A gratitude post

I've seen "gratitude posts" on other blogs.  Each day, I thank God for the big things in my life, like my husband, children, food, and home, but I sometimes forget about the little things. 

I sometimes see the clouds, and not their silver linings. 

One cloud...  Dave and I sometimes worry about having only one shower when we someday have three teenage girls and a teenage boy.

Silver lining...  Today I'm grateful our one shower is a big shower.

I'm also grateful that Dr. Bronner's all-in-one soap really does clean anything, even dogs when you can't find their dog shampoo.

And I'm especially grateful for Community Bark Dog Wash, which I now realize will be well worth the expense from now on when it's too cold to wash a dog outside.

"Nicknames"

My poor kids are probably called by their own names only about half of the time.  That's because they go by a lot of... um, nicknames.  Ally, for instance, goes by Lu-Ally, Anna-um-Kate-Ally, or, at times, simply Anna, equally as much as by her given name.

Kate's recital

Kate’s first piano recital was yesterday in a majestic 150-year-old church.

Kate played second.  When it was her turn, she walked up to the piano with confidence. The baby grand dwarfed her in size, but she jumped up on the bench, her feet dangling below, and played wonderfully, counting her one, twos in a stage whisper.

And, although Dave, Grandpa, and I spent all but the first 20 minutes of the recital walking outside the sanctuary with Anna, Luke, and Ally, Kate got to sit with Grandma and enjoy all the other students’ pieces.

 

To hear about the recital in Kate's own words, check out the post on her blog.

Six months old!

Luke and Ally turned six months old today!

Their celebratory feast was sweet potatoes, in lieu of cake.  This afternoon Kate, Anna and I are going to make a traditional half-birthday half-cake in honor of each of them, which will be odd, since it will be the first time I won't have a left-over half of a cake to hide. 

Luke and Ally also celebrated with their first tries on their swings last night, and quite the first tries they were, with the exuberant pushes they got from their big sisters.  They're also enjoying their "new" hand-me-down piano, which they love to bang on.

They're the best babies I could ever imagine... okay, no. I have a pretty active imagination and could, therefore, imagine babies who sleep better.  But, aside from that, they're absolutely incredible!  Luke is loving and easy-going, just taking things as they come.  Ally is sweet and happy, with a huge smile for everyone.  I'm filled with love just thinking of these two incredible little people I have in my life.

Darn those socks

Our sweet Kate came home from school with a new expression a couple weeks ago.  "Darn it!" she exclaimed.  Okay, I know it's no "f-bomb," but it doesn't sound right coming out of an innocent little chid. 

I did a small double take when I heard her say it.  Then I calmly explained it wasn't really a nice thing to say, and Kate understood.  To my surprise, however, she used the expression quite a few more times in the next couple days.  Any time something wasn't perfect.  "Okay, girls, time to clean up for dinner."  "Darn it."

Each time I'd hear it, I'd give her a look.  She'd look surprised enough at herself that I knew she hadn't meant to say it, and then she'd sincerely apologize.  Kate explained that, "Ella at school says it all the time, and it just got stuck in my head."  Soon Kate began catching herself without a reminder.  After a couple days, the expression diminished to "Dah-- um...."  And then, thankfully, it completely vanished a couple days ago.

It completely vanished... until this morning.  My Anna loves a little excitement.  Although she never said the expression herself, I wonder if maybe she enjoyed the mild controversy that was caused by Kate saying it.   Now that we finally extinguished Kate's use of the expression, Anna decided it was the perfect time to resurrect it. After breakfast this morning she stood up on her chair and, with a twinkle in her eyes, exclaimed,

 "Hey, Daddy, take my 'darn it' bib off!"

The wicked (step) sister

Last night the girls were cleaning their room while I unloaded the dishwasher. After a while, Kate came into the kitchen. With a look of complete defeat, she reported, "It's clean. Anna wouldn't help clean up, though. I had to do everything. She said that she is the wicked step sister and that I'm Cinderella so I have to do everything."

I started to laugh. Anna's not even three. Kate is two years older than Anna, but Anna just conned Kate into cleaning the whole room. I know I shouldn't laugh, but that is funny.

Kate said, "That's not nice of her. That's horrible!"

I managed to stop laughing, but I couldn't wipe the amused look off my face. So I hid my face in the dishwasher and managed to choke out, "That is. It's awful!"

"Urgh!" Kate exclaimed, "Now you're just being nice!"

She was absolutely right about that. How can she be so mature about some things but always let Anna get the best of her?

Nudy nuns

One of my favorite things to do as I undressed as a child was to stop in the process of taking off my shirt and leave it stuck on the top of my head, dangling down behind me, so I could "look like a nun." 

My kids now do the same thing.  I don't know what gave them the idea.

Looking back at choosing names

I was thinking of everything we went through trying to pick names for Luke and Ally.  As with just about everything, I probably made choosing names more stressful than it had to be.

We started by picking out John and Lorelei.  We were going to call them Jack and Reily.  Then we were in the Dells and there were several kids named Reily (Riley) and it just kind of lost its luster.  Plus, we decided Jack was just way too common a name.

We moved on to Noah and Ally.  Dave suggested Noah and I liked it, and I said he could finally have the name Alison, which he'd been pushing for since I was pregnant with Anna.  After a few days, Dave and I both decided we didn't really love the name Noah, so we moved on.

Dave suggested Ethan.  I finally agreed to it, but then we discovered it was the second most popular name in the country.  I flipped out.  There'd be 5 Ethan's in his class.  We couldn't believe it was really that popular.  Maybe, we figured, it was just out east or something.  We wondered what it was in Wisconsin.  We looked it up and found it was number 1!

So, we decided on Eli instead.  That lasted until we tried to say "Eli and Ally" three times fast.

Dave finally said since he chose Alison, I'd get to name the boy.  I loved Caleb, with Seth as my second favorite.  He said he hated the name Caleb, but Seth was fine.  I struggle with the S and TH mix in the name when paired with other words with S's or TH's, so I wasn't sure.  I kept asking him if maybe he really did like Caleb?  Finally, someone suggested Luke.  It was a name I'd always loved, but I thought it had become way too common.  It was common, but not as common as Ethan or Eli, neither of which I didn't even really love, so...  maybe.  Then we looked up some of the historical significance of the name.  Luke as the physician who wrote some of the Bible.  Luke it was!  Perfect!

Anyone else confused?

I listened to Anna playing in her room as I nursed Luke in my room next door.  I heard her go in the bathroom just as I finished nursing.  When I came out, I found her heading downstairs with her pants and underpants around her legs.  Since that looked less than safe, I rushed to help her down the stairs. 

At the bottom, I reached to pull up her underwear and realized they were wet, soaked, actually, as were her pants and socks.

I sympathetically asked, “Oh, did you have a little problem?”  She nodded.  “That’s okay,” I assured her, but I wondered if she’d been unable to get her pants down or something.  She'd had five accident-free days.

As I took off her wet clothes, I asked, “What happened?”

She told me, somewhat huffily, “I don’t want to tell about it.  I just had a little problem, something you should worry about.” 

Trying not to laugh I asked, “Something I should worry about or something I shouldn’t worry about?”

“Something I should worry about,” she clarified.

More confused than before, I asked, “Something you should worry about or something I should worry about?”

Anna let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, and stopped answering.

Teething blues

I've been known to sound the teething alarm prematurely, but I really think my poor babies are teething.  They're crabby, and anything they can pin down goes immediately into their mouth, whether it's a toy, clothes, my chin, their siblings hand, anything.

 I mean anything.

Why my kids don't need more toys

Exhibit A

Yes.  The answer is yes; those are batteries.  Those are the batteries that I brought out to replace dead ones in a toy.  And those are the batteries that were then played with for the next hour rather than the toy.

Best friends

Three Cups of Tea

"Here (in Pakistan and Afghanistan), we drink three cups of tea to do business; the first you are a stranger, the second you become a friend, and the third, you join our family, and for our family we are prepared to do anything--even die."

--Haji Ali, Korphe Village Chief, Karakoram Mountains, Pakistan

That is a quote from one of my favorite books, Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin.  It's an incredible, uplifting story of how one man can really make a difference.

I thought of it today, because I now drink three cups of tea every day.  I know that doesn't sound like that much, but I never drank caffeine. I made it through college.  I made it through my first year teaching.  I even made it through two children.  All without caffeine.  But, twins... Twins did me in.  First it was one cup, then two, and now...

"Here (in the Melbye household), Mommy drinks three cups of tea to make it through the day; the first helps me open my eyes, the second gets me through lunch, and the third, I can now survive the afternoon, and after the afternoon, it's almost bed time, and for sleep, I'm prepared to do anything--even bribe."

--Kristal Melbye, Sleep Deprived Mom, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Positions and pedestals

Something has recently dawned on me.  I shared this incredible revelation with Dave and he was completely unimpressed.  "Of course..." he replied, as if waiting for me to get to the revelation part.

So, maybe it's obvious.  Maybe everyone else knows this, or at least everyone as old as I am, but I didn't.  Maybe I hadn't thought about it, or maybe I thought things would still change, or maybe I was afraid to wonder if it was just me who hadn't gotten there yet.

Not long ago, it dawned on me that my parents were my age when I was nine.  During this time of which I have a clear recognition of them parenting me, they were no older than me.  That shocked me.  They were adults.  They were parents.  How could they have been my age?  More importantly, how could they have been no more qualified for the position than I am?  That is impossible.

I also realized that many of my teachers were no older or no more experienced than I was as a teacher when they taught me.  Some were younger; some were less experienced. 

I kept wondering when I'd become the person that all my teachers were, that my parents were, when I would become that grown-up who was qualified for the position.

All along as a teacher, I made mistakes and figured I'd get better as I got the hang of teaching.  And all this time I wondered when I would get this parenting thing down.  I'm just guessing half the time.  I don't know what I'm doing.  I'm just doing the best I can.

And I realized it doesn't happen.  All the other teachers I know, the parents I know, everyone is just doing the best they can. 

And then it hit me.  Like a shock to my system, it hit me.  What!?  My own parents, my own teachers, they were just doing the best they could.  They were just guessing.  They were tired, they were stressed, and they weren't perfect. 

Knowing all this, it's so much easier to understand why they made the mistakes they did. It's so much harder for me to expect more out of them than I got. It's also scary as heck to think of them being in their position when they knew no more than I did.

If they weren't older and weren't more experienced, then they were no more qualified than I am. 

I still hold some sort of reverance for position, possibly for adulthood in general.  I put people on a pedestal. I assumed that people are qualified for their position.  But, we don't magically figure things out.  No one is really qualified for their position. We're all just people. We're all just pretending.

Fear the Scissors

This weekend I learned, for probably the ninety-somethingth time in my life, that just because I have a scissors and there is hair at my disposal, it does not make me a hair stylist.  Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, I wasn't the subject of my folly this time.  It was my poor Anna.  It's nice I don't have to go out modeling the style I created for all to see, but I do have to constantly look at my little girl and know, with shame, that "I did that."

Where'd my bangs go?

I need to find a chalkboard and write 200 times, "Just because I have a scissors, doesn't mean I should use it.  Just because I have a scissors..."

I have the urge to begin to explain what happened, to somehow defend myself by putting the blame on a fidgeting preschooler.  But, as the picture shows, there is no defense.  All I can do now is vow to live by the new motto of "Fear the Scissors" and train my children to run the other way if Mommy falls off the no-bang-cutting wagon and comes towards them with a smile and a scissors.

Luckily, the incident doesn't seem to be hindering Anna's self confidence in the least.

Luke and Grandpa

Anna rules!

Kate is very rule oriented.  Whether it's because of her age, the fact that she's a first-born girl, or just her personality, Kate will follow every rule she has ever heard of, and she will insist everyone else does the same.

Anna... not so much.

For Anna a rule can be a challenge.  How can she find a way around it?  For Anna a rule can serve as an alert that there is something she can do contrary to what is expected.  So, that's what she's supposed to do...

On the sticker chart for potty training, Anna knows she gets one sticker for potty, two for poopy.  The last four times she's put stickers on, she's grabbed extra.  This afternoon, Anna was putting a sticker on when Luke started to cry from his exersaucer.  I went to get him out.  When I returned less than a minute later, Anna had put the entire sheet of stickers on her chart.  When I reminded her, once again, of the rule, she countered with, "It was a lot of potty.  It needs a lot of stickers."

Dave and I have learned with Anna that we can't just give her a rule and expect she follows it.  We have to give her a rule and enforce it in a way that makes it impossible for her to break it.  For instance, Anna sleeps on the top bunk.  (After countless arguments about who got the top bunk, Kate said she'd just take the bottom every day except her birthday.)  When Anna gets out of her bed repeatedly, Dave and I take the ladder away so she can't get out any more.*  Last night, Anna wasn't listening to the rules about the top bunk (no throwing things down, etc.) so Dave calmly explained, "Anna, if you do that again, you'll have to sleep on the floor.  I'll move the ladder away so you can't get back up."  In return, Anna calmly explained, "I will move the ladder back and climb up to the top bunk."

Even when Anna does follow the rules, it's not always with the same results as when Kate follows the rules. This afternoon Anna did exactly as I told her.  Kate, Anna, and I were going to use M&M's to decorate a cake for Dave's birthday, but Ally was really crabby. I got the girls started and went to nurse Ally, leaving the girls with the instruction not to eat any more M&M's.  Less than a minute into nursing Kate cried out in horror, "Mom! There's a hole in the cake! She's putting a hole in the cake! She's eating the cake!"

I got Ally off my breast and went into the kitchen. I found Anna with a fist full of cake and frosting. It struck me as hilarious.  I began to laugh hysterically. Kate was appalled at my behavior, "It's horrible! What will we do? It's not funny!"  In between laughter, while reaching for my camera, I agreed with Kate, "No, it's not funny."

Anna stood there completely perplexed while I took the first picture.  Then she burst into tears, holding out her chocolaty hand to block the second picture. Had I began to discipline her, I'm fairly certain she'd have just given me her typical nonchalant look. I think my laughter caught her completely off guard... just as it caught me off guard when she followed my directions to not eat the M&M's.

Beginning our decorating

"Why are you laughing?"



"No more pictures!"



Patching the holes with M&M's



Perfect!

*No need to worry, we do replace the ladder before we go to bed for safety in a fire.

And they even ate some

Luke's lunch

 Ally's lunch


Bare bottomed Gandhi

I learn from my kids daily, but yesterday the lesson was glaringly obvious.

I've had a rough couple days.  I'm incredibly irritable... with everyone, from strangers in the grocery store (as most of you had to read about) to my own kids to my poor persecuted husband.  I'm sure this is largely due to lack of sleep and being overwhelmed in general, but there's something else.  After three completely successful days of being potty trained, Anna got her big reward and has now decided that she's done with the toilet.  She seems to see no difference anymore between diapers, underpants, or being barebottom.  She just pees whenever and where ever, although she is partial to peeing on the couch, one of only three nice pieces of furniture in our house.

Yesterday I took Anna to her library class.  The class is for two-year-olds and their caregivers.  One of the reasons I like to take her is to expose her to a structured setting, to give her some experience following rules and listening to a teacher.  Aside from regular social graces, there aren't many rules, basically all the librarian asks is that the kids are quiet and sit while she reads.  Most kids sit with their caregivers in a large semi circle. 

When we first arrived, Anna went in and knelt right in front of the librarian as she read.  I went and quietly told her to sit on her bottom so everyone could see.  She refused.  I crawled to her and pulled her aside.  Then I quietly explained that if she wanted to stay at library class, she'd have to follow the rules; she had to sit or we'd leave.  She complied.

Out of the dozen or so other kids there, all the kids sat quietly next to their caregivers except two.  These two were a set of twins.  The mother was there, as was her nanny.  (Two kids, two adults... but that may be for another post some day.)  The children would stand up, right in front of the book, blocking everyone's views, including Anna's.  The librarian would ask them to sit, but they'd ignore her.  The mother would occasionally yell from the semi-circle for one or the other to sit, but neither the mother nor the nanny would go retrieve either of the children or do anything at all except add to the disruption with their loud voices.  Anna would stand up to see, and I would quietly remind her to sit.  So she'd try to find a place to sit where she could see around them.  Later, when the librarian used props, the twins grabbed at them.  Again, the mother and the nanny did nothing. 

I sat there irritated the whole time, as I have been with so many people these past couple days.  I angrily thought of something I could say to the mother and then suppressed the urge.  Then I thought of something else to say and again suppressed the urge.   After the story time, the kids do an art project.  During the project time, I quickly had a quiet talk with Anna, explaining that it's sometimes hard to do what you're supposed to do, especially when you see other kids not doing it, but it's very important to follow the rules.

As we were walking out to the car, I was still irritated with that "stupid mother and her nanny."  I said to Anna, "That little boy and little girl who wouldn't sit down were being kind of naughty, weren't they?"

Anna immediately replied, "Maybe them just wanted to see."

I was struck silent.

Yes, maybe "them" did just want to see.  And maybe the mother understood this and let it go because they're two-year-olds, or maybe the kids have special needs of which I'm not aware, or maybe there's something going on at home.  And maybe Anna has a reason I don't understand for not using the toilet anymore.  And, maybe the driver who was going five miles per hour under the speed limit had recently been in an accident.    There are always two sides to every situation, and my side is not "more right" than the other person's just because it's mine.  This is apparently more obvious to my defiant little two-year-old than to her educated thirty-something-year-old mother who really should know better.  I have to stop being so quick to judge.  If I'm worried about teaching my children to do the right thing, I should be less concerned about teaching them to sit down during library class and more concerned with teaching each of them to be a good person... a better person than their mother has been lately.

I'm learning life lessons from the little girl who has to run around without pants on to remember to use the toilet and thinks this is the world's best hiding place.

Answer card prototype

I know I complained about this a while ago, but I don't think I ventured out shopping with all the kids since then.  Until today.  And, today's trip has brought me to a point where I need to complain again.  This post will be the cheapest, most easily available therapy.  In fact, I so desperately need this therapy at the moment that the groceries remain in bags on the counter while I write this. 

It's not easy to go shopping with my kids, but the hardest part isn't what you probably think it is.  It's not balancing two carseats in a shopping cart and balancing groceries on top of them.  It's not veering a giant cart with a car attached throughout the grocery store or responding to Kate's countless questions.  It's not even getting Anna to cooperate.  It is everybody else in the stores!

In my (very limited) experience, I've found that about 90% of people fall into two categories: oblivious or obnoxious.  The oblivious are the ones that push their way around me only to stop immediately in front of my cart, blocking my way while they calculate the cost per kernel of every variety of canned corn.  They're the ones who stand with their carts in the middle of the aisle talking about where they get their eyebrows done while Anna walks past them and my enormous cart remains stuck behind them.  And they're the ones who speedily veer their overflowing carts in front of me as I was attempting to maneuver my cart into the only checkout without a 10 minute wait.

While the oblivious ones don't make shopping any easier, they're not the biggest problem.  It's the other category, those I've dubbed obnoxious, that make things really hard.  The worst part is, they don't mean to be obnoxious.  These people are really just trying to be friendly.  And, I do understand that.  I am never anything but completely friendly in return.  But, in the interest of today's therapy, let me freely vent now.

These people seem to understand I'm busy; the majority of them even comment that I "have my hands full."  Their knowledge of this, however, does not help them understand that I really don't have a couple minutes to discuss with them, and all the other people like them, every detail of my life.

In my sarcastic moments, when I'm frustrated and trying to see humor in the situation, I've contemplated printing out a card with answers to the most common questions so I can shop while they gawk.

Here's my prototype:

Perspective

Sometimes I forget how young Kate and Anna really are.  They're my older two kids, with two kids younger than them.  Luke and Ally are babies, but Kate and Anna are the older siblings.

I expect a lot of them.  But, they're really so young, so very young.  When Ally and Luke are Anna's age, they'll still be my babies.  I won't expect so much from them.  And, even when they're Kate's age, they'll seem a lot younger than Kate seems now.  But, that doesn't mean Kate is any older than she is.  I need to remember that.

Potty training, Take 7

Tuesday night Dave said, "I tell you... I'd take the kid to Disney World if it would get her to use the toilet."

And that did it, we resorted to bribing.

The next day I asked Anna, "If you could have anything, what would it be? What do you really want?"

She answered right away.  But, I didn't understand it. She repeated it. I didn't understand it. Finally, Kate translated. Anna wanted a "Lego Toy Story 3 Jessie Going into the Scary Incinerator." I don't know why I couldn't understand a two-year-old spitting out that phrase.

(Allow me to digress a moment and mention that I do realize it's ridiculous that a kid who knows the word "incinerator" is not already potty trained.)

Of course, she didn't want an inexpensive toy.  But, realizing it likely came down to a choice of spending $50 on size 4 diapers over the next two months or spending it on a Lego set, I chose the latter.  I printed out a couple pictures of the set on a piece of paper with a grid of 20 squares below and explained the bribe to Anna. Each time she put potty into the toilet, she would get to put a sticker in one box. Poopy would get stickers in two boxes. When all the boxes are full, she would get the "Lego Toy Story 3 Jessie Going into the Scary Incinerator."

Then, since my encouragement has done nothing in the past but cause her to resist more, I stepped back.  I just took off her pants, leaving her bare bottom, and told her to use the toilet when she felt like it.

Kate, evidently being much more maternal than I am, couldn't stand that I wasn't helping Anna.  She took over. She sat Anna on the potty chair and then entertained her in the bathroom with art projects. "Now, Anna," I heard her say as I pretended to be busy doing other things, "here are some stickers, the scissors, and glue.  We're going to start another project.  Remember if your potty wants to come out, just let it out!"  But, even after an hour and a half, there was no potty. Finally Kate had to get ready for school. Oh, great, I thought. Now what? Would it be wrong for me to keep Kate home from school?  It's only K4, afterall...

While Kate got dressed for school, Anna went to play in the playroom. A couple minutes later, Anna went tearing into the bathroom. She peed in the toilet! Okay, technically, she peed in the playroom and on the floor from the playroom to the bathroom, but she also peed in the toilet!! And, it was something she chose to do.  I didn't even let myself wonder if this might finally be the start of success!

Along with the sticker for her chart, I gave her a rare treat of a juice box, figuring we'd encourage more pee so she could have more practice recognizing the feeling. A little while later, she asked me to put a diaper on her. It was almost nap time, and she was tired. I decided to let her sit on the toilet in front of TV while I nursed the babies. Well? Kate was at school. Who was going to set up the projects? But, seriously, Anna just needed to relax while the juice box made its way through her system. I left to put Luke down for a nap, and when I returned, Voila! More potty!

We continued to have more success all day yesterday, but I was too nervous I'd cause some sort of Blog Jinx to write about until today.  Aside from wetting her Pull Ups during yesterday's nap time and over night last night, she has made it to the toilet (for at least most of her pee) every single time.




Thank you, Kate, for potty training your 26-months-younger sister!

It's amazing what will become the subject of a parent's picture.

When Kate called Grandma to tell her Anna was going potty in the toilet,

Grandma said, "Oh, wow!  Anna's wearing underpants now?" 

Kate replied, "Oh... no, she's bare bottom."
 

It looks like we'll be buying that

"Lego Toy Story 3 Jessie Going into the Scary Incinerator"

this weekend. 

Gladly.

Okay, folks.  That's a wrap.

Joy of twins

Beginning cereal

Luke and Ally turned five and a half months old today.  With this completely insignificant age came a significant milestone; their first bites of food.  Can I use the term "bites" if they have no teeth and the cereal is thinner than applesauce?  Probably not.  Let me rephrase that.  Luke and Ally have had their first taste of food.  Actually, the taste is probably unimportant, since it's the same milk they've been drinking their whole lives with just a sprinkle of oatmeal flakes.  Nonetheless, Luke and Ally have now eaten from a spoon.  Okay, technically, they spit it all back out in a cycle of us scooping cereal into their mouths, them spitting it out, and us scooping it back in until the cereal eventually disintegrated into their bibs.  So, it wasn't really eating...

Well, you're going to have to trust me on this one.  It is a momentous occasion.



Their very first sample of my gourmet cooking

Helper number one

Helper number two

Not quite sure...

Quite sure... that it's not a good thing.

"Now we're talking.  This bib tastes amazing!"

"What?  We're all done? Yippee!"

"No more?  I was just getting started!"

My always-sweet babies!

Fresh air and exercise

I was desperate, desperate to get out of the house, desperate to get some exercise, and desperate for Anna to get some of the same.  At 4:30 I announced to the kids we were going to go to the park right then and there. 

Forty minutes later all four kids had their snowsuits on, and, although I hadn't yet combed my hair for the day, I had put on a coat.  We headed out the door.  I put Ally in a baby carrier on my back, and I carried Luke to the garage and put him in the double jogging stroller.  That was the only possible stroller that we could push in the snow.

I told Anna to hop in the stroller.  It was too dark to let her walk since our streets don't have sidewalks.  Luckily she wanted to ride, but... so did Kate.  I began to tell Kate she had to walk, but then I realized if I could make this work, it would be even better.  With both girls in the stroller, I wouldn't be walking the pace of a preschooler.  I could actually walk.  I could actually get the exercise for which I was so desperate! 

I did the impossible.  Not that getting four kids into their snowsuits and out of the house doesn't deserve that classification, but I managed to wear two baby carriers, one on the front and one on the back.  I was so excited.  I was going to walk.  It would feel so good to get some real exercise!

I got both girls strapped into the stroller and we headed off.  We made it exactly one step, and I thought something might be wrong.  I took one more and realized I was right.  One of the tires was completely flat.

Here's a picture Kate took of me. 

No comments on the hat, okay?  It was dark; no one was going to see me.

Sounding the alarm

Kate and Anna  play "little Lego," as they call it, every single day.  The "little" is to differentiate it from the much bigger Duplo blocks which we used to call Lego in our house.  They first work together with Dave to build the structures, and then they spend countless hours playing with them, acting out scenarios. 

About a month ago, they got the Lego city police station, which came with the figure pictured to the right.  Since then, that "robber" has been captured by the police for countless offenses and locked away in the jail each time.

The other day, Dave was watching a little bit of a college football game with the girls when Anna spotted something very alarming. 

"There's a robber on the field!" she yelled.

Much to Dave's credit, he quickly figured out what she meant, and, chuckling, explained that was called a referee.

Anna didn't think he could possibly be seeing what she was seeing. "No, Daddy, there's a robber on the field!" she repeated.  "Ober there, by that letter," she continued, running up to the TV and pointing.  "It's a robber!"