I can't seem to get through to my little messy darlings that I like for them to be neat and presentable before we go out in public anywhere. They are still at the stage where they could care less if their hair isn't tamed or they are wearing their last meal (and perhaps the meal before that) on their face.
It is a mad scramble as we prepare to run an errand or go somewhere for me to meticulously inspect each child for stowaway spaghettios on their shirt, dried toothpaste on their face, or hair to rival Don King. David, bless his heart, just slaps a ball cap on each of their heads and calls it good. Thus hiding both their unruly hair, and casting a shadow on their unwashed faces.
Tonight the girls had swimming lessons. Drue wanted to put back on the outfit she played outside in over her suit. Ummmm....not possible I had to inform her. Each girl washed her own face after my prompting. And Tate even didn't put up too much of a fuss as I scrubbed on his for a few seconds. Drue's hair was flying every which way so I told her to grab some ponytail holders and I would put it up before we went.
Reese piped up at this point, "Why does it matter what her hair looks like if she is just going to get into the swimming pool?".
Solid point. But I explained to her that we don't just dash from the van right into the pool. We had to stand around for a few minutes until their session started and I couldn't very well ask all the other parents to please close their eyes until my daughter ducks her head under the water.
This started our whole conversation about how I like for them to look presentable when we go somewhere, etc, etc, that is why I have them wash their faces, etc, etc. Please go brush your teeth....yes, I know you will be in the pool but I don't want the children next to you to faint from the smell of your yuck mouth, etc, etc.
And we were off.
We got to the pool and I told them to stay in their seats for a sec, I just wanted to touch up my makeup a bit. Swipe on some lipstick, powder my face, that's it. This started our conversation all over again.
"Mom, why do you have to fix your makeup just to go inside?" Reese probed.
I guessed the word "presentable" wasn't exactly sinking in to their brains so I tried wording it another way.
"When Mommy goes somewhere, she just likes to look decent," I explained.
To which Drue added matter-of-factly, "Decent - means crazy."
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
You're getting sleeeeeeeeepy...
My kids could eat all day long. You name it, they would eat it, at any given hour of the day. And yes, Alice, there are HEALTHY snacks in the Hollaway household. Apples, bananas, yogurt, carrots, cheese, etc. But I just don't think they should be eating everytime they turn around.
During Tate's nap, the girls would each come to me separately, ask for a snack, I would get it, would start getting into my next chore, the other would come, ask for a snack, I would get it, go back to my project, now they would each want what they saw the other one eating, and on...and on...and on. Of course, when Tate woke up, he was ready for his snack and the girls would want another one when they saw him eating. So somewhere in all this craziness I declared, "No snack during Tate's naptime. We will all have ONE collective snack when he wakes up."
I have gotten so used to being in perpetual motion on my days at home, that if I do happen to sit for a spell in the afternoons...that's it. That's all she wrote. I give in to sheer exhaustion and lose all motivation for completing any other tasks for the day.
I can read 1,000 books to the kids in the mornings...or evenings. But not in the afternoons. I will nod off after "Once upon a time...". So the 2 hourse while Tate naps I go full speed ahead cleaning, organizing, etc, and let the girls play in the basement playroom or do workbooks.
This afternoon I made the mistake of plopping down on the couch about 2:15. The girls both snuggled up next to me (that I enjoyed) and the warmth of their little bodies relaxed my harried spirit. Reese started tickling my arm and my eyelids became heavier and heavier. Drue kept trying to pry my eyes open and Reese would bat her little hand away. When the tickling stopped, I opened my eyes and all was well.
Until she started in on the snacks. "Mommy, can I have a snack?".
"Not til Tate wakes up".
"But that will be forever!".
"No, he'll be up soon."
"But I'm starving."
AAAHHHH!
She dropped the subject and we snuggled for awhile longer. After a bit she reached over and pulled my sleeve up. She started gently tickling my arm again and I put my head back against the couch.
"Reesie, you are a good arm tickler," I said, my eyes once again closing. "But I'm afraid you're going to put me to sleep."
Her eyes brightened and her deceitful little plan was revealed, "Then I can get something to eat!".
During Tate's nap, the girls would each come to me separately, ask for a snack, I would get it, would start getting into my next chore, the other would come, ask for a snack, I would get it, go back to my project, now they would each want what they saw the other one eating, and on...and on...and on. Of course, when Tate woke up, he was ready for his snack and the girls would want another one when they saw him eating. So somewhere in all this craziness I declared, "No snack during Tate's naptime. We will all have ONE collective snack when he wakes up."
I have gotten so used to being in perpetual motion on my days at home, that if I do happen to sit for a spell in the afternoons...that's it. That's all she wrote. I give in to sheer exhaustion and lose all motivation for completing any other tasks for the day.
I can read 1,000 books to the kids in the mornings...or evenings. But not in the afternoons. I will nod off after "Once upon a time...". So the 2 hourse while Tate naps I go full speed ahead cleaning, organizing, etc, and let the girls play in the basement playroom or do workbooks.
This afternoon I made the mistake of plopping down on the couch about 2:15. The girls both snuggled up next to me (that I enjoyed) and the warmth of their little bodies relaxed my harried spirit. Reese started tickling my arm and my eyelids became heavier and heavier. Drue kept trying to pry my eyes open and Reese would bat her little hand away. When the tickling stopped, I opened my eyes and all was well.
Until she started in on the snacks. "Mommy, can I have a snack?".
"Not til Tate wakes up".
"But that will be forever!".
"No, he'll be up soon."
"But I'm starving."
AAAHHHH!
She dropped the subject and we snuggled for awhile longer. After a bit she reached over and pulled my sleeve up. She started gently tickling my arm again and I put my head back against the couch.
"Reesie, you are a good arm tickler," I said, my eyes once again closing. "But I'm afraid you're going to put me to sleep."
Her eyes brightened and her deceitful little plan was revealed, "Then I can get something to eat!".
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Food For Thought
This morning after I heated waffles in the oven, I decided to go ahead and put together a cake while the oven was still on. So, I ended up with a fully chocolate frosted yellow cake before 10am! (Yes, I felt quite domesticated).
The kids and I enjoyed a piece after lunch. Poor Drue is always the LAST one still eating. And, sad to say, I don't usually sit with her until she finishes. I loaded the lunch dishes in the dishwasher as she was eating the last few bites of her cake.
"Drue, what is your favorite kind of cake?" I asked.
With a big chocolate grin she said, "FROSTING!".
Tonight after she cleared her supper plate she asked for "more please". Not sure if she was wanting more of everything or just one specific item, I asked, "What do you want more of?".
"More salt...with some chicken on it," was her reply.
The kids and I enjoyed a piece after lunch. Poor Drue is always the LAST one still eating. And, sad to say, I don't usually sit with her until she finishes. I loaded the lunch dishes in the dishwasher as she was eating the last few bites of her cake.
"Drue, what is your favorite kind of cake?" I asked.
With a big chocolate grin she said, "FROSTING!".
Tonight after she cleared her supper plate she asked for "more please". Not sure if she was wanting more of everything or just one specific item, I asked, "What do you want more of?".
"More salt...with some chicken on it," was her reply.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
My Two Dads
Reese has been cheerleading for the Upwards Basketball league at church. (Picture to be posted at a later date...chill people).
Anyway, I carpool with another little girls' mom and dad to/from practices. (And, yes, that makes me feel O-L-D to be in an official carpool).
This other little girl is very outgoing, talkative, blunt, etc. She's not afraid to say anything, or ask you anything, or offer up any kind of information. I am always curious about what Reese is like in other peoples' cars. She is so shy that I can't even picture her talking. Just giggling nervously.
Well apparently, she has become much more talkative lately when the little girls' dad picks them up from practice. Her mom was relaying some of the things Reese said the other day.
She told her friend that her daddy was the boss of all the Targets and that they should only shop at Target and nowhere else.
The other mother then leaned in close to me and asked, "Were you married before David?".
I almost choked as I gasped, "What?!"
Reese told her friend that she had two dads. And her friends' parents thought that was strange since Reese is a female clone of David! The mom was telling me all this during one of the games the girls were cheering for. It was all I could do to hold myself back from running out on the court to ask Reese about it.
I was just completely baffled. Why would she have said that? And who could she possibly be referring to?
I wasn't even sure how to bring it up with Reese. Should I nonchalantly dance around the issue and see what she offered up on her own? Or should I point blank say, "Why in the world did you tell Maddie you have 2 dads?!".
I think I went with an approach somewhere in the middle.
"Hey, Reese...I understand you told Maddie that you have 2 dads..."
She looked quizzically up at me. I was kind of worried she might deny it and then I would be upset that she lied.
"I do," came her simple answer.
Now it was my turn to have the quizzical look.
"God...and Daddy."
I kissed the top of her little head and happily passed her response along to David...
Anyway, I carpool with another little girls' mom and dad to/from practices. (And, yes, that makes me feel O-L-D to be in an official carpool).
This other little girl is very outgoing, talkative, blunt, etc. She's not afraid to say anything, or ask you anything, or offer up any kind of information. I am always curious about what Reese is like in other peoples' cars. She is so shy that I can't even picture her talking. Just giggling nervously.
Well apparently, she has become much more talkative lately when the little girls' dad picks them up from practice. Her mom was relaying some of the things Reese said the other day.
She told her friend that her daddy was the boss of all the Targets and that they should only shop at Target and nowhere else.
The other mother then leaned in close to me and asked, "Were you married before David?".
I almost choked as I gasped, "What?!"
Reese told her friend that she had two dads. And her friends' parents thought that was strange since Reese is a female clone of David! The mom was telling me all this during one of the games the girls were cheering for. It was all I could do to hold myself back from running out on the court to ask Reese about it.
I was just completely baffled. Why would she have said that? And who could she possibly be referring to?
I wasn't even sure how to bring it up with Reese. Should I nonchalantly dance around the issue and see what she offered up on her own? Or should I point blank say, "Why in the world did you tell Maddie you have 2 dads?!".
I think I went with an approach somewhere in the middle.
"Hey, Reese...I understand you told Maddie that you have 2 dads..."
She looked quizzically up at me. I was kind of worried she might deny it and then I would be upset that she lied.
"I do," came her simple answer.
Now it was my turn to have the quizzical look.
"God...and Daddy."
I kissed the top of her little head and happily passed her response along to David...
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Pick Your Battles
As a mother, I am both intrigued and amused by those words when I see them, or hear them from fellow mothers. Pick. Your. Battles.
It usually means they are about to embark on a tale about something completely crazy or embarrassing that their child made an attempt to get away with and the well meaning mother, in their ever growing wisdom, or exhaustion, figured it really wasn't going to hurt anything to let their child do it.
Which brings us to sweet little Tate. My little errand buddy. We once again found ourselves at Target this evening while the girls were at AWANA. With the mere mention of leaving the house, all the kids scramble to find some small token/souvenir to take with them. Doesn't matter how far we are going. Could be to the mailbox. Could be to Alabama. They are bound and determined to bring something along for the ride.
They learned early on that this needs to be a fairly small item, and a fairly small number of items...such as a single item perhaps. We are usually running behind schedule and there isn't much time left to grab half of their worldly possessions and stuff them in the van. Plus I have an unwritten "You must be able to carry it yourself" rule. I am usually grabbing shoes, coats, and calling my lost cell phone from the landline as we bumble down the stairs to the garage.
Of course Tate is no exception to this plea for a familiar item to join our journey.
"We need to run to the grocery store real quick," I may holler.
"Boo key come?," Tate asks innocently. (Translation: Blue Blanket)
"Time to load up to go to church...".
"Monkey come?", (Yes, his stuffed monkey...he says that one pretty plainly).
Ok, so getting back to Target. He had already agreed to wear his coat and sit in the cart for our errand so I was feeling pretty positive about the whole experience. This feeling rapidly left when I opened the door to the van to scoop him out and he made a quick scan to find something he could bring with him...
"My poos come?" he asked as he reached down underneath my seat.
"You're what?!" I shrieked horrified as his little hand pulled out Drue's hot pink purse with jewels on it.
He looked up at me sweetly as he was pulling the strap up over his shoulder and repeated in more of a statement, "My poos come".
I quickly fast forwarded the 2 possible scenarios of (a) denying him his request thus leading to a tug of war over the purse with him screaming and me jumping back in the van without ever setting a foot in Target...or (b) letting him take the cute little purse (which in no way matched his shoes) and writing a humorous tale for Mothers everywhere (well, the handful who read this anyway).
He tucked it next to him and let me strap him into the cart seat, where he stayed fairly peacefully the entire errand.
A surrender well worth it....
It usually means they are about to embark on a tale about something completely crazy or embarrassing that their child made an attempt to get away with and the well meaning mother, in their ever growing wisdom, or exhaustion, figured it really wasn't going to hurt anything to let their child do it.
Which brings us to sweet little Tate. My little errand buddy. We once again found ourselves at Target this evening while the girls were at AWANA. With the mere mention of leaving the house, all the kids scramble to find some small token/souvenir to take with them. Doesn't matter how far we are going. Could be to the mailbox. Could be to Alabama. They are bound and determined to bring something along for the ride.
They learned early on that this needs to be a fairly small item, and a fairly small number of items...such as a single item perhaps. We are usually running behind schedule and there isn't much time left to grab half of their worldly possessions and stuff them in the van. Plus I have an unwritten "You must be able to carry it yourself" rule. I am usually grabbing shoes, coats, and calling my lost cell phone from the landline as we bumble down the stairs to the garage.
Of course Tate is no exception to this plea for a familiar item to join our journey.
"We need to run to the grocery store real quick," I may holler.
"Boo key come?," Tate asks innocently. (Translation: Blue Blanket)
"Time to load up to go to church...".
"Monkey come?", (Yes, his stuffed monkey...he says that one pretty plainly).
Ok, so getting back to Target. He had already agreed to wear his coat and sit in the cart for our errand so I was feeling pretty positive about the whole experience. This feeling rapidly left when I opened the door to the van to scoop him out and he made a quick scan to find something he could bring with him...
"My poos come?" he asked as he reached down underneath my seat.
"You're what?!" I shrieked horrified as his little hand pulled out Drue's hot pink purse with jewels on it.
He looked up at me sweetly as he was pulling the strap up over his shoulder and repeated in more of a statement, "My poos come".
I quickly fast forwarded the 2 possible scenarios of (a) denying him his request thus leading to a tug of war over the purse with him screaming and me jumping back in the van without ever setting a foot in Target...or (b) letting him take the cute little purse (which in no way matched his shoes) and writing a humorous tale for Mothers everywhere (well, the handful who read this anyway).
He tucked it next to him and let me strap him into the cart seat, where he stayed fairly peacefully the entire errand.
A surrender well worth it....
More Bible Funnies
The girls' devotion tonight was the story of Jesus calming the storm. His followers woke him up and were very scared and he spoke to the wind and the waves and they ceased. The application, of course, was that God is always in control and we don't need to be afraid.
I wasn't sure that Drue had been paying attention the entire time because she was fiddling around with their new "spy" camera.
So I said, "Drue...what was our lesson about tonight?".
"Ummm...about Jesus telling the wind and the waves to stop...and they stopped."
Ok. So she heard the story part. But had her little 4 year old mind been able to wrap itself around the application? I probed further.
"Good Drue. And what can we take out of that?". (Meaning...what is the lesson we are to learn from that?).
Of course, she took my question literally and thought for a second before answering, "We could take out when Jesus was napping...".
I wasn't sure that Drue had been paying attention the entire time because she was fiddling around with their new "spy" camera.
So I said, "Drue...what was our lesson about tonight?".
"Ummm...about Jesus telling the wind and the waves to stop...and they stopped."
Ok. So she heard the story part. But had her little 4 year old mind been able to wrap itself around the application? I probed further.
"Good Drue. And what can we take out of that?". (Meaning...what is the lesson we are to learn from that?).
Of course, she took my question literally and thought for a second before answering, "We could take out when Jesus was napping...".
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