Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Needs a name change
Whoever decided to call it Vacation Bible School NEVER worked in the Kindergarten classroom...it is anything BUT a vacation!
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Toddler Sarcasm
Reese is having a little friend over tomorrow and the house needed a good scrub down this evening. So, you guessed it...David and the kids were banished to the backyard for a bit. (Thanks for being a multi-tasker and mowing the lawn while you were out there dear!).
I vacuumed, scubbed bathrooms, dusted, and found homes for all the bits and pieces of collected clutter heaped upon our dining room table. I finally went out and got hot, sticky Tate for his bath and to put him down for the night.
As I was getting his pjs on, Drue came into his room with a pair of wool tights she wanted to wear. Of course, I had to disappoint her by telling her there was no way she was going to squirm into those in 90 degree weather. She took it pretty well then headed out of the room.
THE TIGHTS WERE LEFT LYING ON THE FLOOR! What's the big deal?-you're probably thinking. A tiny little pair of tights on the floor. Friends, that's how it allllll starts. One tiny pair of tights left on the floor, leads to a shirt left on the floor, a baby doll, a plastic stethoscope....and our house is back to looking like a cluttery pit of despair in no time flat. AAAAAAHHHHH!
"DRUE!", I hollered. "COME PICK UP THIS PAIR OF TIGHTS AND PUT THEM IN YOUR DRAWER WHERE THEY BELONG!".
She came bouncing right back in, snatched them off the floor and bounced out saying, "OK! As you wish your highness.....".
The teenage years at our house are going to be a grin a minute...I can just tell.
I vacuumed, scubbed bathrooms, dusted, and found homes for all the bits and pieces of collected clutter heaped upon our dining room table. I finally went out and got hot, sticky Tate for his bath and to put him down for the night.
As I was getting his pjs on, Drue came into his room with a pair of wool tights she wanted to wear. Of course, I had to disappoint her by telling her there was no way she was going to squirm into those in 90 degree weather. She took it pretty well then headed out of the room.
THE TIGHTS WERE LEFT LYING ON THE FLOOR! What's the big deal?-you're probably thinking. A tiny little pair of tights on the floor. Friends, that's how it allllll starts. One tiny pair of tights left on the floor, leads to a shirt left on the floor, a baby doll, a plastic stethoscope....and our house is back to looking like a cluttery pit of despair in no time flat. AAAAAAHHHHH!
"DRUE!", I hollered. "COME PICK UP THIS PAIR OF TIGHTS AND PUT THEM IN YOUR DRAWER WHERE THEY BELONG!".
She came bouncing right back in, snatched them off the floor and bounced out saying, "OK! As you wish your highness.....".
The teenage years at our house are going to be a grin a minute...I can just tell.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Parenting Tip #83
If your 13 month old little boy is playing quietly in the next room the entire time you are on the phone with the vet....something is very, very wrong.
The little stinker was juuuuust able to reach the finger paints on the kitchen table and decided to create a masterpiece on my floor, table legs, and chair. How did Picasso's mother survive the toddler years?
Caught red handed....(Doesn't he look remorseful?)
And red-footed...
My kitchen needed a makeover anyway.
The little stinker was juuuuust able to reach the finger paints on the kitchen table and decided to create a masterpiece on my floor, table legs, and chair. How did Picasso's mother survive the toddler years?
Caught red handed....(Doesn't he look remorseful?)
And red-footed...
My kitchen needed a makeover anyway.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Father's Day Fishing Extravaganza
Yeah, you know this one is going to be classic. Three kids, real hooks, slimy worms. There are bound to be some tales. The problem is, I don't know where to begin.
Let's start with David, out of the blue a few weeks ago, saying, "I know what I want to do for Father's Day".
Me: "What? Hmmmm? Oh, are we going to celebrate that this year...?".
David: "I want to take the kids fishing."
Me: "Sounds fun. I'll stay home with Tate while you take the girls."
David: "Nope. We're all going fishing together!".
Since this was his special day I bit my tongue from spitting out all the harrowing scenarios that went racing through my head at that moment and tried to act enthused. We bought our fishing licenses, scoped out the most family friendly spot the day before, and planned the best time of the day to go (after church and naps, but before Reese's grumpy time set in) which just so happened to fall right during the HOTTEST part of the day.
You can usually tell how well an outing is going to turn out during the first 5 minutes you're there. For this to be a successful Father's Day trip, David just wanted the kids to enjoy themselves and for the girls to catch a few fish. Reese caught her first fish (of 6 +...I kind of stopped counting after awhile--don't tell her) within the first few minutes. Off to a great start. As I was snapping her picture with her prized catch, something in my peripheral vision caught my attention. A mighty big fish splashing about in the lake...no, wait...that's DRUE! She had gotten a little too close to the edge and --KERSPLASH--in she went. David quickly scooped her out and long term trauma was averted. I hope.
The girls had practiced casting in the yard on Saturday, but weren't quite able to cast over the reeds at the lake, so they had David and I cast, then hand the poles to them. They handled them really well. Reese was catching a fish almost everytime we casted.
Drue caught her very first fish, and wanted to throw it back without having to touch it. Try and accomplish that feat. David had Reese and I switch places with him and Drue so Drue could catch a few more. Tate was watching all the goings on seatbuckled into his wagon. No doubt, he was having a grand old time laughing to himself about what a ridiculous spectacle we must have made.
After we switched spots, David quickly discovered we weren't alone in our great fishing locale. "GET UP TO THE VAN!" he hollered. The girls and I were a little confused and just stood there, so he yelled it again. This time, the girls and I ran up to the van, but left poor Tate alone in the wagon. "COME GET TATE!" he instructed. We had visitors. The kind that slither around on their bellies.
This would have been an excellent I told you so moment (on the drive over I mentioned about how I was concerned about snakes) however, I again held my tongue for the sake of Dad's Day!
Some boys who were fishing about 20 yards away came running over excitedly asking, "Where's the snake?!". Now how in the world did they know there was a snake over our way? Oh, perhaps my screams coupled with David's instructions had given it away. Bye bye perfect fishing spot. No way was I, or my little loved ones, getting anywhere near there again.
We found a boat dock not far away. Nice and shady. And snakeless. Reese caught a few more fish here and was able to reel them all the way in all by herself. Drue was still a little skittish from our near encounter, but I think David jumping up scared her more than the actual snake. She spent the rest of the time scared there was a snake on her line every time she reeled it in. We were cracking up at her little expressions. Once, as she reeled in some weeds she exclaimed, "Holy Cow! I got one!".
After a bit, Tate got a tad restless in his wagon so I took him and Drue over to the play area (aka tetanus infested/lead paint poison haven). It was the sorriest excuse for a playground I have seen in awhile. We didn't stay over there long. I would almost have rather taken my chances with the venomous critters...
We were all tired, hot, and ready to head home by the end. But David said at supper, "You girls, and Tate, gave me the best Father's Day gift of all today...memories."
Let's start with David, out of the blue a few weeks ago, saying, "I know what I want to do for Father's Day".
Me: "What? Hmmmm? Oh, are we going to celebrate that this year...?".
David: "I want to take the kids fishing."
Me: "Sounds fun. I'll stay home with Tate while you take the girls."
David: "Nope. We're all going fishing together!".
Since this was his special day I bit my tongue from spitting out all the harrowing scenarios that went racing through my head at that moment and tried to act enthused. We bought our fishing licenses, scoped out the most family friendly spot the day before, and planned the best time of the day to go (after church and naps, but before Reese's grumpy time set in) which just so happened to fall right during the HOTTEST part of the day.
You can usually tell how well an outing is going to turn out during the first 5 minutes you're there. For this to be a successful Father's Day trip, David just wanted the kids to enjoy themselves and for the girls to catch a few fish. Reese caught her first fish (of 6 +...I kind of stopped counting after awhile--don't tell her) within the first few minutes. Off to a great start. As I was snapping her picture with her prized catch, something in my peripheral vision caught my attention. A mighty big fish splashing about in the lake...no, wait...that's DRUE! She had gotten a little too close to the edge and --KERSPLASH--in she went. David quickly scooped her out and long term trauma was averted. I hope.
The girls had practiced casting in the yard on Saturday, but weren't quite able to cast over the reeds at the lake, so they had David and I cast, then hand the poles to them. They handled them really well. Reese was catching a fish almost everytime we casted.
Drue caught her very first fish, and wanted to throw it back without having to touch it. Try and accomplish that feat. David had Reese and I switch places with him and Drue so Drue could catch a few more. Tate was watching all the goings on seatbuckled into his wagon. No doubt, he was having a grand old time laughing to himself about what a ridiculous spectacle we must have made.
After we switched spots, David quickly discovered we weren't alone in our great fishing locale. "GET UP TO THE VAN!" he hollered. The girls and I were a little confused and just stood there, so he yelled it again. This time, the girls and I ran up to the van, but left poor Tate alone in the wagon. "COME GET TATE!" he instructed. We had visitors. The kind that slither around on their bellies.
This would have been an excellent I told you so moment (on the drive over I mentioned about how I was concerned about snakes) however, I again held my tongue for the sake of Dad's Day!
Some boys who were fishing about 20 yards away came running over excitedly asking, "Where's the snake?!". Now how in the world did they know there was a snake over our way? Oh, perhaps my screams coupled with David's instructions had given it away. Bye bye perfect fishing spot. No way was I, or my little loved ones, getting anywhere near there again.
We found a boat dock not far away. Nice and shady. And snakeless. Reese caught a few more fish here and was able to reel them all the way in all by herself. Drue was still a little skittish from our near encounter, but I think David jumping up scared her more than the actual snake. She spent the rest of the time scared there was a snake on her line every time she reeled it in. We were cracking up at her little expressions. Once, as she reeled in some weeds she exclaimed, "Holy Cow! I got one!".
After a bit, Tate got a tad restless in his wagon so I took him and Drue over to the play area (aka tetanus infested/lead paint poison haven). It was the sorriest excuse for a playground I have seen in awhile. We didn't stay over there long. I would almost have rather taken my chances with the venomous critters...
We were all tired, hot, and ready to head home by the end. But David said at supper, "You girls, and Tate, gave me the best Father's Day gift of all today...memories."
No, he's not eating the fish, I told Reese to dangle it in front of him so he could see just see it.
Everytime Reese caught one, she was just as excited as if it were her first...
Drue concentrating on her little bobber.
Drue went hysterical and dropped her whole pole while I was trying to get a picture of her and the fish. Because it wiggled.
Everytime Reese caught one, she was just as excited as if it were her first...
Drue concentrating on her little bobber.
Drue went hysterical and dropped her whole pole while I was trying to get a picture of her and the fish. Because it wiggled.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Never Alone
No, this is not a post about how once you become a Mother, you are never alone. You always have an audience. Even when you think you've tricked them all by sneaking around the long way to the potty, just when you start your business, there are 2-3 pairs of eyes (depending on your # of offspring) peering at you through the crack in the door (which had to be left open so you could listen out for sounds of inflicted trauma on each other.)
No, this post is actually about Jesus. (Is it acceptable to write about the potty in one paragraph, and Jesus in the next?).
I try to instill in my kids that they are never, ever alone. I used to tuck them in bed at night, assuring them, that even though Mommy and Daddy were sleeping across the hall...Jesus is always with them. No matter where they are. And they can always talk to Him, no matter what time of day it is.
I started out using it as an assurance remark. But it also works well for a warning remark..."Jesus sees everything you do. Even though Mommy can't see and is in the next room folding load after load of laundry....".
This morning Drue was laying across me on the couch while I tickled her back. After I stopped, she started to slide off and find something else to hold her interest. "Are you leaving Mommy?", I asked dramatically.
"Yes", she said with a huge smile on her face. Which was my cue to pretend like I was crying because she likes to console me.
"Boo Hoo Hoo", (use your imagination, I really am a good fake crier).
Usually she just giggles and says, "Don't cry Mommy! Don't cry!". (Hmmmm, I only tell her that about 1000 times a day).
But this morning she came over close to me and gently said, "Don't cry Mommy. Jesus is riiigggghhhttt there," as she patted the empty couch cushion right next to me.
No, this post is actually about Jesus. (Is it acceptable to write about the potty in one paragraph, and Jesus in the next?).
I try to instill in my kids that they are never, ever alone. I used to tuck them in bed at night, assuring them, that even though Mommy and Daddy were sleeping across the hall...Jesus is always with them. No matter where they are. And they can always talk to Him, no matter what time of day it is.
I started out using it as an assurance remark. But it also works well for a warning remark..."Jesus sees everything you do. Even though Mommy can't see and is in the next room folding load after load of laundry....".
This morning Drue was laying across me on the couch while I tickled her back. After I stopped, she started to slide off and find something else to hold her interest. "Are you leaving Mommy?", I asked dramatically.
"Yes", she said with a huge smile on her face. Which was my cue to pretend like I was crying because she likes to console me.
"Boo Hoo Hoo", (use your imagination, I really am a good fake crier).
Usually she just giggles and says, "Don't cry Mommy! Don't cry!". (Hmmmm, I only tell her that about 1000 times a day).
But this morning she came over close to me and gently said, "Don't cry Mommy. Jesus is riiigggghhhttt there," as she patted the empty couch cushion right next to me.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Fun in the Sun? Not for long....
Another activity I've been wanting to do with the wee ones, but hadn't yet mustered up the courage to do so, is going to the pool. It is A LOT of work to get them all ready to go, myself ready to go, and I knew once we got there I wouldn't be able to just lounge relaxingly by the poolside watching them.
I decided that I would never know if all my qualms about it were even realistic until I tried it. So today was the day. I was actually looking forward to it. We didn't get to go to the pool at all last year because Tate was a tiny lump of fresh baby skin who couldn't even wear sunscreen yet.
Our pools don't open 'til 12:30. Ummm...hello? That is our naptime around these parts. Which means it isn't feasible for us to even get there until after 3:00. Answer me this: Why, when you are trying to cram in as much housework as you can do your kids take the shortest naps possible--but when you're excitedly anticipating a trip to the pool, they take the longest naps imaginable? Drue and Tate both slept 3 HOURS!
I tried to do as much prep work as I could during their slumber. I got the bag packed, hunted down all their swim attire and laid it neatly on the couch. I had Reese get her suit on and lotioned her up. Then we waited. And waited. And...oh for heaven's sake, I finally went to peek on Tate and his sleepy little eyes told me he would have been happy with about 15 more minutes.
I feel like I am operating my own personal assembly line most days. Get one kid ready, buckle them in the van. Get the next kid ready, buckle in the van. And so on and so forth. On the way, I went over the "rules of the pool" with the girls. One of which was, "You absolutely CANNOT poop in the pool or else they'll have to shut the whole thing down." Nevermind it would be a health hazard, I just didn't want to be embarrassed.
I need not have worried about them contaminating the pool with their waste products, however. We were there a total of 15 minutes and the whistle blew for everyone to get out of the pool and exit the deck immediately. Our one nemesis who could spoil the whole afternoon....thunder!
I could NOT believe that I went through all the rigormaroar of slathering 3 squirmy bodies with sunscreen, wiggling them into their suits, hiking a mile from our parking spot....to SPEND A MEASLEY 15 MINUTES AT THE POOL! IT WAS A MOSTLY SUNNY DAY for crying out loud. And I almost did. Cry out loud, that is.
My woe is me thought process quickly turned to sheer sympathy when I caught sight of my doe eyed kids who weren't pitching a fit, they were just following everyone else out of the pool looking confused. I hate it when they're disappointed. I know that is a life lesson they'll need to learn that there will be disappointments along the way, but I'm just not ready to deal with that yet.
So I offered them the one thing that makes all their troubles disappear......ICE-CREAM! Immediately their faces brightened and they were all smiles. I realize this tactic won't work when they are 16 and don't have a date to the prom, however at 2 & 4 it works like a charm. Tate even got a dish of vanilla all to himself and he didn't even know he needed to be cheered up.
As we sat eating it at the kitchen table, Drue asked what flavor everyone got. Between mouthfuls Reese said, "I got Reese's Pieces". Drue looked at my ice cream with chunks of oreo and deduced that mine must be Mommy's Pieces.
It should take me about a week to recup and build up my courage to try this again. Rain, rain go away....don't even think about coming our way that day!
I decided that I would never know if all my qualms about it were even realistic until I tried it. So today was the day. I was actually looking forward to it. We didn't get to go to the pool at all last year because Tate was a tiny lump of fresh baby skin who couldn't even wear sunscreen yet.
Our pools don't open 'til 12:30. Ummm...hello? That is our naptime around these parts. Which means it isn't feasible for us to even get there until after 3:00. Answer me this: Why, when you are trying to cram in as much housework as you can do your kids take the shortest naps possible--but when you're excitedly anticipating a trip to the pool, they take the longest naps imaginable? Drue and Tate both slept 3 HOURS!
I tried to do as much prep work as I could during their slumber. I got the bag packed, hunted down all their swim attire and laid it neatly on the couch. I had Reese get her suit on and lotioned her up. Then we waited. And waited. And...oh for heaven's sake, I finally went to peek on Tate and his sleepy little eyes told me he would have been happy with about 15 more minutes.
I feel like I am operating my own personal assembly line most days. Get one kid ready, buckle them in the van. Get the next kid ready, buckle in the van. And so on and so forth. On the way, I went over the "rules of the pool" with the girls. One of which was, "You absolutely CANNOT poop in the pool or else they'll have to shut the whole thing down." Nevermind it would be a health hazard, I just didn't want to be embarrassed.
I need not have worried about them contaminating the pool with their waste products, however. We were there a total of 15 minutes and the whistle blew for everyone to get out of the pool and exit the deck immediately. Our one nemesis who could spoil the whole afternoon....thunder!
I could NOT believe that I went through all the rigormaroar of slathering 3 squirmy bodies with sunscreen, wiggling them into their suits, hiking a mile from our parking spot....to SPEND A MEASLEY 15 MINUTES AT THE POOL! IT WAS A MOSTLY SUNNY DAY for crying out loud. And I almost did. Cry out loud, that is.
My woe is me thought process quickly turned to sheer sympathy when I caught sight of my doe eyed kids who weren't pitching a fit, they were just following everyone else out of the pool looking confused. I hate it when they're disappointed. I know that is a life lesson they'll need to learn that there will be disappointments along the way, but I'm just not ready to deal with that yet.
So I offered them the one thing that makes all their troubles disappear......ICE-CREAM! Immediately their faces brightened and they were all smiles. I realize this tactic won't work when they are 16 and don't have a date to the prom, however at 2 & 4 it works like a charm. Tate even got a dish of vanilla all to himself and he didn't even know he needed to be cheered up.
As we sat eating it at the kitchen table, Drue asked what flavor everyone got. Between mouthfuls Reese said, "I got Reese's Pieces". Drue looked at my ice cream with chunks of oreo and deduced that mine must be Mommy's Pieces.
It should take me about a week to recup and build up my courage to try this again. Rain, rain go away....don't even think about coming our way that day!
Stranger Danger
During our whirlwind trip to the library the other day, one of the books Reese ended up with was The Berenstain Bears Learn About Strangers. In light of a few horrific crimes which have occurred just miles from our house, at places we shop, I was glad this book was one of her picks. Children are so innocent (when they're not bold faced lying about not having pulled their sisters' hair) that it's hard to look into their trusting eyes and explain about the horrible monsters who are out there living among society.
After only having the book since Monday, I can already recite half of it by memory, after having read all their library books to them about 6 times a day a piece. Even though I'm sure it's on your Top 10 Summer Reading List, I'll give you a rundown. Basically Sister Bear is very friendly with everyone she meets and is always saying "Hi" to strangers. This concerns Brother Bear very much and he takes her straight to Papa Bear so he can explain to Sister why this isn't a good idea. Wise ol' Mama Bear uses a simple illustration with a basket of apples, explaining there's "always a few bad apples in the bunch". She goes on to point out that we can't always tell the "bad apples" just by looking at them. Some apples look perfectly fine and safe, but when you open them up, they're all wormy inside!
A couple of times in the story it's pointed out that "You should never talk to a stranger, and never ever take presents from a stranger, and never ever ever go anywhere with a stranger." Excellent guidelines.
After a hot sticky, errand filled morning, I couldn't even bring myself to concentrate on what we might have at home to fix for lunch (even though David just went to the grocery store and seemingly stocked us up for a natural disaster).
Wendy's, here we come! We pulled up to the drive thru window and after I paid for the meal, from the way back of the van I hear Reese ask, "Mommy, is that lady a stranger?".
"Yes, she is." I replied absentmindedly. (Well, we don't know the lady, so she is, in fact, a stranger.)
As I neatly arranged all the kid's meal bags and drinks on the front seat, Reese asked accusingly, "MOMMY! Did you just take something from a stranger!"
After only having the book since Monday, I can already recite half of it by memory, after having read all their library books to them about 6 times a day a piece. Even though I'm sure it's on your Top 10 Summer Reading List, I'll give you a rundown. Basically Sister Bear is very friendly with everyone she meets and is always saying "Hi" to strangers. This concerns Brother Bear very much and he takes her straight to Papa Bear so he can explain to Sister why this isn't a good idea. Wise ol' Mama Bear uses a simple illustration with a basket of apples, explaining there's "always a few bad apples in the bunch". She goes on to point out that we can't always tell the "bad apples" just by looking at them. Some apples look perfectly fine and safe, but when you open them up, they're all wormy inside!
A couple of times in the story it's pointed out that "You should never talk to a stranger, and never ever take presents from a stranger, and never ever ever go anywhere with a stranger." Excellent guidelines.
After a hot sticky, errand filled morning, I couldn't even bring myself to concentrate on what we might have at home to fix for lunch (even though David just went to the grocery store and seemingly stocked us up for a natural disaster).
Wendy's, here we come! We pulled up to the drive thru window and after I paid for the meal, from the way back of the van I hear Reese ask, "Mommy, is that lady a stranger?".
"Yes, she is." I replied absentmindedly. (Well, we don't know the lady, so she is, in fact, a stranger.)
As I neatly arranged all the kid's meal bags and drinks on the front seat, Reese asked accusingly, "MOMMY! Did you just take something from a stranger!"
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
A Bug's Life
The other day the kids and I were in the backyard playing. Reese was digging around in the sand box and started yelling excitedly, "MOMMY! A roly poly! I found a roly poly!". (Much progress from her screams of terror when spying any bug within 50 feet of her).
She scooped up her new little friend and brought him over for me to admire. She even let me hold him for 30 seconds. At her prodding, I gently placed him back on her finger. She gazed at him lovingly, then announced, "I'm going to squish him."
I was horrified! I successfully talked her out of her menacing plan. Of course, she wanted to know what the big deal was. "He's just a bug Mommy," she noted.
"Well....I know..." I sputtered, quickly trying to think of a rational explanation. "But there are certain bugs you just don't squish. Like roly polies....ladybugs....fireflies. Other bugs like spiders, and roaches, are ok to squish."
"What about ants?".
"Ants are ok to squish."
"What about worms?".
"Well...."
"Daddy used to pull worms apart when he was a little boy," she reminded me.
She ran off to share her roly poly with Drue and left me pondering where in the world my Save the Bugs campaign had surfaced from. I drowned many a cricket and worm growing up fishing. And I had squished many a firefly's tushie so I could enjoy their glow longer.
I guess now being a Mother myself, my protective instincts have kicked into high gear...beyond just the human race. That little roly poly is someone's baby. And was plucked out of his cozy resting place in the shade while his Mommy watched in horror. And then to be mercilessly squished? I just couldn't take it....
I am somewhat bothered that I discriminate against the other bugs, however. Spiders and roaches are also someone's babies. But by golly, I have no qualms ending their lives with the sole of my shoe.
Moving into a broader scope of things...I'm not even a vegetarian. I love steak, sausage, you name it. I think that's because I'm just so far removed from the preparation process. If I were raised on a farm, and made friends with little Wilbur, I probably would opt only for a nice green salad instead.
I know I won't be able to save every little creepy crawly creature my kids come in contact with (especially the ones Tate finds/eats), but I at least saved one roly poly. And I'm sure that made a huge difference to his Mother....
She scooped up her new little friend and brought him over for me to admire. She even let me hold him for 30 seconds. At her prodding, I gently placed him back on her finger. She gazed at him lovingly, then announced, "I'm going to squish him."
I was horrified! I successfully talked her out of her menacing plan. Of course, she wanted to know what the big deal was. "He's just a bug Mommy," she noted.
"Well....I know..." I sputtered, quickly trying to think of a rational explanation. "But there are certain bugs you just don't squish. Like roly polies....ladybugs....fireflies. Other bugs like spiders, and roaches, are ok to squish."
"What about ants?".
"Ants are ok to squish."
"What about worms?".
"Well...."
"Daddy used to pull worms apart when he was a little boy," she reminded me.
She ran off to share her roly poly with Drue and left me pondering where in the world my Save the Bugs campaign had surfaced from. I drowned many a cricket and worm growing up fishing. And I had squished many a firefly's tushie so I could enjoy their glow longer.
I guess now being a Mother myself, my protective instincts have kicked into high gear...beyond just the human race. That little roly poly is someone's baby. And was plucked out of his cozy resting place in the shade while his Mommy watched in horror. And then to be mercilessly squished? I just couldn't take it....
I am somewhat bothered that I discriminate against the other bugs, however. Spiders and roaches are also someone's babies. But by golly, I have no qualms ending their lives with the sole of my shoe.
Moving into a broader scope of things...I'm not even a vegetarian. I love steak, sausage, you name it. I think that's because I'm just so far removed from the preparation process. If I were raised on a farm, and made friends with little Wilbur, I probably would opt only for a nice green salad instead.
I know I won't be able to save every little creepy crawly creature my kids come in contact with (especially the ones Tate finds/eats), but I at least saved one roly poly. And I'm sure that made a huge difference to his Mother....
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Memories made of Material
I'm not quite sure why I decided to do it.
Maybe because we could barely open the door to one of the rooms in our basement due to all the stuff down there.
Maybe because I just now realized we are 6 months into the New Year and I have made no progress whatsoever towards my resolution to "Get Organized".
Maybe I was just sick of David saying, "If you don't get in there and clear out some of that junk I will go in and just start pitching it all."
Whatever my motivation was, a few days ago, I started sifting through the piles, no--mountains, of accumulated articles in our basement. I decided to start first, with the gazillion sets of BABY CLOTHES! My plan when we first had kids was to mark each tote with the appropriate size and neatly place all corresponding items in there to be easily found at a moments notice (i.e. letting a friend borrow outgrown clothes, change of seasons, etc.) Anyhow, as with most of my grand plans, that one fell through the cracks. I crammed them into totes, trash bags, or just plain opened the door and quickly tossed them on the floor.
Let me just say this. Going through outgrown baby clothes is a sad, sad chore my friends.
I put my HGTV skills to work. (Since I have e-mailed them a handful of times to tape a show here and HELP me to no avail.) I made signs for each clothing size group, donations, trash, etc and started going crazy sorting. Piles upon piles of clothes cluttered the floor in the room adjacent to the messy one. (Who could work in there?) David finally ventured downstairs for a looksie about 10pm and almost went into cardiac arrest. "It will look worse, before it looks better" I reminded him, trying to ward off his impending attack.
Now that he was down there with me, however, I wasn't about to let him leave me in the basement all by my lonesome surrounded by nothing but leggings, matching dresses, and doll sized shoes. He waded through to the computer and checked e-mails and what not, while I rambled on about all the progress I was making.
There are certain outfits I could never part with. I thought this would just be a few special ones like each child's coming home from the hospital outfit, and maybe another outfit or two a piece that held special memories for me. Well, at present, a "few special outfits" are filling up one entire rubber tote! Labeled "Keepsakes". I pictured the day we brought them all home, the day they were dedicated, getting their portraits taken, Easter morning....and our oldest is only FOUR! How much more of a schmultz am I going to be their first day of kindergarten... graduations...weddings?
I had to work around David's jaw which had dropped to floor when he spied my keepsake pile. "Just look honey", I defended myself, "Here's the red jammies I bought before we even had kids because they were just too adorable to pass up, here's the outfit we ran out and bought the day we found out Reese was going to be a little girl, and here's her first pair of little purple jammies.....". That was all he needed to be persuaded. Me holding up that tiny pair of purple jammies.
His demeanor softened as he laughed in disbelief that our tall-for-her-age 4 year old child with scraped knees used to fit in those and fall asleep on his chest as he rocked her in the recliner. He even joined in and started picking out clothes from that tub recalling different memories from each one. HA! Perhaps I'm not just a mushy old kook after all...
Now that I've actually separated out my keepsakes, I do believe it will be easier to part with the other clothes. In my defense, I had to hold onto the girl clothes for Drue. And since we weren't sure what Tate was going to be, I had to hold onto them again. Never mind that I've now had 13 months to part with the girl clothes. Actually I've been using them to trade back and forth for boy clothes with a friend of mine.
I just remember how excited I was hand picking each item in preparation for our little ones, it just seems sad to send the clothes on their way. And a lot of them I bought at garage sales for a buck or two. Trash to treasure. Most definitely. But I can always look at it this way, the clothes that are gathering dust in my basement are ready to go on and become "keepsakes" to another mother bringing home her little one. David, stop laughing. (The rest of you, feel free to shed a tear at that sentiment).
I just don't get life sometimes. You spend your younger years wanting to speed it along and your older years praying for it to slow down while you curl up with your kids on the couch and breathe in the scent of their Johnson's Baby Shampoo.
Maybe because we could barely open the door to one of the rooms in our basement due to all the stuff down there.
Maybe because I just now realized we are 6 months into the New Year and I have made no progress whatsoever towards my resolution to "Get Organized".
Maybe I was just sick of David saying, "If you don't get in there and clear out some of that junk I will go in and just start pitching it all."
Whatever my motivation was, a few days ago, I started sifting through the piles, no--mountains, of accumulated articles in our basement. I decided to start first, with the gazillion sets of BABY CLOTHES! My plan when we first had kids was to mark each tote with the appropriate size and neatly place all corresponding items in there to be easily found at a moments notice (i.e. letting a friend borrow outgrown clothes, change of seasons, etc.) Anyhow, as with most of my grand plans, that one fell through the cracks. I crammed them into totes, trash bags, or just plain opened the door and quickly tossed them on the floor.
Let me just say this. Going through outgrown baby clothes is a sad, sad chore my friends.
I put my HGTV skills to work. (Since I have e-mailed them a handful of times to tape a show here and HELP me to no avail.) I made signs for each clothing size group, donations, trash, etc and started going crazy sorting. Piles upon piles of clothes cluttered the floor in the room adjacent to the messy one. (Who could work in there?) David finally ventured downstairs for a looksie about 10pm and almost went into cardiac arrest. "It will look worse, before it looks better" I reminded him, trying to ward off his impending attack.
Now that he was down there with me, however, I wasn't about to let him leave me in the basement all by my lonesome surrounded by nothing but leggings, matching dresses, and doll sized shoes. He waded through to the computer and checked e-mails and what not, while I rambled on about all the progress I was making.
There are certain outfits I could never part with. I thought this would just be a few special ones like each child's coming home from the hospital outfit, and maybe another outfit or two a piece that held special memories for me. Well, at present, a "few special outfits" are filling up one entire rubber tote! Labeled "Keepsakes". I pictured the day we brought them all home, the day they were dedicated, getting their portraits taken, Easter morning....and our oldest is only FOUR! How much more of a schmultz am I going to be their first day of kindergarten... graduations...weddings?
I had to work around David's jaw which had dropped to floor when he spied my keepsake pile. "Just look honey", I defended myself, "Here's the red jammies I bought before we even had kids because they were just too adorable to pass up, here's the outfit we ran out and bought the day we found out Reese was going to be a little girl, and here's her first pair of little purple jammies.....". That was all he needed to be persuaded. Me holding up that tiny pair of purple jammies.
His demeanor softened as he laughed in disbelief that our tall-for-her-age 4 year old child with scraped knees used to fit in those and fall asleep on his chest as he rocked her in the recliner. He even joined in and started picking out clothes from that tub recalling different memories from each one. HA! Perhaps I'm not just a mushy old kook after all...
Now that I've actually separated out my keepsakes, I do believe it will be easier to part with the other clothes. In my defense, I had to hold onto the girl clothes for Drue. And since we weren't sure what Tate was going to be, I had to hold onto them again. Never mind that I've now had 13 months to part with the girl clothes. Actually I've been using them to trade back and forth for boy clothes with a friend of mine.
I just remember how excited I was hand picking each item in preparation for our little ones, it just seems sad to send the clothes on their way. And a lot of them I bought at garage sales for a buck or two. Trash to treasure. Most definitely. But I can always look at it this way, the clothes that are gathering dust in my basement are ready to go on and become "keepsakes" to another mother bringing home her little one. David, stop laughing. (The rest of you, feel free to shed a tear at that sentiment).
I just don't get life sometimes. You spend your younger years wanting to speed it along and your older years praying for it to slow down while you curl up with your kids on the couch and breathe in the scent of their Johnson's Baby Shampoo.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Monday Musings
After 5 straight days of David being home (he had some extra vacation time he had to use)a long rainy Monday loomed ahead of me and the kiddos. I heard Tate talking to his crib bars entirely too early this morning and there was no male next to me to nudge out of bed to get him. (Yes ladies, I'm spoiled). Before I could get the stairs gated, Drue appeared at the top of them crying because she wanted someone to carry her down them. But I couldn't yet put Tate down to accomplish this task so...you guessed it...we were graced with the first fit of the day. Why oh why had I asked God for patience this morning? Here came my first test.
I enjoyed having David home for a mulitude of reasons. Another adult in the house. The ability to dash out and run a kid free errand at any given moment. He usually got hungry before me for lunch so he would make all the kids lunch also. Overlooking the fact that he gives them cheetos before 9am, koolaid whenever they're thirsty, and picks them all up at the slightest wail, I sorta miss the lil' fella when he has to go back to work.
My plan of attack was to leave the scene with the little ones. Get out of the house before the walls caved in right on top of me. After breakfast, outfits, potty trips, and located shoes, we were on our way. First to the library. With no library card in sight. Too late now, I would have to bat my eyelashes in innocence and procure a new one. I even called ahead to be sure the library was open. Apparently, I called the wrong branch (I thought all libraries would have standard hours) and we found ourselves sitting in a very empty parking lot with 55 minutes to spare. Another test?
I passed that one with flying colors as we headed off to play at the Mall near our house. I have been putting it off for some time, I must admit. No matter how much I sanitize their little hands after playing there, they always get the sniffles! But since they are just getting over colds, I figured they still had some built up immunity. Either that, or my kids would be the ones making all the others sick this time.
Here are some pics of that blessed hour of running themselves ragged.
Not much hope this boat will stay afloat
Hangin' out in the tree house
Attacking the ladybug
She looks so much like me it's scary (well, not really...she's too adorable to scare anyone)
On our way back to the car we passed a costume shop. The buy one get one free sign caught my eye. The girls and I are going to see an outdoor play of The Wizard of Oz in July, and naturally, they want to dress the part. (Just to sit in the audience, they aren't actually in the play. Although they might be recruited when the directors see how cute they look.) Drue wants to be Dorothy. Reese wants to be Glenda. (No, I will not be the scarecrow just in case you were wondering).
We finally made it to our intended destination of the library and discovered every other Mother in the midwest had the same idea. "3 books each", I informed the girls. They pulled random books off the shelves, and somehow managed to break a shelf the first 5 minutes we were there. I braced myself for checkout because I remembered last year sometime, we had kept a movie way past the due date and I was just sure the fine had surpassed $20. It ended up being just a little over $5. Thank goodness.
The girls bickered all the way home because they didn't want each other looking at the other one's books. I informed them no less than 16 times that we were sharing all the books with each other and I would read them after lunch. They then proceeded to look at their books quietly as I got lunch ready. I feared they had been swallowed by the couch cushions.
Drue and Tate woke up from their naps a smidge earlier than I expected and the clock only read 2:20. 3 hours left til' the opening of the garage door signalled reinforcements. We played outside a bit then headed to Target and the toy store, where they could be contained in a shopping cart whilst I breezed leisurely through the aisles daydreaming about all the fun things I could buy if we won the lottery.
After a yummy meal of tacos, which David came home in the middle of (sorry dear, I just couldn't wait) I snuck down here to the basement to blog a bit. The sounds of squealing children, a rather rambunctious bath, and barking beagles shake the floor above me. What do I care? They're on David's watch now....
I really didn't intend for this post to go on and on. Look at it this way, you were able to endure my entire day with me almost in real time. Let me close by saying I do love my little darlings, I know these times will go by way too fast, I'm very blessed to only have to work parttime and get to spend most of my days at home.
But a rainy, husbandless Monday can really kick me in the seat of my pants sometimes....
I enjoyed having David home for a mulitude of reasons. Another adult in the house. The ability to dash out and run a kid free errand at any given moment. He usually got hungry before me for lunch so he would make all the kids lunch also. Overlooking the fact that he gives them cheetos before 9am, koolaid whenever they're thirsty, and picks them all up at the slightest wail, I sorta miss the lil' fella when he has to go back to work.
My plan of attack was to leave the scene with the little ones. Get out of the house before the walls caved in right on top of me. After breakfast, outfits, potty trips, and located shoes, we were on our way. First to the library. With no library card in sight. Too late now, I would have to bat my eyelashes in innocence and procure a new one. I even called ahead to be sure the library was open. Apparently, I called the wrong branch (I thought all libraries would have standard hours) and we found ourselves sitting in a very empty parking lot with 55 minutes to spare. Another test?
I passed that one with flying colors as we headed off to play at the Mall near our house. I have been putting it off for some time, I must admit. No matter how much I sanitize their little hands after playing there, they always get the sniffles! But since they are just getting over colds, I figured they still had some built up immunity. Either that, or my kids would be the ones making all the others sick this time.
Here are some pics of that blessed hour of running themselves ragged.
Not much hope this boat will stay afloat
Hangin' out in the tree house
Attacking the ladybug
She looks so much like me it's scary (well, not really...she's too adorable to scare anyone)
On our way back to the car we passed a costume shop. The buy one get one free sign caught my eye. The girls and I are going to see an outdoor play of The Wizard of Oz in July, and naturally, they want to dress the part. (Just to sit in the audience, they aren't actually in the play. Although they might be recruited when the directors see how cute they look.) Drue wants to be Dorothy. Reese wants to be Glenda. (No, I will not be the scarecrow just in case you were wondering).
We finally made it to our intended destination of the library and discovered every other Mother in the midwest had the same idea. "3 books each", I informed the girls. They pulled random books off the shelves, and somehow managed to break a shelf the first 5 minutes we were there. I braced myself for checkout because I remembered last year sometime, we had kept a movie way past the due date and I was just sure the fine had surpassed $20. It ended up being just a little over $5. Thank goodness.
The girls bickered all the way home because they didn't want each other looking at the other one's books. I informed them no less than 16 times that we were sharing all the books with each other and I would read them after lunch. They then proceeded to look at their books quietly as I got lunch ready. I feared they had been swallowed by the couch cushions.
Drue and Tate woke up from their naps a smidge earlier than I expected and the clock only read 2:20. 3 hours left til' the opening of the garage door signalled reinforcements. We played outside a bit then headed to Target and the toy store, where they could be contained in a shopping cart whilst I breezed leisurely through the aisles daydreaming about all the fun things I could buy if we won the lottery.
After a yummy meal of tacos, which David came home in the middle of (sorry dear, I just couldn't wait) I snuck down here to the basement to blog a bit. The sounds of squealing children, a rather rambunctious bath, and barking beagles shake the floor above me. What do I care? They're on David's watch now....
I really didn't intend for this post to go on and on. Look at it this way, you were able to endure my entire day with me almost in real time. Let me close by saying I do love my little darlings, I know these times will go by way too fast, I'm very blessed to only have to work parttime and get to spend most of my days at home.
But a rainy, husbandless Monday can really kick me in the seat of my pants sometimes....
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
The past nine years have flown by! So many memories of that day that we like to laugh about, however I was oblivious to most of them because I just wanted to get through the ceremony without blubbering all over myself.
My nephew, Haden, was not quite 3 but he made the cutest little ring bearer. He rolled around on the stage, then finally laid on his stomach, propped his chin on his elbows, and watched the rest of the ceremony like he was at home watching cartoons.
My niece Morgan, one of the flower girls, had an ear infection and was rushed out of the auditorium by my bridesmaid, Alice, about 2.5 seconds before she got sick during our vows.
We successfully talked my dad out of wearing his red, white, & blue bow tie with his tux. He's retired from the military, and is a Military History Buff. He can find military connections to any date, and our wedding happened to fall on the anniversary of D-Day!
The day before, David went to move some things over to the apartment we'd be renting. We hadn't seen the actual apartment, just one similar to it. Turns out, it was totally trashed so we decided not to move there after all and began our new life together homeless! (Thanks to David's mom for letting us crash at her place after our honeymoon).
The next day we flew to Australia. We had a blast, but I couldn't get over the fact that I was now sharing a hotel room....with a boy! Strange.
I married a great guy. There's no one else I'd rather go through this crazy life with!
Monday, June 04, 2007
Fun at the Fair
OK, so it's not technically a "fair". But it's close enough. And it made for a catchy title. Rides, booths, cotton candy, the works. Perhaps my favorite one of the entire year...Old Shawnee Days. We took the brood there on Saturday.
I had to get this on film....Drue sitting stock still for a solid 5 minutes while she got a cute little flower painted on her cheek. Which she thinks is still there by the way, 3 days later. I was wiping her face this morning and she cautioned, "DON'T WIPE MY FLOWER OFF!".
Cruising on the carousel. What a timeless ride. Reese went straight for this one first. Drue was more scared of this one than any ride they rode, however. And I was standing by her the entire time!
Don't they look like they're having a blast? They really did have a great time...not sure what the problem was at this moment.
This ride spun around and around and flew up into the air. I heard what I thought was Drue crying once it got going, but as they spun around my way, she was actually laughing hysterically. Whew.
A good time was had by all. I was so bummed because my camera battery ran low and I couldn't get a picture of David and the girls on the Ferris Wheel. Lame as this may sound, that is one ride that I am SCARED to death of! I can handle roller coasters that go upside down and sling me all around. But getting up to 5 gazillion feet above the asphalt in a little bucket, then stopping and waiting for people to get on, and having your bucket rock ever so slightly....AAAAAHHHH, gives me chills just writing about it. No. Thank. You. The girls loved it though. My heart stopped for a brief moment as I was gazing up at the top of the ride trying to pick out which seat they were in and I could have sworn the whole ride started swaying! I got my bearings quickly and realized it wasn't the ride that was moving...it was the clouds above the ride. Never a dull moment in the role of Motherhood....
I had to get this on film....Drue sitting stock still for a solid 5 minutes while she got a cute little flower painted on her cheek. Which she thinks is still there by the way, 3 days later. I was wiping her face this morning and she cautioned, "DON'T WIPE MY FLOWER OFF!".
Cruising on the carousel. What a timeless ride. Reese went straight for this one first. Drue was more scared of this one than any ride they rode, however. And I was standing by her the entire time!
Don't they look like they're having a blast? They really did have a great time...not sure what the problem was at this moment.
This ride spun around and around and flew up into the air. I heard what I thought was Drue crying once it got going, but as they spun around my way, she was actually laughing hysterically. Whew.
A good time was had by all. I was so bummed because my camera battery ran low and I couldn't get a picture of David and the girls on the Ferris Wheel. Lame as this may sound, that is one ride that I am SCARED to death of! I can handle roller coasters that go upside down and sling me all around. But getting up to 5 gazillion feet above the asphalt in a little bucket, then stopping and waiting for people to get on, and having your bucket rock ever so slightly....AAAAAHHHH, gives me chills just writing about it. No. Thank. You. The girls loved it though. My heart stopped for a brief moment as I was gazing up at the top of the ride trying to pick out which seat they were in and I could have sworn the whole ride started swaying! I got my bearings quickly and realized it wasn't the ride that was moving...it was the clouds above the ride. Never a dull moment in the role of Motherhood....
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Watch out Hollywood
Reese has quite the little imagination. If she wasn't so set on being a Princess when she grows up, I'd bet she would make a great actress. She throws herself wholeheartedly into any role she decides to play at the moment. Complete with dramatic little facial expressions. I've got to get that on tape soon.
She enjoys dragging me into her fantasies as well. I am usually assigned the role of evil stepmother, or wicked queen. Doesn't do much for the ol' self esteem I must admit. Every now and then I can persuade her to let me be the fairy godmother.
I still have a fairly good imagination myself, and it's fun to leave the realities of laundry and dirty toilets and dive headfirst into fantasyland. However, I discovered rather quickly that there is really no need for me to use my imagination with my assigned role. Reese already has her story planned out in her head. So she gets to tell me what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. Hmmmm, perhaps she'll be one of those actresses/writers/producers....
That drains all the creative energy right out of me. Every now and then I try and slip in a cute line of my own and I get, "Mooommmmyyy, no. You're supposed to say, 'You can't go to the ball looking like that'. Then wave your wand and I'll turn beautiful." Yawn. Wave of the wand.
The other evening we were all out in the backyard hanging out. David and I were sitting on our little park bench having what resembled an actual adult conversation, when Reese popped over and said, "Ok, Mommy...Daddy, you two be the vampires."
VAMPIRES?! What? Where in the world had she seen vampires? My first thought was to yell at David for letting her watch filth on TV. But I was just too tired to even do that, so I said, "Vampires? I don't want to play that game" and got up to go inside.
David calmly drew my attention to the little plastic bat and ball she had in her hand and explained, "She meant umpires...".
She enjoys dragging me into her fantasies as well. I am usually assigned the role of evil stepmother, or wicked queen. Doesn't do much for the ol' self esteem I must admit. Every now and then I can persuade her to let me be the fairy godmother.
I still have a fairly good imagination myself, and it's fun to leave the realities of laundry and dirty toilets and dive headfirst into fantasyland. However, I discovered rather quickly that there is really no need for me to use my imagination with my assigned role. Reese already has her story planned out in her head. So she gets to tell me what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. Hmmmm, perhaps she'll be one of those actresses/writers/producers....
That drains all the creative energy right out of me. Every now and then I try and slip in a cute line of my own and I get, "Mooommmmyyy, no. You're supposed to say, 'You can't go to the ball looking like that'. Then wave your wand and I'll turn beautiful." Yawn. Wave of the wand.
The other evening we were all out in the backyard hanging out. David and I were sitting on our little park bench having what resembled an actual adult conversation, when Reese popped over and said, "Ok, Mommy...Daddy, you two be the vampires."
VAMPIRES?! What? Where in the world had she seen vampires? My first thought was to yell at David for letting her watch filth on TV. But I was just too tired to even do that, so I said, "Vampires? I don't want to play that game" and got up to go inside.
David calmly drew my attention to the little plastic bat and ball she had in her hand and explained, "She meant umpires...".
Friday, June 01, 2007
Embarrassing Confessions of my Day Thus Far...
#1. Running errands is always a big gamble with little ones. Pluto has to be alinged with Jupiter in order for them to behave perfectly well the entire trip. We ventured to Target this morning for a few things. It has been my first trip back for awhile since being banned from there by my husband. Apparently I made one too many a trip for small items (deoderant, detergent, coke) and ended coming home with $75 worth of merchandise.
Let me first rant a little about the cart situation. Target doesn't have any fun carts with steering wheels, squeaky horns, etc. to distract the little ones from realizing we are running boring errands. They have one cool cart with little harnesses that the girls like, however, there is no room for Tate so we have to pass that one up. We are forced to resort to strapping Tate in a regular cart and letting the other two....WALK (a.k.a "run", "skip", "hide in the clothing racks").
Our deal is, they both get to walk until they start acting up, pulling things off the shelves, running ahead too far, etc. Then I toss one of them in the back of the cart. Well, we made it to that point today and Drue was the lucky winner that got tossed in the back. She'd been in there maybe 3 minutes when all of a sudden Tate started HOWLING! Drue doesn't have a great poker face yet, so I could tell she had done something to the poor lad. She 'fessed up to biting him, and then I saw the unmistakable indentation of her tiny teeth on his finger. I scolded her in a loud whisper...one where I could get my point across without drawing the attention of every customer within 5 aisles, and plucked Tate out to console him.
As the unwritten rule tends to go...once a child is plucked from the cart, they are never to return to the cart during that trip. So I held him the rest of the way while Reese pushed the cart. (I think she only ran into the endcaps about 7 times. She looked like one of those little old ladies who can't see over the steering wheel.) We got quite a few odd looks from people which I attributed to Reese's erractic driving, or the ever familiar, "I was in your place once with 3 little ones, hang in there" look.
As we manuevered our way back to the van I happened to glance down and realize what everyone was probably looking at. When Tate needs to be soothed, and his blankie isn't around, he grips tight to my shirt. Thanks to him, the entire Target store now knows what color brazierre I'm wearing..he had pulled my V neck shirt down so far it had exposed my unmentionables (and not just the straps mind you)!
#2. We're having company tonight so I am frantically trying to get the house ready and I have a certain order in which I like to do the chores. For instance, I don't sweep and mop the kitchen floor until AFTER lunchtime. (Otherwise it would be like bathing the kids, then sending them outside to play in mud puddles). And I don't vacuum the living room until right before everybody gets there. It is acceptable to vacuum the upstairs rooms, however, because they don't get quite so much foot traffic during the day so they'll still look presentable this evening.
So I vacuumed upstairs during breakfast and left our upright vacuum in the hall while we ran our errand. Since I've been home, I have jumped out of my skin about 22 times thinking our vacuum is an intruder in the hallway. I laugh at myself everytime, fold some more clothes, turn around to start putting them away, and jump a mile again at the sight of our unwelcome visitor!
Let me first rant a little about the cart situation. Target doesn't have any fun carts with steering wheels, squeaky horns, etc. to distract the little ones from realizing we are running boring errands. They have one cool cart with little harnesses that the girls like, however, there is no room for Tate so we have to pass that one up. We are forced to resort to strapping Tate in a regular cart and letting the other two....WALK (a.k.a "run", "skip", "hide in the clothing racks").
Our deal is, they both get to walk until they start acting up, pulling things off the shelves, running ahead too far, etc. Then I toss one of them in the back of the cart. Well, we made it to that point today and Drue was the lucky winner that got tossed in the back. She'd been in there maybe 3 minutes when all of a sudden Tate started HOWLING! Drue doesn't have a great poker face yet, so I could tell she had done something to the poor lad. She 'fessed up to biting him, and then I saw the unmistakable indentation of her tiny teeth on his finger. I scolded her in a loud whisper...one where I could get my point across without drawing the attention of every customer within 5 aisles, and plucked Tate out to console him.
As the unwritten rule tends to go...once a child is plucked from the cart, they are never to return to the cart during that trip. So I held him the rest of the way while Reese pushed the cart. (I think she only ran into the endcaps about 7 times. She looked like one of those little old ladies who can't see over the steering wheel.) We got quite a few odd looks from people which I attributed to Reese's erractic driving, or the ever familiar, "I was in your place once with 3 little ones, hang in there" look.
As we manuevered our way back to the van I happened to glance down and realize what everyone was probably looking at. When Tate needs to be soothed, and his blankie isn't around, he grips tight to my shirt. Thanks to him, the entire Target store now knows what color brazierre I'm wearing..he had pulled my V neck shirt down so far it had exposed my unmentionables (and not just the straps mind you)!
#2. We're having company tonight so I am frantically trying to get the house ready and I have a certain order in which I like to do the chores. For instance, I don't sweep and mop the kitchen floor until AFTER lunchtime. (Otherwise it would be like bathing the kids, then sending them outside to play in mud puddles). And I don't vacuum the living room until right before everybody gets there. It is acceptable to vacuum the upstairs rooms, however, because they don't get quite so much foot traffic during the day so they'll still look presentable this evening.
So I vacuumed upstairs during breakfast and left our upright vacuum in the hall while we ran our errand. Since I've been home, I have jumped out of my skin about 22 times thinking our vacuum is an intruder in the hallway. I laugh at myself everytime, fold some more clothes, turn around to start putting them away, and jump a mile again at the sight of our unwelcome visitor!
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