If ya don't like poop stories, come back later.

Hey. I warned you. Right up there on top. I mean business.

Last night I made dinner. Yummy dinner. Chicken manicotti, garlic bread, and salad. Even oatmeal raisin cookies for dessert.

By the way - can anyone guess why we had such a well rounded dinner? Yes, MOPS mommies - you probably guessed it. I took dinner to a new mom and made the same thing for us. It's like the only time I include a dessert. Anyone else do that or is it just me?? Anyway...

Chris got tied up (not literally, don't worry) at work so I was had the kids eat early and figured I'd wait and eat with my hubster when he got home from work. Yum, yum - everyone eats and Miss G decides she's done.

So.

I say "Are you ready for me to clean you up so you can get down?"
She says "Ummm, I got some poop."
I say "No problem, let's just change your diaper then."

I walk over and whoooooooooooooo. She sure did have some poop - it was stinkin' to high heaven in that little pink booster seat of hers! So, I put the changing pad on the floor in the living room, grab the wipes and go get her. She starts FREAKING OUT when I'm trying to take her pants off. I'm like what is the deal??? (Oh, and I hear the garage door go up right about this time, so he hears her getting all nuts.) I get her calmed down, assure her everything is okay and she's fine.

So, I lay her down -- looks like a mini-blowout. You know the one. Slightly on the waistband of the pants and a tiny bit on her lower back. No biggie. I've seen worse.

(Ha, ha, ha, ha. I can hear my husband laughing at me right about here.)

Take her diaper off and ohhhh, my word. The stink. VERY stinky. UNUSUALLY stinky. As in gag stinky. My hubby walks around the corner right about now and brilliantly says, "How's it goin'?" Yeah. I think I managed to lock eyes while rolling them at the same time, and possibly may have grunted in his direction as well. Mitchell is a doll and runs upstairs to get her pajamas for me so that after I'm done washing off her back she can just jump in her jammies.

Mitchell comes back downstairs and says "Hey, Mom - is that poop on your shirt?" I look down and see a little spot where I was attacked by my spoon when tasting the sauce for the manicotti. I say "Nope. Just spaghetti sauce." Chris says "It really does look like she pooped on you." I say "Nope. Just sauce." Meanwhile I'm thinking that he's the one who gets pooped on in this house.

Back to the massive cleanup. Luckily it was trash night so Chris was on his way out to the curb with the trash anyway, so I just added the toxic grocery bag to his collection. Georgia is fresh n' clean, in her jammies, so I squirt her hands with the antibacterial stuff that I should buy stock in -- and she gets up to go play. I go toss her clothes into the washer on the soak setting and then head to the kitchen to wash my hands. Wash them up and am drying them when Chris comes back in.

I said to him "You know, I must really have been bothered by that stink because I can still REALLY smell it!" He said "It's fresh in your mind. It'll pass." Two seconds later, as he's helping me clear the table, he says..."Well, I think I know what you're smelling."

Yeah. A nice little pile of poop on her booster seat. DIS-GUS-TING. It was so gross. *By the way, I figured out this is why she was freaking out. She must have felt the poop come out when I picked her up or something.* SOOOOO, he goes to get the lysol for me while I scoop the poop. Together we manage to get all of the straps out of the chair so that they can join her clothes in the washing machine. I remember that there is another set of clothes that could use some soaking so I ask Chris to grab those for me.

He comes into the laundry room and I say "You know, I can STILL smell that poop! It just WON'T leave my nose!" He says "Well, why don't you just toss your clothes in there, too. Maybe that's it?"

Okay, just so you know, I'm literally sitting here giggling as I type this.

I take off my shirt and OH. MY. GOODNESS. There are two HUGE smears of poop on my shirt!! One is under my big ol' left nursing boob and one is on the sleeve of the left arm. My boobs are big enough at this point that they hid the poop from my sight...how sad is that? I started cracking up and said "Oh my gosh! There's poop all over my shirt!!"

Chris says "We tried to tell you that, but you said it was just sauce."
I laugh and point to my tiny little smear of sauce and say "THIS is the sauce. THIS (big, giant smears) is the poop!"
My hubby says "Well, I know you - and being in the position you were in, I wasn't about to argue with you about what spaghetti sauce looks like. I figured you probably wouldn't like that."

Smart man, that Cabana Boy! I hope you got as big of a laugh out of this as we did. I was about crying I was laughing so hard. We both agreed that this was another of life's very bloggable moments.

What a weekend...

This is a long one, so you might want to grab a snack and a beverage. Hmmm, well, considering the content, perhaps just a beverage. And a comfy chair.

Miss G hasn't had a great weekend so far. Thursday night, I started my First Place weight loss group meetings again (so watch out for Mini-Me Fridays to start over!) and Chris had the kiddos at home. I didn't realize until I got home that I had actually left my cell phone in the car. It had slid under one of Mason's blankets in the front seat. I walked in the door and his first question was "Where is your phone?"

Uh-oh. That's never a good welcome home question.

"Ummmmm, probably in the car, I'm guessing."
"Well, you should think about actually HAVING it with you more often."
"Yeah, I'll look into that."
"Where is the vinegar?"

Uh-oh. That's not good either. That means something needs to come out of the carpet with my super-duper, fantastic diaper-assisted removal technique.

"Why? What happened?"
"Just where is it?"
"Why???? What do you need it for?"
"She pooped on me, okay? She pooped on me AND the carpet, and I want to get it out! I put both of us in the shower with our clothes on, if that tells you anything."

Ohhhhkay then. Poop. The Cabana Boy has some major poop-related issues, so this was not a good night for dear ol' Daddy in the "quality time with the kids" department. (If you've seen the youtube collage of men changing babies' diapers, they are his kindred spirits. The 2nd man reminds me of him during our Norovirus night earlier this year, and the 3rd guy reminds me of when he changed Mitchell's diapers with a painter's mask on for the first few weeks of his career in Fatherhood. No kidding.) Did I also mention that we *just* had our carpets professionally cleaned last month? Yep, sure did. Oh, and I mean what I say at the top of my blog, by the way. You've been fairly warned. Poop seems to come up a lot around here.

Anyway, I helped Chris expertly extract the yuckiness from the carpet and then we got everyone into bed. It occured to me that in order for the poop scenario to play out the way it did, something was up with our baby girl's digestive world. It also came to mind that my first MOPS meeting of the year was in the morning (of course!) and she would probably not be a good candidate for the childcare situation. I am on the steering team (Alana, since you asked - I do publicity) and really needed to be there to help with the registration process and providing some of the food. Things got even worse when she woke up screaming her head off at about 2 a.m. She has issues with the lights being on - like the ACTUAL light in her room, not a night light. (That is a completely different post in itself that I'll bless you with on another day.) This is what she was screaming about, but while I had her in the bathroom going potty and all of that 2 am fun, I noted that her nose was running, she was all kinds of crazy stuffed up and had a cough.

Basically, she was a complete mess.

Luckily, my father-in-law wasn't working the next day and when I called him in the morning, he willingly agreed to put his own health at risk by watching this little germ factory for us. I went to pick her up after MOPS and he reported that she was as goofy as ever and that she didn't act like she felt bad at all. He also handed me a bag that held some rinsed out pants in it, meaning that the poop situation was not yet resolved. (It was also majorly putting a kink in our Operation Potty Training effort. *sigh*) As I put her into her carseat on their driveway, I asked if she had gotten stung or bit by something. He said he didn't think so, but I was looking at this.



As you can see, she isn't all that bothered by the ginormous welts taking up half of her sweet little face, but I sure was. I am allergic to bee stings and swell up in welts like that when I get bit by spiders, so I was thinking that was probably the case. She helped her Papa pick tomatoes in the garden, so it was a completely plausible theory at the time. I gave her some benadryl before I fed her lunch and thankfully, they disappeared after about 20 minutes. I put her down and she took a great nap. No pictures this time, but when I put her on the potty, I noticed that the rash had done a magical reappearing trick as it was now only on her left thigh.

Hmmmm. There goes the bite/sting theory.

Have you ever noticed that kids tend to get this sort of thing ONLY when there is something great going on that you have been looking forward to? My husband and I had a fun date night planned -- we had tickets to the Montgomery Gentry/Toby Keith concert. Of course.

I think we might have the best parents in the entire world because much like my hubby's father, my parents completely threw caution to the wind and gladly welcomed our little hive-sporting, snot blowing, poop shooting two year old into their home with open arms. (I should mention this would also be their first time babysitting all three of them at the same time!) I agonized about leaving her while she was sick, but again - she was running around like her normal little self, minus being a little sleepy from the Benadryl. We ended up going to the concert and having a wonderful time...I'm really glad everyone convinced me to still go. Miss G did fine - the poop situation improved and my parents said she did great.

We all spent the night at my parents' house since we got back so late and their house was so close to the concert location. When my mom and I got Georgia up in the morning and put her on the potty, the hives were back and in full force. This time they were on her right cheek, all over her stomach, and up and down both legs. It was just so bizarre! Thankfully, she wasn't itchy or in pain, but it was really starting to worry me.

Yeah, about that looking forward to stuff thing? My friend, Erin, got a free parking pass and tickets to sit in a suite at the Women of Faith conference and would be picking me up in about an hour and was taking Mason with me. Mitchell would be going to the CSU football game to watch our cousin play. I told Chris he just had to call the pediatrician and take her in now. It turns out that she has an ear infection. I guess the tube in her left ear isn't working like it should and that it is all tied to and possibly originated from her two year molars coming in.

Poor sweet girl. She never once said anything about her ears, and we asked! In fact, we just went to the pediatrician not too long ago to get her ears checked and they were fine. It was Mitchell who had the ear infection.

I always feel badly when it ends up being an ear infection, it makes me feel like we should have known and gotten her in sooner or something. The thing is, in this case, her ear infection was camouflaged. We saw hives, a runny nose, poop issues, no pain, and an overall happy little girl. Not what typically happens when she gets an ear infection.

I started thinking about how many times I do that in my own life. One issue gets covered up with something else. Something completely seeming unrelated gets piled on and before you know it, like my sweet Miss G, I am a complete mess.

The other day is a great example. We ran late for school. The carpool kiddo I pick up was runing even later. Mitchell left his lunchbox in the car and I had to take it back to school. A cup of milk got spilled on the floor I had just swept and mopped. I went to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription to find out they still hadn't gotten the refill authorization from my doctor that was requested a week before. The kids wouldn't nap at the same time. Mason was nursing while Mitchell needed help in the restroom. Miss G woke up from her nap early. I made tacos for dinner and as I went to put a filled up shell onto a plate, I fumbled it and everything dropped on the floor. That I had now already swept and mopped twice.

Ever had a day like that? How do you even begin to untangle that mess and figure out exactly where you started feeling annoyed. Or weary. Or frustrated. When do you physically break down and start crying? (For me, it was the taco that put me over the edge.) By the time my husband got home, I was not in a good way. I was covered in spit up, my hair was in a ponytail and pulled halfway out in little loops from Miss G's makeover attempts with her Dora brush, a trail of taco meat covered my shirt and pants, and my eyes were rimmed from crying. I think he deserves a shout out for not turning on his heel and running a four-hour errand or something.

The thing is, not once during the day did I stop to ask for help. I called my husband to vent and I got a latte, but neither of those made my insides feel any better. The one thing I didn't do is the one thing I should have done, starting with running late for school. I didn't pray. I didn't ask God to help me. To strengthen me. To give me an extra dose of patience. To give me an extra measure of laughter. To give me some p-e-a-c-e.

Seriously, Tara. What a bonehead move. I know that if I ask, He will give it to me. Now, for my friends who are not on the same page with me on this one, I'm not saying "give me a million dollars" and poof - it's there. I'm saying that when I pray for peace and comfort, I get it. Does it mean I'm not worried about things anymore? No. It means that the peace and comfort offsets the worries and anxieties of my life and things are more tolerable and less intense.

Please, learn from my mistake. When you have "that" day, don't wait until you end up being a complete mess before you take a breath and look to Him for some help. There's a good chance your day will turn around, and even if it doesn't, you won't be as weary and beaten down at the end of the day. Diagnose the problem early, and call The Doctor.

Melts me like butter...

A Little Dose of Miss G.

Ohhhhhh, my sweet girl. She is a nut.

And I mean that.

Doing what she does best...making a mess. (And loving it.)

Wishing with every bit of her being that she could get on stage in her "princess dress" with Mitchell and the rest of the kids during his program at school.

Here's a glimpse of her eye after her little incident in the bathroom on Saturday.

And, in case you have ever wanted to spend a few minutes with The Hurricane, here you go. They are short little snippets, but give you just a little taste of what things are like when she's in the room. Enjoy!

I know. After seeing those it's hard to believe that a graceful little bird like our own Miss G could ever manage to get a black eye, isn't it?

Wordless Wednesday...

So, I can just hop back into this like I never stopped, right? Riiiiiggghhhhttt!!


Peek-a-boo!

It's that time again...

...as in, the middle of the night. *sigh*

Most of my 2005 posts were probably made between the hours of 10 pm and 8 am. I was pregnant.

Hi. It's 3:25 a.m. at the moment. I'm pregnant. *yawn*

I'm just sayin'...this seems to be my thing. I believe that I brought tonight upon myself as I ate too late (and something a little sweet) and had horrid heartburn and well -- here I am. Law & Order is always on almost all night and usually will put me back to sleep. Not tonight.

As long as I'm up, here are two (as Chris calls them) "bloggable" moments from this week in our house.
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Here's an almost hourly conversation with Georgia this week. NO idea what it means or where it came from but she's pretty satisfied every time I play along.
Georgia: Guess what, Mommy!
Mommy: What?
Georgia: Charlie Brown! (cha-ee bon)
Mommy: Charlie Brown?
Georgia: Yeah.
(Uhhhh, nope. You're not missing anything. That's it. That's where she happily runs off.)

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Mitchell made me get all teary-eyed at dinner on Valentine's Day. I made breakfast for dinner and the highlight for the kids was the pink, heart-shaped pancakes that I made. (In hindsight, very strange. I try pretty hard to not give them red food dye if I can help it and then I gave it to them on purpose. Go figure. I had planned the heart-shape thing earlier, but the pink idea came to me at the last minute. Next year, it's raspberry and/or strawberry puree in the batter, baby.)

Anyway, he was getting himself another pancake from the kitchen and Georgia said "More cakes?" as he was getting up. He brought the whole plate back to the table with him and said "Maybe we can share one, Georgia!"

We then watched with pride as he completely unprompted proceeded to tear a pancake in half. He put one half on his plate, then put the other half down on his placemat. He asked Georgia for her fork and began trying to cut the other half of the pancake into smaller pieces for her. He was pretty unsuccesful at that, so he put the fork down and began tearing off bite-sized pieces for her. Every time he'd hand her one she'd say, "Ank u, Mitcho" and he'd smile so big and tell her "You're welcome, sweetheart."

*sniffle* It was seriously just the sweetest thing. Chris and I just sat there and watched. Well, he sat and watched with a smile. I watched, smiled, and cried...'cause, well - that's what I do.
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I'll leave you on a good note: I have my big ultrasound this morning. In 4 hours. Guess I better try again for some sleep, huh? Oh, and no - not finding out what we're having but praying for a healthy whoever is in there. I'll update you on that front soon.

Night, night. (See -- look at me, being all optomistic and stuff. Pretty cheery for 3:39 a.m., huh?)

Blah Blah Blah...

In other words -- danger -- random thoughts ahead!

Okay, it's 3:09 a.m. This probably will lack direction and focus, so beware.

Thank you, bloggy friends -- your love, support and encouragment is so very appreciated. Jennifer, I especially appreciate your comments and have thought about them several times since I read what you wrote. I think you are a wise woman, and I wish you lived close enough to just sit with a hot cup o' something and listen to you tell me I'm actually *okay* and that this is all just normal and to cut myself a break now and then. You seem to be quite good at that!!
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Blah blah blah reminds me of a funny Mitchellism from this week. He was peeved at Chris for something and decided that whining to me about it was a great idea. Not so much. I was fighting the urge to just sleep on the couch so I said "Mitchell, if you are unhappy with your Dad, then it's your job to tell him how you feel. Tell Daddy 'I don't like it when you blah, blah, blah because blah, blah, blah.' Then he'll know exactly why you're upset and he can explain why he did/said what he did. Whining to me isn't going to help much." I hear him stomp about 20 steps into the kitchen (there's a half-wall thing I can't see over) and say "Daddy, I don't like it when you blah, blah, blah because blah, blah, blah. Got it?!" Oh. My. Word. I am very surprised one of us (Chris and I) didn't pee our pants. Even Mitchell got the giggles over it. And guess what? No more peevy Mitchell. Too busy laughing at the blah, blah, blahs.
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Georgia has been super interested in going on the potty this week. Mitchell was about as difficult a child to train as I imagine there is and I about drove myself insane in the process of the process, so I promised myself that she would drive this bus. And...she is. For a few weeks a couple of months ago, she wanted to sit on the little potty all the time. So we let her. And she'd sit. And get off. And sit. And get off. And it drove me crazy sort of - but it was really no big deal. No piddle. No nothing. Just lots of giggles from her thinking she was THE coolest big girl in all the land.

Fast forward to this week. For some reason, she is all about the potty seat that fits on the actual toilet. She'll sit on her little potty now and then but she is most interested in sitting on "Emo Wod." (Georgia speak = Elmo's World, a.k.a. - the Sesame Street potty seat.) So, tonight at the dinner table, my little rose petal was tooting very loudly and announced "I poop!" I just thought I'd throw out the offer to sit on the potty. It was met with a very enthusiastic, "Yeah!!!!" Upstairs we went. Lots of tooting, which in turn meant lots of Georgia giggles. One thing that helped get Mitchell started with the whole idea of pee-pee in the potty was what we call "Pee-pee water." It's basically an ounce or two of warm water poured on the bits to get that feeling started. I asked if she wanted some pee-pee water and she said yes. As I turned off the water I heard some tinkles. She went pee-pee in the potty!!! She's not even two!!! For a mom who didn't get to wrap up the whole potty training thing until her son was pushing four, this was HUGE news!! I started giggling and laughing and telling her how proud I was of her...it was so fun. The boys both came running and it was this big, fun "Yay, Georgia" thing.

And then I about cried. Can she REALLY be this big? Can she REALLY be old enough to do stuff like this? *sigh* I guess so. She'll be two next month, and I think she is doing her best to snap me out of my denial about the whole thing.

On the up side -- the possibility of only having ONE in diapers has me motivated to help her follow her potty interest!
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I went to coffee (well, I had a cider) with a friend today. She is one of my oldest and dearest friends. She is 5 weeks ahead of me in her pregnancy, and though this will be her 3rd child, this is her 1st pregnancy. (She and her husband have adopted two girls. They didn't think they were able to get pregnant, so like me, this is a surprise package.) We met at the bus stop when we were 15 and have been close friends (sister-like) ever since. In fact, the picture at the top of my blog was taken at a girls' weekend with her and another good friend and she has her arm around me in the little picture of me in the brown shirt up there.

Anyway -- did I mention I would probably ramble?? -- we met for coffee today. I left the house at 1:45 pm. I thought it would be an hour or so. Uhhh - YEAH. At 4:30 I said that I should probably go in about 15 minutes. At 4:54 my cell phone rang. Chris was wondering if I had decided to run off with her and wanted to know just how big my cup of coffee was. After I hung up with him, exactly 2 minutes later, her cell phone rang. Her hubby was making sure she was okay since he hadn't heard from her. We decided that the little ones had probably been up for longer than 30 minutes and were interfering with football viewing and had a good chuckle about that.

I think we were both reluctant to leave. It was like we stepped into a little bubble for a few hours. Our friendship has gone through several ups and downs and we actually almost lost it all one time, but in the end, we are always closer than we've ever been. Neither of us could remember the last time we did this -- with anyone. Just went and sat and talked. And talked. And laughed -- oh, man did we laugh. And compared weak bladders and growing tummies.

I get all teary when I think of the gift it is to share this journey with her. We were both so sad that when Georgia was born, she couldn't come to the hospital. I wanted her to be able to witness her birth because she hadn't been able to be in the room when either of her daughters were born, and well -- she is just one of those people that I know the experience would have meant the world to. Of ALL of the days -- she ended up having a severe migraine and couldn't get out of bed. It was so sad for both of us because we wanted it so much, but now - -here she is about to have her OWN birth experience. Amazing.

Oh, and her dad said the coolest thing when they announced their pregnancy. He said that he was so glad they were unsuccessful in getting pregnant for so many years because otherwise they wouldn't have Madeline and Mara. I get teary every time I think about that. God truly does work in ways that we can't possibly understand until it's in our rearview mirror sometimes.
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Okay - I think that's it for now. I'm about to crawl back into bed and attempt to sleep again. Wish me luck. I promise, I'll be back in the bloggy saddle here soon. I miss reading everyone else's blogs and seeing what you're all up to.

I think I'm almost all the way out of my little hole. Thanks for lending me your shovels.

Funnies From The Bugs...

I've been so caught up in my "ME" journey that I haven't taken the time to really have some good bloggy Doodlebug and Lovebug moments. I am going to remedy that one right now!!

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Chris: I can't remember what it was that he said, but it was something really dorky

Me: You are such a ding dong.

Mitchell: Mommy, don't call Daddy a ding dong. He's not a doorbell!

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Last night I picked Georgia up from the nursery at church and asked how she did. (She had on her Sesame Street jean jacket.) They said she did great and that they enjoyed having her. One lady said "She is so funny! I told her that I liked Zoe and Elmo on her coat and she looked at me and said 'My JACKET.' I mean she flat TOLD me, it's a jacket. Can you believe it?"

Me: Oh, yeah. I believe it.

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The other day Chris had just gotten out of the shower and was getting ready for work. Mitchell had just come in our room and I could hear Georgia in there making all kinds of noise in her crib. (Her room is attached to our room by french doors that we leave cracked open.) I went in to get her up and found that she had taken her fleece, footie pajamas off and was sitting in just her diaper. She got all happy when she saw me and said this while she rubbed her naked baby belly:

"Hi. Joja shower Daddy."

Yep, that's right. She was all ready for the shower, just like Daddy.

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Mitchell made a book the other day at school. Mrs. G. had written words for him (dictated, I believe) on the inside two pages, but not on the cover. I wanted to know what the picture of the cover was so I asked him to tell me. I got out the sharpie and wrote it on there. How could I not? I mean, it's not every day that Jesus drives to the park.


I should add that some of the drawing is hills. Some of it is Jesus. Some of it is children. And some of it (when he showed me) is actually Jesus' driving route.
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I think that my favorite thing about those two at the moment is that they really, truly love and I mean L-O-V-E each other. It's so fun to pick Mitchell up from school. Georgia usually doesn't even wait for me to finish signing him out in the attendance book before she's running in to find him. I have yet to see one single day where they didn't do a big, running, "The hills are alive" run toward each other with outstretched arms. Then they do this big, huge hug and giggle at each other. You would think by now, after about 3 months of this, that I'd be over it by now. But I'm not. I look forward to it every time. So do the teachers -- one of them was in the bathroom the other day when we came and she actually said "Oh, darn! I missed the big reunion moment!"

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So, there ya go. Life with The Doodlebug and The Lovebug. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Sunday Sweetness...

Such a quick little post this will be, I just had to share how much fun my husband and I had with Miss G yesterday. Mitchell spent the night with my mom Friday night, and again last night (that's a whole different post -- just trust me that he is having the time of his life!) so we have had Georgia all to ourselves. Now, it's not that we are glad he's not here, but we've never had the chance to play "only child" with her.

I can just say that playing that game is something all three of us adored. We just took turns eating each other up.

We headed to some nearby outlet malls for the day and had so much fun. Last time we attempted this (with both kids) it was a nightmare but yesterday was so, so, so much fun. We only bought two things...new snow boots for her and soap for the sinks. (Have I mentioned that I'm a B&B soap snob?? I love it.) Anyway -- we just took joy in walking around, admiring the clothes, kitchen wares (drooooooool), purses, shoes, etc. and most especially in watching Georgia walk around. That girl charms just about everyone she makes eye contact with and had the lady at Geoffrey Beane about ready to take her home with her.

What a treat to have her all alone for a day. It makes me think that we need to do this more often, the one-on-one thing, with both kids. We love our family time and the first thing she asks for every morning is "Brother," but I also know that this was special time for us. I also know that Mitchell wouldn't change a thing about his weekend either. He had Grandma Kiki all to himself and lived out every 4 year old boy's dream by watching his cousin play Div I college football, go on the field after the game, and left with his gloves and wristbands. I can't wait to see him today and hear his version of the day's events!

I'll leave you with a post of Miss G and her new boots. She is in love with these boots!

Here Is What 19 Months Looks Like

Busy: "full of or characterized by activity"

Sweet, sweet Miss G. That straight-from-the-dictionary definition above confirms what I have always known to be true: you are the working definition of busy. You, my little Hurricane, are 19 months old and you are perpetually busy.

When you were a teeny, tiny baby, I always said you were just happy to be in the room. Once you started spending more of your time awake, as long as you were near the center of activity, you were content. The moment you were left alone or couldn't see what was going on, you would tell us about it. You just needed to be where the action was. Now you just need to be the action. You are constantly in motion, even when you are sleeping. I can always hear you in your crib, thumping around. You are full of life, and many days you're so full that you spill it over onto those around you.

I want to be more like you, my energetic girl.

One of the things that I love most about you right now is that often, your business is connected to me. You love to just be near me and to do what I do. So many times, you make me laugh, simply by going about your day. You have two favorite things to do with Mommy right now: unload the dishwasher and sort laundry. It just makes me smile to know that tasks I often dread are things that light you up. I ask you if you want to help me with the dishes or the laundry and each time you throw both arms into the air and joyfully exclaim "Yay!" You think that getting dressed and brushing your teeth are reasons to celebrate, and when it's time to put your shoes on...look out! That's your favorite part of almost every day! These tasks are not work for you; you approach them with happy excitement, and your cheerfulness is contagious.

I want to be more like you, my joyful girl.

You have always been our little Lovebug. Day 1, you were The Lovebug. It so fits you. You love like you live, with reckless abandon. You are so different from your brother, The Doodlebug. He very well could have been named The Cuddlebug, because snuggling is a full-time occupation for him, and it always has been. He will ask to cuddle and then linger for as long as we let him. Not you, my sweet girl. You are much too busy to just slow down and snuggle for long periods of time. No, you are all about the drive-by affection.

Miss G, the times where you stop what you're doing, just because, and run over to where I'm at to lay your head on my lap, hang on tight with those sticky little hands, and smile with your whole being -- ohhh, my precious baby girl -- I could live forever in those moments. You also give the funniest kisses...they aren't just tangible ways to know you love us, they're also very audible. You managed to figure out how to give literal lip-smacking kisses around your first birthday. There are also times when you kiss us that you keep your open, wet little lips on our cheeks, saying "Uhhhhhhh," then with much gusto, pull off, smacking your lips and saying "Aaaaaaah!!!!" It is the mini-sized version of the big "mmmmmwwwwahhhh" kiss. And it is so very you.

I want to be more like you, my sweet girl.

I can't believe it's already been 19 months that you've been with us. You are such a precious gift from the Lord; such a treasure. Our family wouldn't be our family without you. I love you so, so much -- it almost hurts a little bit. Thanks so very much for teaching me about what it means to really live, to really laugh, and to really love.

Love,
Mommy

P.S. - You woke up just as I was finishing up this post. The first thing I did after I published this was walk into your room. There you were -- you were sitting up in your crib in just your diaper. You looked up at me with those big, bright, brown eyes and I could see that you were so proud of yourself. You handed me your jammies and said "Hep peez?" I just laughed. What a moment to undress yourself for the first time! I forgot that I wanted to add this video -- it's so completely you. You are "spelling" your name -- it's really just a series of about 10 G's and O's strung together with an "I" and an "A" at the end, but in typical Georgia fashion, you are convinced that it is THE way to do it. It makes me laugh just thinking about it.

Love, love and more love, little Lovebug. xoxo Mommy

*scratching my head*

So, somehow in the past week, Georgia has learned some Bushman language. We're not sure how this happened or exactly why, but now when she wants something to eat, she no longer says "I wanna sack," which loosely translated, means "I want a snack."

She now says "I wanna *click*click*."

We don't even OWN "The Gods Must Be Crazy."

I Can See The Writing On The Wall...

I've been thinking a lot about how the things I say and do to and with my children today will impact their lives in the future. It's so much to consider and every single day presents many challenges and things that are potentially guilt-inducing.

I know that's probably not the best thing to carry around because I know that sense of failure and guilt is something that I can easily pass on to my children. So, in an effort to turn my worries into prayers and positive thoughts, I've gone back to a book I read a lot while I was nursing my babies...it's called "Praying the Scriptures For Your Children" by Jodie Berndt. I really adore this book and it's been a literal lifesaver to me recently. Two days ago, for whatever reason, Mitchell woke up in a grumpy mood and was unable to shake that mindset for the rest of the day...just one of those tough days.

It made for a very long day in this house...one full of arguing, sassy talk, and tears. Finally, at about 3:00, I turned on a video for the kids, plopped myself onto the couch and got out my book. It was just what I needed, and the rest of the day was much easier for me, even though nothing really changed as far as how Mitchell was acting. For instance, here are the two that I probably spent 20 minutes praying, over and over.

"Let us learn to see discipline as a gift. Let Mitchell recognize that when we discipline him, it means that we love him and that he belongs to our family -- just as you discipline those you love, those you accept as your sons and daughters. Let Mitchell respect us when we discipline him, realizing that we are doing our best and that we ourselves are submitting to your discipline, which is for our good." (Hebrews 12: 5-10)

and

"Teach Mitchell to obey us in everything, for this pleases you, Lord. Do not let us do or say anything that would embitter or discourage him." (Colossians 3: 20-21)

It just met me where I was, and took my mind to where it needed to be. I really can't recommend this book any more highly, especially if you find that praying for your children is an overwhelming task. Sometimes, the scope of what I want for them is so big that I don't know where to start...this book has really given me the gift of having specific prayers to start with and then continue on my own from there. I have had much more clarity and focus in my prayers for my children than I did before.

The other thing this book does is prompt me more and more to pray for things that are in my children's distant future. Things like their purposes in life, their future marriages, etc. As much as I enjoy saying those types of prayers, it also opens my eyes up to the fact that my time with them is just going so quickly. As much as I look forward to the many wonderful memories we'll make in the future, it's difficult for me not to grieve the loss of many of the things that we're leaving behind. It's not that I don't want my children to grow up, not at all.

It's that the "lasts" in my life as a Mommy are somewhat painful. They're memories now, and I fear that they will fade with time.

As I was driving into our neighborhood for my lunch hour (I'm working today), a song that I'd never heard before came on the radio. Before it was over, I was in tears because it really touched my heart. It just seemed to capture so much of what I've been feeling lately, so I thought I'd share the lyrics.

Artist: Mark Harris
Title: Writing On The Wall
Album: Windows & Walls


I came home from work
She was waiting at the door
Had that bad day look in her eye
Then I heard the sound of little feet across the hardwood floor
And I knelt down with my arms open wide
When I asked her what had happened
She pointed to our son
And said why don't you show your daddy
What you've done

Chorus:
And I could see the writing on the wall
The evidence of little hands
Picasso with a purple crayon
I tried to act upset but I was smiling through it all
I could see the writing on the wall



It was the first day of school
Standing by the laundry door
Wondering how third grade came so fast
Took a ruler and a sharpie pen and drew the line once more
So amazed at how time had passed
With a backpack full of promise
And wonder in his eyes
I turned my head just so he wouldn't
See me cry

Chorus 2:
Cause I could see the writing on the wall
It seems no matter how I tried
To stop the roller coaster ride
The pages just kept turning
Even though deep in my heart I knew we had it all
I could see the writing on the wall

Somewhere in the mystery
Of all that lies ahead
I hope and pray that you will see
I tried to do my best

Pictures from our lazy Sunday...

We are a Bronco-lovin' family (well, Eagles, too -- but that's sort of a long story) and it's that time of year. Here are the two littlest fans in the house on the first Bronco Sunday of the year!


Playing Peek-A-Boo on the couch...


I should have taken a video of how hard they were laughing at each other...


Uh, YEAH...that used to be a pair of pigtails before naptime. Does the look on her face tell you anything about this girl? (That would be a definite yes, by the way.) Whoooo, Nelly.


At the batting cages with Daddy...he wanted to get in there SO badly!!


Just a fun video from the park...this is what Georgia did literally the entire time we were there.



Okay, and when I typed "lazy Sunday" into the title of this post, I was reminded of one of my very favorite SNL skits. I have it bookmarked and had to go watch it, so now I'm feeling the need to provide you with a link to the video that makes my husband and I crack up every time we watch it. There is one bleep, but it's very tame and so funny. Double true!!

Stray thoughts...

Mitchell loves to play in our closet. He was in there playing Buzz Lightyear last night as I looked for a paper for his school at the computer desk:

Mitchell: Mommy, I love you so much.

Me: I love you, too.

Mitchell: I'm going to say a prayer for you.

Me: I would love that.

*Lays down his space shuttle and folds his hands.*

Mitchell: Dear God, Thank you for giving me my Mommy. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Me: Wow. That might be the best prayer I've ever heard.

Mitchell: Thanks. So, Mommy, Buzz Lightyear is going to go save Woody...

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Georgia has started to sing. I can hear her in her crib in the mornings and can tell that she is singing to herself. "Winnie The Pooh," "Twinkle, Twinkle," "Old McDonald," and "The ABC's" appear to be her favorites. It is absolutely adorable and so captures who she is at this age. I hope that I can always close my eyes and hear the sweet sounds of her little songs.

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A verse on my heart today as I send Mitchell off to his first day of his last year of preschool.

"Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it." Proverbs 22:6

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I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not, but Georgia is apparently able to throw half of a toasted bagel the length of at least three tables. Frisbee style. Just, you know, in case it comes up in conversation or something. Might be good information for you to have, especially if you happen to be sitting, say, within three tables of us.

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Before I go - just have to share that I've added yet another great blog to my reading list! I followed a link to Alana's blog and found out how to make my own signature! Very cool...thanks for the inspiration!

A glimpse of the future...

Last night at about midnight, Miss G woke up with a huge scream, which was quickly followed by a series of 3 more equally ear-splitting screams. I went in and saw her standing up in her crib holding her arms out saying "Mama, Maaaaammmmmaaaaa." She looked so miserable and scared.

While I'm on the subject, can I just say that the pain-filled screams, the agony on her face when I first entered the room, and the sadness in her little voice put my stomach into knots. I think that knowing my child is scared or in pain and being able to see and hear that fear so clearly is one of the worst feelings I get as a Mommy. For whatever reason, it always seems so much worse in the middle of the night like that...hearing either of my kids wake up from a dead sleep takes my breath away for a moment.

Anyway, I scooped her up and brought her into our room for a little motrin cocktail. (She is cutting 4 teeth right now and it's the only thing that helps when this happens.) She ended up sitting and snuggling with us for awhile before I put her back to bed. My husband and I had been listening to xm radio through the tv while we were snuggling and talking in bed. Our favorite station is "Lucy" because they play some of our favorite stuff from our college days...U2, INXS, etc. Georgia instantly noticed that the tv was on, but not "on." She seemed pretty confused and kept pointing to the tv, asking "Mooosk?" We'd tell her "Yes, music on the tv," but that still seemed puzzling to her as she undoubtedly tried to figure out where Mickey Mouse was hiding.

Well, that perplexed look on her face completely disappeared when the Beastie Boys song "Intergalactic" came on. Georgia's little bootie started bouncing up and down on the bed, and she started flat out jamming! Chris has always said we're in trouble because she is so much like me that it's scary. (Literally, it's frightening...I wasn't known for being the easiest child.) All three of us had so much fun laughing and singing together -- that song is so funny and it's hard not to tap your toes or shake your bootie. The thing is...

...guess who has always been a major Beastie Boys girl? Yep, me.

Georgia definitely "connected" with this song and she proceeded to giggle and dance her way through the song. At one point, she just naturally put herself nose-to-nose and forehead-to-forehead with me for my favorite line, "I'll stir-fry you in my wok!" We both started cracking up as we separated and Chris said "Oh, my word."

I was a bit of a wild child in my later high school and college years, and I am telling you - it was like Chris and I could both see that our sweet Miss G has that same little "spark." Our challenge will definitely be to keep this girl busy and engaged in things that channel that gleam in her eye into healthy, productive activities.

Otherwise, we're in trouble. Take it from me, I used to be trouble.

See for yourself...

I'm up late checking stuff off of my to-do list. I just uploaded pictures and video from my camera and thought I'd add some in here since they match the things I've written about lately.

Emily, since you put in a special request - here is the "before" picture. Um, YEAH. Self-explanatory (I hope) with regards to the need for a haircut. Getting a little unruly there.







Okay, now for the "after" shot. (FYI - she is actually playing the part of Pilchard in this picture.) I realize her ponytail is halfway out, making it look worse, but look how much the lady took off of the sides and the back! The reason her pony is all crazy is actually because it was cut so short on top that it falls out somewhat easily now. *sigh* It looked a little better today -- I think it was just a shock to my system to see it so dang short yesterday. Anyway, here's George. Uh.



Speaking of Pilchard, here she is "assisting" Bob in the shoveling of rocks, in her beloved pink knock-offs, no less.



Moving right along...here's a video to match the "before" picture. I am the box top and soup label collection lady for my son's preschool and Georgia found my bag of stuff -- including the roll of 150 baggies. She had the biggest grin on her face when I came out of the bathroom (that'll teach me to go pee alone!) and was so proud of herself. I decided that I already had a mess to clean up -- why not just grab the camera first? (Oh, and for the record, the big yucky stain on her pajamas is from her vitamins. Sometimes Mommy isn't awake enough to remember to put a towel under her chin when we do vitamins on the way downstairs to breakfast. Pretty, huh?) Personally, my favorite part is that out of all of that mess and chaos, she takes the time to bring me my little baggie of box tops. I mean, come on -- that's gotta be a life skill right there, huh? Mom, if you're reading this -- I'm guessing this reminds you of me being able to pluck something specific out of a 4 foot deep pile of stuff in my room. Organized chaos...looks like it might be hereditary.



I'll finish with a video of the kids from last night. I was making dinner while they were "watching" Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. (I think that's what it was. Clifford, maybe?) Anyway - I heard lots of giggling coming from the living room and here's what I found. She's so delicate, isn't she? *teeheehee*

YOU are the baby!

Friday night Chris had to work a bit late, which was fine since the kids and I were supposed to go to a birthday party for my best friend's nephew. Well, the birthday boy got sick, so instead we went to dinner with my mom and dad. You know what? Georgia apparently sees herself very differently than I do. There was a little boy who looked like he was about her same age sitting at a table behind us. Every once in a while, Miss G would turn around to look at him. After a few minutes, she pointed over at him and actually had the nerve to tell me "Beebee."

Ummmmm...excuse me??!! Are YOU calling HIM a baby??!! YOU are the BABY!

Seriously. That broke my heart in a teeny way that probably makes sense only to other Mommies who are in denial about their youngest, and probably last, child growing up too quickly. My baby -- my BABY -- just seemed so big when she did that.

My sweet baby girl.

And then I just sat and watched her the rest of the meal. Really watched her. I felt like a first time mom again -- I kept telling my mom and dad to look at her, to watch what she was doing. It was like having my eyes newly opened to just how sweet and silly and completely adorable she is.

We had pretty slow service so there was lots of time to watch her. She spent lots of time putting a straw wrapper that she'd ripped into two pieces on top of her head. She'd then sign "hat" and say "hack" and laugh at herself proudly. Shortly after, she'd shake her head until both pieces fell off, then she'd repeat the process.

My sweet baby girl.

Mitchell had requested a "smoovie" so we had them make an adult-sized portion and split into two cups for the kids. Georgia was very excited to taste hers and her reaction was hysterical. She pursed her little mouth into a mini-version of her Daddy's famed "chimp lips" to suck on her straw. She took two big swallows and her eyes immediately grew even bigger and brighter than they normally are, which is saying a lot. She then threw both arms into the air and shouted (literally) "Yayyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

My sweet baby girl.

She had a grilled cheese and applesauce for dinner. I was again snapped out of my denial bubble when I paused to consider that I no longer need to tear her sandwich into little dime or nickel sized bites. I just test her food to make sure it's not too hot and let her at it. No more cramming fistfuls of tiny bites into her mouth...now she's all about taking the biggest bite she can out of her big girl sandwich. When it came time for applesauce, I would offer her bites and she would immediately giggle and hang her head as far backwards as it would go, being very silly. It wasn't until I said "Here, Georgia's turn," that she took any interest in the applesauce. She immediately sat straight up and held out her little hand to take the spoon. Together, we scooped up the applesauce and steered it into her mouth. After the first bite, she showed off a big grin, very proud to have been part of feeding herself. I don't think she took another bite of grilled cheese until we had scooped every last bite of that applesauce out.

My sweet baby girl.

When we had finished dinner and it was time to leave, I stood up and got my purse and the diaper bag and went around to the other side of the highchair to undo the straps. Miss G thought I was leaving without her and immediately started fussing and reaching for me saying "Mama!! Mama!!" I got her out of her highchair and when I picked her up, she immediately kissed my cheek, as she's in a big giving kisses phase, then wrapped her arms around my neck and laid her head down on my shoulder for a snuggle.

Ahhhhh, there she is....my sweet baby girl.

Things I don't want to forget...

I'm taking a break from my seemingly never-ending chore of "staging" the house to go on the market in order to make sure that I document some things I've been thinking about lately. These are little things that I so completely adore right now but are definitely not things I'd likely remember once the kids stop saying and doing them. I try to print my blog out every month or two and put it in my scrapbook stash, so I figure this is as good a place as any to preserve a little history.

*Disclaimer: If you're sick of gushy proud Mommy posts, you might just want to come back another day.*

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Georgia, at nearly 17 months, has this awesome habit of standing on her head at completely random times. It can be in her crib, in the middle of the living room, at the park, in the kitchen, on the sidewalk, or even in the (ewww) bathroom. When she does it, she just comes to a screeching halt, bends herself in half, plants both hands on the ground, and then puts the top of her head on the ground. She usually stays that way for about 15-30 seconds, then gets up and resumes life. It reminds me of Tivo, actually. Like when you pause real-time TV and then just unpause it. I used to think she was gearing up to try doing somersaults like her big brother does all of the time, but lately when I've watched her, it's more like she just decides that the world might look sort of cool upside down at that very moment.

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After he's done reading books and right before he falls asleep, Mitchell - at age 4 and a half , will lay on his back in his bed, put both feet on the wall, place his hands behind his head and stare at the poster next to the top of his bed that has 100 years worth of aircraft while he listens to music. I often just stand in the doorway and peek in - he doesn't know I'm there. I can't explain it adequately, but it is obvious to me that he is IN that poster. He is flying one of those planes. There is a wonderful, imaginative story being created in that little head of his. It is one of those precious moments in time (besides being peacefully asleep) where he has a look of complete innocence.

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Georgia says "Mama" about 458,234 times each day. I'm estimating here. About 400,000 of them are actually questions, demands or statements. Some of the following are examples:

Says: "Mama!"
Means: "Can I have some freakin' milk over here please??"

Says: "Mama?"
Means: "What the heck is this thing?"

Says: "Mama?!"
Means: "How dare you leave my sight! Where in God's green earth are you, woman?!"

Says: "Mama."
Means: "I need a hug."

I love that she does this -- it makes me smile about 89% of the time, which is yet another estimate. The remaining 11% of the time I forget how much I'll miss it when she doesn't do it anymore and I take it for granted.

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My husband is a Looney Tunes freak. He loves Looney Tunes, namely Daffy Duck. When we were dating I used to give him random Daffy stuff for gifts - a DD mug, some socks, ya know - nerdy stuff like that. Well, he has apparently created a mini-him in the form of Mitchell with regards to being an avid fan of the slapstick cartoon. One of Mitchell's favorite things in the whole world to do is to watch "Movie Tunes" with his Daddy.

Things have recently been taken to a new level.

When cleaning out the closet in Mitchell's room, Chris found the Looney Tunes talking clock that I bought for him. In hindsight, it was a solid purchase. Good "wow" factor, and here's the important part -- he lived in a town an hour and a half away from me -- the clock wouldn't be a problem. Fast forward 7 years and two kids later and the clock has come back to life. Chris promptly hung it in Mitchell's room and his biggest thrills of the day are on the hour when the clock brings the characters to life to say a particular phrase. He then sprints into wherever I am and imitates what he just heard announced on his clock. My favorite is his Yosemite Sam impression: "It's 1:00, ya mangy polecat!"

Incidentally, the carpet layers accidentally knocked the clock off of the wall and broke it, causing much heartache. I should have known Super Dad would find a way to fix it. He did, and all is well in the land of Movie Tunes.

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When I'm driving, sometimes I will look at the kids in the rearview mirror and see that they are holding hands across the aisle, looking at each other and laughing. I cannot begin to describe what that does to me.

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Mitchell's "5 Things" he was grateful for last night at bedtime:
1. Kix
2. His Thomas swimsuit
3. Chocolate milk
4. His toes
5. Doors

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When I say goodnight prayers with Georgia before bedtime, she snuggles her DuckDuck by her head and lays down in my arms. I say the "Now I lay me down to sleep" prayer and at the end she pinches her fingers together, and touches her chest twice by her shoulder and says "Mee-men". That's her saying "Amen" and I about cry each and every night because it is so cute.

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Georgia is in love with Mickey Mouse. If she hears the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme music, she will immediately start shouting "Maaaaaa" (mouse) at the top of her lungs and throw her arms in the air with every exclamation.

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When Mitchell talks on the phone to Chris during workdays, his last question is always this: "Daddy, what time are you coming home to tackle with me?"

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These are just everyday, random happenings in our house but I love and treasure each and every silly one. I just can't let myself forget them.

Consipracy Theory...

Yes, a blog with no direction. Make that blogger with no direction.



I'm tired. Last night wore me out. I've decided I need to watch my kids more closely -- apparently they have some sort of secret code that I am bound and determined to crack. That's all I can figure out -- it was too well orchestrated to be a random accident.



My husband (poor guy) had to work late last night. Make that laaaaaaaaaaaaaaate. Which is fine, that happens. Usually, it's not a big deal. We do dinner. We do bathtime. We do bedtime, one at a time. Then Mommy (that's me) comes downstairs to do whatever she wants. Usually it's cleaning, laundry, dinking on the internet, watching shows, etc.



Last night we did dinner. (No problem.)



Last night we did bathtime. (No problem.)



Georgia went to bed, but unlike her normal waving night night and blowing kisses, she fussed. Her fussing turned into crying about 5 minutes later. About 5 minutes after that, it turned into screaming. SO, Mitchell and I took a break from his Ratatouille book that we were reading to go get her resettled. Mission accomplished. We finished his book and did his whole bedtime routine thing. (No problem.)



I came back downstairs. About half an hour later...I would begin what I now think of as the calm down, night night circuit.



8:45 - Georgia wakes up BAWLING her little eyes out. I come to the rescue, get her resettled, check on a slumbering Mitchell and head back downstairs to keep on cleaning up the kitchen.



9:00 - Mitchell wakes up SCREAMING for me (not good on the ol' throat, by the way). Again, Mommy to the rescue -- back rub, tear dabbing, music starting, forehead kissing -- and downstairs I go.



9:15 - Georgia's turn.



9:30 - Mitchell's turn.



9:45 - Georgia's turn.



10:00 - Mitchell's turn.



And so on ...



I'm sure you think I'm exaggerating that it was that closely timed, but give or take about 3 minutes on either side, it was LITERALLY every 15 minutes. I don't know what the heck was going on up there but strange things were afoot. (Kudos to my fellow horrible 90's movie watchers who know what I'm talking about.)



My husband gets home shortly before 11 p.m. and the first thing he asks me is what's wrong. I don't know what gave it away -- my half torn out bun, my t-shirt stained red with the nasty store-brand fake children's tylenol, the makeup that was halfway down my face and leftover from the day before (true fact), or if it was finding me in the kitchen sink bathing in my newfound love, Stoli Blueberi. (Not really, I didn't even make myself a drink last night but in hindsight, that would have been a stellar plan.) He told me tonight that I looked like I'd been run over by a truck. Always nice to hear.



I told him about our two deviants upstairs and their seriously twisted 15 minute plan and predicted that since it was her turn, Shortstack would be wailing in about 5-8 minutes. He laughed and said "Oh, honey -- I'm so sorry" in that way that you know he truly WAS sorry but I'm not sure if he was more sorry that I'd been dealing with his two screaming offspring or that I was clearly losing my mind. We chatted about his day and like clockwork, my little girl did not let me down. He looked at the monitor, looked at the clock, looked at me and said "Wow. I guess you weren't kidding." Ummmm, yeah. Not kidding.



Since he was home, I decided to bring her downstairs and let him deal with her for awhile. (I don't mean that like "Here, butthead -- deal with her!" I mean that as in "Please, dear man, take pity on me and help." I feel sort of bad -- he just switched from the adult pool to the kiddie pool -- both were filled with cry babies yesterday. Anyway -- she was okay for all of oh -- about 10 seconds and then she just let loose again. The only thing she wanted was to cuddle up on Mommy's shoulders and rock in the recliner.



We finally trudged back upstairs and he thought I was nuts, but I decided to try and put her down one more time. His vote was for letting her sleep with us, but knowing my little hurricane the way that I do, I could almost guarantee you that there would be NO sleep. For anyone.



I did the whole hold my breath and tiptoe out of her room thing at about 12:15, I think. For whatever reason...she decided that yes, she was finally ready to give Mommy a break. Yeah, riiiiiiiiggggghhhhht. She just passed the baton, people. The up all night relay was now in the hands of the anchor -- our friend, Mitchell. Chris and I were laying in bed talking about how SUPER fun pretty much 80% of our life is right now (and I'm not talking kids -- just random crap) when our little man brought in the big guns.



I mentioned (like, in passing) in the last post that he just had his tonsils and adenoids out last week. Well, when he gets to the end of his pain meds, he doesn't like to swallow. At all. So, saliva tends to pool in his mouth and then it becomes a sort of steady stream when he cries. Or screams like a wild banshee. Both of which he decided to do at this point. He was trying to explain to us what was upsetting him, but it was quite difficult to determine what he was saying. Picture a drunk, not so adept ventriloquist with a large drooling problem who is in some serious pain and you will essentially have been a fly on Mitchell's transportation themed bedspread.



My husband and I looked at each other and without even saying a word, decided that he could just sleep with us. Neither one of us had the energy to keep this whole thing up all night, and it was clear that it was going to be an all-night affair. He headed downstairs for a medication refill and a popsicle and I took my slobbery mess of a boy to the bathroom for a little cleanup work. We all reconvened in our bed, got the medicine down, chased it with some water and snuggled in for the night. They boys slept great...I just sort of laid there, dozing in and out of consciousness.

Anyway -- it's now 9:15 and no one is making a peep. So far so good, but I'm sure I've just completely jinxed myself. My saint of a hubby is currently picking up the living room, as I've been instructed not to do anything but relax. I'm off to the couch and am still fighting the urge to make out with the Stoli.

I'll let you know.

Helpless...

I hate feeling helpless, especially when it comes to my kids. Really, I do. Hate. It.

My little man had surgery last week to remove his tonsils and adenoids...and that is a story for another day. They told us that his recovery would be about 10-14 days in total, with somewhere around days 6-7 probably being the worst, as that's when scabbing takes place.

Doesn't that just hurt to think about?

Everyone tells you that the only thing they remember is getting to eat as much ice cream and have as many popsicles as they want when they had the same surgery as a kid. Well, I've learned that if you've talked to one former tonsilectomy patient, you've talked to them all. It doesn't hurt as bad when you're little, you love the cold stuff, etc.

Well, I'd like to talk to someone's MOM. I'm telling you -- this has been a LOOOONNNNNGGG week for ol' Mom. When he's hurting, that medicine can't kick in fast enough. Yes, it's short lived, but he is in some wicked pain between dosings sometimes. It's different than your typical "Owie, I fell and scraped my knee" cry you get most of the time -- it is a "I HURT. Truly hurt to where it scares me, Mommy" type of cry and it breaks my heart in two and makes me feel helpless.

Sunday morning he was just a mess. I needed to go to the grocery store to grab some things and everyone else was still in their pajamas. Now, not only is going to the GS by myself a treat these days (yes, I know it's beyond sad) but I was just generally not in the mood to pacify ANYONE while there. I wanted to listen to my iPod, cross stuff off of my list and get out of there. When Mitchell learned I was going, it was an instant meltdown. I'm not talking tantrum, I'm talking meltdown approaching insane levels.

Now, if you just had surgery on your throat, you can probably guess that screaming at the top of your lungs is not going to be something that will help your cause. 45 minutes of that...well, you can probably just figure that one out. He was a mess. A. CERTIFIED. MESS.

The thing is, my husband and I were caught between a rock and a hard place. We realized that part of what was driving this behavior episode was not feeling good, even though he hadn't complained AT ALL yet that morning and slept all night, but no way in the world do we want to reward that sort of tantrum behavior with "Okay, okay -- stop screaming, you can go!" I mean, he hadn't complained about pain at all after initially waking up and we'd given him all the medicine we could give him at that point. I'm sure he was really tired and probably in more discomfort than he told us he was...and that's the thing. He can talk. He's 4, but I don't think he has the words and the ability to truly tell us what's wrong in situations like this. I also think part of it was, he and I had been glued at the hip since his surgery and this was literally the first time I'd be leaving his side in over 5 days and he didn't expect it. I think that definitely factored in. Regardless, it just didn't feel right to say "Okay, since you did such a fine job of displaying such awful behavior, of course you can come! We'd love to teach you that acting that way is exactly how to get what you want." Again -- we were torn, but him staying home was the best thing anyway. And even though I was doing all of the things that I knew were best for him, I still felt absolutely helpless.

So, we just went into our normal routine of dealing with tantrums -- which really don't happen much anymore. He'll get lippy with us, but the big, dramatic, heartwrenching meltdown thing is very rare these days. So, upstairs we went so that he could sit in a safe place (on his bed in his room) and calm down. When it was clear that the only thing he would be doing is continuing to scream at me, cry hysterically and try to grab me, we went to the next routine step -- removing toys, books and music from his room. It's really the only thing that will calm him down when he gets like that. Trying to hold him and cuddle him doesn't work -- he gets all combative. So, with a guilty heart, I would give a warning that he needed to sit on his bed -- that's all, just sit on his bed -- and believe me, he KNOWS the drill. I'd give him some time, count to 10 out loud, and then remove a beloved toy from his room while he grabbed my shirt, screamed at me, kicked the door, etc. This went on for about 45 minutes. Oh, and the windows were all open so I'm sure the neighbors really enjoyed the whole thing as well.

It's quite the pretty picture, yes?

Then, with a mostly empty room, my little buddy finally agreed to just lay on his bed and calm down. I also had to chuckle at the way he went about it -- he said "OhhhhhKAY!" as he climbed ontu his bed, as though I was the one who'd been keeping him from getting up there for so long. I sat with him, rubbed his back, helped him stop crying and encouraged him to just lay there and think for awhile. I went across the hall to clean the kids' bathroom and somewhere between the sink and the tub being clean, he fell asleep. The time that I checked on him and saw him asleep was 10:30 a.m. Now, keep in mind that this is a little boy who doesn't take naps anymore, and if he does, it's falling asleep on the couch at about 5:30 pm...just before bedtime on days when he's played like crazy in the morning.

Oh, and his little sister was downstairs with my husband during all of this, in case you're wondering. That's the other reason for moving upstairs -- she doesn't need to witness all of that.

ANYWAY -- so, he kept sleeping and kept sleeping. I kept checking and kept checking. Finally, it was time for me to leave with Georgia for a birthday party, and I'd been dreading that all day since he wouldn't be coming. We thought for sure that it would be battle number two...but it wasn't, because he was still asleep at 2:45 p.m. Yes - -over 4 hours later, and still asleep.

I went to the party, had a great time, but all the while kept thinking about my baby boy at home and wondering how he was doing. I knew my husband would be great when he woke up and was prepared for more tears and drama -- he was armed with medicine and many hugs -- and he has his own set of tricks to get Mitchell out of a funk...I wasn't worried about that. I just felt guilty for not being there...and...helpless.

I called as we left the party, at about 4:45 p.m. and he had been awake for about 10 minutes. Yes, he slept for 6 hours!! Chris said that he cried for about 5 minutes after he woke up, but after some Daddy cuddles, a Capri Sun, a popsicle and a dose of pain meds, he perked up. I'm sure that his tantrum induced the sleep in the first place, but obviously, he just needed some rest. Lots of rest. It made me feel a little bit better that he slept that long -- the tantrum most likely would have happened over something else that morning anyway because that's how he gets when he's that tired. (It didn't entirely remove my guilt -- part of me still thinks I should have just taken him to the store, and the other part of me is patting myself on the back for not taking him -- story of my life.)

When we got home, about 10 seconds after I put the garage door up as I was pulling into the garage, I saw my little man fling the door to the house open and wave at us with a huge grin on his face. THAT was what I needed to see -- my happy little guy was back. He and his Daddy were playing "Red Sox" in the living room while they watched the game and they were both sporting their jerseys and backwards baseball hats. He was happy to see us and loved the balloon that we brought home for him. I got a huge hug, a kiss on the cheek, and he told me "I love you, Mommy. I'm sorry I was so mean this morning. I was really tired." I kissed and hugged him back and thanked him for apologizing. And then I got him some ice cream.

All was once again right in the world.