Obviously Santa does not read my blog. If he did read my blog, he would know that baby dolls with clothes are not supposed to enter my house.

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For any of you who may have missed the rules pertaining to baby dolls, here is the link:

http://fixitmommy.com/2008/12/29/important-announcement-re-baby-dolls/

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For Christmas the Big One received a Dora doll complete with clothes, shoes, ice skates, ice skating dress and pajamas.  Did you catch that? Not only one set of clothing to change into, but three different outfits and essentially two pairs of shoes.

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The Big One in the last couple days has suddenly taken a liking to this particular Dora doll. And more importantly she has taken to changing Dora’s clothes 18 times a day.  It’s all fine and good during the day. I figure the shoes and skates will be stretched out soon enough that they won’t stay on and I can throw them in the trash. But the clothes are a whole other ballgame.

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Sometimes the Big One gets Dora changed with relative ease, sometimes she melts down and freaks out.

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So tonight, just as last night, the Big One decided that when it was time for her to go upstairs for tubby time, that Dora too needed to get her pajamas on and go to sleep.

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The Husband laid down the law last night that Dora was not allowed in bed. It was a good thing, the last thing I wanted was a meltdown at 2 a.m. because Dora’s ice skate was somewhere in her bed. So tonight as the Big One struggled to get Dora’s dress off so that she could put her Pajamas on, she started whining.

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I offered to help and quickly surmised the problem. Dora’s arm had been rotated all the way around so that her elbow was facing forward (OUCH!). So I said, “Well the problem is you’ve got her arm all jacked up.”

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So then of course she asked me what “jacked up” meant. So I told her it was just messed up and needed to be turned the right way.

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I thought end of story. I took Dora’s dress off and put her pajama pants on. I gave the doll back to the Big One to put Dora’s pajama top on. Next thing I hear is, “ UGGGGGGHHHHHHH this arm is all jacked up!”

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Nice, huh?

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Yes, I could take the blame for her newfound catch phrase, but it’s so much easier to blame it on Santa. If there were no Dora doll with clothes, this would have never happened in the first place. Damn you Santa.

I don’t even know how to start this one. This was the craziest thing ever. At preschool, the Big One made a crown, complete with sparkly jewels and all. She had four extra jewels in her hand as we headed for the Mom-mobile.

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As she climbed into her seat, she started freaking out because she suddenly only had three jewels. She started crying, “My pink one! I lost the pink one!”

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I admit I was a bit annoyed. We have a bag full of theses same jewels at home, so really I didn’t see the need for the drama.

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As she continues freaking out, I am struggling to get her carset buckled. The top buckle was latched and I was trying to fit the two metal pieces into the lower buckle. For some reason, the metal tab would not go in the hole.

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Getting frustrated, I announced, “What the heck?” and then peered into the buckle to see what was going on.

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What do you think I saw lodged perfectly inside the buckle? Yep, a pink jewel.  Are you kidding me? I tried tapping the buckle and shaking it upside down to no avail. The jewel was not moving.

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I searched my glove box for something to try and pry the thing out. Nothing.

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So then I went back into the preschool to see if they by chance had some tweezers.  Of course, Ms. Jessica,  the preschool director, is cracking up laughing and shaking her head in disbelief as I tell her what the problem is.

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No luck. So I call the Husband to see if he can drive 30 miles home to get me some tweezers or needle nose pliers or something.  He doesn’t answer his phone.

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I did one last search and found a pair of scissors in my “emergency box” and was finally able to pluck the jewel out of the buckle.

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Guess what I am buying next time I go to WalMart? Yep, tweezers, two sets; one for my car and one for the preschool!

The Big One will tell you that she already knows everything. Well last night she proved that she certainly knows more than I sometimes give her credit for.

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The Husband has a cold. He sounds and feels miserable. Last night I told him he had 24 hours to feel better because I planned to go to a Pampered Chef party tonight at a friend’s house. So in reminding him of my plans, I stopped short of saying where the party was going to be held.

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I knew that if I said whose house it was at, the Big One would start freaking out that she wanted to come with me.  Her newest best buddy at preschool is Abby and Abby’s mom is having the party.  So to avoid a scene (or so I thought), I said the party was at A-B-B-Y’s house.

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I barely got the Y spelled out when the Big One shouted, “HEY! That’s my friend Abby’s name!”

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Seriously, she can spell friend’s names now? I know she can spell her own, the Little One’s, and a few other words, like Mommy, Daddy and pizza. But her friend’s name????

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I am going to have to come up with a new code to talk to the Husband now that the kid is learning to spell!

It’s really a truth that I have known for quite some time, but I was hopeful that today the unabashed giggling coming from upstairs was just the girls having innocent fun.

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It was the end of naptime, the Big One asked if she could get the Little One up.  I said yes and told her I was going to get the mail.  Our mailbox is across the street.  It takes about two minutes to get the mail and get home.

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As soon as I came back in the house, I should have put the mail down and marched upstairs to see what all the giggling was about. Instead I was dumb and sat down on the couch.

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As I sat on the couch listening to the giggling (actually enjoying the giggling, it’s fun to hear them have so much fun together), I started to get a very bad feeling.

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Last week when they were giggling like this, they were coloring on an antique table and walls upstairs.  I knew that there were no pens, so I was a bit concerned, but not overly concerned.

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Then I heard the following:

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The Big One: Mommy, I am really sorry.  I got all wet.  My clothes are wet.  My hair is wet.  I’m really , really sorry Mommy.  I didn’t mean to get wet.

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The Little One: My panties are all wet (to the Little One, “panties” are pants, not underwear, she is still in diapers!)

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The Big One: I’m really sorry Mommy. I am all wet.

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By now I was upstairs and standing in their bathroom doorway. Both sinks are filled to the brim, the counter is dripping wet and there is a good inch of water all over the bathroom floors.

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I couldn’t even say anything. Of course, they thought it was hysterical. They were practically rolling on the floor laughing, while I just stood there not knowing where to begin.

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I needed to get them out of the bathroom, but was afraid if they moved they would slip and fall on the tile. I certainly didn’t want to pick them up to get them out of the bathroom because I didn’t want to get all wet.

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So I grabbed a stack of towel, threw them all over the floor and told them to get out. They laughed all the way back to their rooms, while I unstopped the sinks. Mopped up the floor and contemplated putting them in time-out or just  letting it go.

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I am tired, I don’t’ feel well, so we just let it go. I told them to change clothes and come downstairs. Then once they got downstairs I explained that the next time the Big One felt the need to “clean” one of her toys it might be best to ask for some help.

So tonight I was getting the girls ready for bed. We did our normal routine and were wrapping things up. The way it works is this ~ we read a book, then we rock a little, sing a little and pray. After that the Little One gets tucked in bed and then the Big One gets tucked in bed.

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As I was trying to get the Little One tucked in, she suddenly says, “I’m sick! I need to puke in the toywet!” And then ran with her padded little feet into the bathroom.

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Before I can even react, the Big One races past me in the hallway exclaiming, “I want to see! I want to watch {Little One} puke!”

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Seriously? Is it really that much fun to watch someone puke when you are four?  Please someone reassure me that it is completely normal little kid behavior to want to watch your sister (or anyone ) puke.

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And thankfully for the record, there was no puke. It’s been about 90 minutes since this proclamation was made. Unfortunately, I can pretty much guarantee that I will NOT sleep tonight because I am still anticipating the puke.

The Little One mimics just about everything that the Big One does. So it’s really no surprise that the Little One attempted to “tattle” on the FixItMommy today.

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It’s actually quite funny.

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I was putting away some of our Christmas decorations. We are leaving the tree up until the Husband comes home, but some of the other stuff needed to be put away.

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I was cleaning up the Little People Nativity Set and the Little People Little Drummer Boy Set,  much to the Little One’s chagrin. Then I did the unthinkable, I packed up this musical penguin that she has claimed as her own. When you squeeze its hand, the thing sings, “Jingle Bells” and rocks on its sleigh bottom.

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The Little One freaked out screaming and crying because it was HER penguin and it needed to stay out. It clearly didn’t belong with the Christmas decorations.

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I told her it was for Christmas and just like the other things we would get them out again next Christmas. She was not happy with me. Next thing I know, she picked up one of their play cell phones and said this:

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“Hewwo, Daddy… Mommy put MY penguin away. That’s not where it bewongs!! I am not happy wight now!” And with that she slammed the phone shut and threw it on the floor.

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It took everything I had to not fall on the floor laughing at her. Once she “told” on me, she was  fine and the penguin has already been forgotten.

Quite often in movies, women are portrayed as being afraid of bugs or mice or anything really. They all inevitably climb up on top of a chair and scream at the top of their lungs at the first sight of something moving. I am not that type of person. I am not a fan of bugs, but I certainly don’t scream and climb on furniture (for those of you who don’t “know” me on Facebook,  I’ll share my black widow pictures as proof that I don’t run!)

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So I assumed that the chair-climbing reaction must have been taught at some point in time. Apparently I am wrong.

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This morning, the girls wanted to play in the bouncer, so I told them they needed to clean up the playroom and I would bring the bouncer in (it’s a bit too chilly to put it outside this morning).

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Just as they finished cleaning (really just shifting the big stuff to the other side of the playroom), the Big One spotted a bug on the carpet. She screamed, “MOMMY!!!! A BUG!” and proceeded to scuttle her way up on top of a small stool that sits at a little vanity in one corner of the playroom.

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Astonished at her ability to get her entire body up on top of this tiny stool, it took everything I had to not laugh out loud at her. Her fear was real, no doubt about it, but the reaction was hysterical.

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I have never in her life demonstrated that type of fear, so where she learned to scream and climb on top of the stool in beyond me.

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As she clung to the stool for dear life, I simply grabbed a napkin and picked up the bug… the classic part of the story. The bug wasn’t even moving,  it was dead.

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I wish I would have taken a picture of her on the stool… maybe next time!

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Black widow picture to come

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turn away if you don’t like spiders

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I warned you

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This was in the garage… sorry for those of you who’ve seen it on Facebook (I will spare the photo of after she met with my shoe!)

Usually when I talk about the girls and timing it’s a case of how bad their timing is. You know how it is, when you want to go somewhere they decide to sleep extra long.  Or just as you sit down for a hot cup of coffee they wake up.  Or when they are supposed to be napping and you want to relax with a book, they suddenly forget how to wipe their own butt in the bathroom. Don’t  deny it, your kids do it too.

Well, today I am thanking the good Lord above for the Big One having great timing. We spent two weeks in San Diego and today I was ready to get home. I miss my space. I miss my bed. I miss my flannel sheets. And I miss my super fast new computer.

So I spent a good chunk of time yesterday and this morning strategically packing all the Christmas loot in the mom-mobile.  When you consider the hugeness of the dog’s crate, I really only have about half  a minivan available to stuff. So it’s like putting a puzzle together. I had finally gotten the last bag strategically placed in the car. I told the Big One she needed to go potty and get her shoes on.

Well, of course Grandma was packing cookies for us to take home while this was going on. So naturally the girls asked Grandma for a cookie. She gave them one and sensing that I was ready to go, the Big One proceeded to shove most of it in her mouth at one time.

No, this isn’t the “good” part of her timing yet.

Right about this time, I spotted something else that needed to go in the car. So I grabbed whatever it was and headed for the front door, just as the Big One started coughing. I heard her run to the bathroom. Great mom that I am I assumed she realized that she needed to pee and was running before she peed her pants. So I kept going with the last bag of whatever it was and shoved it in the mom-mobile. As I walked back into the house, I heard the unmistakable sound of wretching.

The Big One was puking her guts out in the bathroom. I can only assume it was that she choked on the cookie and it made her throw up.  Whatever the cause I have been thanking God all day that it happened just as we were getting ready to leave instead of just after we left.

I told you before how the Big One breaks my heart sometimes.  Well she did it again yesterday.

The theme at preschool was “joy.”  The kids were asked to bring something to share that brings them joy. So the Big One chose her “Daddy Doll.”  No problem, I actually thought, it was really sweet.

If only she could have just stopped there.  One of their projects was to draw a picture of something that brings them joy.

The Big One drew a picture of Daddy and the Little One.  That’s it.  Nobody else.  Just Daddy and her sister.

It would have been okay, again if she just left it at that.  Instead she showed me and re-told me at least 10 times that it was Daddy and the Little One who made her happy.

Then to top it off, she called me “Ms. Elizabeth” not once, but twice yesterday afternoon.  {That’s her teacher’s name!}

It’s nice to know what a large impact I have on her daily life!

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{I am saying this all in jest, I know that she loves us all equally… on some days!}

The Big One is lucky to be alive today.  No she didn’t do anything to make me necessarily want to hurt her, but she just about got clobbered good this morning.

We have Gracie Lou partly because dogs rock and partly because she has a ferocious sounding bark.  If anyone tried to get in the house, I know she would bark if nothing else.

So when I was awakened by someone tapping my butt at 3:30 this morning, I admit I freaked out a bit.  The Big One is lucky that she was between me and the bat that is next to my bed or else she may have died this morning.

Apparently she woke up and her “finger hurt” so she felt the need to waltz into my room and tap my butt to wake me up and tell me this news.

I sent her back to her room and took several deep breaths to try and get my breathing in check and my heartrate back to normal.  I fell back asleep only to be awakened by the same child at 5:20 a.m.  This time her arm hurt.  At least I was only half asleep this time and she just started talking instead of patting me again.

I’m torn now on whether to move the bat closer to my bed.  I don’t want to hurt my child, but I did realize that it’s pretty useless where it is should an intruder come in.