend time with Mike and I; they really just wanted to see Mikie. So, Mike and I took our cue and went out to dinner on Friday night, leaving Mikie to the care of Grandma Pookie and Auntie Katie.

As any doting grandma would do, they decided to take Mikie to his favorite restaurant, Friendly's. By the time they left, Mikie was starving. When they arrived, the waiter came over to take their drink order. Not one to be shy, Mikie announced "I would like a hotdog with french fries and chicken nuggets." My mom and sister discouraged him from ordering so much food. The waiter put in an order for a hotdog and french fries for Mikie while Grandma Pookie and Katie continued to decide what to eat.

Mikie's food arrives, and he INHALES it. Not only does he eat everything on his plate, he helps himself to my mom's french fries. The waiter stopped by to see how everyone was doing. Mikie quickly announced, "I would like a chocolate Monster Mash." My sister told him it wasn't time to order ice cream, that she and my mom were still eating. So, Mikie sat quietly, waiting for them to finish.

Shortly after the waiter left, he reappeared at the table behind Mikie and asked what they would like for dessert. Mikie turned around in his seat and announced "I would like a chocolate Monster Mash."

Eventually, he got his ice cream. And he ate every last drop (he literally held the cup up to his face to lick out the rest. . . I don't know who he gets that from).

Love, The Trahans