Goodness gracious....has it really been over a week since I posted anything? How is that even possible? Someone must be playing a cruel joke on me, and instead of just turning my clock forward trying to be funny, they've turned my entire calendar forward. I have this fear that one day I'm going to go to sleep a tired 30 year old mom, and be awaken by a strapping young lad with a duffel bag full of laundry slung over his shoulder. I'll gasp at this intruder, look for something to use as a weapon, then hear him say, "Hey, Mom, I'm home for the weekend."
Tate?? What?? Is this a dream?? I'll run into the room where his crib used to be and will find... exercise equipment!? I'll look down at the floor searching for all the toys I used to complain being strewn about that would cause me to silently curse when I stubbed my toe on one and it promptly started to sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" at a deafening level in the middle of the night and will find.....a clean carpet.
I have lost count of the number of people who have urgently advised us to "enjoy them while they're young....it will pass by so quickly" since we've had kids. (Incidentally, I have actually become one of those people and tell this to all new parents I encounter). And I really do try and take this to heart. When I've spent an extra slow day at home with extra restless kids and am tempted to quickly throw them into bed so I can, for the first time that day, put my feet up and relax, I'll think, "There will be one day when Drue won't ask for a bedtime story, and will be thoroughly embarrassed as I belt out all the verses to The Wheels on the Bus instead of giggling as I exaggerate the motions."
We got a new video camera for Christmas and I have this urgency to video every little thing they do...not just birthday parties and Christmas plays, but common everyday things, so I can watch them over and over and remember what it was like when they were small. I want to video me putting Drue to bed and our little routine she has come to love and expect. I want to video Tate's eyes getting wide and arms flapping when someone cranks his Jack in the Box. I want to discreetly video them taking their bath together, because there's only so long #1-They will all fit in one bathtub together and #2-It will be socially acceptable for them to have a "mixed" bath with one another. And I want to video Reese all dressed up in her little tutu dancing around the living room.
Of course, I realize that's why parents get video cameras in the first place, to document their kids' lives, but I am such a procrastinator when it comes to stuff like that. A friend of mine and I were talking about this the other day. We know we'll have all the time in the world to have a clean house once the kids are grown and moved away and we need to make a conscious effort to spend as much time with them as we can now. But on the flip side of that, the laundry isn't going to drag itself down the stairs, wash itself, then fold itself and put it away...(I know that comes as a bit of a surprise to you dear...just kidding...I had to throw one playful barb at you this go round). So there are inevitably going to be times when I have to say, "I'll read that book to you later," or "No, I can't have a tea party right this second, sweetie."
These are the comments that are going to come back and haunt me one day, I'm sure of it. Am I the only Mom out there who loses sleep over this? How in the world do you balance out getting the dishes done yet not missing out on one dress up party?
Hmmmm....strange. I meant for this post to be about some humorous things my husband has said lately, and I have no idea how it turned into this. But I think I'll post it anyway, the end product of some of my "raw" thought processes, and will go kiss my babies all snug in their beds, before they start trying to sneak out past curfew....
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Fun With Numbers
1...degree. 1 lousy, good-for-nothin' freezing my bones from the inside out, degree. That was the temperature outside when I left for work this morning.
2...number of times Drue coughed so hard last night she "spittied" (threw up) all over her jammies and her sheets.
3...number of my kids who are all sick with their own unique version of the heinous crud I had last week.
4...number of days until their father returns home from his business trip to, none other than, sunny California!
5...number of times I've cursed my husband for calling last night and lightheartedly sharing with me that his hotel is a mere stone's throw from the beach.
6...number of times Tate caused me to jump out of my skin during the night by caughing/barking sounding like a sick cross between a seal and a goose.
7...number of steps I ran down in a flash to fill up the humidifier for Tate after his first episode of barking; ran back up to plug it in; ran back down to let the dog out when she let out a long beagle bellow to get outside at midnight!
8...number of pounds I've lost being sick and not wanting to eat anything for a WEEK!
9...number of interrupted hours of sleep I used to get before the kids came on the scene.
10...number of times a day I am so thankful I hold the role of "Mommy", sick kids, pukey sheets, and all.
Update:
David called this morning and the 1st thing out of his mouth was, "I miss my family." I told him the feeling was likewise and proceeded to tell him how sick the kids were and how the night had gone. He was quiet a minute, then remaked, "Well, maybe I don't miss you all so much now."
2...number of times Drue coughed so hard last night she "spittied" (threw up) all over her jammies and her sheets.
3...number of my kids who are all sick with their own unique version of the heinous crud I had last week.
4...number of days until their father returns home from his business trip to, none other than, sunny California!
5...number of times I've cursed my husband for calling last night and lightheartedly sharing with me that his hotel is a mere stone's throw from the beach.
6...number of times Tate caused me to jump out of my skin during the night by caughing/barking sounding like a sick cross between a seal and a goose.
7...number of steps I ran down in a flash to fill up the humidifier for Tate after his first episode of barking; ran back up to plug it in; ran back down to let the dog out when she let out a long beagle bellow to get outside at midnight!
8...number of pounds I've lost being sick and not wanting to eat anything for a WEEK!
9...number of interrupted hours of sleep I used to get before the kids came on the scene.
10...number of times a day I am so thankful I hold the role of "Mommy", sick kids, pukey sheets, and all.
Update:
David called this morning and the 1st thing out of his mouth was, "I miss my family." I told him the feeling was likewise and proceeded to tell him how sick the kids were and how the night had gone. He was quiet a minute, then remaked, "Well, maybe I don't miss you all so much now."
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Love my Little "Linus"
Folks, I have me my very own thumb-suckin', blankie lovin', cuddly little man.....and I LOVE HIM TO PIECES!
The blankie has to have a "lovie" or silky edge for him to get his chubby little fingers around and pull it close to his face and then POP goes his tiny thumb.
Any old silky blankie will do. Oftentimes, he will spy one of the girls' across the room and make a beeline for it.
The picture of sweetness!
And when you see him on TV someday, giving his State of the Union address....look closely at his suit pocket....it most likely won't be his starchy hankie hanging out the top....it will probably be a corner of one of his original "lovies".
The blankie has to have a "lovie" or silky edge for him to get his chubby little fingers around and pull it close to his face and then POP goes his tiny thumb.
Any old silky blankie will do. Oftentimes, he will spy one of the girls' across the room and make a beeline for it.
The picture of sweetness!
And when you see him on TV someday, giving his State of the Union address....look closely at his suit pocket....it most likely won't be his starchy hankie hanging out the top....it will probably be a corner of one of his original "lovies".
Friday, January 12, 2007
No Bright White Lights for Me (But I felt close enough...)
Well, faithful blog readers (all 2 of you), I do believe I'm going to make it but it was touch and go there for awhile. Of course, I realize none of us know when our number will come up, and mine could very well come up tomorrow afternoon as I venture out to the mailbox, but I can fairly safely say, I will not be dying of the flu this season. The FLU?!?! It started out as an innocent little cold. I thought I knew myself so well. Familiar tickle in my chest....mild achiness around my lymph nodes.....hoarse sexy voice....then I'm fine. NOT SO this go round. After the "hoarse sexy voice" phase came.....my 102 fever and near death experience.
All I can say is THANK GOODNESS FOR MOTHERS! Mine showed up Thursday morning to watch the kids thinking I would be heading off to work. I clutched the wall to keep myself from fainting dead away and made it downstairs to tell her I wasn't going in to work that day. She ushered me right back upstairs to bed and stayed to watch the kids all day AND even came back today to watch them so I could get even more rest.
Now that I've safely returned from my fever-induced state of delirium, I am able to recount some of the funny things that occurred.
As I lay on the couch immobilized last evening I stated to David that I was, indeed, dying. I just knew it. (Remember my post about being a pessimist? Well, add exaggerationist to that list as well.) My sweet supportive soul mate turned to me and said, "Well, dear, now would be a good time to tell me if you have any secret stashes of money lying around anywhere."
Later that same evening as he got up he asked, "Is there anything I can get you, sweetheart?".
"My casket," I responded weakly, surely thinking he would pull me close and stroke my unwashed hair out of my face and reassure me that everything would be alright. "What?!?!", he almost half-shouted. "I thought you wanted to be cremated. We were going to scatter you out front in the rose bushes."*
As I was upstairs reading in bed a little while ago, Reese came in and sat beside me eating a bowl of chips. I held my hand out to her. "What?", she innocently asked. "Don't you want to share your chips with me?", I asked. She thought about it for a minute then reluctantly plucked one out of the bowl and handed it to me saying, "Well....I guess. Just one. I don't think sick people should eat chips."
(*Just to clarify for those of you thinking, Wow, what a supermom she is to be taking care of 3 small kids and have time left over to tend a rose garden.... The lady who lived here previously was a horticulturist so we have all kinds of beautiful flowers and bushes that bloom every year. I am always surprised to see what comes up. And when people say, "What beautiful peonies you have in the backyard," I just smile and nod and say "Thank you...they are lovely aren't they", and then go google peonies later to see what the heck they're talking about. In fact, I think I yelled at David the first time I came home to discover he had snipped off all my pretty roses for no good reason. He patiently explained to me that is what must be done if you want them to come back again. Hmmmm....there's probably a really neat life illustration there but I am still a tad weak from my ordeal so I'll have to leave that for another day.)
All I can say is THANK GOODNESS FOR MOTHERS! Mine showed up Thursday morning to watch the kids thinking I would be heading off to work. I clutched the wall to keep myself from fainting dead away and made it downstairs to tell her I wasn't going in to work that day. She ushered me right back upstairs to bed and stayed to watch the kids all day AND even came back today to watch them so I could get even more rest.
Now that I've safely returned from my fever-induced state of delirium, I am able to recount some of the funny things that occurred.
As I lay on the couch immobilized last evening I stated to David that I was, indeed, dying. I just knew it. (Remember my post about being a pessimist? Well, add exaggerationist to that list as well.) My sweet supportive soul mate turned to me and said, "Well, dear, now would be a good time to tell me if you have any secret stashes of money lying around anywhere."
Later that same evening as he got up he asked, "Is there anything I can get you, sweetheart?".
"My casket," I responded weakly, surely thinking he would pull me close and stroke my unwashed hair out of my face and reassure me that everything would be alright. "What?!?!", he almost half-shouted. "I thought you wanted to be cremated. We were going to scatter you out front in the rose bushes."*
As I was upstairs reading in bed a little while ago, Reese came in and sat beside me eating a bowl of chips. I held my hand out to her. "What?", she innocently asked. "Don't you want to share your chips with me?", I asked. She thought about it for a minute then reluctantly plucked one out of the bowl and handed it to me saying, "Well....I guess. Just one. I don't think sick people should eat chips."
(*Just to clarify for those of you thinking, Wow, what a supermom she is to be taking care of 3 small kids and have time left over to tend a rose garden.... The lady who lived here previously was a horticulturist so we have all kinds of beautiful flowers and bushes that bloom every year. I am always surprised to see what comes up. And when people say, "What beautiful peonies you have in the backyard," I just smile and nod and say "Thank you...they are lovely aren't they", and then go google peonies later to see what the heck they're talking about. In fact, I think I yelled at David the first time I came home to discover he had snipped off all my pretty roses for no good reason. He patiently explained to me that is what must be done if you want them to come back again. Hmmmm....there's probably a really neat life illustration there but I am still a tad weak from my ordeal so I'll have to leave that for another day.)
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Bittersweet Exchange
Sick Mommy.
Messy House.
Kids who have caught on to the fact that "Hey, we sure can get away with a lot more when Mommy doesn't feel good and doesn't have a yelling voice."
Thoughts of crawling into a hole in the backyard and the only thing keeping me from doing so is not having any energy to dig one to begin with.
Conversation between Reese and I a few minutes ago when I plopped down on the living room floor and pulled her into my lap:
Me: "I love you even when you act naughty."
Reese: "And I love you even when you scream at me."
(Doesn't that sound like something straight out of a Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie?)
Messy House.
Kids who have caught on to the fact that "Hey, we sure can get away with a lot more when Mommy doesn't feel good and doesn't have a yelling voice."
Thoughts of crawling into a hole in the backyard and the only thing keeping me from doing so is not having any energy to dig one to begin with.
Conversation between Reese and I a few minutes ago when I plopped down on the living room floor and pulled her into my lap:
Me: "I love you even when you act naughty."
Reese: "And I love you even when you scream at me."
(Doesn't that sound like something straight out of a Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie?)
Monday, January 08, 2007
Take Me Out to the Ballgame.....(but bring some kleenex)
Either I'm just getting older and more frail, or these cold bugs today are getting more brutal! This is the second one I've had in a matter of months, and they wreak havoc on my poor, beat up, little immune system. Once again, David stepped up to the plate, however, this time in addition to getting some hits, he also had a few strikes....
HIT: He volunteered to take the kids to church while I stayed home to rest on Sunday morning.
STRIKE: When I asked if he was taking Tate also, he replied, "Well, no. It would really be easier on me if I didn't have to take him."
HIT: He stopped at the grocery store on the way home from church and got some provisions for my sickly self on his own accord.
STRIKE: The "provisions" he brought home were Chicken & Stars soup, Sprite, and Gatorade! What the heck? After he caught me looking through the bags, bewildered there wasn't anything of substance in them, he said, "Isn't this the type of stuff you ate when you were sick growing up?". "Yes", I replied. "When I had the stomach flu and could only tolerate a clear liquid diet!! I'm HUNGRY!". "Your stomach isn't bothering you?", he inquired, clearly confused. "Then what's wrong with you?".
HIT: He came home early from work to supervise the troops so I could crawl under the safe haven of my covers.
STRIKE: This was after I called him at lunchtime and left him a pleading gravelly sounding voicemail at work that went something like this....."Silly me. Why did I think my husband might call and check up on his sicker than sick wife who is at home taking care of his children? Silly, silly me....thinking he might actually care to know how she's feeling....".
All in all, he was a wonderful team player so I'll choose to overlook his strikes. (Even if he did offer to make me some dry toast for supper this evening......FOR THE 12th TIME I DON'T HAVE THE STOMACH FLU!!!)
I parked myself on the couch much of the day and Drue kept climbing up kissing me and saying, "Feel better now Mommy?". I apologized to Reese a couple times saying how sorry I was that this was such a stinky day and Mommy didn't feel like playing and didn't even have a voice to read to them. "It's not a stinky day Mommy. We just want you to feel better."
And I am feeling much better already......I better be....so I'll have the energy to take care of the rest of the family when the bug inevitably gets passed to them......
HIT: He volunteered to take the kids to church while I stayed home to rest on Sunday morning.
STRIKE: When I asked if he was taking Tate also, he replied, "Well, no. It would really be easier on me if I didn't have to take him."
HIT: He stopped at the grocery store on the way home from church and got some provisions for my sickly self on his own accord.
STRIKE: The "provisions" he brought home were Chicken & Stars soup, Sprite, and Gatorade! What the heck? After he caught me looking through the bags, bewildered there wasn't anything of substance in them, he said, "Isn't this the type of stuff you ate when you were sick growing up?". "Yes", I replied. "When I had the stomach flu and could only tolerate a clear liquid diet!! I'm HUNGRY!". "Your stomach isn't bothering you?", he inquired, clearly confused. "Then what's wrong with you?".
HIT: He came home early from work to supervise the troops so I could crawl under the safe haven of my covers.
STRIKE: This was after I called him at lunchtime and left him a pleading gravelly sounding voicemail at work that went something like this....."Silly me. Why did I think my husband might call and check up on his sicker than sick wife who is at home taking care of his children? Silly, silly me....thinking he might actually care to know how she's feeling....".
All in all, he was a wonderful team player so I'll choose to overlook his strikes. (Even if he did offer to make me some dry toast for supper this evening......FOR THE 12th TIME I DON'T HAVE THE STOMACH FLU!!!)
I parked myself on the couch much of the day and Drue kept climbing up kissing me and saying, "Feel better now Mommy?". I apologized to Reese a couple times saying how sorry I was that this was such a stinky day and Mommy didn't feel like playing and didn't even have a voice to read to them. "It's not a stinky day Mommy. We just want you to feel better."
And I am feeling much better already......I better be....so I'll have the energy to take care of the rest of the family when the bug inevitably gets passed to them......
Friday, January 05, 2007
Innocent Thoughts about the Birds & the Bees
Reese was coloring one day and said, "Look Mommy. I made a wedding card for when you and daddy got married. There's you. There's Daddy. And there's (pointing at a line between our faces) you and Daddy kissing."
Because I'm oh-so-curious about how her little mind works, I asked her why people kissed at weddings.
"Because if you don't kiss....you don't get a baby", she informed me.
Today after their bath I pulled Tate out first and was bundling him up in his towel when I heard Reese end her sentence with, ".....because Buddy's not a virgent yet."
"He's not a virgent?", I repeated.
"Nope. He doesn't have a wife yet, so he's not a virgent."
(I was wondering how long it would take her to key into the word virgin after hearing the Christmas story this season. Someday I'll have to set her straight that she's got the concept a wee bit backwards....)
Because I'm oh-so-curious about how her little mind works, I asked her why people kissed at weddings.
"Because if you don't kiss....you don't get a baby", she informed me.
Today after their bath I pulled Tate out first and was bundling him up in his towel when I heard Reese end her sentence with, ".....because Buddy's not a virgent yet."
"He's not a virgent?", I repeated.
"Nope. He doesn't have a wife yet, so he's not a virgent."
(I was wondering how long it would take her to key into the word virgin after hearing the Christmas story this season. Someday I'll have to set her straight that she's got the concept a wee bit backwards....)
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
I love these little people....
This is how the girls wear their hair much of the time, (minus the roses), so I wanted to be sure and get some pictures of these.
The cutest part of the girls' outfits were their tights, which never even made it into the pictures!
My little man.
They were all getting a little tired at this point. (Correction: We were all getting tired at this point).
More poses.....
I actually laughed out loud when I saw how innocent Drue looked in this picture, I had to buy it. The gal helping me said, "I have a feeling she's not as innocent as she looks there". BINGO!
Hard to believe our firstborn baby girl has grown into this little lady.
Uncle Joel says Tate looks like a little Irish immigrant in this outfit!
Too sweet! All that was missing was Tate's pipe.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Picture Perfect
So this is what I've been agonizing over for the past 2 days.....not world hunger....not global warming.....not the dissention in the Middle East.....I've actually lost sleep trying to figure out what I'm going to dress the kids in for their portraits tomorrow!!!
Talk about pressure! When you have one kid, it's easy....you see a cute outfit, you buy it, you have yourself an adorable picture of the little tyke. It continued to be an effortless chore for me even with two kids. Two little girls, two adorable matching dresses, viola...double the cuteness. Then this little boy came along and I was SO excited to shop for little boy clothes. I actually knew exactly what I wanted him to wear for his pictures....the tough part was trying to match the girls to him.
To make matters more stressful, the portrait studio we use lets you bring a change of clothing for the little dears. Thus forcing me to come up with not one cute matching ensemble for 3....but two cute matching ensembles for 3!! I was trying to vent my frustrations out on David last night about the dynamics of it all but he just wasn't getting it. He said, "Just have them wear what they have on today." (Which happened to be mismatched tops, skirts....general pint sized frumpiness). I went on to explain, to a selectively deaf ear, that not only did I have to make sure the outfits coordinated well with each other, they also had to do well as separate outfits during their individual shots.
I am already feeling totally guilty because this will be Tate's first portrait studio debut....and he's almost 8 months old! I always planned on getting my kids' pictures taken at 3, 6, 9, and 12 months, then yearly after that. But I flubbed up with Reese because I was just a total basket case after she was born. I missed her 3 month shot altogether and ended up getting 5, 9, and 12 months. With Drue I did 6 months, 10 months, and....oops, that's it. Her last picture was at 10 months and she is now 27 months! So much for my dream of hanging all my kids pictures up side by side down the hallway because there would be a big BARE spot where Drue's 1 year picture should go. (Seriously, I get a knot in my stomach every time I think about this).
I instructed David not to rough house with, tickle, wrestle, or even look in the general direction of the children until after tomorrow, hoping to prevent any red marks or bruising as a result of their playful interactions. Nevermind that Tate tumbled down a flight of stairs on my watch this past weekend. He was fine. I quickly scooped him up, made sure he could still move all his appendages, then thoroughly checked his little face for any incurred blemishes, ready to dash out to the drugstore for make-up for very fair baby skin.
The dryer is almost finished with the last of their outfits, the rest of them lay neatly on the dining room table awaiting our big day tomorrow, and I am just exhausted from the whole pre-portrait planning. I started trying to prepare Drue that she would, indeed, have to wear the dreaded black shrug over her dress tomorrow for her picture. The very same shrug that elicited squeals of protest all the way to our Christmas Eve service. I enlisted the help of my mom to come along for the big "outfit change" and to make sure the kids don't shove all the legos up their nose in the waiting area while I am deep in thought picking which poses I want to buy. (Last time I went by myself and ended up spending way more money than I planned because the girls were climbing the walls and I was so anxious to get out of there I just flew through the selection process without realizing how many poses I picked).
Each child has specific instructions from me on preferred portrait behavior: Reese--no kooky smiles. Drue--Do not cry in every single picture. Tate--no dousing your freshly laundered shirts with regurgitated cheerios during the shoot.
"CHEESE!"
Talk about pressure! When you have one kid, it's easy....you see a cute outfit, you buy it, you have yourself an adorable picture of the little tyke. It continued to be an effortless chore for me even with two kids. Two little girls, two adorable matching dresses, viola...double the cuteness. Then this little boy came along and I was SO excited to shop for little boy clothes. I actually knew exactly what I wanted him to wear for his pictures....the tough part was trying to match the girls to him.
To make matters more stressful, the portrait studio we use lets you bring a change of clothing for the little dears. Thus forcing me to come up with not one cute matching ensemble for 3....but two cute matching ensembles for 3!! I was trying to vent my frustrations out on David last night about the dynamics of it all but he just wasn't getting it. He said, "Just have them wear what they have on today." (Which happened to be mismatched tops, skirts....general pint sized frumpiness). I went on to explain, to a selectively deaf ear, that not only did I have to make sure the outfits coordinated well with each other, they also had to do well as separate outfits during their individual shots.
I am already feeling totally guilty because this will be Tate's first portrait studio debut....and he's almost 8 months old! I always planned on getting my kids' pictures taken at 3, 6, 9, and 12 months, then yearly after that. But I flubbed up with Reese because I was just a total basket case after she was born. I missed her 3 month shot altogether and ended up getting 5, 9, and 12 months. With Drue I did 6 months, 10 months, and....oops, that's it. Her last picture was at 10 months and she is now 27 months! So much for my dream of hanging all my kids pictures up side by side down the hallway because there would be a big BARE spot where Drue's 1 year picture should go. (Seriously, I get a knot in my stomach every time I think about this).
I instructed David not to rough house with, tickle, wrestle, or even look in the general direction of the children until after tomorrow, hoping to prevent any red marks or bruising as a result of their playful interactions. Nevermind that Tate tumbled down a flight of stairs on my watch this past weekend. He was fine. I quickly scooped him up, made sure he could still move all his appendages, then thoroughly checked his little face for any incurred blemishes, ready to dash out to the drugstore for make-up for very fair baby skin.
The dryer is almost finished with the last of their outfits, the rest of them lay neatly on the dining room table awaiting our big day tomorrow, and I am just exhausted from the whole pre-portrait planning. I started trying to prepare Drue that she would, indeed, have to wear the dreaded black shrug over her dress tomorrow for her picture. The very same shrug that elicited squeals of protest all the way to our Christmas Eve service. I enlisted the help of my mom to come along for the big "outfit change" and to make sure the kids don't shove all the legos up their nose in the waiting area while I am deep in thought picking which poses I want to buy. (Last time I went by myself and ended up spending way more money than I planned because the girls were climbing the walls and I was so anxious to get out of there I just flew through the selection process without realizing how many poses I picked).
Each child has specific instructions from me on preferred portrait behavior: Reese--no kooky smiles. Drue--Do not cry in every single picture. Tate--no dousing your freshly laundered shirts with regurgitated cheerios during the shoot.
"CHEESE!"
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