At least I feel it for my kids, whether or not it’s reciprocated remains to be seen. After my day, I’m not so sure.
The Big One gave up naps years ago (yes she is only four, but she gave up naps at about 18 months so it feels like years). But she still has to rest every day. About once a month she will actually fall asleep during her rest time. When she does fall asleep it’s usually because I have threatened her with spending the entire day in bed unless she sleeps.
I only pull out the threat when the black bags under her eyes are taking over her entire face. Today was one of those days. She woke up whining and crying and freaking out. It continued all day.
So when nap time rolled around, I made the threat. I know better than to make it unless I am serious. After three hours of whining, crying and fussing I relented and let her get up. But first I gave her a great lecture on listening and doing what the FixItMommy asks her to do, etc.
Yes I am aware at how effective it is to lecture a four-year-old. Okay, leave me alone, we all have our moments. Yes I am also aware that consistency is the key and I should not make threats and then relent. I will pay for it next time, I know.
So anyway part of the {lecture} conversation rolled around to how the Little One is a better listener. Yes I made the statement, but the Big One wholeheartedly agreed. Then the conversation when something like this:
The Big One: Why is {the Little One} a better listener than me?
FixItMommy: I don’t know. Maybe her ears work better. Maybe she likes Mommy more than you do. Maybe she just wants to make Mommy happy.
Big One: Well, I like Daddy better than you.
I took the oh-so-mature approach and told her that it’s great she likes Daddy better. And pointed out that it’s going to be a long couple more days for her until Daddy gets home.
Ahhhh, the joys. I can’t wait until she is a teenager and can really articulate how she feels about me.
Dogs. Why oh why oh why do I love them? They are wonderful and lovable and cute, but they can be disgusting and vile at the same time.
Gracie Lou was outside chilling while I was playing on Facebook (the girls were napping). Suddenly Gracie Lou starts freaking out, whining, scratching and the door and generally having a fit. This is quite unusual behavior for her. The only time she freaks out when she is outside is when there is a crazy loud sonic boom.
So the fact that she was going crazy and even knocked the screen door off the tracks should have clued me in that something was going on.
Being clueless, I let her in, fixed the screen door and then turned around to see a bloody thing on my kitchen floor. She was standing next to it proudly wagging her tail and I suppose waiting for some praise.
Instead I shooed her away, grabbed at least 18 napkins and picked up the part. I took it out to the garage, put it in a plastic bag and then scrubbed my hands 10 times. Then I set out on a mission to find the rest of the carcass. I couldn’t find anything, but a whole lot of loud squawking birds flying overhead.
Then my neighbor came home, so I asked him to help identify the part. I thought it looked like a rabbit leg, but I wasn’t sure.
So he confirmed it was a rabbit and then proclaimed how lucky I was that she brought me the foot.
He heard the birds too. I asked him if he thought maybe a bird dropped it and that’s why they were being so loud. He told me if Gracie Lou had gotten it, there would be fur all over my backyard. Since there wasn’t and I can’t find a carcass, I assume the bird dropped it.
Gracie Lou knew how ticked off the birds would be, so that’s why she wanted in the house so darn bad.
So now I am afraid to go outside and I am not letting my dog outside for fear of being pecked to death by some ticked off birds.
Oh…. Where do you think the Husband is during all of this? Yep, you guessed it, he’s TDY. I can’t wait for his upcoming deployment and the joy that that is sure to bring.
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Just an update… I can’t keep Gracie Lou in the house. She is whining and scratching at the door. I think she is convinced that there will be more rabbit feet falling from the heavens. She keeps going back to the same spot, sniffing and looking up in the sky. It’s like she is asking God for just one more!
The Little One is an accident waiting to happen. I’ve shared some of her bumps, bruises, crashes and full on collisions where I thought she was a goner. I thought it would get better as she got more steady on her feet.
Apparently her feet have nothing to do with it. It’s just her personality, no fears, no holds barred.
I told you we took the crib rail off her bed to make it a toddler bed last week. Well after a few days of her getting out of bed, raiding her dresser, hiding in the closet and causing a mess, I was questioning my decision. So when she asked on Sunday to have her “baby bed” back, I happily obliged.
Yes, I am aware of the regression issues. Yes I know one step forward, two steps backwards. But I don’t care. She is my baby and she can stay in there until she is five if she wants to.
The problem of course is her climbing prowess. Yesterday morning, the Big One and I were downstairs while the Little One slept for e few more minutes. Then I heard the tell tale thud followed by the blood curdling scream. She flipped out of bed. Literally. I had her recreate it for me so I could figure out what she was doing. She puts her hand on the rail, tips her head out and pushes up with all her might until she somersaults out.
Sounds fun, right? Well not when she whacks her face against the wall for the entire trip down.
By the time I got upstairs, both her lips were swollen, her cheek was flaming red and the side of her nose was bleeding. Fortunately no limbs were broken, but she was shaken up.
I thought it might scare her into being more cautious at least for a day. Not happening.
After nap she was coming down the stairs. Normally I don’t pay much attention to her because she learned how to use the stairs months ago. But yesterday, I was watching her. When she got to the second to the last step, I figured she was alright so I turned and walked the 12 feet to the thermostat (I couldn’t stand sweating in my 82 degree house so I was turning on the air conditioner). Just as I reached the thermostat, I heard the splat.
Yep, she managed to fall down the stairs. According to the Big One, who happily recreated the fall. The Little One missed the last step and went splat onto the tile. It sounded like a horrific slapping sound, followed by that scream.
Fortunately she landed on her tummy, which was still full from lunch and it broke her fall. So no more blood. But another couple years taken off my life.
The Husband happily pointed out the good side of the situation. A few years ago, on his 30th birthday to be exact, he missed the last step and broke his foot.
As you know my girls are 4 and 2. Is this concept too difficult to grasp?
I mean I know there are a lot of shoes, but all those on the floor will fit in a neat little cubby.
Just so you know it’s not just the girls who do this. The Husband is TDY so his shoes are with him, or they would be neatly stored under the table.
So tell me, are my expectations too high? Maybe I should lower them.
The Big One is four years old now. She will proudly tell you that and then she will tell you all the things that four-year-olds do. She will also tell you all that she knows.
The Little One is two years old. She thinks her big sister can walk on water. She also believes everything the Big One says.
As I was making dinner, this was the conversation, I heard. Just some background, the Big One got some new headbands over the weekend from the Dollar Tree. It was a two-pack. They are those head-wrap things… just a circle of stretchy fabric.
Big One: Do you want to hold it?
Little One: Yes.
Big One: Are you going to break it?
Little One: Yes
Big One: I said are you going to break it?
Little One: No!
Big One: It was really expensive, so I don’t want you to break it.
Little One: No!
Big One: Do you know how much it cost?
Little One: NO!
Big One: It was a hundred dollars.
Little One: A hundred dollars?
Big One: Do you know how much a hundred dollars is?
Little One: A hundred dollars?
Big One: That’s a lot of money. . . Maybe I should just hold it.
I really wish that I could have seen the entire thing playing out. From the kitchen it sounded hysterical and I can just picture the incredulous look on the Little One’s face as she repeated “a hundred dollars.”
Let’s see how long it takes for the Big One to lose her really expensive new headband at preschool.
We need to work on it, apparently.
I’m just going to tell you up front, we are talking about farts today. If you find that juvenile or offensive, then just move along.
Everyone has been in a store or mall or somewhere in close proximity to other people when someone has farted. It may have been you who did it or it may have been someone else who did it. But we’ve all smelled the offending smell and known that someone farted. The true art comes in determining who did it.
If you are embarrassed about it, you can target someone near you and pretend they did it. You can laugh and fess up or you can just run to then next aisle over and hope nobody notices. Well if you are my children you will proudly raise your hand and claim it.
That’s all fine and good if in fact they were the responsible party. Last night at bed time, the Husband and I were getting the girls ready for bed.
I had read a story and we were preparing to divide and conquer for the rocking, singing and praying portion of the routine. The Husband noticed the smell and asked who farted. To which the Big One’s arm shot up in the air and announced, “I did it! I farted!”
Not wanting to be outdone by her sister, the Little One followed suit raising her hand and proclaiming that she had done it. This was followed by a couple minutes of giggling and sillyness as they debated which one of them had farted.
Meanwhile, Gracie Lou was conspicuously lying behind the rocking chair. Of course the dog cannot talk and fess up, but one whiff of it and it was obvious that the fart was of the canine variety, not the human variety (don’t shake your head at me, you know dog farts smell much different than little girl farts!)
So I’m not sure what to do with my girls. I don’t want them to be embarrassed about farts, they happen. Everyone farts. But at the same time, they do need to learn the art of denial or they will have some problems when they hit junior high.
{Just an aside if you are reading Grandma, no more doggie birthday cakes. Gracie Lou had the worst gas ever after inhaling the leftovers from Omega’s cake. I even had to sleep in the spare room last night because the smell was killing me.}
Oh man, the Little One is growing up. It’s so hard to be excited and enthusiastic for her growing up because it makes me a little sad.
Yesterday the Little One asked if she could take a nap in the Big One’s bed. I said sure, figuring she would last about two minutes before she wanted to move to her own room. She likes to show a lot of bravado in front of her sister, but when it comes down to it she usually retreats to what’s safe and comfortable.
So as I left her in the Big One’s bed all alone for a nap, I really thought she would cry. But she didn’t, instead she took a perfectly peaceful two-hour nap and then stayed in the bed until I came to get her.
The Big One was so excited that she asked the Little One repeatedly if she now wanted to sleep in her own big bed. To which the Little One replied enthusiastically, “YES!”
The transition began shortly after nap. The FixItMommy took the side rail off the crib, lowered the mattress to the lowest setting and installed the “guard rail” to turn the crib into a toddler bed.
When it came to bed time, I really thought the freak out would begin. After all when we tried this with the Big One when she was about the same age she screamed, cried and wailed for an hour or so before collapsing on the floor.
Silly FixItMommy anticipated a similar experience. Of course, the Little One had to prove once again how opposite the girls are. After bath and reading books I usually rock with her for a few minutes before putting her down.
Well after we read, she asked for a drink of water (classic stalling, I thought). I got her a drink and then she climbed up into her bed and proclaimed, “I not want to rock!” And with that she put her head on her pillow, cuddled with her baby doll and waited for me to put her blankets on.
Ahhh, my baby is getting bigger. And yes, I am sad about it.
The Big One is not a real girlie girl. She does love to ballet dance and put on her dress-up clothes, but I would not consider her all that girlie.
She loves to play with trucks, dig in the dirt and drive her Jeep erratically in the back yard.
We’ve always told her that she can be or do anything when she grows up. Usually she says she wants to be a firefighter, astronaut, or train driver when she grows up. She has never said she wants to be a princess or a ballerina. And I am okay with that.
Today when I dropped her off at preschool, we watched the construction crew that is working on the new building at the church. They have started roofing the new addition. There was a man standing on the tippy-top of the new roof hammering.
I asked the Big One if she could see the man up there on top of the roof.
She said yes, I asked her what she thought of that and the conversation when like this:
The Big One: “He’s way up there in the sky on top.”
FixItMommy: “I don’t think I would want that job.”
The Big One: “Me neither. “
FixItMommy: “That’s a little too high up for mommy.”
The Big One: “Yeah! You’ll never see me up there.”
So whatever she does decide to be when she grows up, I think I can rest assured she won’t be a roofer. Which again, I am fine with.
Life has been getting in the way of this blogging thing. Humor me, pretend you noticed and missed me, okay.
We had a major first a couple weeks ago and though some of you already know this because you have seen the Big One, this will be news to many of you.
We finally cut the Big One’s hair. She’d never had a haircut in all her four years of life. Not even a trim. And being the bad mom that I am I didn’t even save one little lock of her precious baby hair.
Instead we sent all 12 inches (yes you read that right!) to Locks of Love. As the Big One’s hair got longer we began talking to her about Locks of Love and how there are a lot of kids just like her who don’t have any hair. We told her that sometimes kids get sick and the medicine to make them better makes their hair fall out. And we told her that some kids are born with different conditions that make their hair not grow.
So she decided she wanted to share her hair with other kids. “I want to donanate it,” she’d say when we asked her about her hair.
So after several false starts and hemming and hamming over whether she truly wanted to cut and donate it or continue to let it grow long like her Aunt Jen-Jen’s, she decided she was finally ready.
So we jumped in the car and headed to Fantastic Sam’s for the big cut.
First I of course took lots of pictures of her long hair.
… 
Once we got there, we talked to, Sarah, the stylist and told her the plan. The Big One climbed up into the big chair, like a champ, and sat stoically as the ponytail was cut off. She then posed for a couple pictures with it.
…. 
I think she was a bit shell shocked and really didn’t know what to think about the whole thing. She was excited, but nervous at the same time. She set perfectly still and didn’t fuss a bit as her hair was sprayed, twisted, clipped and cut. She watched it all, taking in every detail.
She finally cracked a smile when the big cape came off and she caught a glimpse of herself. Then much to our joy, she was caught checking herself out in the mirror several more times while the FixItMommy got a trim.
So we planned to come down to San Diego yesterday. It’s a bit of challenge to get everyone packed loaded and in the car ready to go before the designated time, but it usually gets a little easier each time. Prior to preschool, it was fairly easy because we would get up at our regular time and hit the road around 9 a.m.
Now that the Big One is in preschool it’s a bit more challenging. We usually leave Thursday after preschool so that we can do something fun on Friday (usually we go to the Zoo). The challenge with leaving after preschool is the traffic factor. Leaving anytime after noon can be disastrous. First we hit afternoon traffic in Corona and then it’s the beginning of rush hour by the time we get to San Diego.
Yesterday was even more challenging because the Little One is taking Toddler University, a cool little class series on base. It’s from 10 – 10:45 a.m.. It’s lots of fun, but puts a definite crimp in my pack-the-car-time.
So yesterday was supposed to go like this:
7 a.m. FixItMommy up and showered. One cup of coffee in my system
7:30 a.m. Big One up dressed and eating breakfast (a little snack before the Father’s Day breakfast at preschool was the plan)
8 a.m. The Husband and the Big One go to Father’s Day breakfast and The Little One up, dressed and eating breakfast
8 ~ 9:45a.m. FixItMommy packs the car
9:45 ~ 11:30 a.m. FixItMommy and Little One travel to and attend class.
11:30 ~ 11:45 a.m. Pack cooler and laptops, cameras, etc. All the stuff I didn’t want in my car all morning.
11:45 a.m. Leave to pick-up Big One from preschool
12:05 p.m. Pick up Gracie Lou from home and hit the road.
What actually happened is this:
7 a.m. FixItMommy up and showered. One cup of coffee in my system
8 a.m. Big One up and attempting to get dressed and crying because she couldn’t find the arm holes in her shirt
8:15a.m. The FixItMommy is taking orders for McDonald’s for breakfast for the one niece and her boyfriend
8:25 a.m. Both kids loaded in Mom-Mobile to head to preschool, The Husband follows in his car so that I can come home and pack my car without having to change car seats.
8:45 a.m. Niece and boyfriend eating breakfast. Niece #2 on Farm Town. FixItMommy making pancakes because my children will not eat normal lunch foods in car on the way down to San Diego.
9:15 a.m. Pancakes done, start packing car.
9:30 a.m. The Husband cannot get tickets to Magic Mountain that were purchased online to print (nieces, boyfriend and Husband are going to Magic Mountain while I drive the troops down to San Diego)
9:30 – 9:45 a.m. Fight with printer to get it to work. One would think between three teenagers and one engineer someone else could have fought with the computer and printer, but nope it was the FixItMommy. Meanwhile, the Husband is afraid to press on with packing the car because he knows he will do it wrong.
9:45 a.m. FixItMommy gives up on computer and printer because Little One is supposed to be at class in 15 minutes, it’s a 25 minute drive to the Base.
10:15-10:45 a.m. FixItMommy and Little One in class.
10:50a.m. FixItMommy talks to the Husband on the phone. He informs me that while trying to lock Gracie Lou in our bedroom, she peed all over the carpet. (it was too hot to lock her outside, she has not earned free reign of my house and her crate was already packed in my car. So our bedroom is the best option)
11:25 a.m. Let Gracie Lou out and check that there is no more dog pee in my bedroom and that the Husband did a sufficient job cleaning up.
11:30 a.m. FixItMommy once again resumes packing the Mom-Mobile.
11:45 a.m. Car is packed and it’s time to pick Big One up from preschool. Go on a search mission to find Little One’s shoes and socks that she took off while I was packing the car.
11:50 a.m. Try to find Little One to get her shoes and socks on to go pick up Big One.
11:53 a.m. Find Little One butt naked in the bathroom, saying “I need to go potty!”
11:55 a.m. Coax the Little One to get clothes, shoes and socks on so that we can get Big One.
12:10 p.m. Pick up Big One (10 minutes late). Head home to get the dog.
12:20 p.m. Everyone is in the car. I realized I forgot the girls’ swimming suits. So I go back to get them.
12:30 p.m. I decide to go to Jack in the Box for a burger for the road. So did everyone else in town, apparently.
12:45 p.m. Get burger and ready to hit the road when I hear, “Is this McDonald’s? Are you getting us a cookie?”
12:47 p.m. Figure out that I always bribe the girls to be good with chocolate chip cookies from McDonald’s (it’s 200 miles, okay!).
12:50 p.m. Get in the Drive-Thru line at McD’s to get cookies.
1 p.m. Finally start heading south on the freeway, knowing full well when we hit Corona at 2:30 p.m. I am toast. And then when I hit San Diego at 4 p.m. I am in bigger trouble.
It never quite goes as planned. But the girls, dog and I made it just fine.
The husband and three teenagers still are not here … on Friday morning. One would think that the Husband would balance out the three teenagers and all would be okay. That is unless the Husband loses his car key somewhere inside Magic Mountain… UGH! What a day.
