Monday, August 13, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
"Clean Up, Clean Up, Everybody Everywhere..."
I went in to vacuum the girls' room today and I saw a few toys spilling out from under their beds. By the time I army crawled underneath and drug out all the junk that was under each bed, I couldn't believe my eyes! So that's how they have been able to clean up their room in record time lately...
Reese can be a great "picker-upper" when she wants to be. She loves to surprise us by picking up a certain room of the house, then leading us to it with our eyes closed and listen to us exclaim over and over what a great job she did.
Other times, when it's not a surprise, and we've actually sent her to pick up a specific room, she'll still come and lead us to her accomplishment and giggle when we say, "I don't know why you're taking us there now. There's no way you could have picked up so fast."
Then we have the times where she's in a mood. When it gets to the point that I just can't stand the sight of one more naked doll on the living room floor, I'll usually say lightheartedly, "Reese, can you start picking up...." to which I'll plan to finish with, "...and I'll be in to help you in a few minutes." But I never get to make it that far. "But I didn't make all this mess by myself!" she'll protest. True. She had two little pint sized helpers. But perhaps, if she had let me finish my sentence, she would realize I didn't intend for the weight of the world to be solely plopped on her little shoulders.
Of course, at this time, its' usually the end of the day, or we are getting ready to go somewhere, or some other point where my stress level is up to my chin. So, I'll snidely reply, "Well, I don't make most of the messes in this house by myself but I'm always cleaning them up! I don't dirty all the laundry, I don't eat off all the dishes, and I certainly don't smear my fingerprints on every last mirror in the house!! But you don't hear me whining and complaining when I have to clean all that up." (Ok, so that last sentence is a big fat lie, but I go ahead and throw it in as a token phrase of mommy-martyrdom.)
I did find some helpful items under their beds today...a long lost library book that I was just sure we would have to pay for...and the knob to their curtain rod, so perhaps now, the whole thing won't collapse everytime we open or close the curtains.
I also realized that I have absolutely and verifiably been telling the girls the truth when I assure them there are no monsters under their beds....there is no way they could have fit!
Reese can be a great "picker-upper" when she wants to be. She loves to surprise us by picking up a certain room of the house, then leading us to it with our eyes closed and listen to us exclaim over and over what a great job she did.
Other times, when it's not a surprise, and we've actually sent her to pick up a specific room, she'll still come and lead us to her accomplishment and giggle when we say, "I don't know why you're taking us there now. There's no way you could have picked up so fast."
Then we have the times where she's in a mood. When it gets to the point that I just can't stand the sight of one more naked doll on the living room floor, I'll usually say lightheartedly, "Reese, can you start picking up...." to which I'll plan to finish with, "...and I'll be in to help you in a few minutes." But I never get to make it that far. "But I didn't make all this mess by myself!" she'll protest. True. She had two little pint sized helpers. But perhaps, if she had let me finish my sentence, she would realize I didn't intend for the weight of the world to be solely plopped on her little shoulders.
Of course, at this time, its' usually the end of the day, or we are getting ready to go somewhere, or some other point where my stress level is up to my chin. So, I'll snidely reply, "Well, I don't make most of the messes in this house by myself but I'm always cleaning them up! I don't dirty all the laundry, I don't eat off all the dishes, and I certainly don't smear my fingerprints on every last mirror in the house!! But you don't hear me whining and complaining when I have to clean all that up." (Ok, so that last sentence is a big fat lie, but I go ahead and throw it in as a token phrase of mommy-martyrdom.)
I did find some helpful items under their beds today...a long lost library book that I was just sure we would have to pay for...and the knob to their curtain rod, so perhaps now, the whole thing won't collapse everytime we open or close the curtains.
I also realized that I have absolutely and verifiably been telling the girls the truth when I assure them there are no monsters under their beds....there is no way they could have fit!
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Busy Summer
As promised...pics of the girls and the fun stuff they did this summer. Our vacation pictures (and saga) will be coming soon.
Reese took swimming lessons again in July. Contrary to this picture, the lessons were at an outdoor swimming pool this time (their very last lesson had to be indoor due to the rain...and of course I hadn't been prepared with my camera during the other lessons). She took them with a little boy of a friend of ours. Which was nice, because I got to chat with his mom during lessons.
Our "Girls Night Out" to the Wizard of Oz. Funny how my "Girls Nights Out" used to consist of me leaving the house solo and getting together with other women who are capable of carrying on a complete conversation without mentioning the names of any cartoon characters. (I do still get out at least twice a month to play Bunco).
The girls enjoyed the play. I wasn't aware it was almost 3 hours long, however, so by 11:15pm they were trying to fold themselves up in the metal outdoor theatre seats we were in and go to sleep. Drue was sitting on my lap at the time and kept saying, "I want to go home. I want to go home." Which played in well to her role as Dorothy. We went to this with one of Reese's little friends from church (whose mom whipped up a Munchkin outfit that very afternoon after the little girl changed her mind about wanting to be Dorothy. That is true talent people. I have already told the girls they will be Dorothy and Glinda for Halloween...no discussion). The mom and I get along great and I always look forward to our playdates. She is also the mother of 3 and is so down to earth about everything. I can just lay it all out on the line with her without fear of her turning up her nose at the confession of me finding a week old milk cup in the van...via its' scent.
Reese had a weeklong soccer camp. Again, with the same little boy whom she took swimming lessons with. So me and his mom gabbed it up during camp. Her coaches said she was a great little soccer player for her age and encouraged us to keep her in the game. And no, I am choosing not to believe they wrote that on everyone's sheet. My daughter is gifted. (Please tell me you sensed my sarcasm there.)
No cool action shots. I was lucky to get this one (of Reese not looking my direction...surprise, surprise).
And lastly Reese had a one night Cinderella Ball camp. She got to dress up in her little tutu and perform for us. Way at the top of the list as one of the cutest things I've seen. Every little girls' mother looks forward to that. Reese loves to dance but is still very shy when she gets up there. She had a great time and loved getting to wear make-up and jewelry. Afterwards I took her shopping for a backpack...tutu and all. A-d-o-r-a-b-l-e.
So that's about it. It was a busy summer. Actually, it was a busy July. All of the above events occurred in that one month! And it is looking like we'll have a busy Fall as well. Preschool, AWANA, and children's choir at church. Dang...does that mean I'm going to have to become one of those organized Moms who always keep a colored coded activity schedule handy?
Now where did I put the fridge so I can hang my nifty schedule on the door.....?
Reese took swimming lessons again in July. Contrary to this picture, the lessons were at an outdoor swimming pool this time (their very last lesson had to be indoor due to the rain...and of course I hadn't been prepared with my camera during the other lessons). She took them with a little boy of a friend of ours. Which was nice, because I got to chat with his mom during lessons.
Our "Girls Night Out" to the Wizard of Oz. Funny how my "Girls Nights Out" used to consist of me leaving the house solo and getting together with other women who are capable of carrying on a complete conversation without mentioning the names of any cartoon characters. (I do still get out at least twice a month to play Bunco).
The girls enjoyed the play. I wasn't aware it was almost 3 hours long, however, so by 11:15pm they were trying to fold themselves up in the metal outdoor theatre seats we were in and go to sleep. Drue was sitting on my lap at the time and kept saying, "I want to go home. I want to go home." Which played in well to her role as Dorothy. We went to this with one of Reese's little friends from church (whose mom whipped up a Munchkin outfit that very afternoon after the little girl changed her mind about wanting to be Dorothy. That is true talent people. I have already told the girls they will be Dorothy and Glinda for Halloween...no discussion). The mom and I get along great and I always look forward to our playdates. She is also the mother of 3 and is so down to earth about everything. I can just lay it all out on the line with her without fear of her turning up her nose at the confession of me finding a week old milk cup in the van...via its' scent.
Reese had a weeklong soccer camp. Again, with the same little boy whom she took swimming lessons with. So me and his mom gabbed it up during camp. Her coaches said she was a great little soccer player for her age and encouraged us to keep her in the game. And no, I am choosing not to believe they wrote that on everyone's sheet. My daughter is gifted. (Please tell me you sensed my sarcasm there.)
No cool action shots. I was lucky to get this one (of Reese not looking my direction...surprise, surprise).
And lastly Reese had a one night Cinderella Ball camp. She got to dress up in her little tutu and perform for us. Way at the top of the list as one of the cutest things I've seen. Every little girls' mother looks forward to that. Reese loves to dance but is still very shy when she gets up there. She had a great time and loved getting to wear make-up and jewelry. Afterwards I took her shopping for a backpack...tutu and all. A-d-o-r-a-b-l-e.
So that's about it. It was a busy summer. Actually, it was a busy July. All of the above events occurred in that one month! And it is looking like we'll have a busy Fall as well. Preschool, AWANA, and children's choir at church. Dang...does that mean I'm going to have to become one of those organized Moms who always keep a colored coded activity schedule handy?
Now where did I put the fridge so I can hang my nifty schedule on the door.....?
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Why did I Risk it?
"Risk what?" you're supposed to be asking yourselves right now.
Risk climbing Mt. Everest blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back? Nope.
Risk dog paddling across the English Channel with 30lb weights secured to my ankles? Nope.
My feat was much riskier than those two scenarios combined. I risked squeezing in one more errand with the kiddos that precariously entered the 15 minute window prior to nap.
And I am blaming it on the media. I am considering taking them to small claims court to see if I can possibly win some reparations for my mental anguish.
I was feeling rather good about my day. I was able to blow off the fact that David fixed some drinks for the girls this morning before he left for work that were filled to the brim with KOOL-AID.
And I didn't blink an eye when Drue crawled up right next to me with 2 year old morning breath and whispered, "Mommy, what do my teeth smell like?".
We went to the dry cleaners and the grocery store without incident. Reese was my little helper and Drue and Tate both sat contentedly 85% of the trip in the cart. (Tate got a little bored and amused himself by turning around and pulling Drue's hair with all his might.)
Got home. Fixed lunch. Set out all my ingredients for supper in a neat little arrangement on the counter. And got to work preparing the dessert for tonight. Stawberry pie.
The recipe calls for frozen strawberries so I set the container in the sink to thaw. When I opened the lid to check their progress, the plastic seal underneath the lid was flapping open on one side.
You have got to me kidding me. A few years ago I would have thought nothing of the opened seal. I would have ripped the rest off and cheerfully dumped the strawberries in my bowl. But as I looked in disbelief at the opened seal, all the food recalls that are reported on the news every other blessed day ran through my head, along with thoughts of botulism, e coli, and every other imaginable calamity that could befall my youngsters if they ate the theoretically tainted berries.
I really wanted to go ahead with the dessert if for no other reason than to hear David rave about what a fantastic little homemaker I am. I made up my mind to take them back to the store for an exchange. I looked at the clock...12:05. I looked at the kids...eyes starting to glaze over yet still had enough energy to be running through the living room.
"We can do this!" I shouted and off we went.
I went straight to the customer service desk and waited for a minute until our turn came. I explained our unfortunate situation and the lady directed me to go grab another container. "Do I need to bring it back up here?" I asked.
She looked uncertain. She looked over at the Exit door and I could tell in her mind she was thinking, "That container won't set off the alarm but I can't tell that to this lady or she may make a habit of shoplifting frozen strawberries from us."
"Ummm...just go ahead and bring it back up here so I can get you a sack," she stammered.
Whatever. Our errand was almost complete, my dessert would be made on time, I was flying high.
We got our new container, opened the lid to make sure it was botulism safe, and headed back up to the counter. Of course, there were other people waiting by this time. Reese flung the berries up on the end of the counter where no one was standing and I explained to her that we had to wait our turn again. "But we were just up here," she said. I explained that we left and came back and needed to wait for the other people to be helped.
Waiting skills is not something God chose to bestow upon children, however. First they tried to hang off the counter like it was monkey bars. Then they started walking around and around in circles around me. This actually worked well, because it kept Tate entertained. He was laughing hysterically and people were getting a kick out of listening to him. I was starting to get a little nervous at this time, however, because at first, his laugh sounds like a cry. So I know people were starting to stare because they thought he was crying initially.
Which he eventually did start doing. He wanted to join in the fun and walk around in circles himself so he tried to dive out of my arms onto the tile floor. My Mommy-Grip-of-Death held him upright for a few moments longer. And that is when the errand completely and utterly fell apart and will forever be filed under "Errands from Hades" in my psyche.
Tate started crying and protesting and wouldn't stop. Drue continued to walk in circles around me and I believe Reese started singing something, it all started to blur. I could sense the bystanders all around me turning to look and wonder why I couldn't keep my kids under control. And that made me furious to think about.
Correction: Everyone except the lady behind the counter turned to look. She had no clue we were standing there JUST WAITING FOR A BAG!
I cannot stand being the center of attention and especially when it is the direct result of one of my temper tantrum throwing children in public. I was tempted to just toss him into the next cart that passed by and hope the customer didn't notice right away.
My frustration started in my toes and when it had worked its' way quickly upwards until I was sure my head would explode, I grabbed the strawberries and said to the kids, "Come on. We are leaving and I don't care if we set off the alarm or not!".
Reese followed obediently, Tate was now under my arm like an oversized sack of flour still crying and kicking his little legs, and for some reason, still unbeknownst to us, Drue burst out into tears also. Folks, she is a L-O-U-D crier. More people turned to look. My face was burning.
We were 5 feet from freedom. And then it happened. One of Drue's flip flops fell off and she tumbled to the ground. You would have thought she had broken both legs in the process. But she didn't elicit her "hurt" cry, I could tell it was still just her "who knows what set her off" cry. Only progressively louder than it had been a minute before.
One of the cashiers turned around and just stared at our spectacle. It can take up to 10 solid minutes for Drue to calm herself down enough to stick her foot back into her flip flop correctly and I couldn't let go of Tate to help speed the process along. I made a split second decision and quickly reached down and snatched the flip flop off the ground, grabbed Drue's hand and bolted toward the door, bracing myself for the fit to escalate. Which it did. At least my kids are predictable.
She cried all the way to the van and I could tell people in the parking lot were debating on calling the police to report a kidnapping. Reese lectured me all the way home about my actions. And rightly so. But I can't wait to pull out these stories one day and present them to her after she's had a particularly frustrating encounter with her little ones someday.
And for the record...everyone in our household will eat a piece of pie tonight and they will like it and they will take turns telling me it's the best piece of pie they've ever had!
Risk climbing Mt. Everest blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back? Nope.
Risk dog paddling across the English Channel with 30lb weights secured to my ankles? Nope.
My feat was much riskier than those two scenarios combined. I risked squeezing in one more errand with the kiddos that precariously entered the 15 minute window prior to nap.
And I am blaming it on the media. I am considering taking them to small claims court to see if I can possibly win some reparations for my mental anguish.
I was feeling rather good about my day. I was able to blow off the fact that David fixed some drinks for the girls this morning before he left for work that were filled to the brim with KOOL-AID.
And I didn't blink an eye when Drue crawled up right next to me with 2 year old morning breath and whispered, "Mommy, what do my teeth smell like?".
We went to the dry cleaners and the grocery store without incident. Reese was my little helper and Drue and Tate both sat contentedly 85% of the trip in the cart. (Tate got a little bored and amused himself by turning around and pulling Drue's hair with all his might.)
Got home. Fixed lunch. Set out all my ingredients for supper in a neat little arrangement on the counter. And got to work preparing the dessert for tonight. Stawberry pie.
The recipe calls for frozen strawberries so I set the container in the sink to thaw. When I opened the lid to check their progress, the plastic seal underneath the lid was flapping open on one side.
You have got to me kidding me. A few years ago I would have thought nothing of the opened seal. I would have ripped the rest off and cheerfully dumped the strawberries in my bowl. But as I looked in disbelief at the opened seal, all the food recalls that are reported on the news every other blessed day ran through my head, along with thoughts of botulism, e coli, and every other imaginable calamity that could befall my youngsters if they ate the theoretically tainted berries.
I really wanted to go ahead with the dessert if for no other reason than to hear David rave about what a fantastic little homemaker I am. I made up my mind to take them back to the store for an exchange. I looked at the clock...12:05. I looked at the kids...eyes starting to glaze over yet still had enough energy to be running through the living room.
"We can do this!" I shouted and off we went.
I went straight to the customer service desk and waited for a minute until our turn came. I explained our unfortunate situation and the lady directed me to go grab another container. "Do I need to bring it back up here?" I asked.
She looked uncertain. She looked over at the Exit door and I could tell in her mind she was thinking, "That container won't set off the alarm but I can't tell that to this lady or she may make a habit of shoplifting frozen strawberries from us."
"Ummm...just go ahead and bring it back up here so I can get you a sack," she stammered.
Whatever. Our errand was almost complete, my dessert would be made on time, I was flying high.
We got our new container, opened the lid to make sure it was botulism safe, and headed back up to the counter. Of course, there were other people waiting by this time. Reese flung the berries up on the end of the counter where no one was standing and I explained to her that we had to wait our turn again. "But we were just up here," she said. I explained that we left and came back and needed to wait for the other people to be helped.
Waiting skills is not something God chose to bestow upon children, however. First they tried to hang off the counter like it was monkey bars. Then they started walking around and around in circles around me. This actually worked well, because it kept Tate entertained. He was laughing hysterically and people were getting a kick out of listening to him. I was starting to get a little nervous at this time, however, because at first, his laugh sounds like a cry. So I know people were starting to stare because they thought he was crying initially.
Which he eventually did start doing. He wanted to join in the fun and walk around in circles himself so he tried to dive out of my arms onto the tile floor. My Mommy-Grip-of-Death held him upright for a few moments longer. And that is when the errand completely and utterly fell apart and will forever be filed under "Errands from Hades" in my psyche.
Tate started crying and protesting and wouldn't stop. Drue continued to walk in circles around me and I believe Reese started singing something, it all started to blur. I could sense the bystanders all around me turning to look and wonder why I couldn't keep my kids under control. And that made me furious to think about.
Correction: Everyone except the lady behind the counter turned to look. She had no clue we were standing there JUST WAITING FOR A BAG!
I cannot stand being the center of attention and especially when it is the direct result of one of my temper tantrum throwing children in public. I was tempted to just toss him into the next cart that passed by and hope the customer didn't notice right away.
My frustration started in my toes and when it had worked its' way quickly upwards until I was sure my head would explode, I grabbed the strawberries and said to the kids, "Come on. We are leaving and I don't care if we set off the alarm or not!".
Reese followed obediently, Tate was now under my arm like an oversized sack of flour still crying and kicking his little legs, and for some reason, still unbeknownst to us, Drue burst out into tears also. Folks, she is a L-O-U-D crier. More people turned to look. My face was burning.
We were 5 feet from freedom. And then it happened. One of Drue's flip flops fell off and she tumbled to the ground. You would have thought she had broken both legs in the process. But she didn't elicit her "hurt" cry, I could tell it was still just her "who knows what set her off" cry. Only progressively louder than it had been a minute before.
One of the cashiers turned around and just stared at our spectacle. It can take up to 10 solid minutes for Drue to calm herself down enough to stick her foot back into her flip flop correctly and I couldn't let go of Tate to help speed the process along. I made a split second decision and quickly reached down and snatched the flip flop off the ground, grabbed Drue's hand and bolted toward the door, bracing myself for the fit to escalate. Which it did. At least my kids are predictable.
She cried all the way to the van and I could tell people in the parking lot were debating on calling the police to report a kidnapping. Reese lectured me all the way home about my actions. And rightly so. But I can't wait to pull out these stories one day and present them to her after she's had a particularly frustrating encounter with her little ones someday.
And for the record...everyone in our household will eat a piece of pie tonight and they will like it and they will take turns telling me it's the best piece of pie they've ever had!
Forgotten Funny
When I don't have a pen and paper handy and something "blogworthy" happens, I sometimes text message it to myself on my phone. I was scrolling through messages yesterday and found a reminder from April that I had forgotten to post about:
Sunday mornings are a mad scramble at our house. It usually ends up that I get all the kids and myself ready while David takes care of....himself. At this stage in our lives, I can't fathom how "Sunday mornings" and "relaxing" are synonomous. Boggles my mind.
After I coax the kids into eating their breakfast in a timely fashion rather than inspecting each and every cheerio in their bowl, get them dressed, do their hair, pack bags for the little ones, I have just about reached my limit. As we shuffle them all out to the van with at least one of them crying about who knows what I am usually screaming something along the lines of...."STOP WHINING AND FIGHTING...LET'S GO WORSHIP THE LORD!!!".
David gets his kicks out of aggravating us at times. I don't know why. That's just the way it is. He balances me out that way I guess. So on one particular harried Spring Sunday morning, he was being his usual jokester self while I was being my usual frantic self and he kept bugging me while we were trying to get everyone into the van and buckled. He had picked that particular moment to try and plant a kiss on my cheek. And I was trying unsuccessfully to squirm away and complete my task.
Finally Reese asked, "Mommy, why did you marry that man?".
This tickled me and I simply replied, "Because he asked me," thinking that answer would suffice.
She thought for a second then piped up, "You should have said no."
Sunday mornings are a mad scramble at our house. It usually ends up that I get all the kids and myself ready while David takes care of....himself. At this stage in our lives, I can't fathom how "Sunday mornings" and "relaxing" are synonomous. Boggles my mind.
After I coax the kids into eating their breakfast in a timely fashion rather than inspecting each and every cheerio in their bowl, get them dressed, do their hair, pack bags for the little ones, I have just about reached my limit. As we shuffle them all out to the van with at least one of them crying about who knows what I am usually screaming something along the lines of...."STOP WHINING AND FIGHTING...LET'S GO WORSHIP THE LORD!!!".
David gets his kicks out of aggravating us at times. I don't know why. That's just the way it is. He balances me out that way I guess. So on one particular harried Spring Sunday morning, he was being his usual jokester self while I was being my usual frantic self and he kept bugging me while we were trying to get everyone into the van and buckled. He had picked that particular moment to try and plant a kiss on my cheek. And I was trying unsuccessfully to squirm away and complete my task.
Finally Reese asked, "Mommy, why did you marry that man?".
This tickled me and I simply replied, "Because he asked me," thinking that answer would suffice.
She thought for a second then piped up, "You should have said no."
Friday, August 03, 2007
It's a bird...It's a plane...
It's the cutest little Superman this side of Krypton...
These are the cutest little jammies I have ever seen!
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Misbehavin'
Reese had a sassy mouth while my mom was here watching the kids today. Apparently, every time my mom would ask her to do something, Reese would simply say, "No".
Ugh.
I tried to talk to Reese about her behavior this evening when I got home. She did show some remorse and looked sorry, but I was still trying to get her to explain her disrespectful actions to me.
I finally just said, "Let's talk about why you behaved that way today."
"I don't know," she said. "Tell me".
Ugh.
I tried to talk to Reese about her behavior this evening when I got home. She did show some remorse and looked sorry, but I was still trying to get her to explain her disrespectful actions to me.
I finally just said, "Let's talk about why you behaved that way today."
"I don't know," she said. "Tell me".
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