Our Thanksgiving started off with a 4 am call from a patient with an eyelid issue. Robbie was in a dead sleep, and he had a hard time waking up to ask and answer medical questions. I thought back to the days of residency, and I remembered all of the middle of the night pages he received. The sound of that beeper used to startle us out of sleep like little else. I'd lie there and pray that he wouldn't have to climb out of our warm bed and drive at 3 am down to take care of a drunk patient who got his eye socked in a fight. I was so worried about him while he was away from me. Things are much easier now. Even if it is hard to shift from sound asleep to "on" for a suffering patient, at least his trips to help them have decreased. We spoke about how thankful we are to be out of the residency years. However, I wouldn't trade them. I am glad that I was by Robbie's side through all of it. I think he has a wonderful and worthwhile profession, and he didn't get there overnight. It was a long and sometimes hard process, and I think we can appreciate each small improvement in our lifestyle more having paved the road together. He shared some thoughts about how he loves and appreciates me this evening, and they were among some of the nicest words he's ever spoken to me. I am very lucky in love.
I couldn't go back to sleep after the phone call. Anthony has an appetite like no other. He has been with us for two weeks today, and it has been really fun having him around. He ordered pizza and shared it with us right before we went to bed, and I woke up thirsty, thirsty, THIRSTY. I made my way to the kitchen, which helped cool my hot legs. It sounds so silly, but once my legs and feet get hot in bed, I'm toast. I can't sleep with hot legs. Henry will call out to me in the mornings, and he often says, "Where are your pants, Mom." My answer is always the same. "My legs got hot. I took them off." Life was good this morning. The girls came into our room and started talking to us as though it were the middle of the day, but we went right back to sleep as they played in the living room. Henry and Vivian slept until 7:40 am. Unheard of. However, we were VERY thankful.
I made strawberries and cream bread yesterday to serve this morning, and Henry ate five slices. Robbie and the girls really enjoyed it too. I used Uncle Lee's bread pan and thought of him. Hubby injected the turkey with ingredients from an Emeril recipe, then he grilled it. I thought it was amazing. I think I honestly love my husband a little bit more each time he cooks something really good for me. We used the Really Good Cornbread recipe from the newest Ann Lund cookbook, and it made Robbie's stuffing from Grandma Gloria's recipe even more delicious. It was Henry's favorite part of the meal. I prepared a whipped sweet potatoes recipe from that cookbook too, and Robbie raved about it. I took my friend's advice and used a small pie pumpkin to process the pulp for my homemade pumpkin pie. I used Emily's mother's recipe for pie crust, but I never think I get it just right. It was too thick or something. I need Nada or Emily to help me perfect pie crust. That's the whole reason I eat pie...for the crust. Anyhow, we had other food too, and it was a great meal. Anthony was with us. We each reflected on and shared something for which we were thankful. Little Henry said, "My daddy and you, Mom."
Yesterday I caught him climbing out of his crib. He's done it twice after being placed there for time-out. His method sent me into a laughing fit while I was on the phone with Robbie. He climbed from his bed to a small shelf of his changing table/cabinet bookshelf on his tummy. He looked like a slithering snake. He then crawled onto his changing pad near his diapers. It was incredibly dangerous. I should not have laughed, but I was so shocked that I couldn't help myself. He did it after I put him to bed, and he announced that he didn't want to "go sleeping." We are almost in toddler bed territory, God help me. Henry keeps me hopping. Yesterday I found him in his crib after naptime without a diaper. He also had part of the diaper tabs ripped off, and he was chewing on them. What in the world would put that idea in his head, and why would he then execute the crazy thought?
Ant has been videotaping the kids. He has Michael Fat Leg footage, Gwen. I'll have to get it for you. He caught Vivian attempting to crawl for Henry's Lightning McQueen remote control car this evening while the girls were away with Robbie on a daddy-daughter date to see Tangled. Things get so complicated with a little baby on the move.
I told Henry at bedtime tonight that we are going to get a Christmas tree tomorrow for our own house. He said, "Our house will be so happy." Our little guy is such a treasure.
I'm so happy with my little family. I told Robbie that I love how each child is at such a different stage. It won't always be this way. We have Olivia, a true school girl. She can read and write and play soccer and go to gymnastics and help me make green beans for Thanksgiving dinner. I have a sweet little preschool girl who still has some babyishness to her look. She says I'm her favorite mommy she's ever had. She's all about writing letters and cutting and using glue. Henry is two and a half. He's a boy. Need I say more, dear blog readers? I will. Henry is charming and smart and active. He makes life funny and exciting. Vivian is my doll baby. As soon as I gave her the pink blanky tonight, she stuck her thumb into her mouth and burrowed into my neck. I said, "I love you, my little snuggle bug." When I hold her in the glider, classical music plays in the room, we're snuggled up under a cozy blanket, she nurses and looks up at me, my heart feels so lovely. Those moments are what pregnant first time moms imagine before their baby is actually born.
I think that after spending so much time with me during the days while Robbie is away at work, Anthony has a new perspective on my role as mother of four. He walked in one day, and we five were going wild to Just Dance, a Wii game. It was so much fun. The baby was jumping up and down in her exersaucer. He's also observed temper tantrums, loud crying, sassy back talk, terribly stinky poop diapers, demands for warm milk, corn bread lunch explosions, laundry piles that rival Mt. Everest, and sibling rivalry. He caught me as I put my hands to my head in frustration and breathed deeply one morning, and he later said, "They're driving you nuts today, aren't they?" Yes, sometimes they do. After watching the symphony that is homework hour, dinner prep, baby's time to nurse, pantless mad Henry, he said, "I don't know how you do it." My honest response was, "Sometimes I don't do it very well." Good and bad. Happy or sad. I love each of these little ones, and on this Thanksgiving night, I can't imagine not having one of them in the family. I hope God blesses us with more love, laughter, and good health. Those are life's true riches.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Twenty Bucks
Robbie and I try to be responsible with our money. I have made some changes in my grocery shopping locations to save where I can. Today I took my Thanksgiving shopping list to ALDI, which is a discount food seller. The carts require the insertion of a quarter to unlock from one another in an attempt to keep them in one location. The temp was 34. I strapped Vivian to my chest. I held the small hands of Henry and Evelyn. Ev had the quarter. As we approached the carts, Henry's shoe fell off. I needed to help Evelyn put the quarter into the cart to release it from the others. Henry doesn't put his shoes on by himself too well, and all of this had to happen while maneuvering with a 9-month-old attached to my front. Not good.
As God smiled down at me on the pretty sunny day, COLD, yet pretty, a woman exited the store. She took one look at me and went into help mode. Her friendly demeanor and face reminded me of a very nice lady at Robbie's office named Debbie. This woman said her daughter had three children in Syracuse, and she knew things looked hard at the moment. She insisted we take her cart without receiving our quarter in exchange. She picked up Henry's shoe and put it on his thick foot after I lifted him into the seat. I thanked her and we wished each other a happy Thanksgiving.
I started down the main aisle and began to check off my list...flour, sugar, brown sugar, pretzels, fruit spread, and on it went. I had almost made it to the dairy section when the same lady came up next to me. She seemed very nervous. I still don't know how her gift made it into my hand, but she said, "Take this. Don't think I'm weird." She then rushed away from me. I was dumbfounded. I looked down and found a folded twenty in my hand. I said, "Oh, no. No, no. Ma'am. Please come back. Ma'am!! Take this." She was already halfway down the next aisle, and she was speed walking. Another shopper came up to me and said, "What happened? Are you okay? What did she give you?" I said, "She gave me money." I must have looked shocked and confused, which I totally was. The lady said, "Well, and I bet it made her feel good to give it to you, and it makes you feel good to receive it. This is the spirit of Thanksgiving."
My mind started racing. All I could think about was how the gift giver looked like SHE needed the money. Yes, we try to stretch our funds, but we are quite far from poor. I then reflected upon our appearance. True, I had planned to workout before our grocery run. That didn't happen, and I hadn't showered and put on any make-up. My khakis were from my teaching days in the late 90s pre-kids, and there was a hole in one knee. However, my kids wore nice, warm, clean coats from Land's End. Their hair was combed. I then thought, "This is ridiculous. Evelyn is carrying a $100 doll, and this lady just gave me money and ran away". I was embarrassed. In my mind I laughed and told myself that the money came because Evelyn's doll's long hippy hair was such a disaster. If the woman waivered at all about whether or not to give us some money, then Julie the American Girl doll from 1974 sealed the deal. If I didn't have a conscience I'd take Julie to the doll salon, and yes, they really have one, and spend the $20 on getting her hair done. It needs it.
I kept shopping. Evelyn decided to give me a run for my money. She was VERY naughty, and rather than fix her misbehavior, she kept doing more and more to get into trouble. Consequences abounded. First, no American Doll girl for the rest of the day. Next, no t.v. Finally, no marshmallows as a treat upon our return home. Then she had to stand in the store in time-out for five minutes. I was so close to spanking her in public. Fear of appearing on the news probably stopped me. The trip was totally brutal. Totally!!!
My cart was completely full. At ALDI they have no shopping bags, and you're on your own to get your items to your car. There's no drive up service at that place. I started sacking my stuff into the cloth bags I brought along, and the lady who spoke to me after the gift started helping me. Again, I was surprised. Her name was Marge, and she looked a bit like my Aunt Vicky who passed away. I told her all of our names, and I thanked her. I told her she reminded me of Aunt Vicky too, and that created a huge smile on her face. She said, "I hope you like her." I said, "Oh, yes. I do."
Now I need to figure out a worthy charity to share the lady's $20. I figure it needs to be one that has a focus on helping mothers and young children. I'll add this to my mental To Do list, but this is a pretty special task. I doubt I'll ever forget this day. I must pay it forward. Again, I say, life is good. However, I can't help but question the motive. Did something happen with her own daughter, and her gift was a sentiment toward her love for that child? Did I have a deer in the headlights look out at the front of the store? What in the world inspired her to bless me with a random act of kindness? God only knows, and clearly, there is one.
As God smiled down at me on the pretty sunny day, COLD, yet pretty, a woman exited the store. She took one look at me and went into help mode. Her friendly demeanor and face reminded me of a very nice lady at Robbie's office named Debbie. This woman said her daughter had three children in Syracuse, and she knew things looked hard at the moment. She insisted we take her cart without receiving our quarter in exchange. She picked up Henry's shoe and put it on his thick foot after I lifted him into the seat. I thanked her and we wished each other a happy Thanksgiving.
I started down the main aisle and began to check off my list...flour, sugar, brown sugar, pretzels, fruit spread, and on it went. I had almost made it to the dairy section when the same lady came up next to me. She seemed very nervous. I still don't know how her gift made it into my hand, but she said, "Take this. Don't think I'm weird." She then rushed away from me. I was dumbfounded. I looked down and found a folded twenty in my hand. I said, "Oh, no. No, no. Ma'am. Please come back. Ma'am!! Take this." She was already halfway down the next aisle, and she was speed walking. Another shopper came up to me and said, "What happened? Are you okay? What did she give you?" I said, "She gave me money." I must have looked shocked and confused, which I totally was. The lady said, "Well, and I bet it made her feel good to give it to you, and it makes you feel good to receive it. This is the spirit of Thanksgiving."
My mind started racing. All I could think about was how the gift giver looked like SHE needed the money. Yes, we try to stretch our funds, but we are quite far from poor. I then reflected upon our appearance. True, I had planned to workout before our grocery run. That didn't happen, and I hadn't showered and put on any make-up. My khakis were from my teaching days in the late 90s pre-kids, and there was a hole in one knee. However, my kids wore nice, warm, clean coats from Land's End. Their hair was combed. I then thought, "This is ridiculous. Evelyn is carrying a $100 doll, and this lady just gave me money and ran away". I was embarrassed. In my mind I laughed and told myself that the money came because Evelyn's doll's long hippy hair was such a disaster. If the woman waivered at all about whether or not to give us some money, then Julie the American Girl doll from 1974 sealed the deal. If I didn't have a conscience I'd take Julie to the doll salon, and yes, they really have one, and spend the $20 on getting her hair done. It needs it.
I kept shopping. Evelyn decided to give me a run for my money. She was VERY naughty, and rather than fix her misbehavior, she kept doing more and more to get into trouble. Consequences abounded. First, no American Doll girl for the rest of the day. Next, no t.v. Finally, no marshmallows as a treat upon our return home. Then she had to stand in the store in time-out for five minutes. I was so close to spanking her in public. Fear of appearing on the news probably stopped me. The trip was totally brutal. Totally!!!
My cart was completely full. At ALDI they have no shopping bags, and you're on your own to get your items to your car. There's no drive up service at that place. I started sacking my stuff into the cloth bags I brought along, and the lady who spoke to me after the gift started helping me. Again, I was surprised. Her name was Marge, and she looked a bit like my Aunt Vicky who passed away. I told her all of our names, and I thanked her. I told her she reminded me of Aunt Vicky too, and that created a huge smile on her face. She said, "I hope you like her." I said, "Oh, yes. I do."
Now I need to figure out a worthy charity to share the lady's $20. I figure it needs to be one that has a focus on helping mothers and young children. I'll add this to my mental To Do list, but this is a pretty special task. I doubt I'll ever forget this day. I must pay it forward. Again, I say, life is good. However, I can't help but question the motive. Did something happen with her own daughter, and her gift was a sentiment toward her love for that child? Did I have a deer in the headlights look out at the front of the store? What in the world inspired her to bless me with a random act of kindness? God only knows, and clearly, there is one.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Michael Fat Leg a.k.a Michael Flatley
Henry is wearing a black sparkly leotard with a built-in twirl skirt. He looks like a figure skater. All of our children have been Irish dancing after the Scarboros exposed them to Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance VCR tape last night while Robbie, Anthony, and I went to a museum and a bar. Anthony woke up to what must have sounded like rapid gunfire in the basement as the children's feet pounded the floor. They held out as long as their little bodies could contain themselves, then they unleashed. Evelyn and Henry thought the main guy's name was Michael Fat Leg, which we grown-ups found hilarious.
Henry has fallen in love with Olivia's new American Girl doll named Lanie. Olivia's Grandma Mary and Grandpa Mike took her to the Americal Girl store, and they returned with a soccer outift for the doll. She has her own mini cleats and shin guards to wear with her soccer jersey. Henry obsesses over it. The doll is the only one of us he'll kiss on the mouth. He asks for Lanie over and over again. He said to Anthony with desperation, "I want to hug Lanie!" Ant said, "Seriously?" Lanie even wears #2 like Olivia has on her soccer uniform.
One of our fun family games lately is for Robbie to lift Henry into the air and announce that he's Henry Man the superhero. Little guy then yells, "To the rescue!!!!" Robbie adds, "Able to run up and down the hall 60 times in one minute," and the girls laugh and laugh. My brother, who has been sleeping in our basement for a week, doesn't laugh about this part. Anthony has been making up songs about the kids as he plays his guitar. The girls enjoy it. Henry gets upset. "Uncle, don't sing that to MEEE!" I heard him yell today. Ant's song is about Henry's handsome look and his dislike of pants. He sings of how he runs everywhere he goes.
I introduced the children to air drums in the van. Henry really jams out, and I love it. When a song with great drums plays, I always tell him to play them. I think he likes Hot for Teacher the best.
I took down some Halloween decorations and noticed that Olivia made a haunted house that said "BOOOOB!" instead of "Boo!" She made it in first grade last year, but we never noticed the extra B.
As I diapered Henry and sprinkled baby powder on his bottom he wiped some of it with his finger. I reminded him that powder is not food and does not belong in his mouth. He thought I said, "pouter." He said, "Pouter. Like when Yaya (Olivia) goes to her bed?" I said, "Powder is this white stuff. Pouting is like this," and then I stuck out my lower lip and imitated his big sisters.
Vivian loves my brother. He smiles at her, and the girl totally lights up. She smiles with her whole face at him. I feel so lucky that he has been healthy for the last ten years. My children are so lucky to have him as a part of their lives.
Finally, food for thought. I feel like a bad mommy when it is past 8 pm, the girls are in goof off, rather than going to bed mode, Robbie is gone, and I want to push the "OFF" button on my girls. I lose patience, and I just hate it. However, I lose steam after 8 pm. I thank God every single day for the gift of my husband to my life. Now, you know what makes me feel like a good mommy? Making muffins. It sounds so silly, but it is totally true. When I bake up some nutritious muffins, and Ev says, "Mommy, these are the BEST muffins EV-UH!" I feel like a million bucks.
Henry has fallen in love with Olivia's new American Girl doll named Lanie. Olivia's Grandma Mary and Grandpa Mike took her to the Americal Girl store, and they returned with a soccer outift for the doll. She has her own mini cleats and shin guards to wear with her soccer jersey. Henry obsesses over it. The doll is the only one of us he'll kiss on the mouth. He asks for Lanie over and over again. He said to Anthony with desperation, "I want to hug Lanie!" Ant said, "Seriously?" Lanie even wears #2 like Olivia has on her soccer uniform.
One of our fun family games lately is for Robbie to lift Henry into the air and announce that he's Henry Man the superhero. Little guy then yells, "To the rescue!!!!" Robbie adds, "Able to run up and down the hall 60 times in one minute," and the girls laugh and laugh. My brother, who has been sleeping in our basement for a week, doesn't laugh about this part. Anthony has been making up songs about the kids as he plays his guitar. The girls enjoy it. Henry gets upset. "Uncle, don't sing that to MEEE!" I heard him yell today. Ant's song is about Henry's handsome look and his dislike of pants. He sings of how he runs everywhere he goes.
I introduced the children to air drums in the van. Henry really jams out, and I love it. When a song with great drums plays, I always tell him to play them. I think he likes Hot for Teacher the best.
I took down some Halloween decorations and noticed that Olivia made a haunted house that said "BOOOOB!" instead of "Boo!" She made it in first grade last year, but we never noticed the extra B.
As I diapered Henry and sprinkled baby powder on his bottom he wiped some of it with his finger. I reminded him that powder is not food and does not belong in his mouth. He thought I said, "pouter." He said, "Pouter. Like when Yaya (Olivia) goes to her bed?" I said, "Powder is this white stuff. Pouting is like this," and then I stuck out my lower lip and imitated his big sisters.
Vivian loves my brother. He smiles at her, and the girl totally lights up. She smiles with her whole face at him. I feel so lucky that he has been healthy for the last ten years. My children are so lucky to have him as a part of their lives.
Finally, food for thought. I feel like a bad mommy when it is past 8 pm, the girls are in goof off, rather than going to bed mode, Robbie is gone, and I want to push the "OFF" button on my girls. I lose patience, and I just hate it. However, I lose steam after 8 pm. I thank God every single day for the gift of my husband to my life. Now, you know what makes me feel like a good mommy? Making muffins. It sounds so silly, but it is totally true. When I bake up some nutritious muffins, and Ev says, "Mommy, these are the BEST muffins EV-UH!" I feel like a million bucks.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Gettin' Jiggy Wit It
I can't believe I just typed Gettin' Jiggy Wit It. On a drive in our sweet mini van that song came on the radio. I turned up the volume, sang to Ev and Henry, and watched as they started to catch on to the tune. When Robbie put Henry into his PJs last night I told Robbie about our experience with the song. Henry started going, "Na na nana, na na, Getting Jiggy Wit It!!!" It was great. After taking Olivia to gymnastics yesterday we heard AC/DC's Thunderstruck. I think that's the one Robbie liked to play in high school before his basketball games. Henry loved it. He did a different shoulder dance move in his car seat to the rock song, and he certainly made his mommy smile.
Vivian turned 9 months yesterday. Nov. 8th was also the anniversary of Anthony's remission from acute myelogenous leukemia. He celebrated 10 years yesterday, which I think amazes us all. God is good. My brother is such an important person in my life, and I am so thankful for his life and good health. I love watching him act as uncle to my children. He told me that the quantity of PEZ dispensers he has given (and continues to give) to my children will be the factor that sends us over the edge and out of our small house. I think the turning point will be the number of art projects the children produce. Yesterday Ev kept asking me where polar bears live. I told her they live outside in the snow. She made something at school, and after she made several more large, brown, double-sided ones here at home she remembered the word igloo. She plans to make one for each classmate and secretly place them into their book bags. She's really into igloo making. Seriously? Nobody ever could have convinced me I'd honestly write such a thing before I had children.
Vivian is such a little snuggle bug. When I hold her against my chest she tucks her legs up and burrows into my neck. Sometimes she'll even stick her thumb in her mouth and rest her baby head on my shoulder. It pains me to watch her get so close to a year. My baby is growing up, and I'm not ready for that. The pediatrician told me today to go ahead and feed her what we eat. We got home, and I fed her colby cheese, turkey, oyster crackers, fruit baby food, French toast, and Cheerios. She even had some cow's milk in her sippy cup. She's officially a big baby.
Henry is losing his baby ways. Today he told me, "Mom, I wiped off your kissy." No way. He can't be 2 1/2 and want to lose my kisses. It isn't happening. First, Olivia, and now Henry?! No. He gets my kissies!!! Luckily, I found a way to curb his pattern of wailing in his crib in the 5 o'clock hour. He did it for a week straight, and I was really having a hard time dealing with it in a calm fashion. I wanted to go outside and destroy a forrest like a T Rex I was so fired up. Nothing we could do (and Robbie did try) would consistently calm him down, and he was waking the whole house. Add an already tired mama to that mix, and the days didn't start off pretty.
During that stretch I had to use the words, "Son, we don't throw shoes at others," while we were in the grocery store!!! Yes, not only has he been taking off his shoes and socks and throwing them into four mysterious and separate spots in my vehicle, he did it in the store and threw them at the feet of a male customer. I about died. The man was cool about it. However, Henry lost his Halloween candy lollipop privilege for that one. That is a huge consequence for Master Henry, and I think he learned a lesson. I've also had to tell him, "We don't put our teeth on others." After his bath on Sunday he has secretly stored water in his mouth. As I dried him, he spewed it at my neck, and it went down the inside of my sweater all the way to my belly button. "Henry, we don't spit water at others." While I was getting ready for the day, I heard a terrible sound crashing down the wooden stairs into the basement. I heard no crying. I thought someone was unconscious, and I was terrified as I ran toward the scene with my jeans only halfway up. There was no child at the bottom of the stairs. Evelyn said, "Henry threw your sewing book down the stairs, Mom." It was over 300 pages and hardcover. You guessed it, "Henry, we don't throw books down the stairs."
This weekend we ran in the first ever 5K at our church. The temp was 26 when I turned on the t.v. in the morning. We searched for stocking caps and gloves and put on winter coats. Olivia ran with her daddy. She never stopped. She finished the race in 31 minutes 8 seconds, which made her faster than a lot of children her age and older, boys included. She's amazing. We were really impressed with her determination. I carried Vivian in the Ergo Carrier and pushed Henry as fast as my legs would go. Evelyn ran, then rested in the stroller. Henry started screaming at mile 1.5, and he never stopped until we passed the finish line (around 45 min.) and Robbie held him. He wanted out. He wanted me. He wanted Robbie. He then finally said, "Mommy, I dropped my mitten on the sidewalk." That was blocks and blocks ago. A rock band made up of some friends from church played outside the pancake breakfast, and it was fun and memorable. I bet we'll look back on the experience with laughter once our children are all old enough to run by themselves.
That will be the day. I bet we'll never find dried poop on the floor anymore when they can all run alone. At least I hope not! Henry pooped his Pull-up. Robbie didn't realize some of it fell off in the hall on the way to the tub, and it dried in the dark hallway overnight. In the morning, after I'd dealt with middle of the night issues and screaming in the morning, I found a huge pile of hard and smashed poop on the floor. Life is just ridiculous sometimes. We had to laugh when we realized what had happened.
I feel like a new woman. Last night nobody woke me up in the middle of the night, and I have energy and patience and extra happiness. See, I'm even writing again. The last week has been totally brutal. I go and go and do and do all day and evening, then the children have been slamming me repeatedly in the night with one issue or another. I thought I'd never catch up on my rest or the laundry. Speaking of that fine topic, it isn't going to fold itself. I told myself I'd take a little work break to blog, then off to the chores of my life.
Vivian turned 9 months yesterday. Nov. 8th was also the anniversary of Anthony's remission from acute myelogenous leukemia. He celebrated 10 years yesterday, which I think amazes us all. God is good. My brother is such an important person in my life, and I am so thankful for his life and good health. I love watching him act as uncle to my children. He told me that the quantity of PEZ dispensers he has given (and continues to give) to my children will be the factor that sends us over the edge and out of our small house. I think the turning point will be the number of art projects the children produce. Yesterday Ev kept asking me where polar bears live. I told her they live outside in the snow. She made something at school, and after she made several more large, brown, double-sided ones here at home she remembered the word igloo. She plans to make one for each classmate and secretly place them into their book bags. She's really into igloo making. Seriously? Nobody ever could have convinced me I'd honestly write such a thing before I had children.
Vivian is such a little snuggle bug. When I hold her against my chest she tucks her legs up and burrows into my neck. Sometimes she'll even stick her thumb in her mouth and rest her baby head on my shoulder. It pains me to watch her get so close to a year. My baby is growing up, and I'm not ready for that. The pediatrician told me today to go ahead and feed her what we eat. We got home, and I fed her colby cheese, turkey, oyster crackers, fruit baby food, French toast, and Cheerios. She even had some cow's milk in her sippy cup. She's officially a big baby.
Henry is losing his baby ways. Today he told me, "Mom, I wiped off your kissy." No way. He can't be 2 1/2 and want to lose my kisses. It isn't happening. First, Olivia, and now Henry?! No. He gets my kissies!!! Luckily, I found a way to curb his pattern of wailing in his crib in the 5 o'clock hour. He did it for a week straight, and I was really having a hard time dealing with it in a calm fashion. I wanted to go outside and destroy a forrest like a T Rex I was so fired up. Nothing we could do (and Robbie did try) would consistently calm him down, and he was waking the whole house. Add an already tired mama to that mix, and the days didn't start off pretty.
During that stretch I had to use the words, "Son, we don't throw shoes at others," while we were in the grocery store!!! Yes, not only has he been taking off his shoes and socks and throwing them into four mysterious and separate spots in my vehicle, he did it in the store and threw them at the feet of a male customer. I about died. The man was cool about it. However, Henry lost his Halloween candy lollipop privilege for that one. That is a huge consequence for Master Henry, and I think he learned a lesson. I've also had to tell him, "We don't put our teeth on others." After his bath on Sunday he has secretly stored water in his mouth. As I dried him, he spewed it at my neck, and it went down the inside of my sweater all the way to my belly button. "Henry, we don't spit water at others." While I was getting ready for the day, I heard a terrible sound crashing down the wooden stairs into the basement. I heard no crying. I thought someone was unconscious, and I was terrified as I ran toward the scene with my jeans only halfway up. There was no child at the bottom of the stairs. Evelyn said, "Henry threw your sewing book down the stairs, Mom." It was over 300 pages and hardcover. You guessed it, "Henry, we don't throw books down the stairs."
This weekend we ran in the first ever 5K at our church. The temp was 26 when I turned on the t.v. in the morning. We searched for stocking caps and gloves and put on winter coats. Olivia ran with her daddy. She never stopped. She finished the race in 31 minutes 8 seconds, which made her faster than a lot of children her age and older, boys included. She's amazing. We were really impressed with her determination. I carried Vivian in the Ergo Carrier and pushed Henry as fast as my legs would go. Evelyn ran, then rested in the stroller. Henry started screaming at mile 1.5, and he never stopped until we passed the finish line (around 45 min.) and Robbie held him. He wanted out. He wanted me. He wanted Robbie. He then finally said, "Mommy, I dropped my mitten on the sidewalk." That was blocks and blocks ago. A rock band made up of some friends from church played outside the pancake breakfast, and it was fun and memorable. I bet we'll look back on the experience with laughter once our children are all old enough to run by themselves.
That will be the day. I bet we'll never find dried poop on the floor anymore when they can all run alone. At least I hope not! Henry pooped his Pull-up. Robbie didn't realize some of it fell off in the hall on the way to the tub, and it dried in the dark hallway overnight. In the morning, after I'd dealt with middle of the night issues and screaming in the morning, I found a huge pile of hard and smashed poop on the floor. Life is just ridiculous sometimes. We had to laugh when we realized what had happened.
I feel like a new woman. Last night nobody woke me up in the middle of the night, and I have energy and patience and extra happiness. See, I'm even writing again. The last week has been totally brutal. I go and go and do and do all day and evening, then the children have been slamming me repeatedly in the night with one issue or another. I thought I'd never catch up on my rest or the laundry. Speaking of that fine topic, it isn't going to fold itself. I told myself I'd take a little work break to blog, then off to the chores of my life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)