Anyway, of course Apple can't make a regular mouse, either; this also has to be new-fangled. So I'm working on figuring it out this morning. As I was getting used to it, the babies stole it.
Monday, January 30, 2012
My elderly brain
Dave got me a new mouse (since I was about to bang the new-fangled track pad he'd insisted on having with a hammer after struggling to "get used to it" for over a month).
Anyway, of course Apple can't make a regular mouse, either; this also has to be new-fangled. So I'm working on figuring it out this morning. As I was getting used to it, the babies stole it.
I got it back right away, but it was doing such weird things. Every time I'd move it right, the curser would go left, up would go down. I was so frustrated. What had they done, triggered some sort of "reverse" setting? I picked it up to examine it. That's when I realized I had simply been using it upside down.
Anyway, of course Apple can't make a regular mouse, either; this also has to be new-fangled. So I'm working on figuring it out this morning. As I was getting used to it, the babies stole it.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
A work of art in progress
 |
| This is when she was sick last week. I think the Tylenol wore off in between the red and blue paints. |
And the artwork on her paper is nice, too.
Dada
They'll make them say it to themselves or to each other.
Here's Luke's baby getting a drink after crying, "Dada! Dada!"
And what a good Dada he is!
Fist bump
A couple months ago, after watching Lightning McQueen give his friends "fist bumps" in Cars 3, Anna and I started doing them.
Ally watched us and wanted to do them, too. Every once and a while, Ally will walk up to one of us, her tiny fist in the air, wanting us to "bump" her.
At dinner, Dave noticed the babies doing this:
Ally watched us and wanted to do them, too. Every once and a while, Ally will walk up to one of us, her tiny fist in the air, wanting us to "bump" her.
At dinner, Dave noticed the babies doing this:
Red Fish is dead
7:29 am
Urgh.
I'm sure that title got a stifled giggle from some of you, and I get it. It's one of the typical twists and turns of motherhood, having your kids' pet fish die and having to decide how to handle the situation. And it is just a fish.
But, I'm so sad about it. I have a lump in my throat, a knot in my stomach... Okay, I'll admit it. I have shed tears. (These tears got me a very dramatic eye roll from my loving husband.)
The irrational side of me feels like we let that fish down. Yes, I know it's a fish, and I know I'm overreacting, but the fish had been happily swimming in a little jar at the pet store. Then we took him to our house, where he was subjected to days of jiggling around in a mini tank as we settled on the perfect locale for him, countless taps on the jar before the kids were reminded not to tap, vibrations of piano practice since his final home was on top of the piano, and sporadic feedings of just a little too much food because little fingers struggle to pinch off just one flake. He was my responsibility and I let him die.
And, then there is my more justified concerns regarding how I handle this with the kids. Do I tell them the truth as I feel I should, or do we secretly replace him as Dave suggests? If we do tell the kids, do we bury him (somehow chiseling a hole in the frozen ground) and then try again with another fish or does that send the message lives are so easy replaced? Do I tell them the truth and then put away the tank? Will telling them cause the kids unnecessary sadness. If I do run and get another fish, sparing the kids the pain, am I passing up an opportunity for a life enriching lesson? Will my lie somehow scar them in the long run?
2:19 pm
I was given a little time to think about this, since Kate wanted to let Red Fish nap a while before we fed him.
In that time I didn't find a right answer, much less the right answer. I didn't decide if I'd be passing up a life enriching learning opportunity by swapping the fish or if I'd be potentially scarring them with this lie. I didn't come to any grand conclusions about the right way to parent.
I did what felt right, a crazy step for over-analytical me. I bought a new fish who happens to look just like the other. This fish, who'll coincidentally be known as Red Fish, is sitting in a bag in our tank right now, while the girls happen to be gone at ballet. I think he'll be done getting acclimated just before the girls get home.
I'm not going to lie. If they happen to ask me, "Mommy, is this a new fish?" I'll respond that he is. If they don't, I'm quite certain the topic won't come up.
Urgh.
I'm sure that title got a stifled giggle from some of you, and I get it. It's one of the typical twists and turns of motherhood, having your kids' pet fish die and having to decide how to handle the situation. And it is just a fish.
But, I'm so sad about it. I have a lump in my throat, a knot in my stomach... Okay, I'll admit it. I have shed tears. (These tears got me a very dramatic eye roll from my loving husband.)
The irrational side of me feels like we let that fish down. Yes, I know it's a fish, and I know I'm overreacting, but the fish had been happily swimming in a little jar at the pet store. Then we took him to our house, where he was subjected to days of jiggling around in a mini tank as we settled on the perfect locale for him, countless taps on the jar before the kids were reminded not to tap, vibrations of piano practice since his final home was on top of the piano, and sporadic feedings of just a little too much food because little fingers struggle to pinch off just one flake. He was my responsibility and I let him die.
And, then there is my more justified concerns regarding how I handle this with the kids. Do I tell them the truth as I feel I should, or do we secretly replace him as Dave suggests? If we do tell the kids, do we bury him (somehow chiseling a hole in the frozen ground) and then try again with another fish or does that send the message lives are so easy replaced? Do I tell them the truth and then put away the tank? Will telling them cause the kids unnecessary sadness. If I do run and get another fish, sparing the kids the pain, am I passing up an opportunity for a life enriching lesson? Will my lie somehow scar them in the long run?
2:19 pm
I was given a little time to think about this, since Kate wanted to let Red Fish nap a while before we fed him.
In that time I didn't find a right answer, much less the right answer. I didn't decide if I'd be passing up a life enriching learning opportunity by swapping the fish or if I'd be potentially scarring them with this lie. I didn't come to any grand conclusions about the right way to parent.
I did what felt right, a crazy step for over-analytical me. I bought a new fish who happens to look just like the other. This fish, who'll coincidentally be known as Red Fish, is sitting in a bag in our tank right now, while the girls happen to be gone at ballet. I think he'll be done getting acclimated just before the girls get home.
I'm not going to lie. If they happen to ask me, "Mommy, is this a new fish?" I'll respond that he is. If they don't, I'm quite certain the topic won't come up.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Luke's back
How especially wonderful it is to see a smile on your kids face, to hear him laugh, when you haven't heard it in a week.
When Luke laughed yesterday, it took me by surprise. There was a moment when I just looked in wonder before I joined him laughing. I'd almost forgotten what he was like happy, when he wasn't sick.
It's been quite a week, quite a month actually. Following a couple weeks where we all had colds, Ally came down with RSV last Wednesday, then Luke on Thursday, and Anna somewhere in there, too. It's been a week of fevers, entire days without eating (the kids; I managed to eat just fine), and someone crying at all times. Luke spent five days without doing anything but crying, sleeping, or lying on me or Dave in a daze. He wouldn't eat a thing, not even his favorite mac & cheese or blackberries. He had three ear infections in the last month (five since September), but he's going to get tubes put in his ears in two weeks, which will hopefully put an end to his ear infections.
Although I kind of felt like Luke was gone in his own world of sickness for the last week, he proved me wrong today. Somehow, while he was lying seemingly dazed, he was taking it all in.
Today, for the first time ever, he whipped out some new words and a couple phrases. This is especially significant since he has only ten words in his vocabulary. This morning, when Kate was waiting for the bus, he toddled out of the playroom and said, "Bye-bye, Tay Tay!" What? He'd never called Kate anything before! Now he had a name for her, and paired it with a goodbye!
Then, later he asked me, "Dada, where go?"
I wasn't sure I'd heard him right, but I repeated, "Where'd Dada go?" Then answered, "Dada's at work."
Then he said, "Tay Tay, where go?"
I asked him, "Where'd Kate go?"
Then Luke answered, "Bye. Bye-bye, Tay Tay."
As if that wasn't enough, he learned a new skill, one I hadn't showed him. This week, Ally learned to throw away diapers. Today, I changed Luke in the study, and he took his diaper and toddled into the kitchen with it. I followed to find him opening the garbage in there to throw his diaper away. Then upstairs, he threw his diaper in the Diaper Champ, something that even Ally has only done a couple times.
So, somewhere in his sickness, he was thinking all the time, just waiting to feel better to try out all the things he'd been thinking about.
When Luke laughed yesterday, it took me by surprise. There was a moment when I just looked in wonder before I joined him laughing. I'd almost forgotten what he was like happy, when he wasn't sick.
It's been quite a week, quite a month actually. Following a couple weeks where we all had colds, Ally came down with RSV last Wednesday, then Luke on Thursday, and Anna somewhere in there, too. It's been a week of fevers, entire days without eating (the kids; I managed to eat just fine), and someone crying at all times. Luke spent five days without doing anything but crying, sleeping, or lying on me or Dave in a daze. He wouldn't eat a thing, not even his favorite mac & cheese or blackberries. He had three ear infections in the last month (five since September), but he's going to get tubes put in his ears in two weeks, which will hopefully put an end to his ear infections.
Although I kind of felt like Luke was gone in his own world of sickness for the last week, he proved me wrong today. Somehow, while he was lying seemingly dazed, he was taking it all in.
Today, for the first time ever, he whipped out some new words and a couple phrases. This is especially significant since he has only ten words in his vocabulary. This morning, when Kate was waiting for the bus, he toddled out of the playroom and said, "Bye-bye, Tay Tay!" What? He'd never called Kate anything before! Now he had a name for her, and paired it with a goodbye!
Then, later he asked me, "Dada, where go?"
I wasn't sure I'd heard him right, but I repeated, "Where'd Dada go?" Then answered, "Dada's at work."
Then he said, "Tay Tay, where go?"
I asked him, "Where'd Kate go?"
Then Luke answered, "Bye. Bye-bye, Tay Tay."
As if that wasn't enough, he learned a new skill, one I hadn't showed him. This week, Ally learned to throw away diapers. Today, I changed Luke in the study, and he took his diaper and toddled into the kitchen with it. I followed to find him opening the garbage in there to throw his diaper away. Then upstairs, he threw his diaper in the Diaper Champ, something that even Ally has only done a couple times.
So, somewhere in his sickness, he was thinking all the time, just waiting to feel better to try out all the things he'd been thinking about.
 |
| sick |
 |
| sick |
 |
| sick |
 |
| sick |
 |
| Trying to rally. |
 |
| Here's my sweet, silly boy, finally enjoying his favorite foods again. |
My little helper
This week, Ally started throwing away diapers. She'd watched many times how Anna puts her toilet paper in the toilet when she's done going to the bathroom, so one day after I changed Ally, she toddled into the bathroom with her diaper and threw it in the toilet.
I praised her for her effort, took it out, and showed her that the diaper went in the kitchen garbage. After that she started collecting the diapers whenever she or Luke were changed, walking into the kitchen, opening the garbage, throwing the diaper in, and shutting the garbage.
Later I showed her how to throw diapers in the Diaper Champ when we're upstairs, but it's not quite as cute as her throwing them in the kitchen garbage which is taller than she is.
Moms only...
Only a mom would understand this. If you're not a mom or at least a very involved dad, don't bother reading this.
Ally's back to throwing up from her bronchiolitis coughing fits. Yesterday, it was bad, lots of puke. I changed her clothes, washed the floor, and threw her lovey in the wash machine with her clothes. It still reeked of puke. I put her in the bath. It still smelled. I made the other kids all take a bath/shower in case it had gotten on them. It still smelled. I was losing my mind. I thought maybe the smell was somehow stuck in my nose. I blew my nose. It still smelled, something reeked. I was getting nauseous from the constant smell of vomit. I was about to cry. I looked down at my shirt, after all this, and found the source of the smell.
Ally's back to throwing up from her bronchiolitis coughing fits. Yesterday, it was bad, lots of puke. I changed her clothes, washed the floor, and threw her lovey in the wash machine with her clothes. It still reeked of puke. I put her in the bath. It still smelled. I made the other kids all take a bath/shower in case it had gotten on them. It still smelled. I was losing my mind. I thought maybe the smell was somehow stuck in my nose. I blew my nose. It still smelled, something reeked. I was getting nauseous from the constant smell of vomit. I was about to cry. I looked down at my shirt, after all this, and found the source of the smell.
Only Anna
I've said it before, but I'll say it again, because it never ceases to amaze me. My kids are so different.
It would never, ever have occurred to Kate... or occur to her now... to walk around with a piece of toilet paper for a tail.
It would never, ever have occurred to Kate... or occur to her now... to walk around with a piece of toilet paper for a tail.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Best soup recipe... Ever
Okay, I'm sure there are better soup recipes out there, but I'm in love with this one right now.
I put on a few pounds when I quit nursing... like ten pounds... and a few more over the holidays, so I set a goal to get back into my pre-twin pants by the end of February. My saving grace has been this soup.
It's an old favorite, I found a recipe in Martha Steward's magazine about 8 years ago and I've adapted it through the years. Dave and I have always loved this soup, but it's even better tasting the way I've been making it lately.
And, a wonderful bonus... When I was figuring out the calories, I found a serving of it (1 1/2 cup) to be only 99 calories. So, I eat a giant bowl (two servings) of it almost every day. It's delicious, filling, and I'm losing weight!
Butternut Squash and Lentil Soup
(This recipe makes a giant pot of it, roughly 16 servings. It freezes wonderfully, and you can have a healthy meal of delicious, homemade soup any time in less than 10 minutes.)
2 T olive oil
6 celery stalks, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
1 extra large onion, diced
8 large carrots, cut into 1/2 inch slices
4 garlic cloves
2-3 pounds butternut squash, peeled and seeded, cut into 3/4 inch cubes (Costco, baby!!! They sell 2 pound packs all prepared.)
3 14.5 oz cans of tomatoes (Roundy's brand is now canned without any white BPA-laden lining!)
8 cups vegetable broth (I am in love with Penzey's vegetable soup base to make my own broth. I add a little extra to make it extra tasty.)
1 bag of lentils (1 pound)
A big pack of mushrooms, cut in quarters
Heat oil in large pot over medium heat until hot but not smoking.
Add celery; cook, stirring, 2 minutes.
Add onion and garlic; cook, stirring occasionally, about 7 minutes.
Stir in squash, carrots, and tomatoes; cook until liquid has evaporate, about 5 minutes.
Add broth and lentils; bring to boil.
Reduce heat to medium-low; simmer 15 minutes.
Add mushrooms and cook until carrots and lentils are tender, roughly an additional 5 minutes.
Katrina, I'm dedicating this post to you. I wouldn't have taken the time to type it all out, except I was going to have to anyway since I just had to email it to you.
Katrina, I'm dedicating this post to you. I wouldn't have taken the time to type it all out, except I was going to have to anyway since I just had to email it to you.
Almost time to go
We had to take Luke to see an ENT about his ear infections. Kellie next door was going to take Anna during the appointment. It was a hard morning, with Luke and Ally so sick.
About a half hour before it was time to go, I yelled downstairs, "Anna, come on up. Let's get you dressed."
Anna, as usual, replied, "I don't want to get dressed."
I took a breath, mentally preparing for this battle I was in no mood for.
Before I said anything she yelled up, excitedly, "Oh, is it time to go."
I was encouraged she was so excited to play with Connor and Grant, "Almost..." I replied.
"To Mexico?"
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
You can do whatever you want
We announced to the girls that we'd scheduled a trip to an all-inclusive resort in Mexico this summer, and we were explaining how exciting it is.
Dave explained, "You can swim in the pool or the ocean, or you can go in the splash pad. You can eat whenever you want and whatever you want. You can go up and ask for juice whenever you want to have juice."
I added, "You can pretty much do whatever you want!"
Anna got excited. "Can you swim in a smurf tank?"
"What's a smurf tank?" I asked.
"A big pool filled with smurf berries."
I revised my statement, "You can do pretty much anything you want, except swim in a smurf tank."
Dave explained, "You can swim in the pool or the ocean, or you can go in the splash pad. You can eat whenever you want and whatever you want. You can go up and ask for juice whenever you want to have juice."
I added, "You can pretty much do whatever you want!"
Anna got excited. "Can you swim in a smurf tank?"
"What's a smurf tank?" I asked.
"A big pool filled with smurf berries."
I revised my statement, "You can do pretty much anything you want, except swim in a smurf tank."
Anna's birthday requests
Anna's birthday is coming up in a couple weeks. Here's a complete list of what she wants for her birthday:
So, upon examining this list, I determined she will definitely get the berries. What a simple request. But what else? The girls already got the only three Smurf houses on the market from Grandma for Christmas. So I guess she'll be getting that stuffed bear.
Blueberries
Blackberries
Strawberries
A plastic Smurf house
A stuffed bear she saw at Sendik's
A dolphin pet
A tank for the dolphin -
this was requested after I explained we didn't have room for a pet dolphin
So, upon examining this list, I determined she will definitely get the berries. What a simple request. But what else? The girls already got the only three Smurf houses on the market from Grandma for Christmas. So I guess she'll be getting that stuffed bear.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
A few words from Ally
 |
| Mommy, I've heard you mention it can be hard to have four little kids. |
 |
| Well, I don't think it would be hard at all. |
 |
| In fact, I can do five just fine. Without a single... |
 |
| Oops. Um, just a second. |
 |
| Okay, (sob) I get it now! |
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Please silence all cell phones...
Kate and Anna set up these chairs to put on a puppet show for us. When Dave and I came in to watch the show, this is what we found.
 |
| I think they're texting. |
It wasn't packy
Red Fish
We got a new pet. The kids named him Red Fish. He's a... well, red fish.
It turns out Anna had originally been so opposed to bringing a fish home because she thought I was just going to take one and bring him home. Even though I'd given her the explanation of how we were going to put it in a bowl, I guess I never mentioned that we'd put water in the bowl, much less that we'd bring it home in a bag of water. Anna's obsession with keeping her plastic baby dolphin in water now makes more sense.
Anyway, we got that all straightened out.
Kate wanted to name our new fish "Red," and Anna wanted to name him "Fish." They compromised.
Introducing Red Fish Melbye:
 |
| I wish I'd wiped the berry juice off their faces before taking the picture. |
Thursday, January 12, 2012
A moment of pride
As I was tucking the girls into bed, I told them that tomorrow morning Dave would be snowblowing. "So," I said, "How about we have waffles ready for him when he comes in? How does that sound?"
They were excited, and Kate said, "Mommy, do you know what I'm going to write in my journal tomorrow? 'I love the waffles my mommy makes with her new waffle maker we got her for Christmas.'"
I said that sounded like a great journal entry.
She asked, "Do you think I should put a period in there?"
I told her it was all one sentence and repeated it back to her so she could see how it was.
"But," she said, "We're supposed to write two or three sentences in our journals."
I started to tell her I was sure it was okay, because it was a really long sentence, when she said, "Oh! I know how I can make that two sentences. I can write, 'I love the waffles my mommy makes. She makes them with her new waffle maker we got her for Christmas."
I just stood there a moment with my mouth agape. Then I made some incoherent sounds for a moment as I started to say, "Yes!" and "How did you..." and "Oh my gosh!" simultaneously. I finally told her that it was incredibly impressive that she could figure out how to make one proper sentence into two proper sentences, because that's something some grown ups even struggle to do.
And, because I spent the day feeling like a bad mom, feeling guilty because I was too sick to let the kids play out in the freshly fallen snow for long and because I was grumpy with Anna and because I lay on the couch instead of playing on the floor with the twins, because I didn't feel like I was doing anything right, I'm going to take a moment to feel pride, pride in Kate and pride in myself, because, God knows, that kid didn't learn that from Dave!
I should consider having her split up that last paragraph of a sentence for me.
They were excited, and Kate said, "Mommy, do you know what I'm going to write in my journal tomorrow? 'I love the waffles my mommy makes with her new waffle maker we got her for Christmas.'"
I said that sounded like a great journal entry.
She asked, "Do you think I should put a period in there?"
I told her it was all one sentence and repeated it back to her so she could see how it was.
"But," she said, "We're supposed to write two or three sentences in our journals."
I started to tell her I was sure it was okay, because it was a really long sentence, when she said, "Oh! I know how I can make that two sentences. I can write, 'I love the waffles my mommy makes. She makes them with her new waffle maker we got her for Christmas."
I just stood there a moment with my mouth agape. Then I made some incoherent sounds for a moment as I started to say, "Yes!" and "How did you..." and "Oh my gosh!" simultaneously. I finally told her that it was incredibly impressive that she could figure out how to make one proper sentence into two proper sentences, because that's something some grown ups even struggle to do.
And, because I spent the day feeling like a bad mom, feeling guilty because I was too sick to let the kids play out in the freshly fallen snow for long and because I was grumpy with Anna and because I lay on the couch instead of playing on the floor with the twins, because I didn't feel like I was doing anything right, I'm going to take a moment to feel pride, pride in Kate and pride in myself, because, God knows, that kid didn't learn that from Dave!
I should consider having her split up that last paragraph of a sentence for me.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
January in Wisconsin
It's been such a weird winter. There is some disappointment that we haven't been able to go iceskating and we haven't even had any snow, but I can't complain. The kids were outside playing on the swing set and riding their bikes in 50 degree weather... in January... in Wisconsin.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
It happened
Yep, it happened again today. The good news is I can't even remember the last time it happened, so I'm going to say it has been months... all right, at least weeks.
*****
I was putting away a couple jars and a bunch of beads that we'd used to help Kate be more aware of her tone of voice. Anna saw them and wanted me to "do the jars" with her. I told her we didn't need to because she uses a nice voice. Anna asked me, "Can we do the jars with me as long as I start whining?"
I realized it really wasn't fair that she couldn't "do the jars" because she doesn't whine, so I agreed she could play with the jars and the beads for a little while. I put the jars and beads on the little table in the kitchen and told her she had to be careful if she drops a bead to pick it up, because the beads are choking hazards.
The babies were playing in the basement. I checked on them and tried to quickly clean up the lunch dishes. I had to empty the dishwasher first. As I'm doing this, I heard more and more beads fall to the floor. I told Anna to clean them up.
All of the sudden Ally came up from the basement. I said, "Anna, you need to make sure Ally doesn't get any of the beads on the floor." Anna went to pick them up, and Ally doesn't get any off the floor. But she does get the jar from the table and dumps the entire jarful of beads, thousands of beads, all over the entire kitchen floor.
*****
I look around the room, beads everywhere. I mumble, "Oh, my goodness."
"O. M. G!" Anna says, laughing.
I scoop Ally up and put her into her highchair. She's very frustrated by this, since she just finished eating. I give her some paper and markers, and she protests a little less.
Luke crawls up the stairs. As I carry him over to his high chair, he points to the floor. I tell him they're beads. Anna says, "No, they're called 'chokings'."
I tell Anna to start cleaning up the beads. I try to keep the babies happy but keep the markers out of their mouths, and I work on finishing up the dishes so I can move on to the bead disaster. Anna has cleaned up about five beads, and she's going on and on about her little plastic dolphin toy. I tell her to clean up the beads quickly, because the babies aren't going to last in their highchairs much longer. She responds, "You hurry and get baby dolphin some water, because he isn't going to last much longer out of water."
I try to remember that whether or not I have a headache at the moment, she's not even four. I tell her she can put baby dolphin in the sink in the bathroom while she works on the beads.
Luke and Ally's mouths are blue and orange, respectively. I switch them to crayons, which they don't like as much, and they start to frantically sign, "All done."
Anna says, "There's water all over the floor." I look up and see Anna walking across the floor with one of the bead jars filled to the brim with water and her dolphin inside. I take the jar and put it on the shelf, thinking how much harder it will be to sweep the floor, now that it's wet. I say, "Just pick up some beads." She says, "Yeah, but what about all the water?"
The beads stuck in my damp socks hurt as I step. I bend down to pick up the sheets of paper and the crayons the babies threw on the floor and give them back to them, hoping to buy a little more time. I begin sweeping the beads from under the little table, working around all the legs of the table and the chairs. It's slow going, and I ignore Anna's chatter and the babies fusses, thinking of how if we miss even one bead, it will likely end up in Luke or Ally's mouth, maybe trachea. I see a bead in the dog bowl. I know there are probably a dozen under the refrigerator, several under the stove.
I eventually get about half of the beads into piles. I put down the broom and use the hand broom to sweep a pile into the dustpan. Anna asks if she can sweep with the big broom. I say, "No, just pick up the ones over there and put them in your jar." She suddenly grabs the broom and, before I know it, sends one of my neat piles flying all under the table and chairs again.
That's when it happens. I say, "Damn it, Anna! Go take a time out, and next time I tell you not to do something, listen to me!"
She goes to the study. I sweep up the floor, feeling every bit as guilty as I should.
By the time she returns, Good Mommy has returned to my body. I say, "Thank you for coming back to help. I think we're almost done."
When we finally finish, I wipe as much of the marker off the babies' faces as I can and get them out of their highchairs. I take a nice long, cleansing breath, trying to relax to face the rest of the day. Anna shakes her head at me, rolls her eyes slightly, and asks, "Why are you so fwustrated??"
*****
I was putting away a couple jars and a bunch of beads that we'd used to help Kate be more aware of her tone of voice. Anna saw them and wanted me to "do the jars" with her. I told her we didn't need to because she uses a nice voice. Anna asked me, "Can we do the jars with me as long as I start whining?"
I realized it really wasn't fair that she couldn't "do the jars" because she doesn't whine, so I agreed she could play with the jars and the beads for a little while. I put the jars and beads on the little table in the kitchen and told her she had to be careful if she drops a bead to pick it up, because the beads are choking hazards.
The babies were playing in the basement. I checked on them and tried to quickly clean up the lunch dishes. I had to empty the dishwasher first. As I'm doing this, I heard more and more beads fall to the floor. I told Anna to clean them up.
All of the sudden Ally came up from the basement. I said, "Anna, you need to make sure Ally doesn't get any of the beads on the floor." Anna went to pick them up, and Ally doesn't get any off the floor. But she does get the jar from the table and dumps the entire jarful of beads, thousands of beads, all over the entire kitchen floor.
*****
I look around the room, beads everywhere. I mumble, "Oh, my goodness."
"O. M. G!" Anna says, laughing.
I scoop Ally up and put her into her highchair. She's very frustrated by this, since she just finished eating. I give her some paper and markers, and she protests a little less.
Luke crawls up the stairs. As I carry him over to his high chair, he points to the floor. I tell him they're beads. Anna says, "No, they're called 'chokings'."
I tell Anna to start cleaning up the beads. I try to keep the babies happy but keep the markers out of their mouths, and I work on finishing up the dishes so I can move on to the bead disaster. Anna has cleaned up about five beads, and she's going on and on about her little plastic dolphin toy. I tell her to clean up the beads quickly, because the babies aren't going to last in their highchairs much longer. She responds, "You hurry and get baby dolphin some water, because he isn't going to last much longer out of water."
I try to remember that whether or not I have a headache at the moment, she's not even four. I tell her she can put baby dolphin in the sink in the bathroom while she works on the beads.
Luke and Ally's mouths are blue and orange, respectively. I switch them to crayons, which they don't like as much, and they start to frantically sign, "All done."
Anna says, "There's water all over the floor." I look up and see Anna walking across the floor with one of the bead jars filled to the brim with water and her dolphin inside. I take the jar and put it on the shelf, thinking how much harder it will be to sweep the floor, now that it's wet. I say, "Just pick up some beads." She says, "Yeah, but what about all the water?"
The beads stuck in my damp socks hurt as I step. I bend down to pick up the sheets of paper and the crayons the babies threw on the floor and give them back to them, hoping to buy a little more time. I begin sweeping the beads from under the little table, working around all the legs of the table and the chairs. It's slow going, and I ignore Anna's chatter and the babies fusses, thinking of how if we miss even one bead, it will likely end up in Luke or Ally's mouth, maybe trachea. I see a bead in the dog bowl. I know there are probably a dozen under the refrigerator, several under the stove.
I eventually get about half of the beads into piles. I put down the broom and use the hand broom to sweep a pile into the dustpan. Anna asks if she can sweep with the big broom. I say, "No, just pick up the ones over there and put them in your jar." She suddenly grabs the broom and, before I know it, sends one of my neat piles flying all under the table and chairs again.
That's when it happens. I say, "Damn it, Anna! Go take a time out, and next time I tell you not to do something, listen to me!"
She goes to the study. I sweep up the floor, feeling every bit as guilty as I should.
By the time she returns, Good Mommy has returned to my body. I say, "Thank you for coming back to help. I think we're almost done."
When we finally finish, I wipe as much of the marker off the babies' faces as I can and get them out of their highchairs. I take a nice long, cleansing breath, trying to relax to face the rest of the day. Anna shakes her head at me, rolls her eyes slightly, and asks, "Why are you so fwustrated??"
Monday, January 9, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
As much as...
Kate was working on a book she was making for her teacher. She showed it to Anna, reading her what she'd done so far, "I love my teacher as much as I love coloring. I love my teacher as much as I love to read. I love my teacher as much as I love my birthday... as much as I love chocolate ice cream cones... as much as I love my pink blanket... as much as I love the twinkling stars..." When Kate finished, she told Anna she had some more pages to do. Anna offered a suggestion, "You could put, I love my teacher as much as Ally loves Tylenol."
Olive and cream cheese penguins
I happened upon this project idea a couple weeks before Christmas. I knew we'd have to try it. I mean, olives!? Cream cheese!? Penguins!? Come on, those are three of the best things in life! Christmas projects ended up getting in the way, and we didn't get to the penguins until today. It was worth the wait. It was totally fun, totally yummy, and totally cute!
Friday, January 6, 2012
A new 'do
My baby boy got his first hair cut today. I want to keep his hair long, but it was just looking messy.
So, I bit the bullet and took him in, begging the lady to keep it long, but give it some shape. Now he can grow it long, but with style.
My little man has to be stylish!
So, I bit the bullet and took him in, begging the lady to keep it long, but give it some shape. Now he can grow it long, but with style.
My little man has to be stylish!
 |
| Before |
 |
| He wasn't thrilled. |
 |
| But he was a good boy! |
 |
| His audience. |
 |
| After |
 |
| Another shot of the new 'do! |
Wagraffe
As we looked at the giraffes at the zoo, Anna told me, "I want to be a wagraffe."
I was a little exhausted as I tend to get at the zoo, so, thinking I was pretty clever, I facetiously replied, "Maybe tomorrow you can be a giraffe."
Yeah, real funny, Grump. She meant she wanted to stand in the cutout.
I was a little exhausted as I tend to get at the zoo, so, thinking I was pretty clever, I facetiously replied, "Maybe tomorrow you can be a giraffe."
Yeah, real funny, Grump. She meant she wanted to stand in the cutout.
Culverts: they're not just for drainage anymore
Culverts are like toilet paper rolls; they're dreadfully under-appreciated, and their uses are commonly underestimated.
In warmer weather culverts are great for splashing, racing leaves, or sailing boats. In cold weather, they're ready for skating, ice trains, sledding, and human bowling, all of which we tested out yesterday, with a little assistance from another favorite playtime tool, the recycle bin, which provided us some boxes!
Yeah, I realize you're thinking, "She's crazy. I'm never letting her watch my kids!"
In warmer weather culverts are great for splashing, racing leaves, or sailing boats. In cold weather, they're ready for skating, ice trains, sledding, and human bowling, all of which we tested out yesterday, with a little assistance from another favorite playtime tool, the recycle bin, which provided us some boxes!
 |
| "Choo choo!" |
 |
| Our neighbor Kellie bowls the kids toward the waiting "pins." |
 |
| Strike! |
 |
| Kate bowls Anna. |
Thursday, January 5, 2012
An all-time favorite
I was reminded of this story the other day, and although it's at least ten years old, it still makes me laugh every time I think about it. I thought I'd share it.
Our friend Sarah was a first year teacher and one of her third graders was making fun of her name. "Mrs. Dobke, Mrs. Donkey," he'd say.
She couldn't get over the irony. She so wanted to say, "Listen here, Andrew Hymen..."
Our friend Sarah was a first year teacher and one of her third graders was making fun of her name. "Mrs. Dobke, Mrs. Donkey," he'd say.
She couldn't get over the irony. She so wanted to say, "Listen here, Andrew Hymen..."
Fish
We went to Hoffer's pet store today, just to get out of the house and look at the animals.
(Of course, I did this all-indoor "field trip" today, when it's a 40 degrees outside, but Monday, when the wind chill was 4 degrees, I took them to the zoo... but I digress.)
While we were at Hoffer's, the kids were having so much fun watching the fish, that I decided to break a promise I'd made to myself, the promise to NEVER BUY A FISH AGAIN.
This promise has a history. When I was a kid, I had a recurring dream where a fish fell out of a fishbowl and I had to decide to either pick the thing up (ewwwww) or let it die. I'd always decide in my dream to pick it up, but then I wouldn't be able to quite get it. It would flop out of my hand repeatedly. I think this dream started because of a real experience where a fish jumped out of our bowl, but it could just be that I'm remembering the dream as reality.
Many years later, my second year teaching, when my sleep was no longer interrupted by dreams of flopping fish, I had the opportunity to get a giant warm water aquarium free for my classroom. It was a wonderful experience for my students and me in so many ways, but it traumatized me. One time the heater went crazy and... well, basically, boiled all the fish. I didn't do well with all those poor fish getting cooked to death. I restocked the aquarium and moved on until I brought the aquarium home for the summer, and somehow caused all the fish to die one-by-one from the shock of being transported. We'd also bought a crab for the aquarium who escaped and whose corpse found years later under the couch on another floor of our house. Needless to say, the dream returned. For ten years, I had that same dream every couple weeks, until after the twins were born when the dream of having to rescue a fish suddenly changed to having to rescue a bunch of fish, way more than I could possibly handle. Freud, what'd'ya think of that?
But, today, watching my children stare at the fish with awe, I convinced myself a good mother could put aside her own fear and buy her kids a darn fish. Then I noticed a nice little aquarium with... wait for it...a cover! Genius! I decided to go for it. I showed Anna the fish bowls where fish can live at your house. We talked about the pebbles you can put in the bottom of the bowls.
Then I bent down to Anna and said, with my face lit up with excitement and with the pride of a mother putting her children first, "Anna... do you want a fish?!?"
She paused a moment, stunned, and then answered forcefully, with her face contorted in complete disgust, "Nooooo-ooooooo!"
Now it was my turn to pause. Maybe she didn't understand what I meant. I took her over to the beta fish. I showed her a beautiful blue one and then I showed her the bowl with the cover. I explained we'd put water in that bowl, put the fish in there, and let the fish live at our house.
Again, I asked, "Do you want to have that fish come live with us?"
She said, very simply, "No."
Well, all right.
(Of course, I did this all-indoor "field trip" today, when it's a 40 degrees outside, but Monday, when the wind chill was 4 degrees, I took them to the zoo... but I digress.)
While we were at Hoffer's, the kids were having so much fun watching the fish, that I decided to break a promise I'd made to myself, the promise to NEVER BUY A FISH AGAIN.
Many years later, my second year teaching, when my sleep was no longer interrupted by dreams of flopping fish, I had the opportunity to get a giant warm water aquarium free for my classroom. It was a wonderful experience for my students and me in so many ways, but it traumatized me. One time the heater went crazy and... well, basically, boiled all the fish. I didn't do well with all those poor fish getting cooked to death. I restocked the aquarium and moved on until I brought the aquarium home for the summer, and somehow caused all the fish to die one-by-one from the shock of being transported. We'd also bought a crab for the aquarium who escaped and whose corpse found years later under the couch on another floor of our house. Needless to say, the dream returned. For ten years, I had that same dream every couple weeks, until after the twins were born when the dream of having to rescue a fish suddenly changed to having to rescue a bunch of fish, way more than I could possibly handle. Freud, what'd'ya think of that?
But, today, watching my children stare at the fish with awe, I convinced myself a good mother could put aside her own fear and buy her kids a darn fish. Then I noticed a nice little aquarium with... wait for it...a cover! Genius! I decided to go for it. I showed Anna the fish bowls where fish can live at your house. We talked about the pebbles you can put in the bottom of the bowls.
Then I bent down to Anna and said, with my face lit up with excitement and with the pride of a mother putting her children first, "Anna... do you want a fish?!?"
She paused a moment, stunned, and then answered forcefully, with her face contorted in complete disgust, "Nooooo-ooooooo!"
Now it was my turn to pause. Maybe she didn't understand what I meant. I took her over to the beta fish. I showed her a beautiful blue one and then I showed her the bowl with the cover. I explained we'd put water in that bowl, put the fish in there, and let the fish live at our house.
Again, I asked, "Do you want to have that fish come live with us?"
She said, very simply, "No."
Well, all right.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)