I'll have what she's having

My kids are not the best eaters.  I am the first to admit this.  I have learned over the years and with various children that the best thing I can do for this problem is to not let the eating issues at our table interfere with the personal relationships I have with my children.  I try my best to provide healthy food with enough choices at each meal that I know no one will starve.  There's always a slice of bread, and when I am feeling particularly generous, the cereal cupboard they can help themselves to.  If they want any dessert, they have to at least try everything on the plate.  Sometimes I will enforce 2 bites if I know it's not a hard thing and they are just being silly about not wanting something as delicious as green jello with pears.  (kidding- I never make jello.  I had a bit too much of it in my youth).

I grew up in the generation where parents forced kids to eat all the food on their plates.  I was told I could sit there all evening until my plate was clean.  Or I was given the same food at the next meal if I didn't eat it.  I was forced to take on bites of food, gagging until my eyes watered.  And I still don't like brussel sprouts.  Bad memories those...  I really get a bit angry when thinking about all that wasted fighting my parents did with me at the table.  I think they could have gone a bit easier on me.  Shown some compassion.  Not forcing me into a life of deceit when I would ask to be excused to the bathroom where I would then spit out the food I disliked.  It worked well when telling my mother I had the stomach flu and had just thrown up as well.  Hardly felt any guilt over it.  Later I once took a 20 from my mom's wallet and spent it all on candy at Carson's market down the street from Wasatch elementary school on my recess.  Now that was naughty!  Where were the staff members at recess anyways?  I've come clean on this issue now so please, no judging.  But you can see where depriving a child of things and forcing foods they hate on to them can lead can't you?  I won't even mention that I used to get my gum fix from discarded ABC gum off the street and roll it around in my mother's sugar canister for extra flavor (delicious!).  That's what having a DDS dad who takes away all your Halloween candy for a nickel a piece will get 'cha.  So basically when it comes to food- I need therapy.  Or maybe as a child I did.  I don't find myself doing those things too often nowa days.  Although I do need to have a chocolate stash in the house pretty much all the time.

Currently the funniest eater at my house is the two year old.  Two is such a fantastically miserable age.  They don't know what they want and they don't know how to tell you once they know, and mealtimes pretty much heighten those characteristics for her.  Even sitting her in the booster chair is sometimes enough to start her into hysterics.  Ask her if she wants something and most of the time her answer is "NO!"  a big overused word for her.  Present her with something and she shoves it away.  Most of the time.  But one trick that has worked well with her is to offer her something, wait for the anticipated refusal, then say nonchalantly "okay I will eat it them." or even better "I'll just give this nice plate of food to your sister."  Suddenly she wants it and wants it bad.  Yes it's food/mind games here at the T household.  

Good times, noodle salad... 

≈

About turning 40

Well I am finally deciding to open up about my age here on the blog.  I am now 40 (as of 11-11 actually).  I recall when my oldest sister was turning forty some 17 years ago and there was a get together at Chi Chi's in Provo to celebrate the big 4-Oh. We were starving students at the time and my husband told me we couldn't afford to go, thus starting our whole 'Lucy/Ricky' stereotype relationship when it comes to money. My other sister kept rubbing it in Paula's face saying "Your now the big 4-Oh! What are you going to do now?" At my tender age of 23 I did think that 40 was older than dirt. Now I look back on my former self and think I was so naive. Forty is not old. It's seasoned. I would much rather talk to a 40 year old than a 23 year old. They have so much more to say that is of substance.

Certainly the big 4-Oh is a huge milestone. And maybe I should be more self-conscious. Maybe when putting my age on Christmas cards along with the rest of the kids I should put 'timeless.' Maybe I should say "I am 29 and holding" like my mother used to say. But secretly I like being 40. It's like saying "I'm a big kid now!" to the world. I especially love it when people can't believe that is my age. Yummy! When we lived in Korea there were lots of them who were amazed with me when they saw that my oldest child was 13 (at the time). Probably because they wait until their is a career in place and a home bought before considering children. So no one at my age would have a child that old. It made me seem super well preserved. And the Koreans never mince words (for bad or good mind you), about how they feel about your appearance. It was so nice for my ego having them praise me all the time. They probably thought I was about 50 though. So maybe that's not saying much. As a side note I never felt the judgement from the Koreans about having 5 children like I do sometimes from Americans. They cherish children and think you are a goddess if you are that brave, rich, and fertile.  "Oh you hab five chillun?  You husband maka lots money eh?"  They don't have large families because they think they can't afford them or put enough time into more than 2, but they worship those who choose to brave having a large brood. It's an interesting cultural difference.

Anyhow, back to me and being 40. I have decided that there are some blessings to having zits as a teenager. Not too many wrinkles as a 40 year old! Yeah! That ought to come in handy when my husband starts wrinkling up early. (He is 8 months younger btw-ouch). He's never in his lifetime had more than one pimple at a time. It's enough to make you sick. Ironically, I found my first grey hair on my 27th birthday while investigating a pimple in the bathroom mirror. Sigh! I have had the occasional stray gray hair at the rate of about 2 a year ever since. Until the last several months when T has been deployed- I swear I have had more greys pop up in the last 3 months than in the last 3 years. Mind you it's still not a lot, but I think that is something worth thinking about. Worry & stress contributing to age. However I have made a conscious decision not to pluck them this year. It's not that I am embracing the grey, I'm not to that point yet.  It's more that I am worried about hair loss. Noticing my now 54 year old sister and her thinning hair has me worried. I have, just this year, started parting my hair on the other side, where I am less thin on top.  Rotating the tires on my head so to speak.  Sadly this isn't the type of thin I hoped to gain in my forties. I guess it could be worse. But I am hanging on to all my hairs brown or grey or is it gray? I hate spelling! I am losing my mind as well! And to help things from going south I am also wearing a bra 24-7. Just thought you'd like to know...

Life with a loving ADD child

This morning I told my son to put away the milk. It made it from the table to the counter. No lid- looked for lid, got distracted, left milk out. I also told him to vacuum the van yesterday (he's looking for extra jobs and cash these days). I came down to find all the mats out and the vacuum still out, but the van was vacuumed, kinda... I have asked multiple times for these things to be put back. Finally it happened, but it was almost not worth it to me what with all the asking.

"I feel like I am talking to a wall" I told him today on our way to school.

"What?" he said.

Silence...

"Do you know that I had to feed the dog and turn out 7 lights this morning for you?"

"Oh-sorry"

"Right" I feel guilty because I really shouldn't get upset over things he has no control over

"Do you think you could try just a tinseey bit harder to listen and follow through?"

"Sure Mom"

"Time to get out now"

N kisses me and tells me he loves me. He is forgiving of my anger when I am not forgiving of his foibles.

I could probably learn a lot from N. Right now I need to go help him find his cell phone...

Remodel

We're going for some renovations in our home lately. Removing things demolition style. The outside trim had to go. The color scheme was all wrong for the style of our home. I have been watching a lot of curb appeal lately. It's amazing what you can learn actually. I really hope to replace the door as well. It didn't let in enough natural light. The crew has been amazing, although a bit on the messy side. Here's hoping the house will look a lot better this time next year.

First Snow and a Paper Chain

Although the temps here have been frigid lately we have had no real snow to speak of the entire season. That is until today. So we spent a good part of the day outdoors shoveling and making a snowman. Big Girl did the decorating completely by herself (and yes those are grapes for the eyes). We found that the gentle slope outside in our front yard makes for a pretty slow sledding hill. Too bad, it seems so steep when mowing it in the summer. Still we decided to go down several times and acted like it was the most awesome ride in town. "That was totally WICKED!' we'd yell just like that kid on the trike in the Incredible's movie.



For FHE we decided to make a paper chain representing the days we have left until T gets home from Iraq. It is an approximation but it'll do pig it'll do. (from the movie Babe- stay with me now). And yes, that is my daughter wearing her summer PJ's in winter. I am aware and I don't care.

The final bit of info I have to share is that today is a double anniversary for me. It is both the day that my mother died from cancer 20 years ago, and the day my husband proposed to me 17 years ago. It's always a bitter sweet day. So it was nice to have snow to distract me from the pain of missing my mother at a time like this and a paper chain remind me of all that I have to be grateful for in a husband like T. 60 days left sweetie! But who's counting...

A Jolly Holiday with You Dear

T
I was missing you something awful yesterday. I put together a Valentines package and in the writing of the note I just got a bit down thinking about being away from my Plucky on Valentines. I am sadly thinking of how many holidays and birthdays we will miss out on together. My birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, E's birthday, New Years, the Feast of the Epiphany, Islamic New Years, Ashura, Marthin Luther King Day, Inaguration Day, Austrialia Day, Groundhog Day, Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday, (and I have been preparing the ashes in our fireplace and everything), Chinese New Years, Lent, Lincoln's Birthday, Valentines. N's and A's Birthdays, Labor Day, St David's Day, International Women's Day (had some great plans for you and I that day!), Daylight savings, St Patrick's Day, and you just might miss Muhammed's birthday, but maybe not. I am hoping for your arrival on the 20th- the official first day of Spring. How symbolic! Thank you for the lovely spring flowers you sent do commemorate the spring we shall have together. What a celebration it will be this spring!

Ode to my Little Boy

Andrew is my littlest boy. Two older brothers and two younger sisters. Smack in the middle of the children is Andrew. My husband T, was also a middle child and perhaps to avoid the middle child syndrome his mother wisely chose to call him her 'stuffin child.' "A sandwich is nothin without the stuffin." She would say.

Drew is very smart and has a passion for reading. He reads way into the night and is tired the next day. Tired and cranky to the point where I am sending him to his room, where he does more reading. Here is a poem I cranked out in his honor...


His temper his hot

like the red of his hair.

He often yells "STOP!" So loud,

strangers may stare.

He does not eat meat

Unless it is bacon.

Sometimes he feigns stomache aches,

but his Mom knows when he's fakin.

He dotes on Eliza.

With her wish, he complies.

They also both share

some amazing blue eyes.

I love his cute lymricks

He authors with glee.

He makes up cute dances.

I might laugh till I pee!

All thanks up above

For this 3rd son so dear.

Forgive me for crying.

Blame it all on the fear

of raising 3 boys,

with no promise of daughters.

I'll take on Andrew

Above all the others

To T on a Wednesday

Hi T
It's me Kelly. This separation thing is the worst ever. I am so anxious to have you home. I did a manly thing with wood tonight. There seems to be a squirrel or a rat or something large getting into the house by way of the stairs going down to the garage. Mice were coming through there before but it's something bigger now, it's clear because they are chewing holes into the bait things the exterminator left because they are too big to get in the existing holes. Last night when I moved the basement traps they had been chewing up onto the dryer, whatever it was moved to an alternate location and started chewing up another box. The one at the bottom of the stairs going to the garage. Blast those ROUSes!!! (see Princess Bride rodents of unusual size).

Lloyd says they sharpen their teeth on just about anything. Lloyd also says that the squirrels are low on nuts this year and have been going for his traps. I am wondering what squirrel Lloyd has been talking to. Yes I am on a first name basis with the exterminator. He must like me because he left some larger rat-bait poison boxes for no extra charge for me today. He's old so no worries okay? I just saved us some dough with my charms. So he saw that gap under the door going out to the back yard from the garage and told me that is how they are getting in (he's mentioned it before and seems irked that I don't just fix that problem-like my husband is home from Iraq and can do these things and all). Then the rodents somehow get into the storage under the stairs in the garage. This has him stumped and somewhat upset- I am upset right along with him. I stand there in the cold of the garage and cluck my tongue and say "those little buggers!" I think he likes this. Then they are up the space between the wall and the stairs and into the house. So last time he tried to tell me how to repair the huge gap under the door to the outside with nails and stuff. That just went in one ear and out the other. Me no do that. This time however he suggested putting a plank of wood up against it and barricading it with something heavy. Me can do that! He suggested barricading with paint cans but then realized his silliness with the cold being an issue there. I propped a piece of particle board up against the space and parked the go bug in front of it. Let's see them get through that! I threw in the diaper genie for good measure. Then the really manly thing I did was to shove more wood in the space between the stairs and the brick and then I used the steel wool wrapped in duct seal to shut those buggers out. It was kinda inventive and therapeutic for me. That is until I sliced my finger on one single strand of steel wool. Then I cried like a little girl. Please come home soon!!!!

Love

Kelly

A House of Order-A House of Prayer

So I have been scrambling to keep on top of things around here for way too long, and I have been feeling just that-scrambled. When we recently visited friends over the holiday I got to witness something that for me was a bit on the painful side, my kids getting the attention they crave from an adult (not me btw). My patient lovely friend TP crafted with my daughters, got out large tubs of barbie clothing and moon sand. She sat around and chilled with my boys. She wasn't a stressed-out basket case like I usually am. It was so nice to have someone else in charge of dinner for a couple nights. So nice not to have to face laundry or the distraction of the phone or the internet. So nice just sit around, play with kids, eat some food, and shop for quilt squares.

The problem here is that we had to come home at some point. And the laundry had built up, and yes, the house was just as messy as I had left it. Also there was a birthday on the horizon to prepare for. I don't really know the art of slowing down and letting things just be what they are. I hope to learn that one day. But for now I care too much when the house is a mess and the meals are not balanced, and the pin the tail on the donkey game at the party turns ugly, very ugly.

I have been pondering (and praying) for help in this area of my life and the thought has come that I need to get help and simplify. Ideas have come to mind that I should be getting more sleep and paying more one on one attention to my kids. That maybe getting a sitter once in a while would be good so that I can do what I need to do. For me. I don't have to volunteer at the school if I can think of something more important- like taking care of myself. Do I sound self centered? Maybe I am. If I was completely selfless it wouldn't matter at all that I have no time to even clip my nails, but it matters.

And so I decided in a moment of hysterics one day to call Melissa for help in cleaning my house. I recall my phone message as saying something like "I'm not sure how busy you are Melissa- maybe you could come by some time when it's convenient - like today would be good" And yesterday.... she came.... and cleaned.... and somehow my smile has magically returned. It's been a smiley time around here fore the last 48 hours.... since she came. While she cleaned it should be mentioned that I did ALL THE LAUNDRY! All of it-even folded and put away 95%. That is an All Free and Clear miracle people! I also played Uno with the kids and we laughed at funny movie trailers (you gotta go see the Ice Age movie trailer with your kids- it's a crack up! Or maybe it was just the good mood I was in). And funnily enough the kids have picked up on this happiness and have entered Melissa in our nightly prayers. "We thank Thee that Melissa could come and clean house for Mom" my children have been saying. They seem to have noticed that a house of order=a happier mother. And I am noticing an improved sense of picking up on their part. I guess they don't want to mess with a good thing. Cause there's another saying around here that we go by "When Moma aint happy, aint nobody happy!"

Here are some photos of my house all clean in each room at the same dang time- enjoy (but I know no one enjoys it as much as I do).

PS One messy teenager's room isn't going to get me down. My new 2009 goal is to "let it be"

Taking down Christmas and other life lessons

It has taken me about 3 days to take down Christmas. I am gonna guess 3 because I am giving up on finishing tonight and it was day 2. So I guess the primary presidency members coming to my house for a board meeting at 10:00am will just have to see the mess my house is in, hear me make some funnyish comment about it, and get over themselves. Although I did have more motivation to get it done tonight because there is a new member of the presidency who hasn't been over here yet and I always like to make a good first impression. I have been to her house a few times and it seems things don't get cluttered or dirty over there at all. Still I am going to try and like this person.

I was reminded aobut all the Christmas that needed boxing and squishing under the stairs at my home when I was at brownie scouts with my daughter last night and saw in the bathroom (?!) a creche that was very similar to the one I grew up staring at in my own childhood home. I did a double take and realized one difference. All three of the wisemen where white. My set growing up had one black wiseman. It looked a bit like this set here



And suddenly upon remembering this image in my mind I also remembered the amount of staring I did at the one black wise man in our set. He may very well have been the only black man in my home for years and years. (Well it was Provo people). He was a deep dark black, with very white eyes. I stared with imense curiosity and wonder. In fact once I could have sworn I heard him whisper "Why don't you take a picture, it will last longer?" There were not too many men of color (or women for that matter) growing up in Provo Utah. So that is probably why I found him so facinating. I smiled when I remembered the sheltered child I once was.

I often tell my children how lucky they are to live a more exposed lifestyle than I did in a diverse place with exposure to many colors and cultures. How lucky we were to live in a foregin country and be the minority for a time in Seoul Korea. I am now much more sympathetic to people who try and make it here without knowing the language, or how to drive, etc. It takes guts to keep going sometimes in that environment.

And I am most happy to report that I grew out of the staring at people of color a long time ago. Now I look them in the eyes. I smile and am freindly. I sometimes feel thier surprise at my behavior and feel sad for them a bit. Sad for the fact that they have probably been mistreated. Or they are like I once was- underexposed. May we all take a step closer to that Christ child in my nativity and stop looking at skin, and instead look within.

Brand New Fear

I have a new and driving issue in the forefront of my mind.  I cannot stop thinking about this today and it's going to give me an ulcer.  Don't worry everyone is in good health, no bad news from T, the mice seem to be dwindling, Obama is getting ready to take office. (Now you know-sorry to my republican friends but I meant that as a good thing).  The thing that has me upset came in an email today.  Our ward's non existent cub scout program has finally combined with another ward that has an active cub scout program and so my 9 year old and I who have been doing 'home-school scouts' now have a group for him to join.  That is also a good thing.  Home school scouts, while being productive had really run it's coarse.  The thing that has rocked my world and stung me deep is that they made the upcoming event announcements via email today.  And this coming March, before T comes back, is.... Que scary music please... The pinewood derby!  Shriek!  Scream!  NO!!!!!!!

Yes, this means I will be going it alone for the derby this year.  And frankly I would rather deal with more mice.  You have to understand our long family history with the derby.  Both Grandfathers had excellent derby skills.  Carving delicate cylindrical works of art with perfect paint jobs that went down in derby history in their wards.  Cars with names like 'the Silver Bullet.'  Cars with invisible inner weighting of melted molten medal.  Or if you are talking about my Dad's brand of weighting, step into the dental office/secret derby production factory.  In this mysterious place we use liquid mercury for the 5oz weigh-in ingredient.  The inner cavity of these cars allowed for enough of the toxic silver liquid to slosh around inside giving the car the added edge it needed to speed ahead from behind to win every (and I mean every) race.  My dad, the DDS, had all the engineers on our block stumped.  Until they read this post that is...  Alas mercury is now a no-no so it's a safe cancerous cat to let out of the bag.  

My husband has all these special tools to make an awesome winning car.  Also we have quite a winning record to live up to.  The pressure!  Maybe he can talk me though how to use them over the phone.  It will be like an operation I have never performed before and D's winning streak will be on the line, but I will have to rise to the occasion.  

The paint job doesn't scare me since we have these great car wraps that make it look all perfect.  Sorry if I have offended you because you are one of those pinewood derby snobs who like to come to the event with a very kid-made car and drop all kinds of comments like "I say let the kids have the experience of making the car- that is what you are supposed to do you know, says so right in the leader's guidebook for nerdy scout rule followers." (really no offense intended)  Well that is just silliness.  They can make their cars when they have kids someday- just like is says in the Down and Derby movie. He can pick the color, and maybe the cut if it's acceptable. 

 

By scout number 3 we have this thing down.  T procrastinates, gets inspired, I am the wind beneath his wings, we act surprised to have such a winning car, take our trophy, exhibit good sportsmanship, and then when we are alone in the car we scream and shout our guts out.  I am afraid there will be no such ritual this year.  Could it be our year to get to the heart of what is important with cub scouting ?  Fun with a purpose?  Do your best?  Do a good turn daily?  Cheat with an old winning car?  (I've known folks to do that).  Call Grandparents to come to my rescue?  All of the above?  I just don't know- so I am going to sleep on it and hope for inspirational dreams.  Wish me luck!

Laundry

Laundry is something I used to dread.  Having as many bodies as we do creating smelly dirty laundry that is always piling up is a huge hassle.  Folding is always being put off and finding clean socks is a mess at my house.  It makes me feel like a failure to have to buy new socks simply because they aren't matched and put away yet.  Kids leaving socks out on the lawn doesn't help either.  But today after staring at the mounds of laundry I had waiting for me I had a new thought.  That laundry has been so patiently waiting for me for like... 4 days.  And not a peep has it made!  Laundry is really really patient.  I should be so patient.  Laundry is kind.  Never an ill phrase is uttered by the laundry.  Laundry never critisizes.  JW could learn a thing or two from the laundry.  Laundry is a good listener.  You may laugh at this but I have vented many times out loud while folding the laundry and I never get interupted.  There may be a sound of static every once in a while (I don't use fabric softener at all- does that rock your world or what?) but that is all- it's almost like an 'ummhmm' when that happens.  Laundry doesn't care if you shift it from room to room, tucking it out of sight when you have a guest coming over and you need to have seating for them.  It always loves you, and keeps coming back week after week.  

One thing I dislike though, and must be mentioned here is when I go to the trouble of doing the laundry and then the kids don't appreciate it at all.  I am sure I was the same as a kid.  But there is one form of unappreciativness that I find most offensive.  It is the act of putting things in the dirty clothes that are not actually dirty.  The reason for putting things in there is obvious to all mothers, but in case you aren't a mother let me point it out to you.  If you are too lazy to put it away,  then throw it in the hamper.  I have even discovered unused still rolled up socks in the dirty clothes hamper!  The inefficiency and ingratitude (two of my most disliked things on the planet) of it all is enough to make me see red!  So last year I started something called 'laundry violations' at my house.  If I find belts, ties, clean clothing, etc in the laundry I start tallying up marks by the culprit's name and by the end of the laundry day the one with the most hash marks owes me some laundry time.  That's right- they have to do the laundry for me for a few loads.  That'll teach em!  Well- it hasn't so far, but I can always dream right?

Tribute to Two

Baby girl is now 2. And I would like to pay a tribute to her today. I remember when she was born and she was so good natured that she barely made us remember she was there- a good quality for child number 5 don't you think? She was much like her look-alike brother I posted earlier about here. Middle Boy would politely clear his throat at night reminding us that he was hungry. "A-hem, pardon me mother, but I would like some of that milk you so kindly provide, a-a-a-hem."

She was so good that we nick named here Eliza Do Little, because (and now you have me using her real name but who cares) her name is Eliza and she did very little. See this post from 2 years ago. Wow I have been blogging for a while (!). 

BUT NOT ANY MORE!

She now is a hustling bustling 2 year old.  I have often been aggravated by her several times before breakfast.  In public, when she behaves like a two year old and I kindly explain to whoever might be listening that "well, she's two" my fact-sensitive 5 year old will openly correct me saying "NO she is only one!"  Not until the presents were opened on the evening of her birthday would Big Girl admit that she was, indeed, two.  Even when I explained that she was born just after midnight in the early morning hours of the 31st of December. (btw, so hypocritical, but now Big Girl is wanting me to call her six but her b-day isn't until Feb! Shocking I know...) But I digress.  This entry is supposed to be about Eliza.

The rapid changing of my 5th and last child has had me thinking about how much my husband is missing while deployed in Iraq.  And how one can love a child so much even though they are completely different from month to month.  It's like we are loving multiple people all wrapped into one.  I came across a photo of my 14 year old the other day of when he was about 3.  So innocent wanting his portrait done with a little red Po tellatubby doll.  I remember his longing for a La La doll to keep Po company.  Carried the silly doll everywhere.  Now he can't stand having anyone see that picture of him.  I really loved that little guy.  I miss him too.  Okay, I really love the big guy too.  It's just so bitter-sweet to have them go changin all the time!  And with Baby Girl, it's all the more bitter since she is the caboose.  I just want to freeze her, but I know that would be child abuse.

Here is a peek into her life with a play by play of our morning (the good the bad and the ugly)...

3:00 am (that's am people):  Baby Girl calls me from her crib wanting to come in bed with me.  I rock her instead and put her back in bed.  She is not amused, but I hold my ground.  Last night was a mess I don't want to repeat.  You'd think on a king sized bed we'd have enough room to keep her from mashing my face with her feet.

7:00 am: She wants up, she calls for me.  I get her up but am busy getting kids ready for school so she has to fend for herself and cry without holding for about 10 minutes until she is tired of it.  She has learned to deal.

7:15 am:  Breakfast of cereal, toast, juice with refill, and later a banana to which we play the game "you want a banana? No? Okay, my banana.  Oh now you want it? Okay your banana"

8:30 am: Drive kids to school with Baby Girl in her PJs and slippers over the footed PJs at her insistence.  We don't fight her on this one. She also sleeps in her shoes. Every. Night.

8:45 am: Get undressed and requests a sit on the potty- no results...Get dressed and snuggle in Mom's bed.  She is very lovey dovey.  I cherish this time with her so much.  I'd say it's one of the highlights of my day.

9:00 am: Second attempt at breakfast- more banana ramma routine.  Wants more juice- Mom says no.  Suddenly she looks at me and says 'poop mom' so I excitedly ask if she wants to sit on the potty, she says yes and I take her in to go and notice a very recently peed in diaper (how do I know?  Just changed her and the urine is still warm... gross I know).  So I conclude that she must have been telling me at the table that she was filling her diaper when she said "poop"  This is an old familiar thing for me.  Her time must be on the horizon.  

I will spare you the rest because frankly it involves tantrums I can't recall and it's now later in the day and I can only live in the present.  But let's just say that I love honor and respect Baby Girl and her new age of TWO!

Stirrings

I hate to post this because it's embarrassing. But for the past few weeks we have had a problem with mice. The weather turned cold and inside my pantry they did roam, and munch... and poop. I thought at first that I may have been dealing with chipmunks because my pantry is in a fairly odd place outside the kitchen on the way up to an addition put onto the house at some earlier point in time. It's a very cold storage spot and it almost feels like it may have access to the outside- thus making me think more along the lines of a chipmunk. I mentioned this problem to a friend and they oddly suggested I see the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie. "It won't solve your problem, but the movie is adorable!" said she. I caught a few moments of it during my Christmas wrapping week on HBO. Cute? I guess. Not helpful for my problem though, as she said. In the pantry there was a fairly large box of minute rice with an opening for the rice to pour out exposed to the 'elements' as it were. I had a hunch and decided to pour the rice out into a bowl. I found the mother-load of stashed away food in there. Spaghetti noodles, M&Ms (that really got me going!), almond slivers. I quickly called an exterminator. I didn't want to be dealing with whatever this was over the holidays. Lloyd has come out now about 3-4 times leaving his expert traps full of blood thinning poison for the mice. Yes mice do this hoarding says Lloyd. I have learned all kinds of things about mice. Like (and maybe you don't want to know this... if so stop reading now) mice can jump 3-4 feet into the air, squeeze through a space the size of a nickel (a flat nickel!) to get in where they want to go. I saw a mouse run across the floor in front of me the other day while in the laundry room. It seems they are downstairs too- getting into the food storage. I think I am going to be sick. I cleared out everything I thought they could get to easily and then found more evidence tonight. So much for Lloyd and his traps. Lloyd, if you are reading this I want my 160.00 back please. I am now forced to 'cowboy up' like the true cougar that I am and put up 1/4 inch screens in my pseudo pantry. With staple gun in hand I will conquer. I wish T were here to do the dirty work. I set 3 traps tonight and swore the s word each time I got the boogers scared out of me when the things would snap in my hands while placing them. I repented after each time though so it's all good.

This among other continuing troubles in the T household have caused me to lose my sense of well being lately. Could it be that having my kids home from school being bored and irritable with one another is also causing me to hear the scratch scratch scratching of insanity inside my head. I have been over the side too many times at the end of 2008. (aka over the edge). When I feel this way. This swirling of the dark abyss that only gets worse before getting better I know what need be done my friends. I need to forget myself and go to work. Prioritize what is important and let the rest slide of the ducks back if you will. Ride easier in the saddle. These are the things I know, yet the doing is much harder. Getting more sleep would help me and I continually stay up past 11:30. I need to repent and shoo the symbolic rodents of unusual size from my lifestyle. So I now close this post at 11:16 and start tomorrow with a renewed commitment to do what needs to be done, and try to settle the uneasy stirrings about my home.

Holiday Sharing

Well it just so happens that 2 years ago I was doing more than just pushing through to another new year. I was pushing my way through to child number 5. She came just in time for a 2006 tax break. That is a generous baby for you. So we, from here on out, get to welcome in a new year and add to that a birthday party. I should also mention that my 9 year old was born on my anniversary, and my 5 year old shares a birthday with valentines day (almost- the 13th). I share a birthday with veterans day myself, so I guess I should have expected such things from my children. Of course I never feel like it is an imposition to have no incoming mail and my husband home from work on my day of birth. I wonder if Baby Girl, in her future will mind sharing her special day with millions of people across the globe getting drunk singing, and kissing at midnight. Maybe I can convince her it's all in her honor. And seriously, who wouldn't want someone getting shoshed in your honor right?

Here are some photos of our celebration of Baby Girl turning 2... enjoy!


Blowing out candles (with help)




Monkey in the box has been a hit with young and old














But not as popular as this doll house. I had to buy since the housing market is so cheap right now....



And even though it came with furnishings, poor Grandma and Grandpa get to sleep on the floor. Shameful!

Big Girl has a new toy as well it would seem