The Big Day

Today was the big day. Or at least it was a big day for me. Mikie's first day of school. Mikie and I weren't on different wavelengths, because, as you can see from the video, he seemed to think this was no different than any other day. He would go to school (albeit different from where he usually goes), Hannah would go to daycare, and Mom would go to work.

I of course was (am) a sappy emotional mess. I waited at school to take pictures of him getting on the bus. Then, I drove to the school to take pictures and video of him getting off the bus. I admit, I did cry. Although, I managed to keep from crying until AFTER Mikie was in school so I didn't have to deal with the exasperated look he would give me.

On my drive from the school to work, I remembered sending him to daycare for the first time. He was eight weeks old, and everyone told me I would cry when I left him. He and I were both fine, neither of us crying. I told people that we appreciated each other more having our time apart. So, I never would have guessed that kindergarten would be my emotional downfall.

I attempted to load this video twice. The original video was set to Natalie Merchant (yes, I know, it was sappy and cheesey, and when you are a mom, you can mock me). After two failed attempts uploading to YouTube, I finally succeeded, only to get a message from YouTube that portions of the video were copywrited. So, back to the drawing board. No Natalie Merchant. This time the audio is Mikie detailing his first day's activities.

Love, The Trahans

What's Wrong With This Picture?

I like to say that absent-mindedness is a sign of intelligence. Mostly because I can't blame my forgetfulness on other things (old age, pregnancy, etc.). . .

Two weeks ago, I took Mikie for a haircut. The "salon" (I don't know that you can call the kiddy equivalent of Hair Cuttery a "salon") looks you up in the system based on the last four digits of your phone number. One small problem: I could not remember the last four digits of my phone number. After 30 seconds, I succeeded in blurting out four digits. As the girl struggled to find us in the system, I realized my mistake and said "Wait, no, those are the last four digits of my social security number." So, now everyone knows I have memory issues. Instead of pulling out my cell phone to look up my phone number, I stare at Mikie, as if my five year old knows the answer. He didn't. But, eventually, I did come up with the number, and we succeeded in getting Mikie's haircut.

I thought that was bad. I can remember every ingredient in every one of the thirty-five formulas I have launching this fall, but I can't remember my phone number. However, today trumped all previous not-so-senior moments. . .

Today was Mikie's kindergarten orientation. Mike took the afternoon off and drove an hour and a half to attend. As Mikie dragged us around every inch of the crowded, un-air conditioned classroom, Mike comments "They have Hannah's birthday." Not sure what he meant, I walked over to the birthday board to see this:What's wrong with this picture? Mikie was born on September 6th; HANNAH was born on February 19th. Why would the teacher put the wrong birthday down? Because Mikie's mom cannot accurately fill out simple school enrollment forms correctly.

And so, I made a GREAT first impression on Mikie's teacher. My first time meeting her and I had to say, "Hi, I'm Lauren Trahan, Mikie's mom. I don't know my kid's birthday."

Small consolation: if I'm bad for writing down the wrong birthday, how bad is the administrative office that didn't think to question why they were admitting a kindergartner born in 2009?

Love, The Trahans

The Pick-Up Line

Because Hurricane Bill was wreaking havoc on our favorite beach, we spent this weekend cooling off at a water park near our house. It was very relaxing. Hannah enjoyed floating around the lake, watching Mikie demonstrate his swimming moves. Mike and Mikie enjoyed the water slides. And, Grandma Pookie and I enjoyed relaxing.

Right before we left, Mikie, chick magnet extraordinaire, attracted the attention of a three year old girl, Zoe. Zoe "swam" by a few times, trying to attract Mikie's attention (to no avail). When we complemented her on her swimming skills, Mikie came over to regale Zoe's parents with his ability to blow bubbles in the water. To which Zoe responded, "I can blow bubbles with my butt." Ah, love in bloom. . .

Even more amusing than Zoe's pick-up line was Mikie's. At one point he yelled "Come meet your Destiny!" Don Juan? No. Just a five year old quoting lines from Star Wars. Until we enlightened Zoe's parents, they were pretty amused with his pick-up line.

God help us when he actually has interest in girls. . .

Love, The Trahans

Major Milestones

Six months, slightly over 16 pounds, and Hannah sits up! She still has her moments. If brother runs by, and she turns her head, down she goes. But, if she has something directly in front of her to occupy her attention, she is pretty good at keeping her balance: Which brings me to Hannah's next talent: impersonating a cat. Her new favorite toy is a cage type ball with another mirrored ball inside. Not unlike a big cat toy. It reminds me of that old Saturday Night Live skit where Will Ferrell and Vince Vaughn are cat toy salesmen who need to "road test" all of the new products. If you haven't seen the skit, you can find it here. If you have, then you can further appreciate Hannah playing with her new toy (click on the picture below to see the video).Love, The Trahans

Picture Day

Since Mikie is fast approaching the big 0-5, and Hannah is now six months old, we decided to take them both to have their pictures taken. We arrived at 10:30 am and were finished around lunch time. I don't know which was more exhausting, getting Hannah to smile, getting Mikie to smile normally (ie, not a cheese plastered on smile), or selecting what to order. While we were immersed in the chaos , I was expecting the shoot to yield a bunch of horrible pictures. However, I am impressed with the results:

HannahTrouble & Super NibblesAnd then there was Mikie:

This picture of Mikie makes me cry. Because, when I look at him every day, I don't notice how big he has gotten (although I tease him anytime he makes me lift him that he must have gotten bigger while I was at work). Then, I see these pictures and realize he is not a baby anymore. . . tall and lanky. . . just under four feet tall. . . 45 pounds. . . starting kindergarten on Wednesday. It seems like only yesterday he was blonde and chubby and looked like this: If I am this sentimental on Saturday, wait until my first day of school post on Wednesday. . .

Love, The Trahans

Another Mikie Moment

Last week, I had to get my car inspected, a task made all the more interesting (challenging) having the kids with me.

At 5pm, we pulled into the gas station. I love this gas station because it is a) located on my way home from work, b) is full serve only, c) participates in the discount gas program with the grocery store, and d) will inspect my car while I wait. . . something my car dealership doesn't do. Unfortunately, they are a gas station with a convenience store that is smaller than my closet (no lie). So, while my car is on a riser in a garage, I'm forced to stand outside and wait. Normally, I wouldn't mind. But, it happened to be 86 degrees outside and I had two tired children with me. . .

In my infinite wisdom, I decided to buy Mikie a snack in the convenience store. Unfortunately, they don't sell perishable items. . . including milk. While most kids would HAPPILY drink a soda or juice, Mikie is NOT most kids. If he can't drink milk, he will begrudgingly drink water. As I reached for a water and small bag of Oreos, Mikie picked up a bag of Oreo Cakesters. Conversation ensued:

Mom: "Those aren't real Oreos."

Mikie: "I know. They're Cakesters."

So, either he learned how to read, or he had Oreo Cakesters at school. The second option seemed more plausible, so I gave in. While I paid, Mikie struck up a conversation with the cashier (who happened to be the owner):

Mikie: "Hey! What do you think of my sister?"

Owner: looking at me "What did he say?"

Mikie: "Do you like my sister? Don't you think she's cute?"

Mom: embarrassed, "Mikie, come outside."

Of course, Mikie quickly realized that he does NOT like Cakesters, and that he needs to feed them to an ant. And, since he has given his snack to an insect, he needs real Oreos. As he gets up to go inside and help himself, I inform him that he will not be buying more cookies because I was out of money.

Finally, the car was ready. As I loaded the brood into the car, Mikie yells to the owner: "Hey, guy. Next time, get some milk, or we're never going to come here again."

I don't know where he gets his attitude from. Must be Mike. . .

Love, The Trahan

Bathtime

Working late means the kids and I don't get home until close to 7pm. Since they both go to bed at 8pm, I have a little over an hour to make dinner for Mikie, feed Hannah (solid food plus juice plus a bottle of formula), and bathe both kids before it's time for bed. And (in an ideal world) I have time to eat and play with them.

Unfortunately, this doesn't leave me with enough free time to perfect cloning myself. So, I am forced to find other ways to accomplish all of these tasks. The simplest solution: bathe both kids at the same time.

This is easier said then done. The easiest solution would be to bathe Hannah in her baby tub in my bathroom while Mikie takes a shower. But, Mikie LOVES baths. And Hannah LOVES anything related to Mikie: him or his toys. So, I struggle to hold Hannah in a sitting (or standing) position in the tub while Mikie splashes around her. It gets particularly hairy when soap is involved, as soapy wet babies are as slippery as greased pigs (so I would imagine, having never actually held a greased pig). I am slowly perfecting the routine: fill tub, put both kids in tub, clean Hannah while she is entertained by toys/Mikie, remove Hannah from the tub, dry her off and put a diaper on her, shampoo and condition Mikie's hair, entertain Hannah while Mikie cleans himself/splashes/floats/swims in the tub, drain the tub.

And now for the embarrassing naked pictures: As you can see, Hannah spends most of her time biting the basketball hoop, which is why all of her photos are of her wrinkly bum. Mikie doesn't sit still for long. Actually, Mikie doesn't SIT (preferring to completely immerse himself in water), so this is the closest we came to getting a picture of them together:

It probably isn't faster, but it does "save water for the fish" (a concept Mikie has recently become concerned about), and, if nothing else, is amusing.

Love, The Trahans

The Burger Drama

Mikie's daycare has a hot lunch program in conjunction with one of the local restaurants. For $5, you can sign up for a sandwich, hotdog, hamburger, or daily special, along with a drink, and side (typically fruit and chips). Very convenient for those mornings where I lack motivation to make Mikie a lunch (usually because I am racing out the door at the last minute). Mikie is VERY picky about what he will eat: turkey on white bread (in spite of the fact that he doesn't eat the bread) with mustard (he won't eat it without) or a hotdog with ketchup, mustard, and NO bun. If I don't get the order right, I typically get a lecture on how I should "always make him a lunch from home."

Monday ended up being a school lunch day for the Trahans. And, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would have SWORN that I checked hotdog on the lunch menu. But, when I dropped Mikie off on Tuesday morning, the teacher informed me that I had made a mistake and they ordered him a hamburger. Since Mikie hadn't mentioned it, I assumed it was no big deal.

On Tuesday evening, a second teacher asked me if anyone told me about the "Burger Drama". Evidently, as the teacher was passing out the lunches, she noticed Mikie stand up, walk over to the trash can, and throw his ENTIRE lunch bag in the trash. Confused, she went over, took the lunch out of the trash and opened the bag to find his hamburger and sides, completely untouched. When she questioned him, he told her he didn't like anything and would just eat ketchup.

Thankfully, they had some extra hotdogs from the camp cook-out and made him a hotdog for lunch, so he didn't have to go on a hunger strike.

He wouldn't survive a day in catholic school. I can still hear the nuns lecturing me because I didn't finish eating all of my peanut butter sandwich. . .

Love, The Trahans

A Girl After My Own Heart

My dad loves to tell people how, as a child, I tried to convince him that I had two stomachs: one for dinner, and a second one for dessert. So, no matter how little I ate of my dinner, I was never too full for dessert.

In comparison, Mikie seemed nothing like me. When I was pregnant with him, I threw up every time I tried to consume chocolate, no matter how small the amount. By the end of my nine months, abstaining from chocolate, I was convinced I was carrying someone else's child I will admit, since birth, he has redeemed himself. Taking after me, he now eats ice cream no matter what time of day or how cold it is outside. He drinks every last melted drop of his ice cream and then asks if he can "have a taste" of yours. Like the official tasters in a royal court. . .

Hannah on the other hand has been a chocolate lover since the beginning. She seemed to crave it in utero. I'm thankful that she doesn't have teeth, because I think she would bite us in a fit of rage every time we go to Friendly's and flaunt our frozen desserts in front of her. She literally salivates over the menu. I took these pictures on one of our recent trips:That's my girl. . . if I can't have the real thing, I'm going to eat this menu! Let's hope her lactose issues don't last beyond her first birthday. Otherwise, I'm going to buy stock in whoever makes Lactaid.

Unfortunately, I now need to figure out how my parents got around that dessert stomach argument before she can use it against me.

Love, The Trahans