An Iowa Mom

Cooking Can Equal Quality Time

A couple weeks back, Elaine sent my girls the cutest little apron.  Disney princesses covered the front and it is pink.  As you can probably guess ... as it was opened, both girls caught a glimpse of it and all hell broke loose.  The two girls fought like cats and dogs ... or like two sisters ages 3 and 5 ... you get the point, right?

Believe it or not, Molly (the three year old) came out on top and I tied the apron around her little neck as I tried to console Emily who was lying on the floor, screaming something about ...  being unfair, and how she doesn't like anyone in our family, and that she is going to lock herself in her room and never come out ... ya know, the norm ... blah blah blah.

Once Emily was upstairs and had slammed her bedroom door closed.  She stomped her feet hard enough to make the living room light shake and I figured it was time.  Time for Molly and I to get busy in the kitchen.  Emily would surely sulk awhile so she wouldn't have to be subjected to the fun Molly and I were about to have.

I asked Molly what she wanted to do ... and she answered, "Make biscuits!" 

So we did.

Let me just say ... my girls don't EVER want to do ANYTHING I ask them to do.  If I suggest them helping me out a bit ... they pretty much run in the opposite direction.  However, tie a Princess Apron around their neck ... and they're all about helping.

It's like magic.

You should try it.

If you have a little girl in your life, I highly recommend these aprons.  You can find them at Laine's Babies ... among other things like nursing aprons and baby blankets.  Everything is handmade by Elaine herself with 100% cotton fabrics.  Plus, she is very accommodating when it comes to fabric choices and prices ... unlike most, she doesn't charge an arm and a leg.  Even though if I would have let the cat fight carry on in my living room between the two girls ... I would have surely had an arm AND a leg to pay with.  Luckily, I don't have to.

Do me a favor and go check out her stuff.

Now excuse me while I go over there myself to get an apron for Emily before my light falls out of my ceiling, because I can't get the one Elaine was kind enough to send to us OFF OF MOLLY.  She even slept in it.

I'm not kidding.

Really.

We Could Use Some Earmuffs ... It's Snowing After All

Okay ... yesterday morning when I turned the water off to my steamy hot shower (Lord knows the traffic I'll get from Google-r's now, huh? ... anyway,) I was greeted by Molly. 

Molly, Molly my big helper, who was opening my shower door letting in the FREEZING FREAKIN' COLD air ... because heaven forbid I actually have more than 3.4 minutes to myself.  Or even enough time to wrap a towel around my goose bump filled body. 

"Hi Mom!" she said cheerfully, as if she didn't just see me 4 minutes before ... when I stepped INTO the shower.

Why do kids do this?  Don't they want a few minutes to THEMSELVES?  Because I would really appreciate them wanting this time ... because it would allow me to ... I don't know ... BREATHE.

Well, because the weather is turning colder, I have my clothes sitting right outside the shower so that I can dress as fast as possible.  Believe me when I say ... I don't like the cold.  At all.  Year round, since we're talking about showers, I take mine with water so hot that my skin is literally RED when I emerge from it.  I guess I'm what you'd call a natural born ... heat lover.  I don't freakin' know.  But, you get the point, right?

Not that the point made has anything at all to do with my story.  Because it doesn't.  However, I know that you all feel slightly more fulfilled now that you know that little detail about me, don't you?  Don't you?  DON'T YOU?

Whatever!

So, onward ... when I finally get one towel securely on top of my head and another around my shivering body, I look up to find Molly with my bra around her head and she's holding the cups over her ears ...

"Look Mom!"  she giggled, "I have your ear muffs!"

Wanting to laugh, I control myself ... because I'm mean and hateful that way, plus I know my daughter well enough that if I laugh ... she'll run ... thinking it's a game.  And when I'm cold, and naked ... I don't want to chase my three year old around the house.  I'm just sayin'.

"It's not earmuffs!" I said sternly, holding my hand out ... knowing she'll know I'm serious ... standing there with dripping hair in my bath towel.  Usually my  most serious face doesn't matter.  But this time it did.  I was shocked.  I was floored.  I was flabbergasted. 

You get the point.

"Oh yeah ..." she giggled, taking the bra from her head and holding it out to me, "These are for your BUBS!"

And then I laughed.

Wouldn't you?

Never Better

Okay.  Answer me this.

Is it possible that life can get any better than this for a mother?

Seriously people ... I feel like I just hit the freakin' lottery!!!

TA-DA!

And I'll leave out the part about what a master manipulator I am!

Wait And See

Year after year we end up spending an ungodly insane amount of money on Halloween costumes.  After vowing to go "simple", we let ourselves down and run out the day before Halloween to grab some leftover costume that no one else wanted and end up paying double the price ... it seems. 

I know people, save your comments ... we aren't paying double.  IT JUST SEEMS LIKE WE ARE.  I don't know ... maybe we just had too many kids. 

YA THINK?

Well, this year we surprisingly held true to our word. 

Kinda.

Jake is going to be a nerd, since it went over so well last year.  Plus, since he is too "old" and "mature" for Halloween costumes ... it's kinda like he doesn't even have to dress up.  (ooohhh, I know, that was mean!)

Drew is going to be a baseball player ... and wear Jake's baseball uniform.  EASY!

Emily is going to be a cheerleader ... and use an outfit she already has in their dress up bin.  SCORE!

And Molly, well, she agreed to be a ghost.

And since Molly so graciously agreed to just throw a pillow case over her head, I went out this weekend and purchased a "FANCY NANCY" costume and I'm not going to tell her about it until tomorrow, when she has to dress up for her little party.  You should have seen how giddy I was skipping out of Target with that sucker.  I wish they had it in my size.

Anyway, since my children are difficult pains in the ass most of the time and ruin all my fun on the rare instances I try to be nice, I figured I needed to somewhat prepare her ... without her knowing.  So, on the way home from school, in an attempt to escape the High School Musical tunes that we've been listening to every single freakin' day in the car for the last year, I actually attempted to have a conversation with my sweet, loving three year old.

"So, did you like the Fancy Nancy book Daddy read to you last night before bed?"  I asked sounding enthusiastic.

"No."  she replied.  "Turn it on "BET ON IT", please."

"Don't you think Fancy Nancy is FANCY?  I think she is awesome.  Don't you wish you could dress like her?" I kept trying.

"No."  she answered again.  "Number 8, please!"

"I think Fancy Nancy is the coolest girl in the whole world."

Nothing from Molly.

"Really!"  I was growing impatient, in my head seeing Big Daddy's veins popping out of his temples as he opens the bill from this costume I purchased, "Don't you want to wear Fancy Nancy's clothes?"

"Aaaahhh, nnnnoooooo."  she hollered in a tone that implied she thought I was a total and complete imbecile.  "If I wore her clothes SHE'D BE COMPLETELY NAKED!  High School Musical, please!"

Tune in tomorrow to see if I can transform Miss Molly from a complete brat into Fancy Nancy. 

I say ... there's a 30-70 shot.

Wanna place your bets?

It's Hard Being So Popular

This afternoon there was a fly zooming around our house and I couldn't make contact with it using my fly swatter to save my own ass.  I'm sure it was comical watching me try.  But, that little fu ... fly escaped my wacks every single stinkin' time.

So, I did what any tired, cranky mother would do.

I gave up.

The thing could take up residency here if it wanted ... and invite his whole extended family.

I just no longer cared.

However, if they decided to move on in ... I'm sure they'd be anxious to move on out in a jiffy once they got a taste of life around here.

That is so beside the point.  What I'm wanting to share with you is ...

A few minutes later I join Molly in the living room to check my email.  She kept waving her hands around her face and then finally she sighed ...

"Aaahh, that pesky fly.  He keeps flying around me because he wants me to play with him.   And I just don't want to play right now." 

And then let out the biggest groan I've ever heard in my life. 

Yes, THE BIGGEST.

I'm sure she rolled her eyes too, but her back was to me so I can't be sure.

Heaven forbid she be bothered ...

by the fly ...

who wants to play with her.

What a brat.

And that's the point I was trying to make.

One Foot, Two Foot ...

Drew had a doctor appointment this afternoon.  No, he's not sick.  Just a physical, a requirement to continue receiving the little pills that I give him each morning ... the pills that miraculously keep him out of the principals office.

Anyway ... physical ... not ill.

In the car afterward, Drew asked, "How tall am I?"

I glanced at the cute little sheet the nurse handed me when she left the room at the beginning of our examination and replied, "53.1 inches."

"WHAT?" Drew exclaimed, loud enough that it actually startled me and I might have actually peed myself a little.  "INCHES!!!  I'm not even a foot tall?"

"Drew, a foot is 12 inches, right?"  I was just double checking.

"Yeah."

"Then take 53 and divide it by 12."  I should have been a teacher.

"Well ... "  Molly piped up, in the tone of voice that she only uses when she really really really wants to irritate one of her siblings, "I HAVE TWO FEET!"

For some reason I found that sort of cute.  So, I wanted to share it.  I would take a photo of her and upload it with this post, but she's laying here in her underwear throwing a tantrum like none of you have probably seen before.

All because I said that we couldn't go to Florida tonight.

Can you say EARLY BEDTIME?

Smart Enough For Her Own Good

Molly is sick.

She has been since Friday. Down and out. Like on the couch for the ENTIRE day with a fever. Took her to the doctor yesterday. It's viral. Of course it is. After I hand over my co-pay, she came home and felt miraculously better. How does that happen?

Anyway, I had already called the school yesterday and told them she would not be there this morning. So after dropping the boys off and then Emily off, Molly inquired why we weren't pulling into her building. (Yes, my children go to three different schools on the same campus.) I explained that she was sick and couldn't attend.

She cried. Of course. Because there is nothing she enjoys more than acting excited about school and then clinging to my legs, screaming at the top of her lungs while she begs me not to leave once we enter the classroom. And then flail about recklessly as I ignore her cries and walk out the door, leaving her behind. Molly loves to make me feel good, can't you see that?

So, we are on our way back home and she hears a Burger King commercial on the radio.

"They have the round things. (hashbrowns)." she informed me. "Can we get some?"

"No." is the obvious response from me.

"Can we get them 'cause I love them." she persisted.

"No."

"Can we get them 'cause you love me?"

Damn, she's good.

Another Last First

Okay.  We all know that I should be nominated for "Mother Of The Year", right?

Shoot ... not nominated, the title should be held soley by me.

That's right.

Because what other mother out there is as thoughtful, caring, selfless or kind as I am?

What one?  Tell me.

You can't.  I told you so.

When did Molly start preschool?  My baby.  My last.  The final "first day of school" ...  That took place ... WHEN?

Oh yeah ... that's right ... AUGUST. 

August 25.

And what's today?  SEPTEMBER 24. 

So, what's my point?  Well, while I was so tied up filling my obligations as "Mother of the Year", I put the post about Molly and her first day of school on the back burner.

However, before you all get your panties in a bunch (your briefs for those few readers of the opposite gender) ... I want you to know there is a grace period for this type of thing. 

Yup.  How do I know this, you ask?  Because I said so, that's why!

And the grace period is ONE MONTH.

So, there is really no issue here.  Let's get to it ...

GUESS WHAT? 

Molly started preschool!  Doesn't she look happy and excited?  Yeah well, that only lasted until we walked through the door of her classroom.  Then she dug her overgrown fingernails into my ankle and held on for dear life as I tried to escape, I mean leave.

An upside of waiting one day shy of a month after this event has actually happened to tell you about it, I'm thrilled to report she got over her ridiculousness and now LOVES to go to school.  I think she finally figured out that her teachers are much nicer than I am and she can enjoy 3 hours playing, coloring, painting, singing and dancing ... without getting yelled at.

Hey, whatever works.

There ya have it.  My post about Molly's first day at preschool. 

Just in time.

Whew!

It's Like A Merry-Go-Round!

Just a quick update from us over here in good ol' Iowa ... because I know your day would not be complete without one.

Right?

RIGHT?

So, let's go back to yesterday.  A sick Emily.  Poor little girl ... but she was fever free, driving me insane  and ready to play by mid-afternoon.  I didn't want her out running around like she wanted to do, so we compromised (Oh ... yes we did!) on sidewalk chalk in the driveway.

Molly can never be too far behind her big sister, usually just to irritate the hell out of her, but sometimes just to spend some fun time together.  Today was one of those days.

So she went out to scribble draw on the driveway with Emily.

Do you see that? 

Here ... take a closer look ...

Why do you think she is laying down?  Any guesses?

Let me just tell you ...

SHE IS FREAKIN' SICK.

Yup, she is.  Good times ... I told you so.  We are nothing but fun around here.  You should come visit sometime.

Okay ...

Let's fast forward to this morning.  Everyone rises, everyone slept through the night, everyone is happy.  Everyone is healthy.  Everyone eats.  Everyone gets dressed.  Everyone brushes their teeth ...

TWO, of them left for school.  Yes TWO!

The other TWO of them stayed home.  With me.   Of course.

Would you like me to explain?  Sure you do.

After getting ready for school and glancing at the clock realizing that we only had about 10 minutes until the bus would arrive and Emily's ride ... I asked Emily to come and get her hair done.

She did.  (Should have been my first clue ... she actually listened and did what I asked)

After I started brushing.  She started crying.  Thinking I was a little rough with the brush in my haste to get the piggy tails in and boot her butt out the door, I gave her a hug to apologize.

With that hug I discovered she was burning up again.  The heat radiating off of her was CRAZY.  Crazy I tell you.  Thermometer was fetched ... 102.7.   Fever out of no where.  45 minutes earlier she was cool as a cucumber.  Really.  I checked.  Honestly.  I did.

So, that's it.  End of story.

I hope. 

Usually when Emily gets a fever like that it just rises and rises ... like this time and that time.  And we end up staying in the hospital a few days.

So ... anyways (that's just for you Karly) ... let's hope these girls get better soon, because if they don't ... I'll be the one in a hospital. 

A mental hospital. 

Advice From A Three Year Old

The other day ... just like EVERY day, I was sweeping the kitchen floor.

As the broom made it's way around the room, I wondered ... just like EVERY day, how in the world this many crumbs, paper, wrappers ... to sum it up, CRAP finds a home on my dated, linoleum floor.

EVERY single day I wonder this.

I have yet to find an answer.

But, that is beside the point.  As I was maneuvering the broom to catch all this "CRAP" and place it in a pile to dust-buster up, Molly took a seat on the stool by the counter.

"Wow ... you are a great sweeper!" she exclaimed, taking a bit of a graham cracker, which we would call her morning snack.

"No, not really." I answered, basically in a monotone voice because there is no way to get excited about sweeping.  Or cleaning anything, really.  At least in my world.

"Yes you are!" Molly insisted.

"NO! I'm not!" I rebutted loudly, for no other reason than because I like to fight with my children.

With one huge swoop of her hand, the graham crackers and all the crumbs that come with graham crackers made their way to the floor.  I stood there, amazed and stunned that she would do such a thing.  Pretty much positive my mouth was hanging open ... I looked at her.

She shrugged and hopped down off the stool.  As she was walking away, she said, "Well, practice makes perfect, right?"

I tried to hit her over the head with the broom as she scurried away ...

But of course, I missed.

When Reality Finally Sets In

I never thought one of my serendipitous talents would be the ability to dress a child while she ran through the house.   

Pulling her pretty, bright white shirt over her head, while she climbed on and off the kitchen stool retrieving dropped pink and purple crayons.  (I know this because they are the only two freakin' colors the kid will use) 

Buttoning buttons, six of them to be exact, while she chased the cat from room to room, determined to catch him and hug him endlessly as he hissed and broke free. 

Slipping on cute little beaded socks, as she made her way to the garage to fetch her new black shoes, which are the equivalent to gold in her eyes.  Or wait, in her eyes, probably more like the equivalent to a box of Swiss Cake Rolls.

Once her ensemble was complete, I stood back and admired her, for all of the three seconds she stood still zoning into the four children on Noggin who danced and wiggled to a familiar tune. 

And I was proud.

Some might even call it cocky.

As I sat, silently honoring myself for completing such a stint, I realized just what in the heck I was so excited about.

Dressing my child.

Are you flippin' kidding me?

What has my pathetic life come to?

Someone ... kill me now.

Crazy Girl, I Mean Glue

Should a mother be concerned ... if her three year old child super-glued her fingers together two days in a row ...

and thought that was a good thing?

I'm just hypothetically speaking, of course.

Maybe she should start looking into therapists for her child now.  Ya think?

A Moment Spoiled

Picture it.

Me.

Molly.

Cuddling. 

Having alone time.

Quality time.

My three year old turns to me and smiles.

I can't help myself, I have to tell her ... "I love you Molly!"

She hugs me tight around my neck and my heart melts, "I love you too!"  A slight pause, a tender hand on my cheek.  "But I don't love you when you're poopin'."

Something tells me I won't have to worry about her as a teenager ... she'll always manage to spoil the moment.

So Sweet When They Sleep

Last night during our "Slumber Party", I obviously didn't sleep very well.

How do I know this?  Because I was up about 14 times in the night.  One of those times I actually removed myself from the couch and went to check on my kids to make sure they were all covered and sleeping soundly.

Yes, contrary to what many of you think ... I secretly LIKE my kids ... sometimes.

So, when I saw Molly, I had to make the effort to snap a photo. 

Ya know, reach all the way over to the coffee table where I left the camera after taking their pictures from when they first fell asleep.  Then, flipping the "on" switch ... and, if you can believe my pure dedication ... I pushed the button that actually snapped the photo.

How I must LOVE my kids to go through all of that at 2am, huh?

But really ... does a child get any cuter than this when they sleep?  I know ... all of your children are just this adorable, if not more so, but this is MY moment, okay?  My blog.  So, it's your job to pretend to agree with me.  Okay?

Side Note: When I just uploaded this photo, Drew was sitting beside me and said, "Oh Mom!  Great shot.  Did you use 'flash photography'?"  And when I nodded my head, he looked truly impressed.  See what a good mother I am?  I often floor my kids with my talents.

When The Big Daddy's Away ...

the girls will play.

I know I was bitching about Emily earlier ... but really ... she's my first born daughter, I can't be mad for long.  I am a woman.  I'm allowed to be all fickle like that.  At least that's what I tell myself, so don't ruin it for me.

Anyway, Big Daddy went out of town and us girls waited for Jake and Drew to go to bed and then we snuck down for a slumber party in the living room. 

They slept, while I watched the premier of THE HILLS, and all was right with the world ... I mean, seriously ... what could go wrong?  They were sleeping.  I was enjoying my show by hating Audrina and Spencer more than even I thought possible.   

I call this QUALITY TIME.

Pure and simple.

I've Taught Them Well

This conversation just took place in our living room:

Emily:  MOOOLLLLYYYY ... that's my folder.  Give it back.

Molly:  No.

Emily (starting to whine): Give it back.

Molly:  No.

Emily (holding up a fist):  Do you want this knuckle sandwich?

Molly:  Yes.

Emily (stomping her foot):  You HAVE to say PLEASE.

Molly:  Okay.

Emily (holding up her fist again):  Do you want this knuckle sandwich?

Molly:  Yes, please.

Emily (smiling):  Good girl.

Can A Child Get Any Cuter?

Seriously, take a look ...

Is it possible for a kid to get any cuter than this?  As much as I don't like her right now, she makes up for it by smiling sweetly at me every now and then. 

I would also like you all to take notice that I am saying something nice about my child.  This doesn't happen very often ... so enjoy it while it lasts.

Surely, later I'll be posting to fill you in on something this very child has done to tick me off.

You can pretty much count on it.

The Book - Plain and Simple

Molly had her three year check up the other day. 

She's in great health and it turns out she's not nearly as dumb as we thought.

I'M JUST KIDDING!  Good Lord.  Don't you people know how to take a joke?  We really need to work on that.

Anyway, when we were finished with the appointment, she never again mentioned her visit with her favorite doctor, the sticker he spoiled her with, the shot his nurse poked into her leg or the glittery band-aid she slapped over the hole she'd left that was oozing blood.

Nope, all she cared about was her new book.  And how fabulous it was.  And how her Daddy was going to read it to her that night before bed.  That simple book was like a treasure only she was lucky enough to hold.  Never mind the 200 of them on her bookshelf.

I found that very sweet.

I hope she'll always find greatness in the simple things. 

Sleep and Make Up

Yesterday morning, my youngest daughter did the inconceivable.

The one thing a child never wants to do to her mother.

That one thing is PISS HER OFF.

For starters, the little booger didn't want to get out of the shower.  She had been in there for 20 minutes and when I asked her to get out, so that I could get in, she just looked at me from the floor of the stall without saying a word, using her hand to cover and then uncover the drain.

Now, our shower is not exactly large.  It's not one of those beautiful glass sanctuaries big enough for my entire family of six.  Even though, if I had one of those, you can be assured my hellions would not be allowed to come within 20 feet of it. 

It would be mine. 

All mine. 

We'd discuss whether or not Big Daddy could use it too.  Maybe on special occasions.  Like when he's cleaning it.  HA!

Okay, someone slap me back into reality.  I don't have one of those showers, and I never will.  I am telling you all a story about my little shower.

The one with the little girl in it that won't get out.

So, I did what any mother would do.

I got in.

And do you know what that brat said to me?

I don't think you want to know.

You will be outraged.  Not for yourself, but for me.  And if you aren't, you aren't my friend anymore. 

She crinkled up her nose, and whined ... "EEeeewwww, your body is yucky!"

Yes, my three year old informed me of this ...

LIKE I DIDN'T ALREADY KNOW. 

Being the responsible and mature mom that you all know I am, I shot back, "Yeah, well, it's all because of you.  YOU did this to me.  YOU!  NOW GET OUT OF MY SHOWER!"

And I stewed about it for hours.

But then I forgave her.  And it's not all about that whole unconditional love deal ... it was because she made it up to me big time.

HUGE TIME.

By taking an afternoon nap for the first time in MONTHS!

 

Yup, that will do it.  That's all it took.

I suppose I'll keep her.

Hey Mommy!

My life with Molly ...

"Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom?"

"What?"

"I like the color pink."

"Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom?"

"What?"

"I want PB&J for lunch later."

"Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom?"

"What?"

"Uuuummmm, I forgot."

"Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom?"

"Molly, can you please stop saying my name for 5 minutes while I make a phone call?"

(Giggles) "Yes."

"Thank You."

"Mom?  Oops.  Sorry."

Do any of your kids do this to you?  It's driving me nuts.  It goes on from the moment she wakes up until the moment she goes to sleep.

She's doing it RIGHT NOW, as I type this. 

Complete diarrhea of the mouth.  Is there a prescription or fix for this?

Please Don't Hold This Against Me ...

but I sooooo have to brag.

Come on ...

I don't do it very often.  Usually there are tales of how awful my children are and that they are horrible and not even worthy of living in this fine world of ours ...

While all that may be true ... most of the time ... I still have to share this.

Look at what my FOUR YEAR OLD drew for me:

A Prince and Princess.

She drew that. 

At four years old.

Do you see?  The Prince.  The Princess.  Look again. 

Gosh darn it ... just LOOK.  They have crowns.

 

And even if no one else is impressed ... I AM!  And it's my blog. (Nicheplayer, please note I finally used "it's" correctly).  So I can be.

"IT'S MY BLOG AND I'LL BRAG IF I WANT TO!"  (You were supposed to read that to the tune of "It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To ... Cry If I Want To.)

So let's try it again ...

"IT'S MY BLOG AND I'LL BRAG IF I WANT TO!  BRAG IF I WANT TO ... BRAG IF I WANT TO.  YOU WOULD BRAG TO IF IT WAS DRAWN FOR YOU!" 

Seriously, I write this blog for my children to enjoy later anyway ... and I want Emily to be able to look at her husband 20 years from now, show him this picture and say ... "LOOK AT HOW AWESOME I AM!  I WILL BE RULER OF THE HOUSEHOLD!  HEAR ME NOW ... I AM THE RULER!  GOT IT?"

And he will cower to her. (I don't honestly want that, but it sounds good, doesn't it?)

But really, let's not forget the other gal in our home ... she hates to be shown up. 

Really hates that.

REALLY REALLY!

So, she went right to work.

Molly's version of Prince and Princess:

Yeah ... that's more like it. 

More like what I'm used to.

Whew, I'm so glad someone slapped me back into reality.

Smarter Than I Thought

The girls and I were talking about something yesterday ... and I can't remember what.  Probably because I'm getting old and my memory just doesn't serve me the way it used to.  Either that, or it's the beer that I drink and is killing all those brain cells.  Does that cause you to lose your memory?  I know that one could black out and lose their memory temporarily when they consume too much beer, but I don't know that first hand ... people have just told me.  So, I don't know ... maybe we'll just say I'm getting old ... so I don't recall what exactly the girls and I were talking about yesterday.

Whew, I always take the long road around things, don't I?  I am surprised you all still read.

ANYWAY, whatever it was that we were discussing, I made mention that it was a "pain".  And the following conversation took place:

Emily:  What's a pain?

Molly:  It's that thing in Mommy's butt that she always has because of us.

HONEST TO GOD, she said that.  She's a lot smarter than I thought she was at age 3.

Quick Thinkin'

What's a mother to do, when her youngest child starts to vomit?

Scream at her to hustle into the bathroom, of course.

But then the guilt sets in along with the mothering instincts and compassion ... and she realizes this sweet, little girl needs a bucket.

The mother searches high and low for a bucket and can't find one anywhere, so being the quick thinking gal she is ...

she feeds her children ice cream for breakfast.  DUH!

Freeing up a "bucket" for her sick child.

Bullet dodged ... mark another one up for the mothers.

I Knew It ...

I just knew that there had to be a good explanation for this. 

There had to be something behind it.

More to the story.

It was just too bizarre. 

And I was right.

Of course.

This was taken under the arm, so actually it's 101.3.

So, for Molly, it was not all about sharing some sisterly love yesterday.  It was more like, "I feel like dog poop and you're the closest lap to me!  Move your hand so I can lay down."

Whew.  I'm glad I figured that out.  I was beginning to wonder.

Now I can just feel sorry for my poor girl.  Lots of huggles and snuggles are in the forecast for today.  So hopefully we'll be full of giggles and tickles tomorrow.

You Can Witness A Rare Occurance

Do you see this?  This just DOES NOT happen very often.  If it were the boys, I'd be all, "Who cares?" because crap like this takes place frequently enough.

Not so much with the girls. 

Not really ever with the girls come to think of it.

And I tripped over my own damn feet as I bolted to the camera.  I wanted to capture the moment before Emily reached down and gave Molly a wedgie that she'd never forget because she had her in a vulnerable position.  It would be just like Emily to take advantage of something like that.

So really, I'd advise you to take a closer look at the sweetness of these sisters.  Seriously, because there is no tellin' when you'll see something like this again.

Anyone Else?

As the prices of almost everything we eat is going up and up and up ... It's not enough that we have six mouths to feed around here ...

because now, we're feeding the toys too!

Sisterly Love

If you are a frustrated parent, you must watch this to know that life COULD be worse.  You could be Mom to my two darlings.

Emily was wanting to sing for me.
Molly was taking a nap.
Molly woke up.
Enjoy a minute and 23 seconds of my life.

Oh yeah, and a little word of advice:  Plug your ears about 50 seconds into the video.

Your welcome!

Good Times

I don't know if it was the aroma of the brownies baking in the oven ... or if someone slipped something into my soda when I wasn't looking ...

but either way, we had the best time together yesterday afternoon!

(And yes, I found a need to document it.)

So Much Truth Behind It

The following conversation took place a few minutes ago:

Molly:  I miss my Daddy!

Me:  Aaawww, you do?  I'm sorry!

Molly:  Yes.  I don't like YOU.

Me:  You don't?  <insert pretend sad face>

Molly:  Nope, only Daddy.  Will you call him for me so I can talk to him?

Me (being the childish mother that I am):  Why would I want to do that?  You don't even like me.

Molly (hands on hips, stomping her foot):  Because YOU DO EVERYTHING FOR ME!  CALL HIM!  PLEASE!

I didn't.

Brat.

Serves her right.

The Mystery Unveiled

I didn't even think about it when I cropped it for my last post, but I actually received several emails asking who's head I cut off in the picture that I used of myself for the Recipe For Disaster post. 

Mostly mothers read this blog, so the majority will probably relate that not many photos are actually taken of US ... as WE are the ones behind the camera.  So ... when I was writing the previous post and needed a picture of ME ... I didn't have but one on my computer ... and it included one of my children.

So, like the lazy and selfish mother than I am ... I cropped her out.  And did a half ass job, by the way ... because I don't have all that fancy Photoshop software that so many of you frequently speak of.  With that being told, it's was MORE THAN OBVIOUS that SOMEONE'S head was chopped off ... and for some reason ... that bothered some of you.

I HATE HATE HATE posting pictures of myself.  It's fair to say that I don't think I look anything like I do in pictures.  Maybe if I had that Photoshop software ... I'd like the way I looked better.

Think?

We Need To Invest In Napkins

What do these three children all have in common?

If you guessed that they are all siblings and are loved dearly by the same parents ...

YOU'RE WRONG!

I wipe cheeks and mouths at least 20 times a day ... and still ... most pictures that I take of my children ... they have food all over their faces. 

Either they're sneaking food.  Or I'm a bad parent. 

Or both.

It's Not What It Looks Like!

Let me make something clear right off the bat.  I'm not a photographer.  Probably the furthest thing from.  I know NOTHING about the subject and probably never will. 

I wanted you all to know that so you didn't have to secretly talk behind my back when you see the following pictures ... thinking that I thought I knew what I was doing ... when it's MORE THAN OBVIOUS that I don't. 

If you want to see some nice photos of flowers and such ... you'll need to go here.  Because you're not going to get it from me.  Just wanted you to know ... that I know ... that I suck!

K?

With that said, let's move on -

I wanted to share with you what I get when I say ... PLEASE DON'T PICK THE FLOWERS!

Did you hear that?

PLEASE DON'T PICK THE FLOWERS!

Not difficult to understand, right?  I'd say that even a toddler or preschooler could follow those simple directions.  Wouldn't you?

Maybe not!

A New Napping Technique

This is what you will find when you FORGET that you've placed your newly turned three year old in the naughty spot ...

You would think I would have felt bad.  Or guilty.  But I was actually excited.  She NEVER takes a nap anymore and this would give me a few ME TIME minutes.

Can you say "LOSER MOM"?

Come on, all together now ... LOSER MOM!

There ya go.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Molly!

Today my baby turns 3. I can still remember the day she was born. We were all so happy to welcome her into our family.  Well, all of us but one. Molly has ALWAYS loved to pick flowers.

 

And it was almost 18 months before she finally grew some hair.

 

It has always been rare to find her without a smile.

Molly seemed to change from baby to toddler in the blink of an eye. It's rare these days to capture a picture of Molly when she doesn't look like a rag-a-muffin.  Outdoors and dirty is her favorite place and way to be.  She's happy doing everything from building a "worm house" in the creek, to riding her new bike, or pushing her stroller with her baby doll securely nestled inside. Molly is THREE!  ALL THREE! Happy Birthday, Big Girl!

The Rights Of Being Born Before Another

Yes, I've been MIA the past few days.  I am aware.  I have no excuse.  I am sorry.  I will not tell you that it won't happen ever again ... because it probably will.

Anyway.

Yesterday morning, I'm whizzing through Target at 8:15am, for no particular reason.  I've come to realize that if I get my daily Target fix first thing in the morning, I'm a much happier wife and mother for the rest of the day.

As the girls and I maneuver through the home decor aisle, Molly blurts out, "I'm done now.  Mom, I want to go home.  RIGHT NOW!"

Emily gasped as if someone just ripped the head of her prized Baby Chou Chou and responded to Molly in a very firm and matter of fact tone.  "Molly.  You MAY NOT speak to Mom that way.  Only I can talk to her like that."

Hmmm, I guess being born 18 months earlier than another gives you the right to many things that even I, as a mother, did not know about.

The other woman in the aisle burst out in laughter as she witnessed the conversation between the girls ... chucking way too loud and long in my opinion.  She voiced that my daughters were just adorable and she thought they were down right hilarious. 

I, on the other hand, did not.

The Ultimate High Five

OMG - I do not know what kind of children I am raising.  The following event is taking place in my home, right now ... with my sweet, darling daughters. You know, the 4 year old and 2 year old.

I think this is called LIVE BLOGGING.  But, I'm not that cool or hip ... so I'm not totally for sure.

Molly was rolling around on the ottoman.  Emily wanted her to stop.  Molly didn't stop.  Emily pushed Molly off the ottoman.

I saw the whole thing.

Me:  Emily.  You come with me RIGHT NOW.  You are sitting in time out for pushing your sister.  We DO NOT PUSH.  Is that clear?

Emily:  Yes Mamn.

Molly:  Good job, Mom.  Give me a high five.

Emily (from time out):  That is WRONG.  You should not high five because I'm in time out.

Silence ... because we don't talk to the one in time out, while they are in time out.

Emily singing to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star:  Like a diamond in the sky.  I wish my sister would just die.

Me ... about falling out of my chair:  EMILY.  We DO NOT talk like that.

Emily:  I'm not talking .  I'm singing.  And, how long am I going to be in time out anyway?

Silence ... because we don't talk to the one in time out, while they are in time out.

Molly (standing in front of Emily with her hands on her hips):  3 HOURS!

Emily (bawls).  You know that bawl with the mouth WIDE OPEN.

Molly (walking away with hands on her hips):  Or 20 HOURS!

Emily (bawls louder).

Me:  Could you all slow down?  I am trying to blog this and can't type that fast.

Another Snowstorm? IN OUR BASEMENT!

I want to start this post by saying that I've haven't been as mad as I am right now ... in a long long LONG time.

Pissed is not even a good description of how I feel.  If you were to insert a thermometer into my veins at this precise moment ... I can pretty much bet you on my children, that my blood would be boiling.  BOILING I TELL YOU!

But wait, if I'm wrong ... does that mean you'd get my children as a reward?  Does it?  OKAY THEN, I'm sure my blood is not ACTUALLY boiling. 

You win.  Game over.  When are you coming to retrieve your prize?

You're not?  Damn it.

I wouldn't either. 

They are the reason I'm so upset.  Why I'm beyond words, really.  Composing this post is actually just a means for me to calm down before I seriously consider strangling my youngest child.  Yeah, that sweet little angel that is pictured above.  The one in her bed and never allowed to come out of her room again. 

BRAT!

HEATHEN!

TOTAL ..... I don't know what.  But Total Something!!

I will not give you all the details.  Reliving the entire situation may cause my heart to start pounding out of my chest again, and I'm just now starting to calm down a bit. 

You are great therapy.  Just so you know.

Long story short.  I obviously was not paying close enough attention to my children.  AND NO I WAS NOT ENGROSSED IN A "THE HILLS" EPISODE.  My girls were behaved perfectly for the 2 hours I indulged in that.  It was after wards that I lost control of them.

Jake begins screaming from the basement.  "MOM!  MOM!  MMMMMOOOOOOMMMM!"  That in and of itself ticked me off, because I CAN.NOT.STAND for my kids to yell for me from another room.  If you want to talk to me ... stand up and use your legs to bring yourself to me.  Period.

So, I holler back at him to come up and talk to me if he feels there is something soooo important that he needed to scream.

He did.  And to be completely honest, I have no idea what he said.  But, the look on his face and the fact that he ran back down the stairs before I answered ... intrigued me enough to follow.

Part of me wishes I hadn't.  Maybe if I ignored it, it wouldn't have happened.

I know you all are expecting some huge.  And it may not be a big deal to some of you.  But ... to me it was.

MILK. 

MILK and SIPPY CUPS.

MILK.  SIPPY CUPS and NO SIPPY CUP PLUGS.

MILK.  SIPPY CUPS. NO SIPPY CUP PLUGS and GIGGLING GIRLS.

MILK.  SIPPY CUPS.  NO SIPPY CUP PLUGS.  GIGGLING GIRLS.  DANCING IN THE "SNOWSTORM".

I'm going to say ONE thing.  I do not allow any drinks out of my kitchen.  Ever.

That and it took me almost 2 hours to wipe down walls, send my children to bed without showers or books, dap up furniture, scream for my children to never come within 2 feet of me again, scrub carpet, reiterate that this is the exact reason beverages belong in the kitchen only, febreeze everything in sight, kick the cat, vacuum every square inch of carpet vveerryy sssslllowly just to be sure I suck every drip up, and then regret not taking a picture to share with you all before I went into my frenzy.  Because I KNEW you'd like that. 

The sight of it was truly unbelievable.

Okay.  My temper is still raging.

I guess you'll have to tell me about something one of your kids did that totally lit your fuse and then blew it threw the roof.

Yeah ... do that.  I think that will make me feel much better.

A Little Bit Of Sunshine

Simple fact:

As far as my girls are concerned ... taking a "swim" in my tub is the equivalent to visiting a water park for three days.  Five days if you turn the jets on.

Is She Trying To Tell Me Something?

Nothing like taking a nap in your winter coat!!
I wonder if Molly thinks we keep the house too cold in the winter?


The thermostat is set at 67.  What temperature do you keep your home in the winter?

I'm Really Just A Big Child

Okay, I swear I am ... just a great, big, giant kid stuck in a grown up body.  Yesterday, I found something to be hysterically funny ... and I'm sure it wasn't.

At least not to most normal, mature, responsible parents.

Molly had to make an emergency run to the restroom.  Once she safely and successfully made it to her destination she called out ...

"Oh man!  I have die-a-wee-ah!"

Emily, being a supportive big sister, ran into the bathroom to investigate.  "Yup, she sure does.  She really really has deer-a-reeeee-ah."

"I do, I do!"  Molly called out proudly.  "It's big die-a-wee-ah, too"

"