It’s late August. Truly the dog days of summer. No school yet. No football. It’s hot. We are antsy. Some days we are lazy. Preschool doesn’t start for my 4-year-old until after Labor Day. Scrolling through your Facebook feed this week you can’t escape smiling kids with giant backpacks and little chalkboards declaring the new grade they’re beginning.

After a summer rain storm Monday she wanted to run around on the driveway in her “princess superhero” costume. A getup of her own invention. She called herself “Super Charlotte Girl!” Her curls sprung in the humidity. She shouted to her baby doll that she dragged with her. It was her “super sidekick!” Her tiny bare feet splashed in puddles. I sat on the garage steps and watched her. “Come play with me, Mama!” I smiled, explaining I had to listen out for her sleeping brother. Just then a school bus went by. She watched it for a moment before continuing her game.

We have one more year. She has one last year of preschool before kindergarten. She will be ready. So ready. She already asks about kindergarten and when she’ll be able to read. In January I have to register her. Soon homework, standardized tests and buses will be part of her life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so excited for her journey as a school aged kid with all its learning, slumber parties and summer camps. It will be amazing.

But for one more year Charlotte, please wear your cape and tutu in the driveway. Talk to your baby dolls like they’re real. Fall asleep in the car after a trip to the playground. Watch Sesame Street with your little brother. Carry your sparkly, cheap “Frozen” backpack. Sneak trinkets into it before I buy you a durable one that will be filled with textbooks. Finger paint. Sing songs. Get excited for cupcakes with your friends in preschool when you each turn five. Snuggle up with Daddy or me to read a book.

Most of all, be little. Be little. You only have one more year.

Our darling, adorable, bouncing bundle of boy makes our lives amazing. At 18-months old, Henry is saying new words, discovering what he loves (cars, trains, Mama) and antagonizing us with his newest habit.

Screeching. He screeches. So. Loud.

It’s this brain rattling, piercing scream that leaves my ears ringing. There are times in a day I feel like I’ve just left a concert. You know, concerts. They’re those amazing shows with live music and no children. Don’t worry, I almost forgot what they are too.

I would film his screeching and post a video, but I can’t subject the Internet to this sound. It’s horrific. You’re welcome.

He does it anywhere. Most often at home, or in the car but he most loves to make this display in public. He’ll screech. People will look to make sure he’s not being murdered. They say something like, “Wow! He’s very vocal!” Then they quickly get away. Charlotte covers her ears. He does it again and again until he gets the desired effect.

Here’s the thing, I never know exactly what he wants. Attention? Sometimes he’s excited. It’s most often just to make noise. He knows what he wants most of the time. If he wants food or a toy, he whines and cries for the food or toy. But the screeching? I try to just turn away and give him no attention, but he makes it very difficult.

At the pediatrician’s office for his 18-month checkup he started up while we were in the exam room waiting. That was after tearing up the paper on the table, spilling water and pulling every book off the shelf. In the small, sterile room, the screams echoed and hurt my ears even more.

The nurse came in to give him his shots. (Great, that won’t cause more screeching.) I chuckled and said nervously, “Oh, no! I hope this doesn’t make him scream even more.” She said, “That was him?! I thought it was you screaming.”

What?! I just stared at her. Yes, I have an 18-month-old and a 4-year-old. Sometimes I want to scream like that, but did she honestly think that was me?! Whatever, lady.

Anyway, please tell me what you did to stop this? How did you stop this habit in your child? What can I do?! On behalf of my ears, thanks in advance.

It’s everywhere. It’s looming over us wherever we go. Preschool, the store, church, friends’ houses. Name a place. We are all in fear of any one of the numerous plagues wreaking wintertime havoc. Last week Henry and I were down with a seriously nasty cold. He had the cold on top of Roseola which resulted in a 4-day fever. In Charlotte’s class there has been a child stricken with flu and another with strep throat in the past week.

The germs! My God, the germs! We can’t seem to escape them. No amount of grocery cart sanitizing is gonna save us this winter. Seriously, ya’ll.

I’m glad we got flu shots, but we all know the strains going around aren’t being covered by the shot. Sweet Jesus, I keep having flashbacks to 2007. 2007 was the ONE YEAR I was too lazy to get my flu shot. Well, I got the flu and I wanted to die. Seriously. Praying for death. People who don’t get the flu shot have never had the flu. I mean the kind of flu that is diagnosed as actual Influenza. They give you Tamiflu and you are on your ass for 5 days. That kind of flu. Not the “Oh, I feel achy and my my nose has been runny for two days.” I mean the flu.

I feel like I was pretty responsible when Henry was sick, paranoid even. Paranoid about spreading germs. We cancelled all New Years plans. We stayed away from everyone until the pediatrician told me he was “no longer contagious.” (FYI: For Roseola, that’s when the rash appears. Our doctor said you are not contagious by the time the fever breaks and the rash appears. Here’s more on Roseola.)

However, some cold symptoms remained, turning into an ear infection. We are now on a round of antibiotics. I know the answer, but I always ask about ear infections, “It’s not contagious, right?” The answer is always, “No, not contagious.” Cool. Okay.

As he’s getting over it, but boogers remain. Nasty green boogers and the occasional slug of yellow snot stick to his sweet face. I wipe it, and wipe it and wipe it again. With wipes, with tissues. He screams. It sucks.

Here’s what bugs me: The stank looks I get from other parents and adults in general when my kid’s nose is crusty. I want to shout, “I know it’s the peak of flu/strep/puking season. I’m SORRY! I’m doing the best I can! He screams like I’m skinning him alive to wipe his face! Boogers and snot are part of being a human child! The doctor says he’s not contagious anymore!” 

I feel like I’m constantly reciting his recent medical history when someone says, “He needs a tissue.” I just can’t stay ahead of the snot. I’m sorry, but we can’t stay inside forever. Occasionally you will have to witness my boy in his natural state during snot season.

Someone asked me once, “What’s your favorite smell?” Easy. The smell of my children’s hair after a bath. I’ve always washed their hair with Johnson & Johnson’s Baby Shampoo or Head to Toe Shampoo/Body Wash. You know the stuff. It smells like a baby. We’ve all had it around the house forever. My obsession started when they washed Charlotte for the first time in the hospital. I breathed her in. When they took her to the nursery I could still smell her on the receiving blanket next to me. I needed her back with me to breathe her in some more. That’s when I fell in love with the smell.

She’s four. I still wash her hair with it just to smell her. She’s had a ton of cherry-bubblegum scented bubble bath or whatever, but her hair is washed in Johnson’s. Always. For Christmas she got a box of princess bath items. A comb and mirror, complete with her first bottle of body wash. Surely it would make her skin princess-smooth. She was psyched. My heart fell a little when I saw the shampoo in there too. I knew nothing would keep her from hair that magical and I knew it wouldn’t smell like Johnson’s.

That night I reluctantly sniffed the pink bottle and washed her hair. When I went to check on her before I went to sleep I leaned down to kiss her. I smelled her hair.

It was a new smell. A non-Johnson’s princess smell. It is not the smell of a baby. It was a mixture of cherry-bubblegum and sparkles. I loved it. In the whiffs of fruity candy, her curls carry the scent of my four-year-old. The smell is bright and spirited. It somehow represented my funny kid who is learning about a bike with training wheels, builds Lego towers as high as she is and wears dress-up clothes while drawing pictures. My cherry-bubblegum girl who sings loud, runs fast and hugs hard.  It’s perfect for her hair now. All too soon it will smell like highlights or hairspray and I’ll long for the scent of cherry-bubblegum.

Plus, I get to wash her baby brother in Johnson’s until he cares about shampoo, if ever. I think their hair will always be my favorite smell.

Fresh from her princess bath.

I was with a group of moms recently when someone asked for “practical advice” for a first-time mother. This woman was compiling ideas for an “advice book” or something for a baby shower to give to the mom-to-be. Practical advice. Okay. Advice on diapers and milk supply went around the group. I suddenly blurted out, “Pajamas! Buy more pajamas than you think you need.”

Everyone paused and looked at me. One said, “Oh yeah. Totally.”

Right now I am literally going to air my dirty laundry. Take a look, this is the inside of my washing machine this week before I ran it.

These are just the pajamas that are visible. Every load of laundry I do has at least one set of pajamas in it. Think about it. What is your kid often wearing when they do the following?

• Leak through their diaper
• Wet the bed
• Puke
• Get a bloody nose
• Eat pancakes with syrup
• Eat popcorn and chocolate milk while watching a movie
• Smear chocolate candy from their Easter basket or Christmas stocking on them

That’s right! Their pajamas! My mom asked me what I should get the kids for Christmas. “They both need pajamas,” I replied. My daughter got some Hello Kitty pajamas and (shocker) some “Frozen” pajamas. That’s another thing. Are you a mom who hates tacky character shirts for kids? Well, let them get their Lightning McQueen-Dora-Ninja Turtles-Doc McStuffins-Sponge Bob fix with pajamas! You’ll get the satisfaction knowing your kid will likely barf and pee on the tackiness. The satisfaction will wane when you realize it’s just more laundry. Here’s to more sleep!

Side Note: I used to be a mom that didn’t like tacky character t-shirts. That ship sailed when the S.S. Princess Everything docked at our house awhile back.