I like these

Jenny took these. Because she's awesome.

Ah, they are 3 and 4 ... KISSING?! At preschool?

Just when did preschool turn into "Melrose Place"?

Seriously.

Rye, who will turn 5 in May, goes to preschool three mornings a week. Also in his class are two friends from daycare.

They have known each other most of their lives.

Last week, though, all heck broke loose. Rye has a girl kissing him. At preschool. ALL OVER. Or so I hear.

One of his daycare friends can't marry a girl at daycare because last week it was decided he would marry a girl at preschool instead.

This boy also isn't allowed in the club started by two other boys at preschool. A clique? Already?

And Rye and his other friend from daycare officially last week broke off their friendship.

What is going on? Seriously! I remember a girl in my preschool class taking a bite out of my thumb once, but I was not engaged to be married, nor was I kissing on a hot 4-year-old!

One of the other moms last week said, "Are you as intrigued as I am about the social goings-on at preschool? Each day I can't wait to hear the latest. It's so funny, but I have to act serious, you know, because to (my son), this stuff is really serious."

I only hope it all stays in check. They've got so many years ahead of them where things will seem serious!

Rye, for his part, has announced he's going to marry the most beautiful girl in the world: His baby sister.

This post originally appeared on momaha.com. Click here to read more from me and other mom bloggers.

Loveys

Paige will be 10 months old on Thursday.

This week, I'm pretty sure she found her first "lovey." This is my friend's name for the stuffed animals her sons love best. They are the ones they take to bed with them and in the car on trips. They are the ones that make wounds heal faster and tears dry quicker.

You all know what I'm talking about.



Rye has a blankie. I put it in his crib with him when he was a baby and he latched on. The poor blanket is thin and ripped and probably on its last days. It has been everywhere with us - on road trips, on airplanes, on hikes, at restaurants, to the movies, you name it.

The blanket even apparently has its own gender. We forgot to bring it to daycare earlier this week and when Rye realized it in the car, he said, "We forgot Blankie!"

I told him we weren't turning around to get it. And Rye said, "But I need him."

Him. It's like they are friends.

So Paige has fallen in love - and fallen hard - with our cat, Daphne. Anytime the cat walks into the room, Paige makes this sound of excitement and hurriedly crawls over to her. Daphne is the nicest cat ever and just lets Paige hug her.

The hugs lately, though, have become tighter and longer. I'm careful to make sure my baby isn't hurting my favorite cat, but still, a few times I've been surprised Daphne tolerates all that attention. Why don't you just walk away, cat? I sometimes wonder.

After letting Paige hug and squeeze and kiss (yes, I know) the kitty for about 10 minutes the other night, I had an idea.

I opened the toy box searching for a small, soft plush kitty Rye had abandoned long ago.

When I found it, Paige's eyes grew wide, she smiled that toothy grin and she immediately put that stuffed animal to her left shoulder and tilted her head to give it a hug.



I melted.

It was the most adorable thing I've ever seen. And it was the first time Paige has shown much interest in a toy.

She didn't let go of that plush cat either. Not while I gave her a bottle and not when I laid her in her crib.

I covered her up and watched as she snuggled her head into what I'm pretty sure will be her lovey.

This post originally was published on momaha.com. Click here to read more mommy blogs by me and others.

Laughter in a bottle

If I could bottle this laughter and let it out in small doses as I need it over the years I would.

How precious is she?

How soft is that sound?

If only she could always laugh like that, even as life hurls itself at her.

BFFs

Growing up, I had many friends.

But I had one very best friend.

Her name was Jenny, and I would have lived at her house if I could. We had sleepovers. We watched movies. We tried to save the princess. We went to Girl Scout camp. We worshipped the same boy band. We rode our bikes to the pool. We played kickball in the street. We once attempted to break the Guiness world record for time spent on a teeter-totter (yes, I was inspired by that episode of "The Brady Bunch"). We did EVERYTHING.

These are her kids. How precious are they? (Jenny, by the way, is a photographer based in Seward, Neb., who takes BEAUTIFUL pictures. Click here to go to her photography site).



As we got older and entered jr. high, we started to grow apart. I was into sports and being involved. She was more low-key. We started circling in different groups.

By the time we got to high school, we never hung out. There was no ill will; we just didn't spend time together.

When I moved to Omaha in 2005, I was 25 years old. I'd just had a baby and I found out that Jenny lived just down the street. I also learned that she was pregnant.

We reconnected, and it was so nice.

Was it the same as when we were kids riding our bikes to the pool or playing soccer in the street or telling ghost stories in a tent in her backyard? No. But we had all that to draw on, to base our grown-up relationship on.

Read more about female friendship here.

Believe it

It's Feb. 15, the Winter Olympics are going, Valentine's Day just passed and it's snowy and cold and awful outside.

My babies are with their grandparents until tomorrow (that will be FIVE days they will have been gone. Ugh), and there's still so much change.

But I think for the most part I'm happy.

How about that?

There's more work at work than I have time to do and there's more work at home than I have the energy to do.

There's a book club book I haven't started.

I still haven't learned how to cook.

Christmas lights are still up on the house.

The cats need rabies vaccinations.

We're almost out of diapers AGAIN.

And I let myself get stressed with all this more often than I should.

My car is nearing 73,000 miles (yikes! Really?! Didn't I just get that car?) and I'm more than 1,000 miles overdue for an oil change.

It's been since Wednesday that I've worked out already.

And it's been how long since I've posted here?

It's all going to be OK, though. I always say that.

But now - at least this morning - I believe it.

Sleeping in Mommy's bed

So everyone knows the change we're going through at my house, right?

Daddy's gone.

A roommate and her son are in.

For the most part, the transition is going smoother than I ever thought it would.

While things aren't easy, we all seem - dare I say it? - happy.

Rye smiles, laughs, plays. We snuggle. He helps out around the house. He is just a good, nice, beautiful boy.

Until bedtime.

It's not like he gets ugly then ... he just gets needy.

And he has come up with a million reasons why he can't sleep in his bed.

More times than I am proud to admit lately, I've caved and let him sleep with me. Last night, he said, "I promise this will be the last time ever that I sleep in your bed."

Uh, yeah, right.

I've been doing blog entries just about every day on momaha.com. I wrote about this topic there, too, today and asked others to share their stories.

What are your experiences with this? Leave your comments here! And check out momaha.com here.