Random shots of the Little Man

Thought I'd just take this opportunity to post some cute Tate pics. (I have lots of cute pictures to post of the girls too...we've been busy here...but I don't want the little guy to feel left out).

How can I be upset about the messes he makes when he's such a cutie?

 

This is just classic Tate. Our happy little guy. Love him to pieces!

 

A Hairy Tale

I'm not a trendy person.

Never have been.

Never will be.

From time to time I accidentally happen upon a cute style but more often than not, if I get compliments on my outfit, it is one David has picked out for me.

Between babies, I decided to grow out my short, shag, flip in the back hairstyle I'd had for ages. Each time I would go for a trim, I would say to my stylist, "I am loving the length, so just shape me up a bit."

And she did. Perfectly. My hair was slowly growing closer and closer towards my shoulders and it didn't look like a flat, stringy mess like it usually does when I grow it long. I have tried time and time again to explain to David, that my hair is not the thick and shiny type that looks flattering cascading down to my waist, thus shattering his dreams of ever having a wife with long hair.

I loved my style because it was halfway trendy, and even better, took no time at all to style.

My regular hair stylist keeps getting raises. Hooray for her. Stinky for me. Each time she gets one, my haircut goes up $7! David kept lightheartedly teasing me about how much my haircuts were costing. And to the untrained eye, one couldn't even tell it had been cut. "I get a hair cut, a massage, and a hot towel on my face for $15 bucks. And this last time she threw in some free passes to the T Bones game! What do you get with your hair cut?", he'd chide.

It finally did reach a price which just seemed ridiculous for me to pay every 6 weeks. So I decided to "take one for the team" and go to a cheap walk in place to get my hair cut this time.

Insert ominous stage music signifying impending doom.

I psyched myself up for it beforehand. All I really needed was a little trim job. No drastic change, just a few snips to trim up my shagginess.

The girl situated my head facing down and snipped away. When she pulled it up to face the mirror...I wanted to turn away! She had whacked my hair off, and not in a cute way.

I went home in the depths of despair. I walked in and David said, "That was the fastest haircut ever." To which I spat back, "Yeah, and it was the cheapest haircut ever which made it the most awful haircut ever!". I silently sulked around the house for much of the evening. I did decide to finally communicate with David solely to be sure he knew this was all his fault for harrassing me about my expensive haircuts.

He just chuckled and said, "Oh just keep getting them. I don't want to sacrifice your happiness." (Saved from the doghouse by that answer by the way).

I woke up this morning determined to have a good attitude. Maybe it wasn't really as bad and I had first thought. I popped it back into two little ponytails and ran some errands. After lunch I decided to shower and do my hair just to ease my mind that it could be styled approvingly.

Of course, it turned out worse than I had originally feared. I used my straight iron, but it still curled under in the front and made me look like a 6 year old. And there were pieces hanging out the back that I had no idea what to do with.

While the younger two, and David, were napping, Reese and I slipped out and left a note that we had gone to get my hair fixed. I am not one to stomp back into the same place and demand a free haircut because the gal royally screwed mine up. So we headed to a pricier place at the mall. David had suggested I just go to the place where I had previously gotten my hair cut but I couldn't do that and face my stylist because she would have known I cheated on her.

I plopped down in the chair and the girl said, "So, what are we doing today?".

"FIX IT!", I simply stated. I went on to explain my plight.

She looked me over saying, "Hmmmmm" a lot. After a minute or two she made her diagnosis. "Well, it's missing a chunk in the back, I'm not sure what these hairs are that are hanging down here, and well, to tell you the truth, I'm not really sure what happened to your hair."

I was relieved. "So I'm not imagining things? I really did get an awful haircut?".

"Yup".

Thankfully she was able to fix it. Reese was sitting in the chair next to me saying, "Mommy, there sure is a lot of your hair on the floor!".

I didn't care, as long as it was getting fixed. The girl cutting it couldn't believe it had almost been down to my shoulders and I had just asked for a trim.

To wrap things up, it is quite a bit shorter than I intended, but I no longer look like a 6 year old, and I may just be able to pull this off for a month or two until it grows out a bit.

David was quite surprised that I was proactive and went out to get it fixed rather than whining about my misfortune for the next 6 weeks. I ended up spending $5 more (between the two cuts) than if I had just stuck with my regular stylist in the first place.

So honey, next time I have a good thing goin', don't make me feel guilty about it because who knows what I'll end up looking like....and how much more money will need to be spent to correct it!

Do as I Say....Not as I Do

Don't you love it when your kids catch you doing something you have repeatedly told them not to do? Pretty humbling. Slightly annoying.

At times, I gently nudge David in a certain direction, lovingly pointing out to him that his assistance may be required. Last night I barely sat down to eat supper when Tate began signaling that he was finished eating. I have tried to no avail to teach him the sign for "all done" but instead, he chooses to scream at the top of his lungs and burst forth with tears to let us know he is ready to escape his chair. When that doesn't work, he hoists his little feet up against the side of the table and pushes with all his might until he plunges backwards into the windowsill. Lovely child, really.

"Dear...", I said soothingly, "I believe Tate is ready to get cleaned up and be removed from the kitchen."

"Huh?", came David's response.

"GET A WET PAPER TOWEL AND CLEAN THIS KID UP SO I CAN EAT!", I suggested more forcefully.

That, he heard.

After he plucked him from his booster seat, he exclaimed, "Whew! He stinks!".

A milisecond later, David was trying to precariously balance a diaper and the wipes container on my shoulder, informing me, as I had just informed him, our son was in need of some attention.

I would like to say that I got up from my half eaten meal and dutifully changed his little soiled bum.....but come on, you all know me better than that. I snatched the diaper, still balanced on my shoulder, and flung it backwards into the living room as far as I could.

Then I heard a little voice coming from Drue's seat saying sweetly, yet accusingly, "Mommy! We don't throw things!".

Sidenote: The little darling did get changed (by his dad) and did get all the pizza sauce wiped from his face before the night was through. And David and I remained rather pleasant towards each other for the rest of the evening.

Picking Battles

I have been a BLOGGING slacker as of late! It's certainly not due to not enough excitement going on at our household. Quite the contrary. There are actually so many blog posts running through my head that I don't know which one to start with. I am working on a doozy from our family trip to Alabama!!!

But I realized that always working on "doozies", or long posts, defeats the purpose of me wanting to capture all the memories of our day to day lives with the kids. I want to look back and remember the little things too, not just the big nightmarish family adventures...

This morning is a perfect example.

Reese starts soccer camp tomorrow and as I was pondering what to dress her in for her first day, I came to the realization that she doesn't own any acceptable tennis shoes! She has sandals, flip flops, crocs, etc...and one pair of brown tennis shoes for Fall. (Which David couldn't understand why she couldn't wear those to tramp around and get dirty.) Silly man. Those are more of a fashion statement than an actual productive athletic shoe.

So the girls and I headed to Target in search of some tennis shoes yesterday. For some reason, I am anti-cartoon figures on my kids clothes. I'm not sure why. I reserve those for jammies only. I can see the cutest outfit at the store, but if I turn it around and find a tiny little Dora face, or smiling Winnie the Pooh, back on the rack it goes.

Well, straightaway, Reese zeroed in on a pair of pink and white princess tennis shoes. Three of the Disney princess faces are on the side. She was so excited as she pulled down the box and started trying them on that I just couldn't deny her. I told her she would have to wear them around the house yesterday and today to "break them in" before she started soccer. She gladly agreed.

As we were leaving, we ran across an entire endcap of sparkly dress shoes for little girls. Black, silver, and.....RED! I was so excited! The girls and I are going to a Wizard of Oz play this week and I was afraid Drue would have no ruby slippers to wear with her Dorothy outfit. We had hit the jackpot. It was Drue's turn to be excited. She even slept with them on for naptime.

This morning as we were getting ready for church, Reese came bounding up the stairs in her little skirt and tank top with her princess shoes in hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa...", I said. "You're not wearing those to church." What an abomination that would be! "But Mommy, you said I had to wear them a lot to break them in." Oh for Pete's sake. She had gone to all the trouble of locating both of them AND socks...who would it hurt for my prissy girly girl to wear tennis shoes to Sunday School?

Then here came Drue. I heard her before I saw her. Crying uncontrollably. I pulled her into my lap to try and discern what had crushed her little world. Between gulps of air and hiccupping sobs I faintly made out...."R-u-b-y....S-l-i-p-p-e-r-s...."

My first Motherly instinct....There is NO WAY she is wearing those to church with a green and blue skirt outfit. She will look kooky. Absolutely kooky. But all it took was one look into her big watery eyes to bring out the softer side in me. What was the big deal? If that's what it was going to take to brighten her little mood than so be it? Who cares what anybody else thought of it? I don't want to raise my girls to be as people pleasing as me and be scared to branch out for fear of what other people will think.

But that's exactly the road I'm leading them down by saying, "You can't wear tennis shoes or ruby slippers to church! What will people think?!?!". Well, for starters, they probably won't think anything, because they probably aren't even looking at my girls' shoe attire. (Although, it was pretty hard to miss Drue's shiny glittery shoes coming down the hall.) She actually got quite a few compliments from precious people, who have all probably had a 2 year old of their own at one time. "My, what pretty shoes you have on today!".

And now she's napping peacefully, and happily, upstairs...in her ruby slippers.

Happy 4th!

 

This picture was framed as a Father's Day gift for Grandpa John. The frame was one you could record something onto so I had Reese sing, "Over hill, over dale, as we hit the dusty trail, and the caissons go rolling along...". It only took about 25 tries to get it halfway right...even though the recording lets you record about 10 seconds. Her "caissons" came out as "haiscons" but it still sounded pretty cute...

The Chair

A good friend of mine gave me this vibrating baby seat for Reese's baby shower. We have gotten so much use out of it. It was a great place to plop the kids when we needed a free hand, a favorite napping spot, and where they were all introduced to solid foods because I could get down on the floor on their level, etc.

Reese drug it up from the basement for one of her dolls the other night and Tate was quickly reunited with a favorite hang out. David said he crawled up into it, and just sat still for quite awhile. Those moments are few and far between lately.



He is quite the little reader these days, and loves his books.



Here's baby Tate last summer hanging out in the kitchen while I made supper.


And here's baby Drue in Fall 2004 all bundled up and cozy next to little Reese.


(We hadn't quite embraced the 21st century when Reese was born and didn't have the digital camera, and I don't have time right this second to dig through her pictures to find one of her as a baby in the chair and scan it into the computer. Perhaps another day....)

"I" Before "E" Except When You're Cute

I know one of my parental responsibilities is to teach my kids proper grammar. It's something my dad really drilled into me growing up, and while I'm sure I rolled my eyes many a time at his correction, I am so thankful he never backed down.

I'd be in the middle of telling a story about my day...."and me and Suzy Q went to the mall today, and..." when he'd interject, "Suzy Q and I went to the mall....". So of course, I had to be Miss Smarty pants and say, "Oh, you went to the mall today too?"

I am so glad he molded me into being able to hold a somewhat intelligent conversation with others. I inwardly cringe now when people use double negatives or say they're headed to the libarry.

However, I am not quite ready to correct all the missayings from my kids. They just sound too darn cute. The English language with all its' rules and exceptions can be a bit confusing but they are trying their hardest to piece it together.

Here are a few of my favorite things Drue says now that I can't quite bring myself to correct yet:

Instead of asking "What day is it today?" (which she wouldn't understand the answer to anyway because she has no concept of the days of the week yet) she says, "Mommy, what today it is?".

Yesterday at breakfast she looked at my plate and said, "Mommy, that sounds like a good donut for me to eat." And at bedtime, she peered into the pajama drawer and said, "That sounds like a good nightgown for me to wear...".