Vacation II

Yes you are reading correctly, we just got back from yet another summer vacation (we deserve it, dammit!). This time it was with my people on the coast of the beautiful state of New Jersey (I just volley them up). We stayed at an unbelievable beach-front condo in Sea Isle City with my parents and a spattering of other visiting family members. In typical Zoekat blog style, I will resort to my top ten list, used only for vacation posts, but first a house update; we had a friend of mine and her husband come by to look at the house last night and received positive feedback. . . fingers crossed.

10. Rules for flying with a toddler are simple: 1. Buy them a seat 2. Fly direct 3. Reserve an entire carry on for graham crackers.

9. No matter how much I want the Himalaya ride, found frequently on Jersey boardwalks, to be as exciting as my childhood memories think it is, it just isn't. However, I did remember to sit on the inside.

8. But Mack and Mancos pizza will always be the same.

7. Even shore houses have timeout spots.

6. Zoe loves the beach but is cautious about the water. That is quite possibly because the ocean water found in New Jersey is about 50 degrees colder than the ocean water found in Georgia.

5. Kayaking isn't as difficult as it seems, that is unless you risk life and limb by crossing the wake zone boat channel to get to the island with the ice cream vessel.

4. I don't want to say it, but I have to; Mike and my mom beat me and my dad at pinochle. Happy?

3. Too many bottles of wine makes for meteor sitings and daring police shootouts.

2. Mike and my dad build sand castles with the skill and focus of structural engineers; taking into consideration sand firmness, tidal charts and destructive toddlers.

1. Hopefully next year this vacation will be repeated with just a short drive. You're right, mom, we should have stayed until Labor Day.

Cinderella, time outs and more. . Part II

For the more dedicated readers of the blog, you may remember a previous post about my attempts at discipline written back when Zoe was just a wee one, when her only transgression was her migration toward the dog food. A refresher from a year ago:

"Yes, the word discipline is put in quotes to illustrate just how loosely I am meaning it. Frankly, it has become a game and I am the only one playing; so the question you need to ask yourself is if I am the only one playing, how can I be losing?"

It seems Zoe has joined the game but she has joined the varsity team while I have lingered back on the JV squad wondering when I will be good enough to leave the bench. Like any good mother of a toddler I have joined the wonderful world of timeouts. It seems like a right of passage for both myself and Zoe and at first I welcomed the challenge. I started dolling them out for only the most egregious of behaviors, hitting and the like. The first few timeouts she was upset but I did feel a strange motherly superpower of sorts when she actually stayed in the corner. I mean, I was an amateur and surely would have caved if she decided to look at me like I was crazy and simply got up and walked away. But she didn't, she stayed there and cried just enough to tell me that I was getting my point across, once again give me a false sense of confidence in my mothering skills (when will I learn).

The other day, this changed. She was opening the dishwasher for about the 467th time that day. My response, "if you do that again, you'll go into a timeout." An idol threat made by a frustrated mom to be sure. But Zoe didn't continue to play with dishwasher. She didn't throw a tantrum to illustrate her defiance. She stopped, looked at me matter-of-factly, and moved on to varsity. She walked away from the dishwasher straight to her time out corner (yes, there is a dedicated portion of the house and no we do not use this as a selling point) and just sat down. No tears, no getting up; she just sat there. I was admittedly a little dumbfounded. At first I was patting myself on the back. "Look how much respect I command!" I said to myself. "After my next blog post, the world needs my philosophy on discipline so I will begin a book and a subsequent tour!" And then slowly it dawned on me, the same way it had dawned on me that she was a biter; Zoe doesn't mind timeouts and if she doesn't mind the only discipline tool I have in my proverbial child-rearing toolbox, my life is about to get just a little more interesting.

You, as readers, are in the stands, Vegas odds are not in my favor, the whistle has blown, and the game has just begun. Wish me luck.

Cinderella, time outs and more. . Part I

Seems I am right back where I started with this blogging thing. What's that saying about good intentions? Let's see, when last we left Zoe was showing off some dance moves. Since then we have been pretty busy but before I get into Zoe's latest shenanigans let give a brief update on the sale of the house; no bites. Ok, now let's continue.

This will be a two-part post since I have been so remiss about updating. Part I. . . The Vacation. We spent a week in The Villages of Florida with Zoe's very brave grandparents, Zoe's aunt Karen and uncle Ryan and four-year-old Kaitlyn and two-year-old Owen (told you they were brave, or crazy). I think I'll keep the vacation top ten list trend going.

10. Zoe had her first experience with The Magic Kingdom complete with Small World (I still wake up at night in a cold sweat sometimes with that song bouncing around my head), lunch in Cinderella's castle, and the kind of heat only Florida in July with a million other people could provide. Zoe loved it taking special interest in the parade and the merry-go-round. If any Disney executives have stumbled across this blog, take note that in addition to the characters, food and general merriment, Zoe would also like to see a special nap area.

9. Ahh, the joys of watching a child learn. Of course that is until her cousins teach her the word "no" and "mine." Later, joy.

8. The Villages is a strange and wonderful place. You can relax on your patio while enjoying the cool morning breeze. You can take in a round of golf with new friends. Or you can head down to the only bar open past nine and get plastered while hitting on other retirees or become a twirler in your 80's. The world is your crazy oyster.

7. Dave cheats at contract rummy. It's time you came clean for the sake of the game.

6. When your parents offer to babysit while you go to a movie for the first time in two years, run, don't walk, don't past go and don't even care about what the movie is.

5. Go green, drive a golf cart.

4. Getting professional photos taken at Walmart is more difficult than it seems (but just as funny) with four adults and three children under the age of five. I think even the greeters were wondering what the hell was going on behind the curtain.

3. My pitching wedge used to be the bane of my golf existence. I think it used to actually laugh at me when I pulled it out of my bag. Not this time; chalk it up to Villages magic (it is Pleasantville) but I think I've tamed the beast.

2. Zoe became more generous with her kissing and began kissing everyone good night.

1. It was the perfect vacation complete with stolen relaxing moments, crazy childhood chaos, princesses, and most importantly, family. The Villages is Pleasantville.

Fancy Footwork

I am a yankee (a screaming liberal yankee as my boss likes to call me). Mike is a yankee. Zoe, while born in the south will be raised yankee as much as possible. Before we moved to Savannah, the word yankee only had one meaning and it was usually used in sentences like, "I can't believe we blew a three-run lead against the bleeping Yankees." But living in the south, surrounded by Confederate flags (I wouldn't know a Union flag if I used one as a bedspread) and declarations such as "the sand gnats are here to keep away the yankees" has given us yankees a new understanding of the word.

Don't get me wrong, we like Savannah. We enjoy the small-town feel, the people, and calling our family and friends back home and giving them a weather report in March ("Yeah, we are pretty unhappy that it only reached 68 degrees today *snicker, snicker*"). Heck, we even own a pickup truck. But the truth of the matter is, it is time for us to return home; a home without sweet tea and chicken for breakfast. For those of you who always ask us when we are moving back, this news will come as a nice surprise (although don't think is has gone unnoticed that no one really cared when we were moving back before Zoe arrived). But please temper your excitement with the knowledge of the state of the housing market. Just know that we are trying and that this blog post is probably one of the first public announcements of our plans unless you have taken notice of the subtle link on this blog to the one with house photos.

The truth of the matter is, we would very much like for Zoe to have what we both had growing up, crazy family gatherings, snow days, and nights spent at grandma's (ok, that last one is a little bit for us). The things, that no matter how stunning the weather is, Savannah can never provide.

So, if you or someone you know, is in the market for a home in Savannah, we've got a real gem. We'll leave a glass of sweet tea by the door.

On becoming Marion

I have become my mother, as a mother. The other morning Zoe and I finished up eating breakfast. I was cleaning her face up as I usually really need to do when she is done eating and she is screaming like I am using a Brillo pad as she usually really needs to do. The screaming and flailing about all but guarantees a few spots will be missed but it looked as if a thorough job had been done. As I am putting her in her car seat to head to Cassie's I notice a slight bit of her new favorite topping, pumpkin butter, on the side of her cheek that must have been missed in the meltdown. Now a quiz; upon seeing this did I:

A. Run inside to get a wet napkin
B. Take out a wet nap, that most prepared mothers have at the ready for their kids but I never do, from her diaper bag
C. Lick my thumb and proceed to rub the spit-covered appendage on her face

If you guessed "C" you win. As a child (actually I must admit, although my mother is the one who should be ashamed, well into my teen years) I hated this. Every time she did this to me I asked why she would spit on my face. Why would a mother spit on the face of her child? Really, how sanitary can this be? But there I was, spitting on Zoe. I would like to say that I put my mind to work on other alternatives before I settled on using spit as face cleanser; but I didn't. I just instinctively licked by thumb, like it was in my DNA to do so.

Now for anyone who knows my mother and me, you know that me writing a post that we are alike is a little like me writing a post that the sky is blue. And, even better, me writing a post that I am surprised by having a similar parental instinct is akin to writing a post that I am surprised Zoe throws temper tantrums; I just should've seen it coming.

I sometimes wonder aloud what will be next. Is it inevitable that someday I will tell Zoe to "go outside and blow the stink off herself?" Will I say things like "just two more big bites" in reference to vegetables, no matter how much she has already eaten. Will I let her go on thinking that the special "family mac and cheese" recipe goes back generations when really it is the recipe on the back of the Mueller's box?

In all honesty, I hope so. I hope Zoe looks back on her childhood with me the same way I do with my mother. Sure, my mom did big, important things for me. But what I really remember is pretzel rods from Heritages and how she taught me to swallow a pill when it was the only way to cure my poison ivy. Yeah, her and my dad paid most of my way through college, but that's nothing compared to helping me bake three dozen fortune cookies for a school project she learned about 12 hours before it was due. Sure, she got me through teenage hair angst, but what I remember is hovering around end tables in the den with makeup and hairdryers as we got ourselves ready to go to a play in the only room in the house with air conditioning.

I could go on and on but Zoe is outside and I told her to be "within calling distance." Also, we are having goulash for dinner (see photo) with two big bites of peas on the side.

I love you. Happy mother's day to all the mom's that read this and cheers to all the quirks you have that your child will eventually pass along.

Paybacks are a . . .

Zoe has taken revenge. She is paying me back for the million times I said "give mommy kisses" or "say daddy" or "roll over again". She is playing my game and beating me at it using stamina that only a one-year-old could ever posses. I sing 'Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes' 456,786,955,645 times a day, and that's on weekdays when I work and only see her in the morning and evening. Weekend days that number triples. She could be totally engrossed in something the suddenly the need to hear that song overwhelms her and she puts her hands to her head and screams "EH" meaning, "Mom, I am making a song request." Sometimes and just go ahead and sing it, accepting my fate. Other times I try to win the battle and ignore it or, even funnier, try and reason with Zoe that maybe this is getting a little old. Neither of these strategies work; She has me trained quite well (or maybe beaten down). The blame for all of this lies squarely on the shoulders (and the head, knees and toes) of whoever bought her the Elmo music book where this song was first discovered. I've tried introducing other genres of music (a nice Megadeath song would seem better option) but she unfettered and possibly gunning for a space in Guinness Book of World Records.

So, I guess this week's milestone for those keeping track at home, Zoe now knows parts of the body.