pink and beautiful

Everything is pink. Everything is beautiful.

If you ask Flora to describe something, it will likely be either pink or beautiful. She puts a blanket on her shoulders and calls it a "beautiful dress." My house shoes have "beautiful colors" and her favorite food is "pink." She also wants to be pink when she grows up.

Today Flora and Scout went for a walk around the living room. She held Scout's hand and gestured around the room with her other hand, gushing "beauuuutiful day, Scout!"

Sometimes I wonder where she gets these ideas, but I really like them. It's so much fun to hear the things that are on her little mind.

what's in a name?

You don't really need to know all this stuff, but it occurred to me that I might not remember all the details of how we chose their names years from now. I've also considered writing down their birth stories, but don't worry---I won't publish those if I do!! :-)

Flora Nell
By all rights, Flora should have been named Tatum. As I went into labor for the very first time, Tatum was #1 on our short list of favorite girl names. However, we weren't ready to commit to the name and packed our book of baby names in our hospital bag. As I tried to relax after receiving my epidural, Chris thumbed through the book and read off potential names. I was intrigued when he suggested Flora, but more interested in the name Farris. Things got crazy at that point and before we knew it we had a new baby girl with no name. Baby Girl Borkert spent most of her hospital stay in the neonatal intensive care unit because of jaundice and the amused NICU nurses offered their opinions and suggestions. When the time came to choose a name (they brought me the birth certificate paperwork and said we couldn't check out of the hospital until I filled it out) we agreed on Flora. And I love it. Flora is a Flora, not a Tatum or any of the other names we had picked out. We just didn't know it until we'd met her. Of course, there is a small population of those in the medical field who might have less than flowery associations with the name, but that doesn't bother me.

The only thing we knew for sure before Flora was born was that her middle name would be Nell. Nell was my grandmother's middle name, my mom's middle name, and part of my middle name (my middle name, Janelle, is a combination of my paternal grandmother's middle name, Jane, and my maternal grandmother's middle name, Nell). Nell is cute, quaint, and goes perfect with the name Flora.


Scout Emerson
Scout was always Scout. We went through the motions of pouring over baby books and making lists of favorite names, but I think we both knew that this baby didn't have a chance of being anything other than Scout. The debate rages as to who actually suggested the name first. The points on which Chris and I can agree are 1) the name was inspired by the old Scout International jeep-like vehicles (NOT the book To Kill a Mockingbird --- I didn't even like that book) and 2) we talked about the name LONG before we ever had kids. Maybe even before we got married. Shane also has a friend named Scout, and while I don't like to admit being influenced by others, it probably helped to solidify the name in our minds. All I know is that my little boy has always been Scout. He's not a dog (although that mistake is understandable) and he's not a girl (this mistake is NOT understandable --- all Scouts should be boys). He's just our cute little red-headed, blue-eyed, left-handed Scout.

It's a good thing we had Scout's name picked out before leaving for the hospital because there was no leisurely, pain-free wait for him to be born. With no time for an epidural, the baby name book stayed in the suitcase during labor and delivery. We knew he was Scout and had his middle name narrowed down to either Gideon or Emerson. Gideon, a nice strong Biblical character, or Emerson, a 19th century American Transcendentalist writer with questionable theology. Chris liked both names and let me make the final decision. In the end, phrases like "hitch your wagon to a star" and "envy is ignorance; imitation is suicide" made me choose the name Emerson. He became one of my favorite writers in high school and I still love to read his essays. It may sound like I chose Self-Reliance over the Bible, but not really. I just like the name. It works better with Scout than Gideon does, and it comes with the advantage of some inspiring quotes to hang on Scout's wall someday. Anyway, it's better than saying I named him after my VCR, which is also an Emerson.

Flora Nell and Scout Emerson. Chris and I are very happy with their names and since we are the parents, that's all that really matters!

preschool

I read an article in Parents magazine about a mom sending her son to preschool for the first time. She detailed the first few tear-filled weeks and then the day that he finally walked into his school by himself and tear-free. She admitted that the day he didn't need her to walk him into the school was the day she cried the most. Of course, I was bawling throughout the article. Flora is almost 2 1/2-years-old!! Where did the time go? I know, I know . . . she's only 2-years-old and I'm blubbering like she's leaving for college. I'll pull myself together.

Preschool. School that you attend BEFORE you start school. I have an issue with the idea of preschool. Maybe it's just the name to which I object, but I have a hard time seeing the benefit of sending kids to EXTRA school. They are already bound to at least 13 years of hard school time. Why prolong that sentence with extra school that's not even going to look good on a resume?

On the flip side, I know that preschool is great for social development and prepares kids for the structure of kindergarten. However, those first few weeks are going to be difficult whether they are the first few weeks of preschool or the first few weeks of kindergarten. I cried my way through the first month of kindergarten and the first day of school every year until 5th grade. I don't think preschool would have resolved my issues. I think I turned out okay though. I even made my first friend when she coaxed me out from behind the trashcan.

So, that's what's on my mind today: preschool. I doubt we'll do the preschool thing, but I will try to find a good "Mommy's Day Out" program to send the kids to a couple days a week when they are older. The social interaction and time away from me will be good for them and I won't feel guilty for tacking on extra schooling to their fleeting childhood years (because the word "school" is not included in "Mommy's Day Out").

I'm not saying that parents who send their kids to preschool should feel guilty . . . but I'm not NOT saying it either! Haha! You know the rules: my blog = my way is best. *smile* Actually, if I were to dig deeper I would probably discover the real issue is I'm just not ready for them to leave me . . . but I don't think I'll dig that deep.

i like SpongeBob when he's NOT talking

I purchased this SpongeBob water sprinkler at the end of last summer thinking it would be a fun way for the kids to play outdoors. They thought it was interesting, but Scout was too young to play and Flora was a bit intimidated by the water squirting out of SpongeBob's nose. We only used it once before packing it away with all the other summertime toys.


I was cleaning out a closet yesterday when I came across the SpongeBob sprinkler. I showed it to Flora and it was love at first sight. Flora and SpongeBob became best friends in an instant. She spent the entire day holding SpongeBob's "hand" (ear) and teaching him all about her little world.


She read books to SpongeBob . . .


She tucked SpongeBob in with a pillow and blanket so he could take a nap . . .


She pointed out the neighborhood sights to SpongeBob . . .


She gave SpongeBob a bath . . .


She even shared her lunch with SpongeBob . . .

Unfortunately, she did not put clothes on SpongeBob . . . or on herself. She never keeps her clothes on anymore. I blame it on Barbie.

Sadly, Flora is a 2-year-old so poor SpongeBob was old news by the next day. Some friends have real staying power, but an inflated yellow head can only bring so much to a friendship. However, I think SpongeBob and Flora will renew their friendship this summer when he squirts water out of his nose . . . because THAT is entertaining!

"Oh that? He had a face transplant last week."

First of all, let me say that I don't know why blogger randomly underlines some of my text and I'm too lazy to figure out how to stop it. Please pass along any knowledge that will help me fix this problem. I know I could google it, but . . . nah.

On to our story!!!

Toby is already low man on the totem pole, so you'd think he would be on his best behavior in order to raise my opinion of him . . . but no. Toby has spent the day outside in the cold and I think he got off pretty easy considering his crime.

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present Exhibit A:

and Exhibit B:

Poor little Scout was having a great time wrestling on the floor with his Daddy when Toby decided to maul him. Well, maybe it didn't exactly happen like that . . . Toby would probably be glue by now if he had intentionally hurt Scout. Toby jumped over the gate and happened to land on an unsuspecting Scout. Chris was able to absorb most of Toby's weight, but a couple of stray nails managed to get our little Scooter. It actually looks worse than it is. It didn't even bleed besides the blood that you see in the pics. I think it looks like a scar from a face transplant---it's such a perfect line right along his jaw! Too bad it's not October so we could play it off as part of a Halloween costume . . .

This is Scout right after it happened. He's such a tough little guy!

a hairy predicament

(pardon the corny title)

I've always admired little girls with cute short hair. A swingy, chin-length bob is just adorable on a preschooler. So, my intention has always been to give Flora a cute little bob when her hair grew long enough (in other words: when the bad bangs that I cut grew out).

Well, now Flora's hair is probably long enough for a bob, but I don't think it's going to happen. There are several reasons and they all have to do with her curly curly curls.

• Chris would never go for it. He loves her curls.
• I would have a hard time cutting off those curls. They are pretty dang cute!
• Her curly, wavy hair is not ideal for a sleek, swingy bob.

So, I guess the verdict is don't cut the curls. They have to be cut eventually though. I'm curious to find out if the curly hair survives her first haircut or forever disappear only to be fondly remembered as "Flora's baby curls." I'd be fine either way. If they stick around, then we still have cute little curly-haired Flora. If they don't make it, then we have cute little swingy bob Flora.

And then there's Scout......

His hair has taken its sweet time. I'm just finally starting to feel like he has hair, but at the same time I wonder if it's time for his first haircut. He's got some long pieces that just kinda hang over his forehead. I wonder if this is one of those situations where less is more. Perhaps a tiny haircut will actually make it look like there's MORE hair up there.

A boring blog, for sure, but that's what's on my mind. :-)

grumps

What a day . . .

Scout decided not to sleep last night . . . at least not to sleep in his bed or in our bed. I discovered that the only way he would sleep was lying on my chest while I sat on the couch. I did this for a while and tried to slip him back into bed but he started crying. So Chris took a turn with Scout on the couch . . . and then I took a turn . . . it was a long night. Naptime today did not leave me optimistic for a good night tonight either. Does anyone know why 1-year-olds suddenly stop sleeping?? He's been an excellent sleeper for some time now.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep that led me to go against my better judgment and take the kids to storytime at the library this morning. Scout fussed off and on during the story reading and Flora decided to explore the library instead of listening to the story. It could have been worse . . . she only knocked the books off of ONE shelf, after all. I ended up pushing Scout out of the library in his stroller and carrying Flora on my hip while both of them screamed and cried. Having worked at the library during many storytimes, I didn't feel bad about my kids' behavior. It was actually kind of nice to be on the mommy side of the situation. True, I had to go home with the little grumps (and believe me, the grumps did not stop when we left the library), but I prefer that to being at work all day while they are grumping at someone else.

But I'm hoping that they can grump at Chris for a while this weekend so I can return to the library for a more serene, grown-up library experience.

conquering the bean curd

Tofu... the Final Frontier. These are the explorations of the mothership Mommy. Her ongoing mission: to explore strange new foods, to seek out new protein sources and new vegetable recipes, to boldly go where no man has gone before.

(If you've never watched Star Trek then please disregard the previous statement)

I am reading a recipe for tofu nuggets. (Add that to the "things I never thought I would be doing" list.) I've long been disgusted with my kids' love of bologna and have recently begun exploring other protein sources. It turns out that they LOVE black beans and I am fairly confident that black beans are much healthier than bologna. So, that's been a success. Maybe it was this little taste of success that prompted my rash action at the grocery store yesterday . . . I bought a package of tofu.


I'm just not sure what to do with it though. Do I just cut it up and give it to the kids? Should I prepare it somehow? How do people eat tofu??? I'm a big fan of tofu in my hot and sour soup, but beyond that my tofu experience is zilch. I guess you could call me a tofu newbie.

But the tofu nuggets sound kinda yummy and not too difficult to prepare . . . I guess I'll start there. There's an awesome website dedicated entirely to tofu meals for babies. (What did moms DO before Google?? How did anyone know how to be a parent without the Internet??) I also read about cubing the tofu and rolling it in crushed Cheerios. Definitely easy. Or there's the option to cube the tofu and soak it in broth for a while to absorb some flavor . . . I could do that.

So with some trepidation and a bit of nausea (hey--it's all slimy and jiggly . . . gross!!) the tofu experiments begin. Tune in next time to discover if I have conquered the bean curd or if my limited culinary skills are rendered useless against its overpowering blandness.



Also, in case I don't blog again before Sunday: GO COLTS!!!!!!!