Ok, so this post isn't as exciting as the title would lead one to believe. But it's a milestone and I'm choosing to document it for further reference nonetheless....
Tate has officially been weaned!!
- I've had a wild cherry pepsi everday this week (two on somedays)!
- I bypassed the bottled water and bought a coke guilt free out of the vending machine at work.
- I actually drank coffee* out of David's pot this morning rather than having to make a separate batch of decaff. (* my version of "coffee" really consists of 1/3 coffee, 1/3 sugar, and 1/3 french vanilla creamer).
- I treated myself to my very own order of "Cheddar Peppers" this evening.
Don't get me wrong, all of my small sacrifices were worth it for my bonding experience with the little guy. However, because of my "caffeine boost" coupled with the fact that he has slept through the night from the very first day of weandom...I have been enjoying all my newfound energy!
My office at work has a teeny tiny supply closet where I would go for my pumping sessions on Tuesdays/Thursdays. Even though I was behind closed doors in the closet, my boss and I would go ahead and shut the office door also. Routinely, staff would barge right on in, and to my horror, my boss would have to explain to them what that strange whirring motor sound was! So I have decided to celebrate the end of my pumping days at work with a little party. Imagine my co-workers surprise when they get the e-mail from me, a well-known conservative Southern Baptist, inviting them to my "Coming out of the Closet" Party!!!
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
When You Wish Upon a Star
Ladies and gentlemen, in just a mere 7 hours, the ladies of the house will be leaving for a magical night at Disney on Ice. I'm sure you can imagine the excitement that is mounting. The girls think we are going to Disneyworld. I think I will keep that idea going for as long as possible. I will snap some shots of them standing next to cardboard cutout princesses, and years from now, when they whine that they've never been to Disneyworld, I'll drag out the pictures and say, "Sure you have...look...don't you remember? You LOVED it!".
(Just Kidding! We are actually already planning a trip there in 2011. Yes, for real. We wanted to wait until all our offspring are ambulatory and can toilet themselves, and can form some sort of lasting memory from our trip. We will have actually been planning the trip for 5 years when it finally arrives.)
Anyway, here's a preliminary glimpse into the preparations for our much anticipated evening out. (Margo, I stole your black background idea, but it still doesn't look as fancy as your shots).
Who knows what the men of the house will be up to with the womenfolk gone. David claims he is planning a wild night out on the town with Tate, including having a dinner which solely consists of buffalo wings. Go crazy and wild dear, just be sure little buddy is in bed by 7:30.
(Just Kidding! We are actually already planning a trip there in 2011. Yes, for real. We wanted to wait until all our offspring are ambulatory and can toilet themselves, and can form some sort of lasting memory from our trip. We will have actually been planning the trip for 5 years when it finally arrives.)
Anyway, here's a preliminary glimpse into the preparations for our much anticipated evening out. (Margo, I stole your black background idea, but it still doesn't look as fancy as your shots).
Who knows what the men of the house will be up to with the womenfolk gone. David claims he is planning a wild night out on the town with Tate, including having a dinner which solely consists of buffalo wings. Go crazy and wild dear, just be sure little buddy is in bed by 7:30.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Fits & Songs
Drue has a tendency to...how shall I put this tactfully(?)...C-R-Y. A lot. Over anything and everything. Yes, she's a 2 year old and this is one way of expressing her frustrations, disappointments, disapproval, what have you. But it is just plain exhausting somedays. Rather than send her to her room each and every time her little floodgates burst open, I have been interspersing some more creative tactics to try and redirect her sad energy before she gets to the point of no return.
The other day I was trying to wipe her face with a wet wipe, which we refer to as "wipies". You would have thought I'd picked up the kind made of barbed wire the way she was carrying on about it. But before she went into an all out crying fit, I excitedly said, "Drue! Can you sing a song about wipies?" knowing full well that she would have to focus all her thoughts on making up the lyrics, as we all know there is no such song.
I saw her little wheels turning, and although she still wasn't completely keen on getting her face cleaned, her little sad voice sang, "The wipies on the bus go swish, swish, swish...."
The other day I was trying to wipe her face with a wet wipe, which we refer to as "wipies". You would have thought I'd picked up the kind made of barbed wire the way she was carrying on about it. But before she went into an all out crying fit, I excitedly said, "Drue! Can you sing a song about wipies?" knowing full well that she would have to focus all her thoughts on making up the lyrics, as we all know there is no such song.
I saw her little wheels turning, and although she still wasn't completely keen on getting her face cleaned, her little sad voice sang, "The wipies on the bus go swish, swish, swish...."
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Happy St. Patrick's Day
"Mothers hold their children's hands for just a little while....And their hearts forever."
-Celtic Proverb
Happy St. Patrick's Day from our little lassies and leprechaun!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
We 3 Princesses of Orient Are...
When no magi can be found, any old royalty will do! I found Reese playing with the baby Jesus from her Nativity Scene today and these 3 special visitors.
Monday, March 12, 2007
And So Goes My Life
The kids and I were in the backyard today enjoying the GORGEOUS weather, when among the toys and bazillions of sticky gum balls from our tree, I noticed this simple, perfect, purple flower blooming. I dashed inside to get my camera planning to do a simple post about the first sign of Spring's arrival.
I took a few shots (none of which really turned out by the way) already composing a few sweet little words about Spring symbolizing new beginnings in my head. No sooner did I turn around to look through the pictures on my camera, one of our beagles, Mabel, stomped right through the garden crushing the fragile little flower. I bent down to examine her damage and discovered the flower was still attached to the stem, just a bit dirty and beaten up. It would survive.
I turned back around to begin my picture selection process, and when I looked up, Drue had plucked the beat up little flower out of the garden and was clutching it in her filthy little fingers. At least, if it had to be sacrificed, it was being enjoyed for a bit by my daughter, I mused.
As I was walking away, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something come sailing over my shoulder. Drue had already grown tired of this little miracle of Spring and tossed it onto the bricks where it will lay until one of the kids picks it up another day and decides to systematically pluck each petal off one by one.
And there you have it folks. That's how my life with a houseful of kids and dogs tends to go.
And I wouldn't have it any other way...
I took a few shots (none of which really turned out by the way) already composing a few sweet little words about Spring symbolizing new beginnings in my head. No sooner did I turn around to look through the pictures on my camera, one of our beagles, Mabel, stomped right through the garden crushing the fragile little flower. I bent down to examine her damage and discovered the flower was still attached to the stem, just a bit dirty and beaten up. It would survive.
I turned back around to begin my picture selection process, and when I looked up, Drue had plucked the beat up little flower out of the garden and was clutching it in her filthy little fingers. At least, if it had to be sacrificed, it was being enjoyed for a bit by my daughter, I mused.
As I was walking away, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something come sailing over my shoulder. Drue had already grown tired of this little miracle of Spring and tossed it onto the bricks where it will lay until one of the kids picks it up another day and decides to systematically pluck each petal off one by one.
And there you have it folks. That's how my life with a houseful of kids and dogs tends to go.
And I wouldn't have it any other way...
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Date with Drue
For those of you pressed for time, I have included both a short and long version of last night's events:
Short Version
2 Reasons I should have suspected an unwelcome adventure was brewing:
(1) My good friend had to take her 9 month old to the ER the other week and after reading her e-mail about it, I thought to myself, "Boy, we sure have been lucky that we've never had to take any of our kids to the ER yet."
(2) Yesterday David said more than once, "We have no plans tonight, what should we do??".
Long Version
Oh, come on, the shorter version intriqued you to keep reading whether you really have the time or not....
As you may have gathered, this tale is about my first trip to the ER with one of our children. And from the title, you probably also deduced it was with our middle child, Drue.
Calm down. It's not a scary tale of a mad dash to the hospital with me playing the role of the hysterical mother carrying her screeching child who made an unsuccessful attempt to jump off the roof. (Although I'm sure that day is coming...). Rather, it's simply a cute little tale about a 2 year old girl and her first real hospital experience. (Besides her actual birth experience of course. No way am I a bathtub- birthin'-from- home kinda gal...)
Now where was I? Oh, alright, I suppose you may be a tad interested about her mystery ailment. When all was said and done, they diagnosed it as an allergic reaction to something she ate on Thursday. It started as a small rash near her little hips and grew and grew and grew until large red welts covered her entire torso, thighs, and face, including her eyelids! Everytime we changed her diaper or got her up from a nap, it had spread even more. So the nurse who answered our doctor's call service said she needed to be seen. Before Monday.
For some reason, Drue is always in denial when she's sick. A few weeks ago when her temp spiked at 104 she furrowed her little eyebrows and adamantly contended, "I'm NOT SICK!!". So when I announced I was taking her to see the doctor for her rash....the eyebrows furrowed...and she stated rather seriously, "I don't have a rash!!". The only way she would come with me willingly was if I let her wear a "pretty" aka "dress".
We walked hand in hand out the front door with Drue looking as though she were heading to a ballet instead of a hospital. I must say, for our first trip to the ER, it was a very relaxing visit, of which I'm glad. A smooth "practice run", if you will. I must have been slightly unsettled deep down, however, because I signed her in using my middle initial, not hers. I didn't even catch it until I began reading to her what was typed on her little hospital bracelet.
While she was perched on my lap in a rocking chair in the exam room jabbering away, I began lamenting the fact that we hadn't brushed her teeth before we left the house! Why is it we mothers become so concerned with personal hygiene during these types of emergency situations? If we're not worrying about the state of our children's undergarments in a car wreck, we're worrying about the state of their breath when a rash is covering 75% of their body.
When she got tired of sitting on my lap, she hopped down and lay on the floor. "Sweetie, get up please. There's germies on the floor." She instantly sat up and started looking around. Confused, she said, "What did you say Mommy?". "I said there are germs. Germs on the floor." "Ohhhhhh....germs," she restated. "I thought you said Jeremy's on the floor!". (He's one of our good friends whom the girls adore).
I fished a piece of gum out of my purse and tried to pop it into my mouth before Drue saw me. I got caught...mid-pop. She wanted some. I hesitantly broke off a little piece for her and kept repeating, "You can't swallow it honey. Just chew it for a bit, then spit it in the trash".
Chew. Chew. Chew. Gulp. No mouth movement.
"Drue!?!? Where's your gum?".
"It's in my throat. I can't spit it in the trash."
Oh well...on the plus side, maybe it had helped her breath situtation during the 5.2 seconds it was actually in her mouth.
It's a bit challenging to keep coming up with appropriate conversation topics on a toddler's level in an exam room equipped with just one book....the shortest version of Beauty & the Beast known to man. "What do you want to eat for supper when we're finished here sweetie?", I asked. "Jellybeans!" was her decided meal of choice.
As the doctor was finishing up her exam, she asked Drue if she liked popsicles. Drue quickly nodded. I called David while the doctor left to write her presctiption and discharge orders. "...we just have to get her meds first and then we'll head home" I finished. "And get my popsicle!" Drue interjected.
Something told me the doctor might forget the promised item so I prepared Drue for the fact that they may have "run out" and if that was the case, we would go by the grocery store on the way home and pick some up. Sure enough, in came the doctor with no popsicle nor mention of one. "She can't find one" Drue observed.
In conclusion (you're probably kicking yourself for not having stuck with the short version) I was able to spend 3 quality hours with just Drue. My middle child, who, in the grand scheme of things, will never have her Mommy all to herself the way Reese did for a bit, and the way Tate will once both the girls are in school. She was a perfect little angel. Nary a fit was pitched. It was neat to sit back and watch her unique little personality shine, without the audience of her brother and sister, tempting her to act a bit crazy.
Perhaps our next chance at quality time together could be spent shopping, or playing at the park, rather than sitting in a stark, unwelcoming ER room. One can only hope.
Short Version
2 Reasons I should have suspected an unwelcome adventure was brewing:
(1) My good friend had to take her 9 month old to the ER the other week and after reading her e-mail about it, I thought to myself, "Boy, we sure have been lucky that we've never had to take any of our kids to the ER yet."
(2) Yesterday David said more than once, "We have no plans tonight, what should we do??".
Long Version
Oh, come on, the shorter version intriqued you to keep reading whether you really have the time or not....
As you may have gathered, this tale is about my first trip to the ER with one of our children. And from the title, you probably also deduced it was with our middle child, Drue.
Calm down. It's not a scary tale of a mad dash to the hospital with me playing the role of the hysterical mother carrying her screeching child who made an unsuccessful attempt to jump off the roof. (Although I'm sure that day is coming...). Rather, it's simply a cute little tale about a 2 year old girl and her first real hospital experience. (Besides her actual birth experience of course. No way am I a bathtub- birthin'-from- home kinda gal...)
Now where was I? Oh, alright, I suppose you may be a tad interested about her mystery ailment. When all was said and done, they diagnosed it as an allergic reaction to something she ate on Thursday. It started as a small rash near her little hips and grew and grew and grew until large red welts covered her entire torso, thighs, and face, including her eyelids! Everytime we changed her diaper or got her up from a nap, it had spread even more. So the nurse who answered our doctor's call service said she needed to be seen. Before Monday.
For some reason, Drue is always in denial when she's sick. A few weeks ago when her temp spiked at 104 she furrowed her little eyebrows and adamantly contended, "I'm NOT SICK!!". So when I announced I was taking her to see the doctor for her rash....the eyebrows furrowed...and she stated rather seriously, "I don't have a rash!!". The only way she would come with me willingly was if I let her wear a "pretty" aka "dress".
We walked hand in hand out the front door with Drue looking as though she were heading to a ballet instead of a hospital. I must say, for our first trip to the ER, it was a very relaxing visit, of which I'm glad. A smooth "practice run", if you will. I must have been slightly unsettled deep down, however, because I signed her in using my middle initial, not hers. I didn't even catch it until I began reading to her what was typed on her little hospital bracelet.
While she was perched on my lap in a rocking chair in the exam room jabbering away, I began lamenting the fact that we hadn't brushed her teeth before we left the house! Why is it we mothers become so concerned with personal hygiene during these types of emergency situations? If we're not worrying about the state of our children's undergarments in a car wreck, we're worrying about the state of their breath when a rash is covering 75% of their body.
When she got tired of sitting on my lap, she hopped down and lay on the floor. "Sweetie, get up please. There's germies on the floor." She instantly sat up and started looking around. Confused, she said, "What did you say Mommy?". "I said there are germs. Germs on the floor." "Ohhhhhh....germs," she restated. "I thought you said Jeremy's on the floor!". (He's one of our good friends whom the girls adore).
I fished a piece of gum out of my purse and tried to pop it into my mouth before Drue saw me. I got caught...mid-pop. She wanted some. I hesitantly broke off a little piece for her and kept repeating, "You can't swallow it honey. Just chew it for a bit, then spit it in the trash".
Chew. Chew. Chew. Gulp. No mouth movement.
"Drue!?!? Where's your gum?".
"It's in my throat. I can't spit it in the trash."
Oh well...on the plus side, maybe it had helped her breath situtation during the 5.2 seconds it was actually in her mouth.
It's a bit challenging to keep coming up with appropriate conversation topics on a toddler's level in an exam room equipped with just one book....the shortest version of Beauty & the Beast known to man. "What do you want to eat for supper when we're finished here sweetie?", I asked. "Jellybeans!" was her decided meal of choice.
As the doctor was finishing up her exam, she asked Drue if she liked popsicles. Drue quickly nodded. I called David while the doctor left to write her presctiption and discharge orders. "...we just have to get her meds first and then we'll head home" I finished. "And get my popsicle!" Drue interjected.
Something told me the doctor might forget the promised item so I prepared Drue for the fact that they may have "run out" and if that was the case, we would go by the grocery store on the way home and pick some up. Sure enough, in came the doctor with no popsicle nor mention of one. "She can't find one" Drue observed.
In conclusion (you're probably kicking yourself for not having stuck with the short version) I was able to spend 3 quality hours with just Drue. My middle child, who, in the grand scheme of things, will never have her Mommy all to herself the way Reese did for a bit, and the way Tate will once both the girls are in school. She was a perfect little angel. Nary a fit was pitched. It was neat to sit back and watch her unique little personality shine, without the audience of her brother and sister, tempting her to act a bit crazy.
Perhaps our next chance at quality time together could be spent shopping, or playing at the park, rather than sitting in a stark, unwelcoming ER room. One can only hope.
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