IMAMA

The Big Girl Bed

2011-07-11T05:31:00.001-07:00

You just KNEW this would inspire a new blog post.

Hurricane Jane is no longer contained! Duck and cover!

Really though, with all the anticipation, moving to the big girl bed has been...well, rather uneventful. I guess Jane's bedroom curtains would beg to differ with this statement, since they got pulled OUT OF THE WALL on her second night of freedom, but other than THAT mishap, it's been a pretty smooth transition.

But what of the baby bed?

I got this email from my mother this morning: "Tilda, what did you do with the baby bed? I had a dream last night that you got pregnant again."

Funny, because last night *I* had a dream that all my front teeth fell out and I was spending my time running around and trying to find a dentist who could fit me in IMMEDIATELY, but I kept being distracted by the children's needs. And then I would remember my teeth and panic.

Between these two dreams coming true? I'm not sure which one would shock me more.

Where were we? Oh...right...the baby bed.

Jamie and I got that baby bed when I was pregnant with Jay. Jamie spent HOURS putting it together with his father. I am NOT EXAGGERATING. Hours. This was before he was mechanically inclined. The whole thing DID sort of resemble a scene from a movie where everyone gets frustrated with the crib and wants to beat it with a screwdriver. I think my mother in law and I went to Target to escape their wrath. Target is good for that kind of thing.

But eventually, the crib DID get put together, complete with beautiful bedding and sweet baby Jay slept in it until he turned two and I evicted him to get it ready for baby Annie.

And when we got it ready for baby Annie, I decided that I wanted my dark wood crib to be white. So my father spent a few days sanding and spraying the crib as it hung from the ceiling in my garage. This time, putting it together was much easier. And when Annie finally came home from her stint in the NICU, she slept in her newly painted, beautiful white crib

When Annie turned two and a half, we found her a cute little toddler bed at a garage sale. We bought her cute little bedding at Target and spent an afternoon taking down the crib and getting her cute little room all set up with her new bed. That lasted aboooouuuut and hour and a half. Poor Annie was so terrified of her cute little bed that we could not bear to leave her in it. Jamie put the crib back together at nine o'clock at night. Luckily, by then he had gotten quite adept at it. I think we ended up selling her cute little bed at OUR garage sale when we moved to Oklahoma. She never slept a night in it. She went straight from the crib to a twin size bed when she turned three.

When I got pregnant with Jane, my in laws hauled the crib from Mississippi (where it was being used by my niece) and brought it all the way to Oklahoma. Jamie and I spent MONTHS preparing Jane's room for her. This time, all four of us put the crib together. Jay and Annie helped us to get the whole room ready for their baby sister.

And so, when Jamie and I took the crib down we had all those memories swirling around us. All those labors of love that our family had put into that crib. And this time we knew we were taking the crib down for the last time.

And it's not just the last time because Jane is the last baby, it's the last time because THE CRIB IS BROKEN. The crib is also recalled. Yes, you got that right. I let my third child and last baby sleep in a broken and recalled crib. That's what happens when you're the third baby. Your mother no longer cares about things like recalls and broken beds. I believe it makes Jane stronger in the end. Survival of the fittest. I learned THAT in Biology. I think.

Anyway, Jamie and I are sitting in Jane's room, surrounded by crib pieces, talking about the memories we have with the crib (like it's a PERSON!) and Jane is running around her room alternately yelling, "Bye bye baby bed!!!" and then falling upon the crib pieces and crying, "Nooooooo....my baby bed BROKEN!!!" THAT didn't tear my heart out AT ALL.

So then, Jamie looks at me and says, "Okay...so what do we do with it now?"

What do we do with our broken, recalled crib that we do not have attic space for? It is broken and recalled, so we cannot sell it. It is broken and recalled, so we cannot donate it. It is broken and recalled, and we don't have the attic space for it (because WE DON'T HAVE AN ATTIC). Jamie says, "I guess it needs to go in the trash."

We both looked guiltily at the crib. It sat there, in pieces, on the floor, silently mocking us.

We decided to put it in the garage, where we will trip over it every day until it drives us crazy enough to put out with the trash.

That may take a few years.

Finding the Funny Again

2011-06-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

It's been a little hard to write lately.

Well, at least a little hard to write on my blog.

I've had stories to tell, but they've been told elsewhere.

I'm writing a travel report on another website because something was keeping me from writing here.

I've spent the last two weeks traveling with my family to Florida and then to Mississippi. You KNOW there are stories there. I would think, "Oh, THAT would make a good blog post!" but then it would go unwritten.

It wasn't until the other night, when I was visiting with Mama and Daddy that I could really put my finger on what it was SPECIFICALLY that was keeping me from writing.

I was watching Mama on Facebook. She was working on her wall (which just sounds plain odd if you read that out of context) and making it so that the link to my last blog post about Chad showed up when you pulled up her wall postings. She wanted that link to be first so that she could see it and others could see it when they came to her wall.

Kind of an internet memorial to him.

That was my moment of realizing WHY I have avoided my blog. It's this simple fact: The post I am writing right now will push down my last blog post about Chad's death. His post will no longer be first on my blog.

Which kind of makes it seem like life just goes on.

Like the line between grieving and funny is just one blog post away.

It's hard to know, with every story I tell about my kids and their antics, I will watch my post about Chad being pushed further and further down until it moves into my blog archives.

In a weird way I feel like I am leaving him behind.

And now, I guess I'm just wondering, how in the world do I follow up with the funny?

The Oldest One

2011-05-14T21:16:00.000-07:00

I am an only child, but one of nine grandchildren on my mother’s side. Those eight cousins of mine are the closest people I have to brothers and sisters. I grew up spending every summer with them. When I was a kid, we chased the mosquito truck at dusk every night in the Mississippi Delta humidity. We swam in the country club pool and swatted at horseflies that did their best to bite us while we stood on the diving board. We spent countless hours at my grandparents’ clothing store, running back and forth and playing house in the dressing rooms. We piled in at my grandparents’ house in Belzoni, draping across chairs in the den and watching whatever we could find on the 12 stations (maybe) Belzoni had back then, while the grown ups talked long into the night. We made dorky home movies and played stupid games with each other. Some of us took baths together. And as I got older and new cousins were born, I GAVE a lot of baths. And changed a lot of diapers. I always had two or three younger cousins in my bed on Christmas Eve and I would stay up late helping put together the stuff that Santa brought them while they slept in my bed. Then I would fall into bed, exhausted from the day’s events, only to find them awake at four in the morning. They would beg me to tell them stories for hours until it was time to wake the grown people.

I was the second oldest grandchild. My cousin, Chad (who you see in the picture on the right, taken when we were little), was the oldest one by three and a half years. This was an honor I was glad for him to hold, because it meant that I was a kid that much longer and HE got all the responsibility of doing stuff first. Stuff like going into 7th grade (which I dreaded), going off to college (while I was still enjoying my high school years), choosing a career path, and getting married and having kids. Growing up, I watched him in awe, just sure that I could never be as confident or as personable as he was with his thousand watt smile and dimpled chin. As adults, he was a good friend, who had children close in age to my own. I could always look to him get a feel for what came next in life.

Chad died Tuesday in a car accident.

I got the call from my father on Tuesday morning before 7:30am. The news was being spread to my whole family at this time. I was very upset and shaken, but knew I had a list of things to focus on so that we could leave for Mississippi the next day.

Part of that list was informing Jay and Annie’s teachers that they would not be in school for the rest of the week. This is necessary because we JUST went to a funeral a couple of weeks ago for my grandmother. I have actual funeral clothes. I hate that.

So, I went up to the school and talked to Jay and Annie’s teachers. “My cousin died in a car accident this morning and we are headed to Mississippi to be with my family.” And as they sadly nodded their heads and told me they were sorry, I realized that the words, “My cousin” just did not accurately portray exactly what Chad was to me. Or what any of my cousins are to me. They are the link to my past. They ARE my present. And I cannot imagine my future without them.

The sadness I felt (and still feel) over losing Chad could not be felt for just “my cousin”.

One of “us” was gone. And I felt an indescribable pull to get to Mississippi as fast as I could so I could be wrapped up in my family. Oklahoma never felt so far away. I needed to look at them, make sure they were all still there, because it seemed to strange that one of them wasn’t and would never be again.

This has been an incredibly emotional week. And that is as it should be. I was prepared for that. The raw emotions of knowing that we had all lost someone who was so well loved weighed heavily on my heart from the moment I got that Tuesday morning phone call.

But what I wasn’t prepared for was the thought I had, standing and looking at Chad for the last time: I am the oldest now. I lost my place in line.

I feel disoriented. Something that defined me in my family has changed That missing place will forever leave a hole in my heart because being The Oldest One is not where I am supposed to be.

And there is just something incredibly wrong with that.

Uniquely Blessed

2011-03-29T12:28:00.001-07:00

***Just a note to say that this post was written last week after Bammy's graveside service. I planned to post it immediately upon my return to Oklahoma, but then there was a sick cat and a soccer tournament. Once again, life gets in the way of blogging. Go figure. ***

Another name for this blog title could have been, “Two Year Old Tyrant”. But I have decided to go with the sentimental side of things instead.

My cousin Johnny said today that our family is “Uniquely Blessed” because Bammy’s life impacted us all so much. He is right. And I must be “Abundantly Uniquely Blessed” because BOTH of my grandmother’s and BOTH of my grandfather’s have been such a large part of my life. Not to mention aunts and uncles, cousins, second cousins, first cousins once removed, and...okay, you get the point. I’m probably the only “only child” out there who never actually FELT like an only child because of my huge extended family.

Bammy’s graveside service took place in Shaw, Mississippi, which is about two and a half hours from where my parents live. So, it was a bit of a drive to get there, and since the burial was at 2:00 pm, we would need to eat lunch on the road somewhere. This of course, called for a picnic. Because my grandmother? She loved a picnic. In my grandmother’s obituary, my Aunt Sue wrote, “ A lover of nature, Barbara taught her children and grandchildren how to fish, row a boat, pack a delicious picnic meal, and appreciate the joys of being outdoors.” And so it was decided that the perfect way to honor her 95 years was to pack that delicious picnic meal and stop at a park on the way to Shaw.

I remember going on one of my first picnics when I was probably a little younger than Annie. Now, I am certain that I had gone on a picnic with my parents before, but THIS particular picnic was LARGE with A LOT OF PEOPLE (at least in my seven year old mind...). It also included pimento cheese sandwiches. I will forgive you if you are unfamiliar with this particular Southern fare. I know that I was at that time as well. I thought it sounded disgusting, if you want the truth. But I still remember tasting that first bite and loving it. And now every single time I eat it, I think of that picnic with ALL THE PEOPLE AND ALL THE FOOD. But let me just clarify one thing: Do NOT buy your pimento cheese from the grocery store. It will not taste like homemade and then you will wonder what all the fuss was about. You can thank me for that later. And just so you know I’m serious, I’ll even give you my Mimi’s recipe for pimento cheese. It’ll knock your socks off.

But when I think of that picnic, I also think of dirty feet. Because where ever we were, there was a lot of dirt. And being that is was Mississippi inthe summer time, I’m sure the air was heavy with humidity and we did a fair amount of sweating. In sandles. I won’t spell that out for you, but let’s just say that we took a picture of all our nasty feet in a circle before we left out picnic area. I wish I could find that picture to scan it in and include it in my blog post, but my mother told me that it would involve moving the couch to find it in her vast array of picture albums. As much as I love that picture, I don’t love moving her couch, so use your imaginations. Dirty feet. In a circle. There.

Today’s picnic would be a family affair. There ended up being around 25 of us. We stopped at a park in Greenwood, Mississippi. It was in a beautiful area and included a nice, open air gazebo with picnic tables where we could gather and eat. No pimento cheese sandwiches this time. Instead, we had chicken tenders picked up from a local restaurant.

And unlike other picnics, this one included men in sport coats riding seesaws.

And great grandchildren riding merry go rounds.

It also included a family “Uniquely Blessed” by each other.

I think Bammy would have loved it.

Dearly Beloved

2011-03-19T20:51:00.000-07:00

Today was both a happy and a sad day. My cousin, Anne Claire, got married (which is the happy part) in Louisiana. I so wanted to be there to watch her walk down the aisle and remember how she used to sing "Blue Suede Shoes" in the bath tub every night. But we live here in OKLAHOMA, which happens to be very far away from Louisiana, and Jamie's work schedule prevented us from being able to make it. Not being able to make occasions like that always makes me homesick for my family in Mississippi. I was kept abreast of events through pictures and emails during the day and that made for some good laughs and made me feel more a part of things.

But what I wasn't expecting right before Annie's soccer game started, was a phone call from my father to tell me that my grandmother had died. This was not exactly unexpected news, since Bammy has not been doing well for a while and on Monday they discovered a large brain tumor. I guess it was the TIMING of the phone call that was unexpected. But then, is there ever a good time for these things? I didn't want to get too upset at the soccer fields, not out of embarrassment, or out of fear of eye makeup running everywhere, but because I didn't want Annie to suspect anything was amiss. Annie is very much my child. She wears her heart on her sleeve and feels EVERYTHING. She has known about Bammy's decline and about the tumor and was very sad about it all. I wanted to keep it from her long enough for her to be able to play her game and then I would tell her.

So, we managed to get through the soccer game (we won). And then when we got home, I told her. We both did some crying. Annie asked lots of questions. And then I got to tell her lots of my special memories with my Bammy. We cried some more. We also did a lot of laughing.

My girls are named after some special women. Annie is named after my grandmother, Mimi and my mother, who's names are both Annelle. And Jane is named after Bammy and my mother in law. Jane was Bammy's middle name. Funny how we had such a hard time coming up with a name for our second daughter, but when we thought of "Jane" it was a perfect fit. And now that Bammy is gone, I can't express how happy I am to have named my youngest after her.

Annie and I talked a lot about my memories about Bammy. I told her the story I used to love to have Bammy tell me. Once, when she was a little girl, she and her brothers were outside by the train tracks in cold weather. They were playing around and one of her brothers dared her to put her tongue on the train tracks. When she did it, her tongue instantly stuck to it. This was a problem, but the bigger problem was when the brother yelled, "TRAIN!!!!" which caused Bammy to rip her tongue from the train track, thus leaving behind a good chunk of skin. I always laughed and laughed at that story, especially the part when the brother got a good beating.

I told Annie about how Bammy used to make me fishing poles out of bamboo and then we would go down to the Benoit Outing Club and fish all morning until I was so hot and sticky that I would be begging to jump into the club pool just a few yards away. I told her that she taught me to do leaf rubbings and that she knew the names of EVERY flower and plant around. She could make the BEST hot fudge to go over ice cream. And her peach cobbler could not be rivaled. Whenever I find the PERFECT fig preserves, I am instantly transported back to my childhood and sitting in her kitchen with the smell of bacon (and possibly burned toast) in the air. She always had a smile and a laugh, and as I told Annie today, she always made me feel so beautiful. I was precious in her sight.

You want to know the best thing? Annie felt precious in her sight too. What a blessing. What a great blessing that my sweet girl is just as sad about losing my grandmother as I am. How lucky I am that my children can share such special memories of the people I love. Being able to share my love for Bammy with someone who loved her as I did was such a comfort to me today.

After our talk Annie went upstairs for a long while. She came down later and played with her brother and sister. She laughed, she played games, she did all the things she normally does. But when it was time for bed and prayers she got teary again. She walked upstairs to get her devotional that we are reading during Lent, and when she came down, she brought me this:

Bammy is in the middle, with the heart on her shirt. She is saying, "Papa Tango!" which is what the kids call my father. My father is standing next to her saying "Mom!" and up in that tree to the right is my grandfather (my mother's father who died while I was pregnant with Jane) who is represented by a cardinal. This is what she drew earlier in the day when she was upstairs for so long. I love that girl.

And I love you too, Barbara Jane. But then, you already knew that.

Incredible Baby

2011-03-14T06:31:00.000-07:00

Poor Jane is sick. What started out as a cough and congestion last week has morphed into a high fever and crying at night. This, of course, warranted a trip to the doctor yesterday in a mad attempt to (hopefully) nip this thing in the bud so that we can have a decent Spring Break with the kids. Not sure if anyone remembers LAST Spring Break, but we were kind of hoping for an improvement over that. Meh. So, doctor's diagnosis? Ear infection and possibly a sinus infection. The urgent care clinic is not so much about a solid diagnosis, more about giving out an antibiotic and sending you on your way. Hopefully she will be back to her old self quickly. But while we wait for her to return to her wily ways, I will fill the time with what happened LAST week.

Let's set the scene first...Jamie and I are downstairs in the late afternoon hour enjoying some QUIET as all of the children play upstairs. AWAY FROM US. I can hear bumping coming from Jane's room occasionally. I can only assume she is playing dress up, which is her favorite activity. BUT I AM NOT CHECKING BECAUSE I DO NOT LOOK GIFT HORSES IN THEIR MOUTHS. After a while, she comes downstairs and hands me this craft set that I THOUGHT I had put in the top of her closet. Surely not though? Because HOW would she have gotten that? I dismissed this, thinking that I must have put the craft set in a different area altogether and had forgotten about it. This would not be unusual since I like to hide things from myself on a normal basis. That way I can blame the children when I can't find something. It's all a part of excellent parenting, I tell you.

Bedtime rolls around and Jamie and I walk Jane into her room. In the middle of her room, plain as day, is her Easter basket. Now, I KNOW the Easter basket was at the top of the closet. Of this, I am sure. This is where I start stumbling for words, "The Easter basket? That was in the top of the closet? Why is it down on the floor? How did it get down here?" Jamie told me he was sure she had climbed up on something to get it down. I opened her closet door and sure enough there was a chair there! Only it was a tiny child's chair. And if Jane had stood on the tiny child's chair and reached WAAAAAY above her head, she still wouldn't have been able to reach the BAR that holds the clothes, let alone the top shelf of the closet.

At this point, I have this whole scenario going in my head in which Jane climbs up onto the chair, makes a giant leap to grab hold of the clothes bar, swings around it until she is hanging by her monkey toes and then flips over to grab the Easter basket off the shelf. WITHOUT SPILLING ANY EASTER GRASS. I mean, there is no other explanation right??

Then, a few days later, we were watching the Pixar short films clips that were on ABC Family. There was a scene in which Jack Jack, the Incredibles baby was staying with a babysitter and the babysitter kept LOSING him every five minutes because he could fly and would end up on the ceiling. "THAT'S IT!" I shouted. "SHE CAN FLY!" I told the children the story about Jane and the Easter basket and they were pretty well convinced of her super powers too. Jack Jack can also set himself on fire occasionally, and I think it's possible that Jane possesses that super power as well.

So, I told this story over and over to various grandparents and friends. Also included in that story was how Jane crawls into the evacuation crib at church every week and they still cannot figure out how she gets there. AND they tell me that she will occasionally get her juice out of her bag. Her bag that is HANGING WHERE SHE CANNOT POSSIBLE REACH IT. Clearly, she has super powers. It explains so much!! Why did I not think of that sooner??

Only after telling the story over and over, Annie comes to me one afternoon and tells me that she now remembers getting the blocks out of the top of Jane's closet and putting her Easter basket on the floor, along with the crafting set. So. I guess she can't fly.

Oh well. I still think she's a pretty incredible baby.

Mortifying Moments of Motherhood

2011-03-07T13:48:00.000-08:00

Now THERE'S a good title. Kind of makes you feel little bit sorry for me? And maybe makes you want to read about what happened right? Probably because if you have kids, perhaps are related to a child, or even KNOW of a child, then you MIGHT have been in my shoes before. Or possibly you are going to be...so DUCK AND COVER!!!!

I like to write about the funny things my kids do. And I REALLY like to write about the frustrating things my kids do because it helps me to make light of a situation and find the humor in it. Somehow, it's easier to take the moments that drive me crazy and turn them into something funny in my head. Making light of a situation is my coping skill, I guess. But today's story? It just plain embarrasses me. That's a little harder to write about, because I've got no funny to fall back on. But, I figured that if this is a blog about Motherhood, then it's best to explore ALL aspects. One cannot always find the funny in a situation, because sometimes it's just not there.

The day started out innocently enough. I was, in fact, lulled into a false sense of security as I walked into my bedroom and found Jay making MY bed WITHOUT BEING ASKED TO DO SO. Then I walked into the kitchen and found Annie fixing Jane her milk WITHOUT BEING ASKED TO DO SO. Who trained these children?? And just for the record, I do not normally have the children doing my household chores. Although, now that I think of it, maybe I SHOULD. It would be good payment for that whole Mortifying Factor that I deal with from time to time.

Jane and I dropped the big kids off to school and then headed to a PTA meeting. Jane actually listened to me as I told her she could not have more candy out of the candy bucket in the PTA meeting. Jamie and I have really been cracking down on her about her whining, as well as listening when we say no. She is getting better and better, but the "two" still rears it's ugly head often. This is when I repeat "Children are a blessing. Children are a blessing. Children are a blessing." But TODAY, I did not have to repeat that mantra because apart from one distressed cry, she did not argue over the candy issue. "I am rocking this mom thing," I thought to myself.

See...they lull you into that false sense of security so you'll let your guard down.

After the meeting, we met some friends at McDonalds, as is our normal monthly routine after meetings. As we pulled into the parking lot, Jane yelled, "YAY!!! Donalds!!!" She likes to give me an extra dose of "cute" before lowering the boom. We ordered our food and went to play on the playground.

Here is where a little backstory is needed. The friends we meet at McDonalds are good friends. Actually, scratch that. They are GREAT friends. And thankfully, after today, FORGIVING friends. Our kids have been playing together forever and Jane looks at them as siblings. She has a love/hate relationship with her one friend who I will call "Sweet Baby Boy" for this particular post. And he IS a Sweet Baby Boy. He cuddles with me and loves on me and calls ME "Jane". I love that boy. He and Jane also knock the tar out of each other on a regular basis though. They also hug a lot. So, we have hope for them yet.

So, the kids are playing and I am getting into the groove of hanging out with the mommies and catching up on some time with them when the SCREAMING starts. It is coming from Sweet Baby Boy and Jane is standing right next to him. That can't be good. His mother goes to him and discovers that JANE HAS BITTEN HIM.

*Jane's mother hangs her head in shame.*

My BABY bit another baby. Hard. Hard enough to leave a mark and what may have possibly turned into a bruise. Oh. My. Word. The shame. The embarrassment.

I snatched her up and spanked her fanny. Many times And fussed at her. VERY VERY LOUDLY. (This would also be called "yelling" but it is harder to write "And I yelled at her" for some reason without sounding like a Terrible Mother.) And in all the commotion the McDonalds play area FELL SILENT. All of the children stopped what they were doing to watch me spank my child. All the PARENTS fell silent to watch me spank my child. And I promise, this was not my imagination. IT WAS SILENT in there for a good 10 seconds as I unleashed my wrath upon my wayward child.

And then all the parents and all the children watched me as I packed up my bags to get the heck out of there. To punish Jane and also so that the tears of embarrassment would not fall while I was actually IN McDonalds. Jane gave Sweet Baby Boy a hug and then we began our Walk of Shame out of the restaurant. She trailed behind me sniffling and looking forlorn. But I was too mad and too embarrassed to care much.

Because ya'll...my CHILD BIT SOMEONE. ON PURPOSE. With the intent of biting and leaving teeth marks on said person. In order to HURT them.

I know I am not raising a serial killer and that kids do this kind of thing from time to time, it's age appropriate and blah blah blah. But REALLY. Really, really, really. It is hard to swallow your pride and watch your child purposely do something like that to another child. Because somehow, as a mother, you feel as if you are to blame. It's that whole, "Where did I go wrong?" thing.

It's funny how our children's actions have such an effect on us. Because I have relived that moment over and over today. And I still feel just as bad about it as I did then. As if *I* somehow can control the choices that Jane makes. Boy, wouldn't THAT make life easier.

So, anyway, we went home. Jane was QUIET all the way there. She didn't ask for her blanket or her cup or anything else that she normally asks for in the car. Just her sniffles from the backseat occasionally. She knew I was TICKED. When we got home she went straight to time out and stayed there while I stewed and loaded the dishwasher. And stewed some more.

When I got her out of time out, I knelt down on her level and talked to her about the biting. But she's two, so who knows if what I said really made an impression. She was still upset and cried for a while. I was still upset and cried a bit too. Jamie called and asked if we wanted to meet him for lunch. And as we loaded up in the car, Jane looked at me and said, "I bite." Only, she said Sweet Baby Boy's name at the end of that sentence. I looked at her and said, "You DID bite and that was wrong. You got a spanking and had to leave your friends. Are you going to do that again?"

She told me no.

We'll see.

The Return of Ye Ole Blog

2011-03-07T13:31:00.000-08:00

So. It's been a while.

I've missed you.

But I've also been busy. There has been a lot of chasing children involved. Lots of carpooling. Some proud moments between soccer games, football games, piano and cubscouts. Some tantrums. Some of them Jane's, some of them mine.

I've thought about you a lot.

But most of my thinking has been done in the wee hours of the morning. This is when I compose long, well thought out blog posts. They are funny and insightful all at the same time. But then morning comes, and somehow, what seemed funny and insightful at 4 am, seems much less so in the light of day. And once again, blogging gets pushed to the side in lieu of my daily routine.

Suddenly though, I find myself composing blog entries when driving the car, when fixing dinner or helping Jay practice the piano. Suddenly, I am composing everywhere EXCEPT on my computer.

Which means that it's probably time to start writing again.

Ending the Streak (or STREAKING??)

2010-04-26T18:05:00.000-07:00

Last night my Mother-in-Law called. We chatted for a while about the kids. We talked about Jay's first spend the night birthday party (which was fabulous) and Annie's soccer games this weekend (she scored a total of 7 goals between two games!). Then, Trish asked me about Jane.

"How's Dynamite doing?" She asked.

I sat there for a minute, totally dumbfounded. I told her that I had no bad stories to tell because Jane was on a good streak and aside from escaping from her stroller on a daily basis, had not given me anything good to write about lately. I told her about how CUTE Jane has been and that she is really turning into a toddler and is leaving this baby thing behind. Like the other day, for instance. She finished with her lunch, took her plate to the trash, emptied it and then opened the dishwasher and PUT THE PLATE IN IT. Then she grabbed her blanket and her pacifier and headed to the stairs for a nap. I think she would have put herself to bed if I had let her. She's a hoot! She also got herself completely dressed last Friday. Complete with pants, shirt, socks and shoes. Clearly, the third child here. I think I had to MAKE Jay dress himself when he hit Kindergarten.

But last night the streak ended. Or began. Depends on how you look at it, I guess. I put Jane to bed at her normal time. However, she didn't seem particularly tired and talked to herself for a LONG time in her bed. Sounded like she was having a party in there at one point. Not sure who she invited, but the guest list was evidently large and the PARTY GOT OUT OF HAND.

And then Jamie and I made a colossal mistake. We did not check our bad baby before we went to bed. No, no. We set off to our own slumber without giving a thought to what MIGHT HAVE GONE DOWN in Jane's bed before she finally checked off the net. Lesson learned.

At four a.m. Jane started crying. I tried to ignore it, hoping she'd find her pacifier and go back to sleep. The crying got more frantic and Jamie (bless him) headed upstairs to check on her. Three seconds later he came back downstairs but all the lights were still on upstairs. THAT'S never good. So, with one bleary eye, I peered at him and said, "What happened?" "She's NAKED!" he replied. He grabbed pajamas and I laid there for about two seconds wondering if my fairy godmother was going to come and take care of the mess that I knew was awaiting me. Stupid fairy godmother NEVER shows.

And when I got upstairs, the naked baby greeted me in her full glory with a huge grin and singing a song. Her sheets were SOAKED and she was SOAKED. This, of course, is what happens when you fall asleep at 7:00 p.m. and are TOTALLY NAKED. Jumping without a net, she was.

So, we got her cleaned up, put a new diaper on (backwards and with DUCK TAPE, I might add) put new sheets on the bed, started a load of laundry, updated my Facebook status (oh you KNOW you would too!) and climbed back in the bed so that I could lie awake until about 7:05, falling asleep and dreaming just in time for my alarm to go of at 7:15.

Thank GOODNESS she gave me something to write about.

On Parenting Boys...

2010-04-22T12:18:00.001-07:00

Almost ten years ago (eek!!) I received the news that I was pregnant with a baby boy. My reaction was pure excitement. Some of my friends didn't feel the same way. I heard over and over, "I wouldn't know what to DO with a boy!" I have never understood that. After all, I got to watch as Jay learned how to make really good car sounds at just a year old. I was there the day that he rolled around on the floor, thrilled over his new set of match box cars and shouting, "Caaaars! Caaaars! Caaaars!" over and over. I delighted in him knowing what EVERY single piece of construction equipment was. And he taught ME a good lesson on construction equipment as well.

It was cool to see the kind of stuff that was inborn in him and set him apart from girls from the get go. His love of sleeping in his rubber rain boots because they were his "Buzz Lightyear boots", his ability to spot the make of any 18 wheeler out there and call it out to me while we were on the road, and the boy noises...ahhhhh...the boy noises. Siren noises, motorcycles, 18 wheelers, boats...they all have a different sound. I never noticed that until I had a boy to point it out to me. All of these things that Jay picked up on were as inborn in him as Annie's love of painted nails and "pretty" things.

But remember that mother who said "Just because your friends decided to jump off a bridge doesn't mean you have to too."? Yeah. I would just about guarantee you that she didn't have a girl. Nope. She was the mother of a boy. Promise. And I know this because of what happened in the cafeteria the other day.

I was out shopping for Jay's ninth birthday present. I had just bought it when my cell phone rang. As I answer, I hear Jay's principal on the other line. She says, "Malinda, Jay is fine." Now, this? This is not a good way to start a conversation. I am already running through my List of Doom. Among these is 1. Head Trauma and 2. Broken Limb. She follows her statement up with the news that Jay and his friends were playing a breath holding game in the cafeteria today. They wanted to see who could hold their breath the longest. Jay won. Of course, winning THIS particular contest means that you hold your breath so long that you pass smooth out onto the cafeteria floor. Thankfully, one of the teachers spotted the game and knew what was happening. She arrived just as Jay passed out, thus saving him from number one on my List of Doom. Thank goodness for our teachers and their powers of observation.

But poor Jay was hysterical. I tried to talk to him on the phone but couldn't understand anything he was saying through the heaving sobs. So, I headed to the school to pick him up and bring him home. I figured this would be a good opportunity to discuss several TOPICS that mothers need to discuss with third graders without the eyes and ears of younger siblings.

So I brought him home. He was still VERY VERY quiet. I asked him if he was still scared by the passing out and he told me that he was. So then I asked him exactly WHAT he was scared of. "I'm worried that I did PERMANENT DAMAGE to my BRAIN!!!" he wails. I reassured him that he was FINE and that God made us with a stupid switch in circumstances like these so that we would pass out, therefore turning OFF the stupid switch and start breathing again. "Your brain is FINE," I told him. "However, I'm not sure how well it was working BEFORE you played that game." Then, he looks down at his ankle. His eyes get VERY big and he says, "Mom. My ankle. It's BLEEDING." I looked at it and said, "It's just a scratch. Go wipe it with a paper towel." He looked at me, with fear filled eyes, "But Mom! What if I burst a blood vessel with I passed out? Could this be serious?" It is at this moment that he swiped a finger across the blood on his ankle. And smelled it. "Oh. Never mind. This is just gravy from the cafeteria."

Boys.

The Spring Break that Wasn't

2010-04-09T12:22:00.000-07:00

So if you look at this in terms of comparisons, that title is kind of like saying, "The Little Engine Who Couldn't". Huh...only THAT would change the whole outcome of the story! Which I guess is entirely appropriate, since that's exactly what happened to us! I love me some comparisons!

So, the Wednesday before Spring Break Jamie and I went to our weekly Bible Study. At the end, as we were taking prayer requests, I asked that everyone pray for my sanity as I was taking all three kids to Mississippi for a week by myself. As in, without Jamie. Oh, and also? I had broken my leg the week before. Not a bad break, mind you, but enough of a break to cause searing pain when stepping without the crutches that I was instructed to use but couldn't because how do you use crutches and take care of a baby? Four arms. That's how. And since I don't HAVE four arms, crutches just weren't going to happen.

Anyway, so I make this prayer request and afterwards everyone is asking how far the drive is, and how I handle that by myself. I'm feeling pretty smug because I have done this drive numerous times and I am quite used to doing this trip without Jamie. I'm all, "It's tough but SOMEBODY'S got to do it...". And all the while, what I'm really thinking is, "Piece of cake. Can't wait to tell them how great it went. I am SUCH a rockstar!!"

Note to self...smug attitudes, ESPECIALLY in church, will really come back to bite you.

So, Friday morning comes and we make it out of the house by about 8:20 or so. We had a few bumps getting the car loaded, but everything worked out and pretty soon we are on our way. Jane is eating and napping, big kids are watching a movie and I am jamming to my ipod. Now, let me mention, that I have this trip down to a fine art by now. We stop in Brinkley, Arkansas for lunch and gas. Not before. Never before. We HAVE to pass the sign that says, in BIG BOLD LETTERS, "SPARING THE ROD WILL SPOIL YOUR CHILD!!!!" before I can stop. I don't know, something about seeing a sign about beating my children really gets my vacation off to a good start. I am, of course, kidding. Do not call DHS on me.

So, we finally arrive in Brinkley and stop at McDonald's. This is when Annie tells me it hurts when she tee tees. And THIS is where Annie will begin to need years of therapy as she rereads what her mother wrote about her on the internet. But ANYWAY. And of course, this does not surprise me because LITERALLY someone has been on antibiotics in my house since JANUARY, and since Jane AND Jay had just finished up THEIR antibiotics that very morning, it only made SENSE that she would have a UTI. Tragedy averted though. We got a med called in for her and ready to pick up upon our arrival in Mississippi. No harm, no foul. And naive little me thought, "OKAY! There's our bump in the road for THIS trip." HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! That's not the sound of me laughing, it's the sound of FATE.

So, we arrive in Mississipi, at my parents house and all is well. There are hugs and kisses exchanged, Jane is glad to be out of the car. Everyone is happy. We pick up Annie's meds, have a glass of whine...uh wine...and spend a lovely night talking. I bathe Jane, who eats virtually no supper, and then put her to bed. She cried for three seconds and then was out like a light. And I promise you, I stood outside of her door and made the statement to my father who was standing with me, "I have the BEST babies! They have all traveled so well!" HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Yeah. That's fate again.

Jane wakes up at eight the next morning and she is screaming her head off. I don't think much of it, other than that she's hungry. Sure enough, she eats like a horse. We play all morning and then Nana and I take Jane shopping and Papa takes the big kids out to play and fish at the farm. A good time was had by all. Until...

Mama and I came back home to put Jane down for a nap. Such a short and sweet statement, that should be such a short and sweet task. But instead it turned into HOURS of drama. She screamed when I put her in the pack and play. I thought she would calm down, left her in there and closed the door. Ten minutes later I hear her BANGING on the door and screaming. I went to check, thinking that maybe a cat got caught in her room, but no. There is Jane, standing there, having crawled OUT of the pack and play. And here begins the battle of all battles. As soon as I put her in, she crawls back out. In, out, in, out, in, out. Round and round we go. We play this stupid game for a while. I lost count of hours. I just know she was hysterical and it was loud. And my leg hurt. Then, Mama and I get the idea to take her to my aunts house, where there is an actual crib. YES! THIS is the solution! She doesn't like the pack and play!! PROBLEM SOLVED!

And my mother would like me to point out here they they DID have a crib, but I told them I wasn't having anymore babies, so they got rid of it. I told them to take that up with Jamie.

We arrive at my aunts house, Jane is still screaming. We put her in the bed there and close the door. She crawls out again. Now, you may be asking WHY I didn't just rock the girl to sleep. Ahhhh....if only that were an option. My children are really good sleepers. They always have been. But they are really good sleepers who have never rocked. They like to be put in their beds and left alone to go to sleep. I did try rocking her, but she was having none of it. She turned into a hissing, spitting, head spinning around baby. So THEN, Mama and I decide that the crib just needs to be moved to HER house and THEN Jane will sleep. YES! THAT'S the problem!! So, my father comes, takes apart the crib, hauls it to their house, and reassembles it.

I'll give you one guess as to what happened next.

So, then I just completely gave up on this napping thing, hoping that MAYBE things would be better in two hours when she went to bed. Jane has now been screaming for somewhere around three hours now. I was in serious need of Advil. And perhaps a glass of wine.

Eventually she gets sort of happy, though we treated her much like a live grenade because at any moment she could blow up, unleashing a fury that sent us all stumbling backwards by several feet.

Again, so supper, and this time she is hysterical through bath time. It is at this point that my mother says, "I don't blame you if you do not want to continue this visit." Now, this visit was supposed to be three days with my parents, followed by three days with Jamie's parents, followed by two days with my grandmother. The thought of having to repeat this process with each house, alone, and with a broken leg was enough to make me rethink my plans. I started to seriously considering leaving.

I put Jane down for the night and we continued the in and out dance for around forty five minutes. Only this time she is absolutely exhausted, but WILL NOT STOP CLIMBING OUT OF THE CRIB. It is at this point that my father gave her a new nickname of "granite". Fitting. I finally had to spank her to get her to stay in the crib. Funny how that stupid road sign actually came into play. Eventually, she slept, though fitfully, until about midnight when she finally slept without waking. I, of course, couldn't sleep until I KNEW she was down. So, I didn't get to sleep until after one. I hated to just give up and go home knowing this would set a tone for the rest of our trips. I was determined to stay. I went to sleep, still debating, but thinking we could always pick up and leave later if things got too bad.

And then, at 5:30 in the morning, Jay threw up. And we left two hours later. The End.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! That's fate again.

'Twas the Winter of Our Discontent

2010-02-13T19:00:00.000-08:00

So, back in September, on the way to church, Jay made the statement, "You know, we haven't gotten sick in a while." "BITE YOUR TONGUE!!!" I yelled. "The evil eye is watching!!" Jamie scoffed and said, "I don't believe in that stupid stuff. I'm not superstitious." HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! How I laugh at the uninformed man. That statement was made on September 13th. How do I know that, you ask? Because exactly a week later Jay came down with the Swine Flu.

And since then? We have been bombarded with croup, a double ear infection, gross viral stuff bringing about fever and snot, three cases of strep throat, a terrible ear infection for Jay which caused his ear drum to burst, and then yesterday, we found blood in Jay's urine. I am not even going to get into THAT one right now, because frankly it sends me Down the Path of Doom and I cannot go there at this particular moment since we can't get into a doctor until Tuesday. The good news is that he feels perfectly fine, so I'm hoping it will turn out to be nothing. We wait... and I teeter on the edge of The Path.

But tonight. Tonight Jamie and I were going out to enjoy a nice meal and movie. All was well, all children feeling fine AT THE SAME TIME for what is the first time in WEEKS. Time to celebrate! We went to a new burger place we had found and both ordered buffalo burgers. We were chatting and waiting on our order to arrive when I put forth The Theory to Jamie. You know, the one I mentioned in the beginning where all this began with his statement of not believing the evil eye. I told him he needed to retract his statement. You know what the man said? He told me I was crazy. That he STILL didn't believe.

Fifteen minutes later, the babysitter called to tell us that Annie was throwing up. And she is continuing to do so now that we are home. Jamie has retracted his earlier statement. He throughly believes in the evil eye now. He is very sorry, Evil Eye and he will never make those wide, sweeping statements again. Can we please have our lives back now??

A Snow Day Haiku and Other Ramblings...

2010-01-29T12:01:00.000-08:00

Snow days. Stuck inside.

Jay plays the Indian Song.

Over. And over.

At first, he only knew one Indian song on the piano, but then he learned ANOTHER ONE and now we have Indian Song VARIETY! All day, every day with the Indian Song on the piano. All day.

I have had lots of good questions today. Wonder if you can answer them? "Was I supposed to brush my teeth this morning?" "Why can't I gargle my tomato soup?" "Do I HAVE to wear pants?" "How many seconds are in 7 minutes?" (QUICK!! DO THE MATH!! DON'T THINK!!) Can I have brownies for breakfast? (Can't blame them for trying.) My brain is slowing oozing out of my ears in case you are wondering.

No, I haven't completely lost it yet, but we ARE stuck inside with the ice and snow situation. And while I am one of those who generally LOVES a snow day, the current realization that I have had at least one elementary child home with me for at least one day every single week since Christmas break has me a little batty. Don't tell Jamie. He may not come home from work.

First there were the two days that we got out due to extreme cold. That was the fist week back in school after Christmas break. Then, Jay got big time teeth extracted for two weeks in a row. Then there was Martin Luther King Day last Monday, followed by a bout with strep causing Annie to miss school that Friday, and then a strep scare for Jay on Wednesday of this week and now they are home again!!!! No really, Broken Arrow Public Schools, will you please take my children back??

In all seriousness, we ARE having a lovely day at home. I am sporting my sweet jammies and slippers at two in the afternoon (I can't shower...the POWER might go out!!). The big kids have been sledding in the driveway (the driveway with practically no incline...they are using their imaginations!). I have been a lazy mother and let Jane walk around with her snack, which the dog really appreciated since that meant she got to go on a goldfish hunt. She found them in flower pots, on chairs, and in a candle holder. There's a lesson for me...QUIT BEING A LAZY MOTHER! So to make up for my laziness, we have big plans for an Uno tournament this afternoon while Jane is napping. Babies don't play Uno. They can't hold the cards.

The snow keeps falling down, as it has for hours now and I will enjoy being snuggled up and warm next to my fireplace and listening to the Indian Song. Happy Snow Day!

An Undeniable Force of Nature...

2010-01-26T12:25:00.000-08:00

I promise that not all of my blog entries are going to be solely focused on Jane. But I figure that Jay and Annie both got their fair share of blog entries when they were babies. And while the two of them are vastly amusing, THIS topic makes of MUCH better black mail options later on.

So, let's review the NEW Jane proofing that I've done since my last post. I have added door knob covers (or if your brain doesn't function you may refer to them as "door knob BLOCKERS" until your husband corrects you) to all the downstairs doors. I spent 70 (SEVENTY!!!!!) dollars on a baby gate that will automatically close. It will replace the mattress in front of the stairs. This is because SOME baby (who will remain nameless) takes great pleasure in climbing OVER said mattress and high tailing it up the stairs. Now, truth be told, she CAN actually just pull the mattress down, but climbing over it proves much more of a point. A point that she likes to prove daily. If I find that I like this gate, I will spend ANOTHER 70 (SEVENTY!!!!!) dollars on another gate and place it outside the back door. This is no joking matter. We have a pool and a very determined baby.

Then there was the day that Jamie found Jane straddled over the rail of her crib, trapped between the wall and the rail. That day, I got online and researched those crib tents. But then I figured that she'd just use her little monkey hands and feet and somehow end up swinging upside down from it. And the last thing I want to do is provide her with one MORE thing to hang upside down from.

I'd love to figure out a way to keep her from sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. In the time it takes me to put three plates in the dishwasher, she has scaled the kitchen chairs and is sitting proudly in the middle of the table. You want to know the funny thing? THE CHAIRS NEVER MOVE!!! I still can't figure out how she does it because I CAN'T CATCH HER IN ACTION! I've checked the baby proofing aisles, but they don't MAKE anything that claims, "Will Keep Your Half-Monkey Child off Tables". So I don't know? Butter? Crisco? Do you know how stupid I sound when I yell, "You may NOT sit on the kitchen table!!"

Today I went out and bought 15 dollars worth of onesies. Yes, it seems we have graduated from the training pants. I found her standing completely naked in her crib this morning. Diaper, pajamas AND training pants all on the floor as if to say, " SUCKER!!!!" Who knows how long she had been there like that? All I can say is, long enough to tee tee.

I'd like to get a new stroller. One that will contain her, as she crawled out of hers this morning, slithered out underneath the little snack bar and RAN from me. But I don't know what stroller WOULD actually contain her aside from one in which you physically SEW her into it. Who has time for that?

And those flimsy little straps on the shopping carts at Walmart? HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! How Jane and I laugh at those! When we get there, I strap her in just to humor myself and appease other customers who look at me scathingly an hour later, as she is turned completely around and KNEELING in the cart. I repeatedly point out, "She IS strapped in!!" I ask them if they have any super glue. They never do. Well...don't offer ADVICE if you don't even carry super glue! Oh, but Walmart is her favorite place! She waves from the time we walk in, to the time we leave. Her fans...they adore her. And she MUST turn around backwards to wave at them all!!

My baby. She is an undeniable force of nature. Hurricane Jane. Hmmm...has a nice ring to it, I think.

**Edited to add: Upon waking up from her nap, Jane was found sans overalls and diaper. What does this kid have against clothes?? And when did she learn to remove overalls?

Jane. Enough Said.

2009-11-23T12:30:00.000-08:00

So, there was a major shoulder surgery. There were many weeks of recovery as well as a nice haze of pain pills. Through the haze I noticed that my youngest child had suddenly turned into a little creature I did not recognize. But through the misery that was my recovery, it was hard to pay too much attention to it. Then, as the haze of pain pills faded and I entered back into life, I discovered what I had suspected...MY BABY HAS AN OPINION AND IT NEVER COINCIDES WITH MINE!!!!

Help me. I beg of you.

Now this is not my first time around on this motherhood thing. I've done this twice before. Once, with THE most opinionated and hard headed child in existence. Well, at least until Jane took his spot. Whoops...did I give away who I was talking about?? I thought nothing could possible compare with Jay. Right. Well, I'm throwing in the towel and admitting defeat. I AM IN FOR IT WITH THIS ONE!!!

She is a climber. She reminds me a bit of a cat. You know how they always like to be at the highest point in the room? So they can stare down and survey their kingdom? Jane is much like that. I have a mattress in front of my stairs because I finally got sick of pulling her off them every 3.5 seconds. A mattress. IN. FRONT. OF. MY. STAIRS. Very nice. Oh, and the trash can? Big piece of duck tape on that. Except that she has learned to pull off the duck tape. SO SHE CAN EAT THE TRASH. She worked for a good thirty minutes the other day to get that stupid duck tape off, then she found a piece of moldy bread. I had to pry it from her tiny, baby death grip as she screamed as if I were torturing her. Clearly, I was.

Speaking of eating, she DOESN'T. Unless it is a healthy portion of dog food, that I also have to pry out of said death grip. But put REAL food in front of her and she will look at you and SHAKE HER HEAD NO. Then she feeds it to the dog just to show me she's serious.

I have to put training pants over her diaper if there is the remote possibility that she can remove her diaper. I have walked into her bedroom twice to find no diaper and poop EVERYWHERE. Another instance where duck tape would come in handy, except that I'm afraid that someone might call the authorities on me.

And on that note of duck tape coming in handy, there is no longer a safe place that I can put this baby. I had her in her high chair, eating (or not) breakfast the other day as I got things ready to go to our playgroup. I turned around and she was SITTING ON THE HIGH CHAIR TRAY. I caught her as she fell backwards. She gave me a small heart attack. So I held her tightly, thanked God for the freebie, promised that I would learn a lesson from it and then got on the internet to order a new high chair in which she could not extract her person. For now anyway. But then, as my back is turned again for three second, I realize that I have forgotten to put up the dog food. I run into the kitchen and sure enough, she is eating it. BECAUSE DOG FOOD FOR BREAKFAST IS BETTER THAN PANCAKES. THAT'S WHY. I pry the dog food out of her hands, put both the dog food and water out of her reach, turn around again and she is STANDING on the rocking chair in the hearth room. I pull her off of that, put the cushions back on the chair, go to find her again and she is pulling the dirt out of my houseplants. At this point, I decided that if we WANTED to go to playgroup (please, please, please, Mommy needs to talk to an adult today!!) that I was going to have to resort to drastic measures. Having used up all the duck tape on the TRASH CAN, I strapped her in her carseat. In the car. I hummed to myself and got things ready as she screamed. Totally worth it.

Why does my baby want to kill me?? No, really. Why?

And just in case you've forgotten, Christmas is right around the corner. You know, with Christmas TREES. And shiny balls and lights? And presents wrapped in PAPER? With BOWS? The possibilities of destruction are just ENDLESS.

Jane says, "Happy Thanksgiving! Do you need me to clean out any of your cabinets? I'm very good at it."

On Sending Your Second Child to Kindergarten...

2009-09-16T08:17:00.001-07:00

SCENE I: The den, the night before school starts. Children are in bed and parents have settled in for a relaxing evening.

ME: Wow. I can't believe I'm not sad about sending Annie to kindergarten. With Jay I was so emotional. This time, I'm just excited for her because I know she's going to love it so much!

JAMIE: I'm glad you're so rational about this.

SCENE II: After having dropped a happy Annie off in her classroom of thirty children on the first day of school, the mother heads to the library for a "Parent Tea" where she will discuss the addition of a new kindergarten teacher who will be added in two weeks to help cut down on classroom size.

ME: Wow. It's a good thing that this didn't happen when I sent Jay to kindergarten. It's exactly the thing that would have sent me over the edge. I was already so nervous. This time I'm so calm and I know it will all work out with the new teacher. I'm not worried about it at all!

FRIENDS: We're glad you're so rational about this.

SCENE III: The cafeteria on the first day of school, where the mother (who was turning in paperwork to the office) sneaks in to have a look at Annie only to discover she is BAWLING.

ME: MUH BAYBEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

THE END

So I didn't stay rational. Annie had a hard adjustment to kindergarten. The cafeteria was a scary place, her class size was crazy, she missed her preschool friends, and when the new teacher was hired her "VERY BEST FRIEND" (who she had known for a total of a week) got moved into the new class. There were tears. Some of them were mine. I worked lunch duty every day for three weeks straight to help with her adjustment. Somehow, just seeing me for a little portion of the day helped her so much. We made a "cry chart" (for Annie, not me...) that we filled with princess stickers and the promise of ice cream when it was filled. Amazingly, at the end of the cry chart, Annie had adjusted and now loves her new school. She loves her teacher and feels very comfortable and loved by her. The cry chart is history and I'm back to working lunch duty once a week, which is much more manageable. We talked a lot, a lot, a lot and I think it helped. So much of her reminds me of myself. She is sensitive, worries about things that she shouldn't even be thinking of, and takes to heart what other say. But she's stronger and more daring than I ever was or am now. That will serve her well in the future. I'm so impressed by her.

Happy Kindergarten days Annie. I love you and am SO proud of all your accomplishments!

Catching My Breath...

2009-09-16T08:04:00.000-07:00

It's been so long since I've blogged. So long, in fact, that I couldn't remember how to sign in to my account. I tried log in name, after log in name....password, after password. Tried having my password emailed to me, but since I couldn't remember my log in name, it wouldn't send. Frustration mounted and I considered just chunking the whole thing and starting over. I went back to the home page in a last ditch effort, muttering to myself the whole time. Then I noticed...log in with your EMAIL ADDRESS. Clearly, I am not only sleep deprived, but also very unobservant. Gah. So here I am.

It's been more than a month since I last updated, and obviously, much has happened. The big kids have started back to school, Annie has had her first day of kindergarten AND turned six all in the same week, I managed NOT to have a breakdown as I realized "My baybeeeeee is growing up!!", I pulled lunch duty for three weeks straight, Jane started walking full time, Jamie had a birthday, Annie started back with her soccer team and ballet, Jay started piano and flag football, and I got scheduled for major shoulder surgery in October. With all that going on, and very little blogging happening, I realized that if I don't keep up with it, life is going to continue on and I'll never get it all written down. So here's to catching up and catching my breath.

Does this Minivan make Me Look like a Mom?

2009-08-10T13:00:00.000-07:00

With the arrival of Jane Clare, we discovered we needed many things. This is because (as I have discussed in a previous entry) Jamie and I are not smart and you cannot make us be. We got rid of ALL our baby stuff before we were SURE we were done having children. This purging of baby items included my MINIVAN. A Ford Windstar that died shortly after we moved to Tulsa. We thought briefly of replacing it with another van, BUT...I WANT SOMETHING SMALLER!! I don't NEED room for a stroller anymore!! I want to DOWNSIZE! Code for: "I want to look like a Cool Mom." So we bought a Ford Freestyle. Oh yes...the epitome of "cool". Yes, you can wade through my sarcasm here, but it WAS smaller, felt less bulky and I was happy.

Then we had Jane. Wait...scratch that. The we had Jane and tried to travel. To Mississippi. At Christmas. With presents? And furniture. Hello? Nightmare. We have been riding three across the bench seat in the back. Two carseats and Jay in the middle. We couldn't put up the third row seat because I now have the stroller that I said I would no longer need, as well as soccer balls, soccer chairs, room for groceries, etc. Stop. Did I just qualify myself as a soccer mom? Shoot me, please.

Right. So no room in the car. Poor Jay is squished. And it was quickly becoming obvious that I needed a new vehicle. Perhaps a roomy SUV!! Yay! That's cool! Yes! An SUV with leather and a DVD player! And one of those power rear doors so that I don't have to lift anything! And a power folding third row seat! Yes! THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I WANT. Somehow Jamie did not see things in quite the same light. He brought me down to reality quite quickly. Did you know that reality is called "a price tag?"

So we went car shopping. Jamie drove me to the Honda place just to "look" at the Odyssey. I moaned the whole way about how I didn't NEED options in an SUV. Maybe I could just get a base model? "Just LOOK at the Odyssey before you decide on an SUV." So fine. I resigned myself to LOOK. And HATE. So THERE. I opened the door of the Odyssey and the light dawned on me. Minivans may not look that cool on the outside, but they scream "COOL!!!" on the inside. I fell in love immediately and told Jamie that we could keep looking but no SUV was going to compare to that Odyssey.

After doing some research, we did end up buying the very Odyssey at which I looked. I still cringe when I have to say that word "minivan", but I have found if I just replace it with the word "Odyssey" it works better. You know..."I've got to get the Odyssey detailed." "I'm taking the Odyssey to the Aerosmith concert." "I've got the sunroof open and I'm rocking out to Modest Mouse in the Odyssey." Totally cool. Right?

I took the kids to Walmart in the Odyssey today. Upon getting home from Walmart I noticed something on my shorts. Poop. On my shorts? That I was wearing? The ones that I wore out in public with people I KNOW? Gah. And I thought the minivan made me look uncool??

One Year

2009-07-30T08:29:00.000-07:00

Today is Jane's first birthday. Today she is walking around the house, arms raised over her head in her "Papa Tango" style. Today she is playing her her new toys, chasing after the cats, and playing with Jay and Annie. Today she learned to "pat" me. I picked her up for her morning nap, "Can you give Mama a pat?" I asked. She reached her little baby arm around my shoulder and patted my back. It's funny, those little movements that take us totally by surprise. Sure, I provide her every need and want, and she depends on me for everything, but it was that little movement that said, "Hey! I really LIKE you Mama!" I wanted to shout, "You LIKE me!! You really LIKE me!" All Sally Fields and stuff.

It's amazing how far a year has brought us. I could bore you with tales of how hard her pregnancy was, how worried we were that I would miscarry, the preterm labor, the preeclampsia. THE 25 WEEKS OF BEDREST. But I will say that Jane's healthy arrival, 5 weeks early, was such a triumph that it erased all those things. I could get all sappy here, but I won't. Instead, I will leave you with this video of messy baby eating her birthday cupcake while her mother sings out of tune and the big kids make a lot of noise. Happy Birthday sweet girl! I'm so excited to get to know the person you are becoming!

And the Thunder Rolls...

2009-07-16T08:31:00.001-07:00

So, we had some pretty good thunderstorms roll through at about midnight last night. When I was a kid I used to love thunderstorms. The sound of the rain was relaxing, and combined with the crashes of thunder and flashes of lightening provided just a hint of danger that I always loved. I'd lie in the bed, listening and snuggle down under my covers, knowing that I was safe in my bed while the danger of the elements roared outside. Nothing made me appreciate the security of my bed more than a good thunderstorm.

My children though? Not so much. Now when those thunderstorms roll through, I am instantly awake, no matter how small the thunder, awaiting the sound of small feet on the stairs. I doze fitfully, in a semi-conscious state, knowing that at any moment the sound of "Mama!!" will interrupt any sleep that I manage to get. And so it was last night.

I heard the thunder start up and pretty soon after that, the children came downstairs. They were doing that half run, half walk...where your terrified, but you don't want anyone to KNOW you're terrified. And where do they head first? MY SIDE OF THE BED. Now, let me just mention here that Jamie sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door. As in, as soon as you walk into our room, you would see his sleeping form. But do the children EVER go to his side of the bed? No. They bypass him and head straight to me.

This pattern is not just for thunderstorms, but also for any night wakings. Thunderstorms, nightmares....and THROWING UP. They will walk straight pass Jamie, AND THE BATHROOM, I might add, in order to stand in front of me. I can't count the number of times I had to take my comforter in to be dry cleaned because someone ran straight to my side as if his sleeping, human form was NOT EVEN THERE, in order to say, "I've got to throw up!" GO TO THE BATHROOM!! I always yell. And yet, they do not. They come get me. As if the sounds of retching would not jerk me out of ANY deep sleep I might be in. I PROMISE...I will hear you! I would just appreciate not having to get the carpet cleaner out JUST ONE TIME! We actually run throw up drills at my house. Yes, that's us. Let's discuss our escape plan if ever we were to have a fire or some other tragedy...oh...and what do you do if you need to throw up?? They will say, "Run to the bathroom and call out for you!" But what they really mean is, "Run PAST the bathroom, to your side of the bed so that we may throw up on the carpet and all over your Pottery Barn bedding!"

Boy...THAT train just totally left the track it was on, didn't it?

So, anyway, back to the thunderstorms last night. The children came in and I got them all settled in on pallets in our room. I climbed back in bed, listened to the thunder crash and the lightening flash and enjoyed the security and warmth of my bed. I snuggled down, this time knowing that it was not just me that was safe and secure, but all my little chicks too.

Excuses....

2009-07-13T12:39:00.001-07:00

I can't blog today because....

1. It is so hot my fingers have swollen to a width that renders me incapable of using a keyboard.

2. Michael Jackson died (did you hear about that???) and I'm overcome with grief.

3. My children have taken over the house and will not grant me access to my computer.

4. The barking dog is distracting me from deep and analytical prose.

5. Uh...did I mention Michael Jackson?

In reality though, we've been gone and then here but occupied, and then gone and then here but occupied. Now we are home again, but I have so much to write about that it will take me a while to get my thoughts organized. And right now the children are beckoning me to swim. Right now the pool water looks crystal blue and refreshing on this 100 degree day. Right now Jay is singing at the top of his lungs to his i-pod. Right now Annie is running around in her bathing suit and my sunglasses and flip flops. Right now Jane is napping so it's a good time to swim. Right now I can look at my calendar and see all that is looming in just a few weeks. Right now I'm going to go enjoy my summer.

Competing with Pig Pen....

2009-06-23T08:26:00.000-07:00

So last week was Jay's Cub Scout Day Camp. I am STILL finding dirt in places that dirt should not BE. Jamie and I spent the week out at Camp Russell, helping out as walking leaders. Jamie took a whole week of vacation in order to help out. When he first told me he was doing this, I was all for it, but the closer it came to time, I started dreading it. I mean really, what family spends a week helping out at Day Camp and counts that as a family vacation? What about the beach? A trip to Branson? Or just spending the week at home and sitting by the pool? The more I thought about it, the more I regretted that he had wasted a whole week of vacation and not only would we not be able to go anywhere, but we had to get a babysitter to watch Jane for the week. And WAHHHHH...we had to get up early EVERY DAY.

I love it when I'm wrong. Okay, really, that's not true (mostly because I'm NEVER WRONG...), but in THIS instance I love that I was wrong. We had a fantastic time. Jane was well cared for all week long and had a great time with our babysitter, who she knows and loves. Jay, Annie, Jamie and I headed off every morning at 8:15, loaded down with sunscreen, bug spray, lunches, camera, and hats. Annie had a great time doing arts and crafts in the children's program there, and even got to participate in the cooler activities like the zipline, marshmallow gun making and astroid shooter making (space camp theme...). And Jay was in hog heaven with all of his friends (we had 15 boys in our group). So THAT meant that Jamie and I got to spend the whole week actually talking to each other and managing to complete sentences without being interrupted by little people every 3.2 seconds. Huh...that NEVER happens! And while we were walking leaders (meaning that we actually had to CONTROL 15 boys), we had very few discipline problems. The boys were a joy to be around and Jamie and I had a great time declaring "war" on each other with our spray bottles and marshmallow guns and having the boys pick a side. They thought we were COOL! And the moment I overheard Jay tell another boy who was not in our pack, "That's MY mom!" I knew it was all worth it. I won't get many more moments like that with him. Especially because I TOTALLY intend to take him to school one day in my pajamas and robe and my hair in rollers. You know, just to mess with his MIND.

And we came home FILTHY. Filthy like you cannot even imagine filthy being. After sweating all day (98 degrees most days were were out there), and being one with the bugs and dirt, plus my dramatic "falls" every time one of the boys shot me with their marshmallow gun, we all had a nice layer of mud on us by the time we ventured home. We'd walk up the long hill and trek to our car. The car that had been sitting in the sun for the past 8 hours and was approximately 4,000 degrees when we opened the door and the heat slammed us in the face. So then we'd get in, blast the air and by the time we got home, the seats would be filled with small mud puddles as the sweat on the backs of our legs combined with the dirt on our bodies. Nice visual, no? Never been so happy to have leather seats.

But getting home and jumping in the pool was an instantaneous relief. And after swimming for a while, we would all be so tired that all we wanted was dinner and bed. It was that good kind of tired where you are completely exhausted and know you will sleep like the dead. And we did. By Friday night, Jamie and I were asleep in our respective chairs by 8:30 pm. Somehow the kids movie, "Mr. Troop Mom" was not entertaining enough to keep us awake. Can't imagine how.

So in the end, despite my reservations, it was a fantastic week. A good week to end on since Jay won't be able to go next year since he'll be too old (sob!!). But it's always better to leave wishing for more than to be glad it's all over with.

A Blueberry Pancake Haiku

2009-06-11T07:21:00.000-07:00

Blueberry pancakes:

A good theory, but big mess.

Blue stains everything.

In Celebration of Road Trips Everywhere...

2009-06-09T18:08:00.000-07:00

So it's summer! And of course, that means travel time. The kids and I just got back from a trip to Mississippi where we surprised my mother for her 21st birthday. It was a fantastic trip, only made better by the hour and a half that Jane spent SCREAMING on the way there. We were in Arkansas. Arkansas is longer than I thought it was. Maybe it was the screaming?? The older children and I had just about had enough of it. Our nerves were SHOT. Even Jay, who has the patience of Job with this baby, pleaded with her, "Jane....puleeeeez stop screaming. I'm going to lose my mind!!!!" At which point, Jane turned the volume up to "torture everyone" and Annie said, "Way to GO Jay...now she's even LOUDER." About that time we passed by this HUGE billboard on the side of the interstate. It said, "USE THE ROD....SAVE YOUR CHILDREN'S LIVES!" My second thought (the first being, "Wha.....????") was "Where's the rod? I want MY stinking rod!!" They should maybe give those out at rest stops.

All in all though, the drive went well. Except for the part where Jane had a blow out diaper and McDonalds had no changing table. And I couldn't figure out how to use the bathroom myself, what with having to HOLD THE BABY and all. But, I am industrious and I figured it all out. I pulled a high chair into the bathroom with Jane in it (after changing her clothes in the back seat of the car). I got a lot of strange looks and laughs, but one mother stopped to tell me what a good idea that was and that she would be using it when SHE traveled. SO THERE. I think after eight years of traveling with small children by myself, I could probably write a book on hints and tricks.

All jokes aside though, it was a wonderful time with Mama and Daddy. I wouldn't have traded my time with them for anything. Well worth an eight hour drive. And I plan to do it again in a few weeks!! And so, in celebration of road trips everywhere, I thought I would copy this letter that I wrote to my father when he was in Iraq. My mother and I had taken the kids to my grandparents to visit. Annie was three and Jay was five. It was a....memorable...ride home. The title of the email was "Guts". Intriguing...no?

"Dear Daddy,

Did you miss me? I thought you might enjoy a rendition of our trip home today. It is possible that you have already heard part of this, but I thought you might enjoy my take on the day's events...

So, we left Belzoni at 9:45 this morning after loading the car in the POURING rain. Seriously. Pouring. The only time it let up was when I came inside to kiss Mimi and Papa goodbye and change my soaking wet clothes into something dry. Of course as soon as it was time to walk out the door and get the kids in carseats, it started up again. What FUN. Anyway, we were about an hour into our trip when Jay nonchalantly says, "There's a fly in this car." Which apparently in Annie's mind meant, "There's a serial killer with a machete in this car." She started SCREAMING AND SCREAMING AND SCREAMING. I mean, she was HYSTERICAL. You would have thought she was being attacked with the way she was carrying on. And there was no telling her that flies don't hurt you....oh NO...in her mind they are obviously buzzing little baby eaters or something. We opened the windows (still raining I might add....) so the fly would fly out. It did not. However, I have become quite adept at the art of lying, and so I LIED and told her the fly had gone out the window. But she is a smart cookie and while she did calm down she insisted that Nana hold her hand. "Nana...HOLD MY HAND!!!!!" Over and over again. So, Nana holds Annie's hand until HER hand falls asleep, at which point she PRIES her hand out of Annie's and turns back around in her seat. Annie does not like this, but we are dealing with it UNTIL Jay says, very quietly, "Mama, there's the fly again." Which translates to, "Mama, there's a large prehistoric insect getting ready to eat us back here..." Annie starts screaming again. By now I am on a two lane road that I did not want to get off of for fear of getting behind a big truck that I had passed a ways back. I was on this road for 22 miles. and for 22 miles Annie was hysterical. I tried yelling, pinching, being funny, distraction, EVERYTHING. What finally worked was Nana trapping the fly and smearing the fly guts all over my window while she killed with with the atlas. But that's good though because it was EVIDENCE that the fly was dead, which Annie appreciated.

Speaking of guts though it was not much later that we were driving down the interstate and I noticed a BIG black bird in the median. Of course, it did what all birds in the median do. It flew directly AT my car. The problem was though, that this particular bird was having a nice snack of some dead animal and decided that take out was the way to go here. So, it had some of whatever dead animal it was eating in its claws when it took off. Apparently the bird misjudged the weight of his snack though and could not get enough lift to avoid my car, so at JUST the right moment it dropped the load RIGHT onto my windshield. I have no idea what it was...just a big, wet, orange splatter. Jay REALLY got a kick out of this one. Thankfully it rained ALL the way home so I didn't have to look at smeared guts for long...at least the guts on my windsheild"

So there you have it! Happy travels everyone!!

Buh-bye

2009-05-14T18:16:00.000-07:00

So, Jane has perfected her wave. This happened yesterday afternoon and I immediately acted like a fool and went NUTS. "My BAYBEEEE!!!! SHE CAN WAVE!!!!!" You know, waving, winning the Nobel Peace Prize...whatever.

Anyway, today went something like this:

ME: Jane! Say Buh-Bye! Say Buh Bye! Wave at Mama! Say Buh-Bye! Say Buh Bye! Look at Mama! Say Buh-Bye!!

JANE: (looking away...at anything other than me) Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da (because HE carried the baby for nine months).

ME: Jane!! Buh-Bye! Look at Mama!! (Yes Jane, look at Mama act like an idiot!!) Say Buh-Bye!! Buh-Bye! Wave for Mama! Buh-Bye!! You can do it!! Buh-Bye!!

JANE: (finally lifting one, tiny baby hand and giving a wave at herself) Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da

ME: THAT'S RIGHT!! WHAT A SMART BABY!! YOU WAVED!! GOOD GIRL!!! SO BIG!! JANE IS SO BIG!! WHAT A GOOD GIRL!! Jane!! Do it again!! Say Buh-Bye! Say Buh-Bye! Say Buh-Bye!!

You can totally see where this is going...

But it's so funny, because every time she does this wave, she looks at her hand and gets this expression like, "What is this?? Why is my hand doing this? Am I MAKING this happen?" Probably what she is really thinking is, "Anything to get that woman over there to shut up!"

Today when she was napping (or NOT napping, would be more appropriate) I went into her room to give her the pacifier that I was certain had fallen to the floor. When she saw me, she stopped her wailing and raised her arms to be picked up. I lifted her out of the bed, cuddled with her for a minute and then laid her back in with her pacifier. She started crying again, but this time the crying was accompanied by the most pitiful little wave you ever did see. It was as if she was saying, "Look how cute I am Mama! Circus Baby will perform for you and you will feel sorry for her and remove her from her crib, no?" No, I didn't remove her, but I did give her an extra kiss.

This video is evidence of my high pitched, stupid sounding voice as I try to coax her into waving. I cannot believe I am actually putting this out there for all you to listen to. Probably you should invest in some ear plugs first. Anyway, she DOES wave twice in this video. Once in the very beginning, then you get to listen to me acting like a fool (but you can enjoy the cute baby while your ears bleed) and then she waves again at the very end.

Baby Laughter...

2009-05-12T12:52:00.000-07:00

Jane is fascinated by 5 things....Jay, Annie, the two cats and the dog. I recorded her laughing with Annie today. Prior to Annie walking in the room, she was inconsolable. Annie walked in, the tears immediately stopped and the laughter began. So, this just goes to show me that next year? I'll be dropping her off in Annie's kindergarten class when things get tough.

At Nine Months

2009-05-09T21:21:00.001-07:00

Dear Jane,

You have now been here longer than I was pregnant with you. That is a concept so strange to me that I cannot even put it into words. How can that be? I was only pregnant for 35 weeks, but that was the absolute LONGEST 35 weeks of my entire life. How is it possible that THESE nine months have flown by? That now that I want time to slow down, it seems to be speeding up to a pace I cannot keep up with?

I have been using the phrase, "This time last year..." a lot lately. A Lot. And this time last year I can tell you exactly what we were doing. We were painting your nursery, and I was having fits of hysteria. Not because I was having a baby, but because I was having preterm labor issues among other things and I was truly afraid that I was painting your room a fabulous shade of "Paris Pink" that I was going to regret terribly if something went wrong. Nice attitude, huh? Honestly though, I can remember standing in your closet, inspecting all the work that Daddy did and wondering how emotionally painful it was going to be if we had to repaint it all. And taking the tags off your clothes to wash them before your arrival? Daddy literally had to FORCE me to do it. I wouldn't even pack a hospital bag for you. This woman? Your mother? She has some Issues.

Oh but now...now Miss Jane, you are happy, and healthy and LOUD. And I delight in every single baby scream you let loose. Even the ones that make the dog run for cover and the cats flee, leaving little claw marks on the couch as they scramble for safety. You are that loud. That's been the funniest thing lately. You have discovered the volume control on your voice and you love to go from whispering, "BabababaBABABABABABABABABA" to screaming as loud as you possibly can. Jay and Annie think this is so funny, and they encourage you every chance they get. Just one more way that I am outnumbered in more ways than I can even imagine.

You are crawling everywhere, pulling up, standing (when you don't realize it) and so close to clapping that I expect it is just days away. You started to sign "milk" today, although Daddy won't count it yet because you have only done it twice. But it was at exactly the right time, both times, so I'm counting it. I'm your Mama and I will always give you the benefit of the doubt. Your two bottom teeth have FINALLY made their way through and you are sleeping much better. And because of THAT, I am a much nicer person to live with.

Jane, I have a question for you though. Why does 5:45 pm always send you right over the edge? Can you actually TELL time? Do we have a genius baby on our hands here? It doesn't matter if you wake from your afternoon nap at 2:30 or 4:30, when that clock hits 5:45 we had all BETTER TAKE COVER. The screaming begins. And child...you can scream. Not only do you scream though, you have this noise of displeasure that I cannot describe. The closest thing I can come to describing it is to say that it reminds me of "Mr. Peepers" on those old Saturday Night Live skits. Or maybe even the Tasmanian devil. It's a lot of raspberry blowing, spitting, with the occasional angry consonant sound thrown in. You do this whenever you are mad about anything. Diaper changes, falling down, having sharp objects and house plants pried out of your hands. I imagine this noise, properly translated, would be something like this, "Why. Why, oh Mother, do I have to live in this world where I must lie on my back to have you change my diaper? Why must I live in a place where the clothes TOUCH MY BODY and the wind dares to blow across my skin?? The injustice of it all pains me greatly."

But, when you are happy, you are SOOOOO happy. Yesterday you discovered the joys of wrestling. I laid on the floor and you crawled all over me, burying your head in my shoulder, giving me wet, open mouth kisses, and giggling as I grabbed hold of you and rolled over while tickling you. You thought that was the most fun ever! Annie joined us and you laughed and laughed as I tickled her. And you screamed in anticipation as I said, "I'mmmmmmm gonnaaaaaaa geeeeeeeeetttttttt YOU!" And on the "YOU" I tickled both of you at the same time and you fell over you were laughing so hard.

So this is my first Mother's Day as the mother of three. It has been such a special day. Last year was spent painting your nursery. Anticipation, excitement, and fear were the major emotions. This year? Laughter and contentment. Thank God for that.

You bring as much joy to me as Jay and Annie do...and that says a lot, my little girl. I just never imagined that that much joy could be multiplied by three.

I love you,

Mama

The Money Gun...

2009-05-09T20:00:00.000-07:00

So, it's been one of THOSE months. You know how things are going along swimmingly and then all of a sudden, BOOM...everything breaks all at once. My father always says, "Get out the money gun!" and that's exactly what we have been doing since April. Um...the money gun? It will need to be reloaded soon.

First it was the pool motor. Jamie and I have a long standing joke (if you can count the two summers we've been in Oklahoma as "long standing") with that pool. I keep telling him that I'm going to get a sign to place above the pool equipment that reads, "How hard could it be?" Because THAT is the sentiment that we run across EVERY TIME we do something with that pool. I keep referring to it as "that pool". We really do love "that pool". Unless we are having to do something to FIX "that pool". Even the simplest of tasks turn into something major when we are dealing with it. But I digress. Yes, a new motor. And as soon as got that thing hooked up, bubbles started coming out of the jets where bubbles should not BE. We are ignoring the bubbles. Pretending that they are a nice jet feature to our pool. We will be blind to them for at least another two weeks. First we have to get through the shower remodel.

The shower remodel?? Why, YES. "Shower remodel" has such a nice ring to it. Like something you would choose to do. You know, add some lovely spa features...make it really nice...that sort of thing. Or, it could just be one tiny little tile that has fallen off. Not even a full tile, just a half of one, right where the wall meets the floor. No biggie? But, when we called to get an estimate on just putting that tiny tile back in, the tile guy informed us we would have to gut the whole thing and start over. Surely he was kidding? Except that three other tile guys told us the same thing. So either they are in some sort of conspiracy to send Jamie that much closer to a heart attack, or they are actually telling the truth. Rats. The work on that began last week. But not before we replaced the garage door.

Oh...riiiiiight. The garage door incident. Otherwise known as, "The Day Malinda Can No Longer Say 'I Told You So' When Jamie Messes Up". Not that I do that. Much. So, I was headed to pick Jay up from school. It was a lovely day, full of sunshine, and we decided to walk. I got Jane loaded into the stroller, Annie on her bike, and then used the keypad to shut the garage door. As it was coming down, I noticed that the car was not pulled all the way into the garage. "WAAAAAAAIIIIIIITTTTTT" I cried in slow motion. But the garage door? It is not voice activated. And as I discovered about four seconds later, it also does not retract. It dug into my car, sending me into a panicked sort of chicken dance steppy thing in the driveway as I chanted, "No! No! No! Daddy is going to kill me!!!" Then, mercifully, the garage door finally stopped. I assumed it had come off its track since it wouldn't move. When Jamie got home (and he DIDN'T kill me, or even make me squirm for that matter-I was sure I'd be on double, secret probation.) he said he thought he could fix it over the weekend. The weekend came and when he actually looked at it, he realized that door was in bad shape. All the hardware had popped off since the force of the NON-RETRACTING door NOT RETRACTING as it continued to try to close on my car (thus NOT RETRACTING) had really messed things up. Stupid non-retracting door. So we called a garage door guy. I'll give you one guess about what HE said. Guess what though....my new door? IT retracts.

So. The motor. The shower. The garage door. All in the last three weeks. Oh...and I forgot to mention the oven we replaced a few months ago since it caught fire. And that fire extinguisher you have in your kitchen? You should not used that to put out an oven fire. It will only mean that you have to replace your oven. Yeah...didn't know that.

It happens though. Part of home ownership...blah blah blah. Then we came home from soccer games today, opened up the back door, and Darla was standing there on three legs. To be clear here, she HAS a fourth leg, she just wouldn't put any weight on it. She looked terrible. We checked her out, tried to figure out what could have possibly happened to her. The best I can come up with is a UPI. You know, "Unidentified Potty Injury". All I know is DARLA'S not telling. The three legged walking continued. She wouldn't put any weight on that leg at all. I was just sure it was broken. So, Jamie headed off to the vet with Darla in tow. I was WORRIED about her. This dog, who drives me crazy half the day. She goes through the bathroom trash cans incessantly, barks while Jane is sleeping, wants to play endless games of fetch while I am trying to work, hounds all visitors who come to our door . But she follows me around whenever we are home, she looks at me as if I hung the moon. She is my walking partner, my cooking partner, and she loves my children with a devotion that I would have NEVER imagined could come from a dog. She's my friend and I love that dumb dog. A really, really lot. And three hundred dollars later, we find out she has a bad sprain. This time? Totally worth it.

Mommy Stoopid...

2009-04-29T16:27:00.000-07:00

Man...that's two posts in a row following the same theme of Stupidity. Probably a common theme in my life though, and the subject of many a blog post.

See this piece of baby equipment? This harmless thing. Looks like a booster seat, right? Yes, I do believe that's the name they go by in stores, but what they are REALLY called is, "The Chair that will make You Look Really Stupid in a Restaurant" Just won't fit on the manufacturer's label.

This particular chair was given to me by one of my very good friends. I have inherited a lot of baby equipment with this baby, from some fabulous people. And it's a good thing too since Jamie and I gave EVERYTHING away after Annie was born. Yes...we are THOSE people who decide to sell everything in a garage sale, and then buy it all again in order to have one more baby. Anyway, I digress...the chair...it is rockin'! I've never had such good baby stuff before! So tonight, when we ventured Out to Eat for one of the first times in nine months, we decided to break it out.

Oh and Jane...she loved it! She was so comfortable and ate all of her cheerios. She was happy the whole time we were there. And Jamie and I, we SANG the praises of "The Chair that will Make you Look Really Stupid in a Restaurant". And then it was time to leave. Jamie took Jane so he could get her in her carseat and I took the big kids and told him I'd grab The Chair. Ahhh..."grab the chair". What an innocent expression from the naive.

So this is one of those chairs that slides onto the end of a table. You tighten up the knobs on it to keep it in place. Tightening up the knobs took a bit of work...people were LOOKING at me, but hey, it's all worth it for the happiness of one small person who will let me eat a meal mostly uninterrupted. But untightening those knobs...my GOSH. I started turning those things and after a good two minutes on the first one I was making no progress. I had the two older children who were turning circles around the table like hyper little dogs. I kept twisting, and then changed directions, thinking that perhaps I was turning it the wrong way. I kept repeating, "Lefty loosey, righty tighty" OUT LOUD. The people on either side of me were now avidly paying attention. They were both mothers, both silently laughing at my struggle with The Chair. The big children were still bouncing back and forth between the walls and tables, like little ping pong balls, narrowly missing knocking into servers with trays full of drinks. It was then that I realized that I was slowly losing control of both my children AND The Chair. I began to sweat.

And like Skinner's rats who pressed a button and were rewarded for every 56th push (What?? YOU didn't learn about that in psychology?) I finally managed to get the first knob unscrewed! And now knowing it CAN be done, I began working on the second knob. This time I couldn't even TURN the knob. Evidently, I have Super Human strength when loose knobs mean that my baby will go crashing to the floor. I can't imagine how I managed to get it so tight, but I could NOT. MOVE. IT. I contemplated just leaving the thing and letting Jamie deal with it, but then it became a QUEST. ME....against THE CHAIR. And I WILL DO THIS.

I finally managed to loosen it, still repeating, "Lefty loosey, righty tightey..." I turned around and the mother who was silently laughing at me earlier is now in a full blown hysterical fit over my plight. Other patrons were watching the spectacle I was making of my myself between my children, The Chair, and my sweating and furious turning of the knobs. I briefly wondered what I would have done had Jamie not been with me to take Jane. I turned to her and said, "I fully expect Ashton Kutcher to pop around the corner at any second and say, 'You've been Punked!'" And at that moment, I actually glanced up to see if the cameras were heading for me. They weren't. I can't even get five minutes of fame out of this deal with this chair? What. Ever.

But I did prevail! I won! I beat the chair! I took it out of the restaurant victoriously as the servers held the doors for me to make my triumphant exit. As I left I saw Jamie standing by the car. "Why didn't you get in?" I asked him while getting ready to explain what took me so long. "You have the keys," he replied. Sigh.

I'm Not Smart...and You Can't Make Me Be.

2009-04-26T19:36:00.000-07:00

So you will notice WAY back on April 16th, I mentioned a sore right ear and sinuses being wrecked. I see that I also mentioned going to the doctor. Huh. Funny that, because I DIDN'T. Instead, I put it off because I was busy with the party and life and "Hey! This will totally get better without the help of medical intervention! Who needs medical intervention?!! Certainly not those of us who can make ourselves better with SHEAR FORCE OF WILL!" And yes, I am totally married to a NURSE people. Also, my will?? It is strong!

But not strong enough. I suffered through two weeks of not being able to hear, and off and on ear pain. The sinuses never got better and then sometime Wednesday afternoon my throat started hurting. So yes, I know what you are thinking..."THEN you went to the doctor on Thursday like a sane person, right Malinda?" Uh no. I adopt this thinking from my Daddy, "I am not smart and you can't make me be." No, instead I spent Thursday at the dentist with Jay, and ran four frillion errands, and Friday I worked a garage sale and a book fair. And WALKED TO PICK UP JAY. On the way home from that walk my father called me. I answered the phone sounding like an old lady who has smoked ten too many packs of Marlboros. He said, "Man, you don't SOUND good!" I said, "Oh! This? I'm fine! It's just allergies! Been going on for weeks!" And then I got off the phone and it occurred to me that actually? I didn't feel that great.

Ahh...but Saturday is another day! And we had soccer games! Two of them! And I felt terrible for both. But there was no time for wallowing because Annie had an accident (before the game even began!) and bumped her head on someone else's head. I believe her exact words were, "Olivia's head is BERY HARD!!" The blood...it was EVERYWHERE. And I turned into MacGyver and totally rigged up an ice pack as well as used Janie's wipes to get the blood cleaned up...and didn't even get any on my white shorts! I rock!! And who wears white shorts to a soccer game anyway?? But that Annie, she wanted to PLAY. She had to get back in the game Right Now. And she did and even scored a goal.

I digress though. We made it home from the games and I realized how Very Badly I was feeling. So I told Jamie I was headed to the minor medical clinic to go ahead and get seen because I knew that come Monday I would be in bad shape and who has time for the doctor on Monday? That is TOTALLY Walmart day! So I arrived at the minor medical clinic and guess what??!! My insurance does not COVER minor medical visits! Seriously? They would rather me sit in a crowded ER for eight hours or so to get some antibiotics? What. Ever. So I PAID the 95 dollars and They. Will. Hear. From. Me. Best 95 dollars I ever spent though. Apparently I have strep, a terrible sinus infection and an ear infection.

I am now and the proud owner of five shiny, new pill bottles. Two steriods, an antibiotic, a decongestant, and a narcotic for the pain. It's been a long and bad day today, but I think I might be coming out of my fog finally. I feel certain that a Monday in my jammies will take care of the rest of it.

So, what did I learn from this? Probably not too much, other than Darvocet makes me unable to remember ANYTHING. Which is why I cannot for the life of me think of the funny poop story that I referenced WAY back on April 16th. Huh. Maybe it will come back to me. Or maybe it is forever locked away in the dark recesses of MommyBrain, never to be seen or heard from again. Oh well. While I try to remember, enjoy some pictures of the children. I snapped these during my brief stint outside (in my jammies!! Horror!!) while Jamie entertained them with promises of swimming in our non-heated, freezing cold swimming pool. Clearly he wants

us all to be sick this week!!

Annie is a TRUE member of the Polar Bear Club. Don't worry...we got her out before her kidney's began to shut down. And yes, you TOO could be the proud owner of the dead plant to the right of Annie IF you possessed my ROCKING gardening skills. It will be removed this week.

Jay might not always have enough sense to come in out of the rain, but he CERTAINLY has enough sense to get out of that cold pool. Smarter than the average bear, that boy is!

Nobody puts Baby in a corner!!! I'm sorry....that was just so fitting here....

A Letter of Request

2009-04-23T12:19:00.000-07:00

Dear Jane's Bottom Two Teeth,

Hello...I am Jane's mama. You know, the lady who you are torturing with you ever so sllllloooooowwww ascent through Jane's gums? The woman who's baby has not taken a decent nap in DAYS. The woman whose baby went from a happy little imp to looking like this:

You know, I am trying to be patient here. I do appreciate your presence. After all, one cannot partake in the joys of steak and lasagna without you. But do you realize that you are taking away my baby's sweet, toothless grin? I know Jane would look awfully silly if she had no teeth by the time she was....say....six, but at the same time, I am trying to hold onto to every baby moment here. And cutting teeth? Why that just means we are one step closer to getting a driver's license and going off to college. So in the meantime, I'll hold on to every toothless grin I can get.

But little teeth, my patience...it IS wearing thin. You are very sneaky, one day looking like you are about to break through and the next day HIDING and making me think that I am seeing things. You should not do this because when you are my age and you have a baby, you tend to think you have lost your mind on a daily basis. Your sneaky ways do not help me in my quest to Keep It Together.

So, both Jane and I implore you...please help us out and make your way through her tender little gums already and end the torture for all of us. We are tired of the statement, "Forgive her attitude, she is teething."

You are the source of all her pain and anguish. How does this make you feel??

Respectfully,

Jane's Mama

And then it Rained...

2009-04-22T14:19:00.001-07:00

So Jay's National Treasure birthday party was last weekend. And yes, you are right, I SHOULD have blogged about it by now. But I have excuses! Tons of them!! Four soccer games and two practices in the past four days! A shower that needs to be completely gutted and retiled! In-laws that visited!! Jane is cutting two teeth!! And did I mention those soccer games? And while I'm on the soccer games, Annie's team came close to winning yesterday. It's the closest they've ever come. She scored a goal, it was fantastic. They were tied until the very last minute when the other team scored the winning goal. Annie didn't realize they had scored and came off the field SO EXCITED!! Then the coach broke it to her that they had lost. You would have thought her dog had died. She was so sad. It took me fifteen minutes to get her to stop crying. Bless her....

Okay, but the BIRTHDAY was this weekend! True to form, Jay got up at literally the CRACK of dawn. My kids...they love to celebrate an occasion. Even Valentine's Day causes a lost night's sleep. So, we were up EARLY, which suited me just fine since Annie's game started at nine o'clock and we needed to get moving. The threat of rain was high that day, but as we watched the weather, the meteorologist assured us that the front had stalled out, the rain would not be around until the evening hours! Good news for the party!

Now, let me just mention here the TIME and EFFORT this party took. I glued together a jeweled treasure box. Burned my finger. Made jeweled goodie bags, made maps of the nature park, and then spent HOURS putting together the actual hunt. You know, the hunt that was supposed to take place OUTSIDE...at the nature park?? This was probably two weeks worth of work. But don't worry....it's for Jay. My first born...light of my life....joy of my heart (as all my children are). What's two weeks when it means that I will get to see the look of joy and wonderment on his face as we are at the party and he realizes, "My mother...she did this for ME!!" Clearly...I have lost what little brains I have left after this most recent baby.

So...right...the rain. I was quite happy to hear that I didn't have to worry about it until the evening hours. Ha! Let Jamie deal with it as he cooks ribs! That's not MY deal!! We had presents that morning, did the soccer games, got home and it came time for me to go to the park to decorate. I checked the radar and not a speck of green was to be found. So, Annie and I loaded up the car and headed to the park to get all set up. And when I say "set up", I mean that we unloaded a small portion of the car, hauled it five minutes up hill to the gazebo, went back to the car and repeated this process no less than 25 times. We finished unloading as the first guests arrived. Obviously, I did not allow enough time for the two of us, one being a small person with small arms and short legs, to walk up and down a huge hill four thousand times, arms loaded with party gear. I began setting up. All the guests arrived! Then Jay arrived with Jamie, the in-laws and the baby! Pictures were taken! Excitement! Boys running everywhere! Nature trails to explore! Birthday madness ensues!! Treasure hunt time was upon us!! It began to sprinkle. Seriously??

But, we are treasure hunters and we press on! Back down the hill I trudged to hide the treasure box ( in a thicket of thorns I might add...wouldn't want life to be too easy for those eight year olds!). Back up the hill and we were ready to begin! We passed out map, compasses and explained the game. They were beyond excited, and ready for the games to begin. We headed out to take care of the first clue. Running!! Screaming!! Excited boys!! They solved the first clue and decoded their next destination. Wait....was that a rumble of thunder? Naaaahhhh...keep going. COULDN'T HAVE BEEN THUNDER?? As we arrive at the second destination there is a DEFINATE rumble of thunder. You MUST be kidding me!

But! We are good sports!! Am super mom! Will just head back to the gazebo and wait for this passing storm while we do cake and ice cream, presents, and the pinata. The treasure hunt...it WILL prevail! Only it didn't. It poured. And poured. And poured some more. It poured for an entire hour. Suddenly, we were covered in green on the radar and had no hope of it letting up.

Finally, with soaking wet, excited boys, we decided to pack it in and continue the hunt at my house. Only first we have to get there. In the pouring rain. Hauling load after load in the pouring rain. And retrieving the treasure box from the thorny thicket that had then become a mud pit. We all learned why exactly I USE a flat iron on my hair. After a good thirty minutes of hauling stuff in the pouring rain, I get muddy, wet boys loaded into my car and we head to my house. Oh...and did I mention the pouring rain? As we pull out of the nature center parking lot, the rain slacked up. As we pull into my neighborhood it is only a sprinkle. After we get boys and treasure hunting supplies out of the car, THE SUN COMES OUT. I kid you not. Now, I have a good and faithful God, so I can only assume that He was keeping one of those wild boys from a broken arm or something during that treasure hunt...right??

We finished the treasure hunt inside my house. With muddy, wet boys. I swept up dirt for the next three days. When I asked Jay if he had fun, he said, "YES! It was a GREAT adventure!!" Mission accomplished.

Distractions

2009-04-16T06:35:00.000-07:00

I have things to write about. Funny stories about poop (intriguing, no?), things to tell about Jay's birthday party and how busy this week has been between bible study, getting ready for our grandparent visitors, birthday excitement and planning, so on and so forth. But instead, I am spending the five minutes between feeding Jane her bottle and fixing children's hair (a time that I usually spend making my bed...my sacrifices for you AMAZE me!!) to jump on and say my sinues are wrecked. And my right ear hurts. And I can't hear out of it. And I haven't been able to hear out of it for the past two days. And my head is killing me. And motrin is not working. And so, instead of composing creatively written prose, I feel like I am underwater and the sound of anything is driving me crazy. So, I think I am going to the doctor today, neglecting what I NEED to be doing to get ready for this birthday party. Meh. But I guess ears are sort of important and probably I should take care of this before it completely knocks me on my fanny.

So I will return (victorious over whatever bug this is!!!) to tell you funny stories about poop. Can't wait, can you?

Quote of the day....

2009-04-11T16:31:00.000-07:00

"It's not you...it's me..."

This is what Jay said to Annie just seconds ago as they were playing wii. He wanted something, she wanted something else and told him that he never cooperated with her. He said he knew, but he just HAD to do this one thing. "It's not you...it's me." Said with complete and utter sorrow and everything. After discovering how well it worked on his sister, I guess he'll keep this line for future use.

Lost in Space

2009-04-10T12:55:00.000-07:00

The Millennium Falcon is not here. I won it on ebay, I paid the next day, and yet it is still not here. I finally sent a message to the seller today and he said he is mailing it today. We are cutting it rather close for Jay's birthday next weekend. And I DON'T LIKE TO CUT IT CLOSE. The fact that I cannot cross this off my list of "things to do" highly irks me. I mean, does the seller not understand the POWER behind crossing something off my "to do" list? Does he not realize that I MAKE the list simply so that I can CROSS SOMETHING OFF OF IT? That there are things that I have sometimes already completed and yet I still add them to the list anyway so that I can have the power of crossing it off. Perhaps I am the one with the problem, no?

Last night the Power of the List overwhelmed me. I have quite the list going to get ready for next week. Between the big shower remodel, my in laws coming in, four soccer games, the regular weekly activities and Jay's party, THERE IS A LIST. And it is keeping me up at night. So I went a little nuts last night and ran to Walmart at 6:00 in order to figure out what kind of cake we were doing. Just one small errand. I should know better. But then, nothing was fitting for the theme of his party. And the wandering around began. An hour later, I left with crafting supplies so that I could MAKE a treasure box for the top of the cake. And that's what I spent my night doing. It turned out so cute...I was so pleased! Until I decided to hot glue on that veeeeery laaaaast jewel. You know, the one you just NEED to have? The one that will make the whole thing peeeeeeeerfect?? The one that caused your ring finger to get STUCK to the hot glue gun, bringing about searing pain and blistering? The one that caused you to lose almost an entire night's sleep? Yes...that one. The sacrifice was worth it though. It is so cute and best of all, Jay loves it. I just hope it's not so heavy that it goes crashing through the cake. And yes, I did write "make treasure box" on my list, JUST so I could cross it off. See the big green jewel? That's the one over which I sacrificed my finger.

A Hot Mess...

2009-04-07T07:08:00.000-07:00

The snot...it is everywhere. I think you reach a whole new stage in life when you can write a whole post about snot. But I can...just watch me. Little trails of it all over my clothes. Finding it on the furniture. Wiped it off the cat. Really, I did. And then? I spent fifteen minutes looking for a bandaid for a scratch on Annie's arm (because a bandaid? It makes everything better. ) only to find that the scratch was really a trail of dried up snot. I have reached a new low.

And when the snot arrives, you know you will spend weeks dealing with it. Dried up on faces in the morning, running freely throughout the day. Constant wiping, which then makes for cranky children. "DOOOOOOON'T COME AT ME WITH THAT WET RAG WOMAN!!!" Wipe, wipe, wipe, clean face! Crying!! Snot bubbles form and faces are messy again. Repeat process. Weeks, people...weeks.

But I will leave you with this...memories of better times, before the snot covered the toys and before the children were tired of dealing with The Woman with the Snot Rag.

More than words...

2009-04-06T15:43:00.000-07:00

Of course, I'm having a hard time actually WRITING this post because these children keep talking to me. They do not want me to document the funny things they have said. Probably because they know I will hold it over their heads as they get older.

Jay- "Mama! You're the best basketball player in the whole family!!" Clearly the child hasn't been out much.

Annie- In reference to a PTA luncheon we went to last week, complete with "do it yourself" Mexican food, paper plates and plastic silverware..."Mama! I had no idea this would be so fancy!!"

Annie- while cooking dinner with me tonight..."The first night that I'm a grown up, I'm making PIZZA!"

Janie- "I DIE! I DIE!!"

Star Wars...or Bidding Wars??

2009-04-03T14:37:00.000-07:00

So Jay has decided that he wants the Millennium Falcon for his birthday from us. At first, I thought, "GREAT! An easy present!" It was at Walmart and easily accessible, versus having to haul out to Toys R Us to get the thing. It is HUGE, but I am willing to make concessions in order to not have to travel far. Lazy mother. And hey, at least I could get my hands on it and not have to worry that the stores didn't have any left.

I headed to Walmart yesterday to get a few (er...lots of...) things. I hightailed it over to the toy section in order to get this taken care of immediately, with no other witnesses other than Jane who poses no threat of spilling the beans. I looked and looked. IT WAS NOT THERE. I asked the lady who was working in the toy section and she said they just stopped carrying them. Of COURSE they did. So I spent lots of money on other things instead.

When I got home, I got online thinking that maybe I could order it from Toys R Us, or at least drive out there to get it. IT WAS NOT THERE EITHER. Now, if you know us, you know that this is a pattern. Usually it is some Christmas something or other that Jay has asked for that cannot possibly be found in stores and is only available through ebay and paying an extra 50 dollars, spinning around in circles and holding your tongue JUST so. So, I started searching other places. I found two on Amazon. They were the only two left. Anywhere. In the world. AND they were WAY more expensive than the price Walmart had. AND an extra 25 dollars for shipping. SERIOUSLY?? So, I finally checked ebay, where lo and behold, I found one! For less than Walmart had it! And free shipping! Of course, first I had to win the auction. So I put my bid in and the battle began.

12 hours later and it is mine!! I WON!! I WON!! I WON I WON I WON!! A major prize! A major prize!! I WON I WON I WON!! ( a special prize for anyone who knows the movie).

So, laundry has not been folded, I'm behind on dinner, Jay has soccer and I'm letting Jane play with coasters right now. BUT I am an ebay winner and THAT makes me awesome!

2009-04-01T19:48:00.000-07:00

A Little Glimpse into Night Life at My House...

This??? Well, this is just sick...and maybe a little sad. Yes...there are two cats here. They kind of blend together, no?

2009-04-01T14:50:00.000-07:00

See this baby? This sweet sleeping angel all passed out and cute? Couldn't you just CHOMP on her cheeks? And maybe kiss the folds in her neck? Yeah, me too. Problem being though that this sweet, sleeping little girl WAKES UP. And then you have to do things, like keep her from crashing into various pieces of furniture, cause her much angst and grief as you remove small, shiny objects form her fat baby hands, and do the unthinkable...CHANGE HER DIAPER.

Why...oh why!!?? Why must we torture this baby so by insisting that she be clean and dry. Horrible parents, we are. Probably you should report us to the authorities. Probably our neighbors would LIKE THAT VERY MUCH because there is obviously some kind of torture going on at our house during various times of the day, judging from the screaming by the smallest member of our household. Sigh.

So, I turn into a crocodile wrestler several times a day. That's the only thing I can equate it to. I mean really though, can you think of a better analogy? As I remove the old diaper, Jane immediately goes into what can only be classified as The Death Roll. Legs out straight (as I forcibly hold them down) and contorts her body so that her upper half is stomach down on the bed, and her lower half gives the illusion that a new diaper MIGHT be put in place if only you had two more hands with which to open it, fasten it AND hold her legs in place at the same time. So I let go, she rolls all the way over, I roll her back and we repeat this process until I am sweaty and she is screaming. Oh...only it's not just screaming...hence that whole neighbors reporting us thing. No, no...screaming would be welcome. Instead, Jane is learning to babble. And her favorite vowel/consonant combo is, "A Da!" Seems harmless right? Well, if you crank up the volume to Ear Shattering, and then add an edge of desperation to it, it sounds more like, "I DIE!!! I DIE!!! I DIE!!!" I expect the police any minute here...

And honestly, I think what she's really saying is, "I'm dying and I'm taking you with me Diaper Welding Woman!!"