Love How That Little Mind Works

Drue loves to brush my hair. And I love having my hair brushed.

Sometimes, however, I have to cut our sessions short because it relaxes me so much and makes me so sleepy that I fear my motherly duties will suffer should someone require my attention right away and I am snoozing away on the couch.

She wanted to brush my hair this evening but we had to run an errand so I told her she could do it when we got back. She remembered this promise about 5 minutes before their bedtime so I let her do her magic for a bit.

She grabbed my brush, a comb, and Tate's plastic pliers and got to work. Reese and Tate were sitting either side of me on the couch watching. In a flash, Tate disappeared. I figured he was plotting mischief seeing that I was otherwise occupied so I called out to him.

He didn't answer but I was already halfway in my hair brushing trance so I was just going to let him get away with whatever he was doing....this time.

A few seconds late he reappeared, with a big grin on his face, carrying my straightening iron. What a cutie! He scrambled back to his spot and started (halfway gently) doing my hair with it.

Of course my trance was now shattered but who cares?

Tate still seems so little to me, that I forget he is turning into a real little boy with real little thoughts and real little plans to carry out those thoughts.

I figured his plan evolved one of two ways:

"Drue looks like she's having fun. I'm going to go find something to do Mommy's hair with too. I think I'll head up to that place where she always fixes herself up." (And just happened to stumble upon my straightening iron.)

OR

"Hmmmm....I think I'll run upstairs and get that red clicky thingy that Mommy plays with in her hair but always tells me not to touch because it's hot!".

Sweet times.

A Tale of Two Phones

To all those sweet commercials where the husband/wife cleverly surprises their spouse with jewelry, or car keys, or some other big surprise....I say BAH HUMBUG!

Last year David got me a new cell phone for Christmas. A really cool razor flip phone...and it was going to be a TOTAL surprise. When I got home from work one day he cleverly swiped my old cell phone and snuck out my sim card. His plan was to put the sim card in my new phone, place it in my stocking, then call it. How sweet is that?

Well it would have been VERY sweet had I not decided that I needed to text someone at that precise moment. I grabbed my old phone off the dining room table and the screen was blank. I tried to turn it off and on and nothing happened. Thinking the sim card had just been shaken loose I took the back off to discover....NO sim card whatsoever. Of course, I started screeching that someone had taken my sim card, etc when David walked up behind me and said with a sigh, "Surprise...Merry Christmas."

Of course I was ecstatic anyway but we both laughed about the sweet surprise being ruined.

Fast forward a year...to today. David has been hinting since his last business trip that he wanted a touch screen internet phone. He went on and on about how cool they were. And he kept hinting that his phone was up for an upgrade anyway.

I have never handled our phone plan or services, or anything like that but giddily bopped into the T Mobile store this morning and announced that I wanted to surprise my husband with a new phone for Christmas. After we settled on the right plan and price for the new phone, the salesman looked at the computer and said, "Oh. David is the only one listed on here who can make changes to his plan."

My heart sank a little because it wasn't going to be a fun surprise after all again. I would have to go get him and drag him up to the store to get his own phone. The salesman went to talk to his manager who came back and said, "We're not going to get in trouble for this are we?". I laughed and said, "No, but if he needs to come back up here with me it's no big deal."

They really liked the idea of me wanting to surprise him so after I gave them David's last 4 social security numbers, which proved to them, that I was indeed, in a close relationship with him, they let me get it.

I dashed home knowing full well I wasn't going to be able to wait til Christmas to give it to him. (We have never been able to wait to give each other our presents). I was planning on stealing his idea from last year and slip his sim card into this new phone then hide it somewhere so he would have to call his phone when he needed it.

We were meeting up with friends at the mall, so my plan would have to wait until aftwrwards. But I slipped the new phone into my coat pocket anyway. We were going to the same mall where I just bought the phone, so if he did drag me into the store to look at it again, I would be ready and say, "Why don't you just use the one I have in my pocket?".

Sure enough, on our way out of the mall we passed the T Mobile store. I have zero capability to put on a poker face or act natural when I have a big secret. So I was a bit nervous.

"They're pretty busy today," David commented.

"Yep", I replied nonchalantly, scared he could hear my heart pounding.

He stopped under the big poster advertisement for his phone and remarked, "I don't think I want that phone anymore."

I looked at him strangely and managed to squeak out a casual, "Oh?".

Part of me thought he must somehow know I got the phone was toying with me. Because that is David to a T.

But he went on to say, "Yeah, I think I want the one that has a stylus and you can actually write on the phone screen itself instead of having to use the keyboard."

I guess I was still looking strange because he jokingly said, "You didn't get it for me did you?".

My eyes welled up with tears as I slipped the phone out of my pocket and held it out for him to see.

He thought I was showing him my phone, because they are both black so he laughed and said in a teasing tone, "Oh is that it?".

When he looked closer and saw it was the new phone, he stopped in his tracks and took a double take.

There we stood in the middle of the mall...another ruined surprise...a phone he wasn't even sure he wanted now...and tears falling down my cheek...oh, and a 2 year old that was so far ahead of us, he was almost out the door to the parking lot. Sentimental Christmas memories...

Of course, we are already laughing about it now. David looks like a little boy excited about his new toy. He is waiting for his internet service to be activated on it, and picks it up every 30 seconds to check it.

I guess I will start working on what I can try and surprise him with for his birthday...in February.

I'm pooped...literally

**Disclaimer: This post is not for the faint of heart or the easily grossed out.

Vomit, snot, diarrhea, curdled milk in hidden sippy cups....no one ever said Motherhood was glamorous.

But todays' event topped the charts for me. And I still shiver when I think about it.

We are in the midst of half heartedly potty training the boy.

After he stripped himself down naked this morning, and I finagled him out from behind the couch, I walked him upstairs and sat him on the potty.

A few seconds later he proclaimed he had tee teed a "little bit" in the potty and hopped off. The girls proceeded to come upstairs and Reese got on the potty next.

As I walked by Tate's room I saw his unmistakable "poopie stance" out of the corner of my eye. He was still without a stitch of clothes on so in one Mommy-sized bound I reached him and scooped him up by his armpits. I hadn't really thought my plan through, however and, I kid you not, the next few seconds seemed to occur in slow motion.

As I was running through his room, holding him at arms length, I remembered that Reese was still on the potty. I knew he wouldn't make it to another bathroom so I figured I had two choices: I could shove Reese off the potty, or plop Tate in the bathtub.

I was at a full run by the this time (again, still experiencing it in slow mo) when I saw Tate's head look down to the floor. The porcelain base of safety was now in my sights when I felt... it.

Unbeknownst to me, Tate had dropped his load on the floor while I was running. My foot connected with the largest ball o' nasty just as it was falling. Let me tell you, a drop kicked ball of poopie does not make a pretty sight. It flew EVERYWHERE! It squished between my toes...it hit his door...and it made a big smeared trail on the carpet. And the horrific smell spontaneously permeated the entire upstairs, and I fear, my nares for the rest of the morning.

Of course, it just took one little goofy grin from him to melt my heart and almost make me forget about my moment of mortifying messiness...almost.

That's one explanation

Overwhelmed at times by the clutter, laundry, dishes, grime, and goo that comes with a family of five, I have been known, on occasion to blurt out phrases such as,

"We live in FILTH AND DISGUST!"

or

"We live in a PIT OF DESPAIR!"

or worse phrases that I can't even post on here.

Just to make everyone aware of my feelings on the matter.

This morning, after wandering through all the rooms in the house and finding them all a wreck, I walked into the kids' bathroom and exclaimed, "We live in GROSSNESS!".

To which Reese replied, "I think the grossness is Tate!".

Hmmmmm

Last night during her bath, Reese and I were having a discussion. And, as she was explaining something to me, she made the following realization:

"Mom...I've known you...well...for almost my whole life..."

Friend or Foe?

I try and point out all the neat Christmas lights and displays to the kids as we drive by them. The other night as we were nearing church, I pointed out the church just across the street from ours.

It had 2 huge stars lit up on either side.

After the girls "ooohed" and "ahhhed" over the stars, Reese asked, "Is that the enemy of our church?".

Alabama

 

Our Thanksgiving venture to Alabama was a success! The kids did great on BOTH 12 hour car rides. I was thrilled, flabbergasted, and a teensy bit disappointed that I wouldn't have any humorous experiences to blog about. Tate needed a little coercing (tackling) to get back into the van after each pit stop, but overall the traveling part was great. It was a bit spooky to be driving the back roads of Alabama in pitch black darkness, since we didn't arrive until 9pm. But it sure kept Tate quiet as a mouse the last 30 minutes or so because he was scared of the dark.

 

 

 

Drue loves all of my Uncle Tom's dogs that live there. This one is Hunter.