Competing with Pig Pen....

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

Blueberry pancakes:

A good theory, but big mess.

Blue stains everything.

In Celebration of Road Trips Everywhere...

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

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...

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

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...

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.