I love waking up and walking out into the living room to see the sun streaming in the windows. It just fills me with joy and energy to have a super-fabulous-great-peachy-keen day. I really wanted to throw open the windows to allow the fresh air in, but the temps are still in the thirties, so that is not going to have the effect I want.
We had a good morning. I got in a shower before Marty headed off to work, but there was only enough hot water left for me to get the shampoo in my hair. I skipped the rest of the shower, rinsed all the bubbles out under a freezing shower, and tried to pretend I was in a waterfall in Hawaii. It didn't work.
Ben went pee on the potty this morning, hooray for Ben! The boys had some nakey time this morning between getting new diapers and getting dressed. Ben decided he needed to go pee again, so while standing in front of the TV, he undid his diaper and peed. Luckily, the diaper did not fall off, so the pee was all caught in the diaper and not all over the rug. I think the kid might be ready for more serious potty training. Which is good, if I can get away from having three kids in diapers, but I am not ready in the whole drop-everything-and-run department.
I bought a new shirt last week when I got my jeans. I was on clearance for six dollars, and it is really cute. I had been saving it for a week, and decided today was the day. When you stay at home with four kids, some things are very exciting and a new shirt is extremely cool. You don't want to waste the first New Shirt Day on any old day, it has to be special. With the sunshine and the shower this morning, this day was shaping up to be fabulous. Oh yeah, it's New Shirt Day.
I got everyone breakfast and sat down at the computer to nurse Drew and start my morning computer routine. Baby Drew must have liked the new shirt, too, since he spit up about an ounce of milk on it. An ounce doesn't sound like a lot, but it is. Still not convinced? Take a shot glass, fill it with sour milk, and dump it on the front of your shirt. There. Now you know.
Is it really bad that I am so excited about the new shirt that I just wiped it up and have not changed the shirt? As I type this, I realize how pathetic it really is. I am still not going to change my shirt, mind you, 'cuz it's New Shirt Day, but I am starting to think I need a life.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Thursdays with Tiffani
Don't forget to visit the original Thursdays with Tiffiny, who I stole the idea from!
I am Thankful for... My amazing family and my wonderful husband who despite his sarcasm and occasional misreading labels of bubble bath, is really great with the kids and the best hubby a girl could ask for.
I'm listening to... The twins fighting over Lightning McQueen, just like every other day. Does it matter that we have three Lightning McQueens? Of course not. But they choose a different one to fight over everyday. Why I did not buy matching Lightning McQueens, I will never know.
What I'm looking forward to... Flowers blooming, spring arriving in all it's colorful splendor. The sounds of the lawnmower, birds chirping, and frogs and crickets croaking in the pond. The laughter of the kids as they run through the yard, chasing the cat. Running barefoot through the grass (well, moss.) Planting my garden and hoping the corn actually makes it this year. And of course, painting the living room, since I still haven't started that yet.
What's for Dinner Tonight... Yeah, I should probably figure that out... :)
Missing.... My sanity. But we already knew that!
I am Thankful for... My amazing family and my wonderful husband who despite his sarcasm and occasional misreading labels of bubble bath, is really great with the kids and the best hubby a girl could ask for.
I'm listening to... The twins fighting over Lightning McQueen, just like every other day. Does it matter that we have three Lightning McQueens? Of course not. But they choose a different one to fight over everyday. Why I did not buy matching Lightning McQueens, I will never know.
What I'm looking forward to... Flowers blooming, spring arriving in all it's colorful splendor. The sounds of the lawnmower, birds chirping, and frogs and crickets croaking in the pond. The laughter of the kids as they run through the yard, chasing the cat. Running barefoot through the grass (well, moss.) Planting my garden and hoping the corn actually makes it this year. And of course, painting the living room, since I still haven't started that yet.
What's for Dinner Tonight... Yeah, I should probably figure that out... :)
Missing.... My sanity. But we already knew that!
Invasion Of The Computer Snatchers
I don't know what is happening to my computer. I have to admit, I am a computer-y illiterate. My brother is a genius(seriously, the guy built a computer from scratch when he was twelve) so I never learned anything about them. Maybe it was my way of trying not to do anything he did, or maybe I was still bitter that he got to be a cool Boyscout and they wouldn't let me in, all I got stuck with was the stupid girly stuff like darning socks and baking. Not that there was anything wrong with baking, but I wanted to tie knots and whittle sticks and go camping with a compass. I even got myself a Boyscout handbook to read and try my hand at knot-tying. I knew the Boyscout oath or pledge or whatever it was, I can't remember anymore. I really, really wanted to be a boyscout.
OK, way off subject.
Anywhoo, I got a pop-up on my computer that said my computer was compromised and is at risk. Marty said he saw something last week that said we had Trojan Horses. I tried to run my anti-virus software, but it would not open. That is not a good sign.
I tried un-installing it and re-installing it twice, but it would not do either. I kept getting error messages. I ended up installing another anti-virus software that did a scan and said my original anti-virus software was fake and a seious threat. I am in so much trouble.
I am so clueless, before today I thought spyware was the same thing as anti-virus software, but now I know spyware is bad. I spent today backing up the photos on my computer before the whole thing blows up on me. I got almost all of them copied until I ran out of CD's, but I got the most important stuff. Now whenever I type, the computer is so slow I have to stop every once in a while to let the letters on the screen catch up. Very reminiscent of our Commodore-64 days.
Jeff, don't read this part.
I think I should have listened to my brother a little more. But don't tell him I said that, OK?
OK, way off subject.
Anywhoo, I got a pop-up on my computer that said my computer was compromised and is at risk. Marty said he saw something last week that said we had Trojan Horses. I tried to run my anti-virus software, but it would not open. That is not a good sign.
I tried un-installing it and re-installing it twice, but it would not do either. I kept getting error messages. I ended up installing another anti-virus software that did a scan and said my original anti-virus software was fake and a seious threat. I am in so much trouble.
I am so clueless, before today I thought spyware was the same thing as anti-virus software, but now I know spyware is bad. I spent today backing up the photos on my computer before the whole thing blows up on me. I got almost all of them copied until I ran out of CD's, but I got the most important stuff. Now whenever I type, the computer is so slow I have to stop every once in a while to let the letters on the screen catch up. Very reminiscent of our Commodore-64 days.
Jeff, don't read this part.
I think I should have listened to my brother a little more. But don't tell him I said that, OK?
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The High Price Of Innocence
I pride myself on saving money. We are not exactly rolling in the dough, so every dollar counts. Holly and I even joke about framing our receipts that show good deals. We are frugal, and we are proud.
Yesterday I went to Target with the intention of getting shoes for the boys and undies for Emma. When your daughter has red lines on her hips from too-tight undies, you know you need to do something. I found little girl's undies on sale, 9 pair for 6 dollars, WooHoo! But only in low-rise. Are. You. Kidding. Me. Low-rise undies for a four year old? There is not a snowball's chance in Lucifer's playground that I will buy low rise underwear for my FOUR YEAR OLD. Why, you ask? Because she is FOUR. That's why.
This is something I have been hearing a lot about lately, from friends and fellow bloggers. I had not quite believed it though, as I had not yet left the toddler section and bought undies in the girls section. I was shocked, and my husband was right there with me. There is no reason for our daughter to have low rise underwear, because she will not be wearing low rise jeans. SHE IS FOUR! The really hard part is, I will have a difficult time finding jeans that are not low rise as well.
What are we teaching our daughters here? Why must they look like teenagers at such an early age? Why do little girls need to grow up so fast? Why can't we let our little girls hang on to their little-girlhood, where they want to marry their daddies and believe in magic? We need to let our children just be children, and to wear clothing that lets them play on the swings and catch frogs without showing their qualifications for your next plumbing job.
I'll get down off my soapbox now.
We looked long and hard for undies with characters on them, but struggled to find any. Finally, in a far corner of the section, we found one style of princess undies. Seven pair for eight dollars. Not a deal by any means, but we bought them anyway. I purchased then with pride, even though the purchase went against everything in my frugal nature, even though I knew I could be paying less and getting more. But we were able to purchase something money can't usually buy. The chance for our little girl to stay little for a while longer.
And you can't put a price on that.
Yesterday I went to Target with the intention of getting shoes for the boys and undies for Emma. When your daughter has red lines on her hips from too-tight undies, you know you need to do something. I found little girl's undies on sale, 9 pair for 6 dollars, WooHoo! But only in low-rise. Are. You. Kidding. Me. Low-rise undies for a four year old? There is not a snowball's chance in Lucifer's playground that I will buy low rise underwear for my FOUR YEAR OLD. Why, you ask? Because she is FOUR. That's why.
This is something I have been hearing a lot about lately, from friends and fellow bloggers. I had not quite believed it though, as I had not yet left the toddler section and bought undies in the girls section. I was shocked, and my husband was right there with me. There is no reason for our daughter to have low rise underwear, because she will not be wearing low rise jeans. SHE IS FOUR! The really hard part is, I will have a difficult time finding jeans that are not low rise as well.
What are we teaching our daughters here? Why must they look like teenagers at such an early age? Why do little girls need to grow up so fast? Why can't we let our little girls hang on to their little-girlhood, where they want to marry their daddies and believe in magic? We need to let our children just be children, and to wear clothing that lets them play on the swings and catch frogs without showing their qualifications for your next plumbing job.
I'll get down off my soapbox now.
We looked long and hard for undies with characters on them, but struggled to find any. Finally, in a far corner of the section, we found one style of princess undies. Seven pair for eight dollars. Not a deal by any means, but we bought them anyway. I purchased then with pride, even though the purchase went against everything in my frugal nature, even though I knew I could be paying less and getting more. But we were able to purchase something money can't usually buy. The chance for our little girl to stay little for a while longer.
And you can't put a price on that.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Hanging On
Something profound happened over the weekend. Drew lost the last bit of Newborn, and became a full-fledged Baby.
It is amazing how quickly that transformation happens. I was looking for it this time, watching for the last glimpses of Newborn-ness to fade from his face and into my memory. My last Newborn is gone. Gone are the days of wide-eyed wonderment surrounded by a little-old-man face. No more skinny little chicken legs, well, until the awkward teenage years, of course. This is my last baby, God willing, and I am going to enjoy him. I will enjoy every stage as it goes by, as I know our days of napping together, him snuggled on my chest are quickly fading. I won't always be his favorite person in the world, soon, he will want to be somewhere other than in my arms.
There is a poem by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton that I recently ran across on MckMama's blog. It was written in 1958 and first published in the Ladies Home Journal. I just love it!
Song for a Fifth Child.
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo.
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
I want this written on my wall. My house is often "shocking," but I am going to enjoy my kids. Because four year olds and two year olds don't keep, either.
It is amazing how quickly that transformation happens. I was looking for it this time, watching for the last glimpses of Newborn-ness to fade from his face and into my memory. My last Newborn is gone. Gone are the days of wide-eyed wonderment surrounded by a little-old-man face. No more skinny little chicken legs, well, until the awkward teenage years, of course. This is my last baby, God willing, and I am going to enjoy him. I will enjoy every stage as it goes by, as I know our days of napping together, him snuggled on my chest are quickly fading. I won't always be his favorite person in the world, soon, he will want to be somewhere other than in my arms.
There is a poem by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton that I recently ran across on MckMama's blog. It was written in 1958 and first published in the Ladies Home Journal. I just love it!
Song for a Fifth Child.
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo.
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
I want this written on my wall. My house is often "shocking," but I am going to enjoy my kids. Because four year olds and two year olds don't keep, either.
Not Me! Monday!
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Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to herblog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.
I did NOT support our family Girl Scout by buying five boxes of cookies. And I did Not consume an entire box of Tagalongs by myself yesterday, refusing to share with my hubby and hiding them from the kids.
I did NOT book our weekend so that the kids were up past ten o'clock on both Friday and Saturday nights. And we did NOT decide to skip church yesterday, sleep in and stay in our jammies all day.
I was NOT so excited about my new jeans that I felt the overwhelming need to wear them immediately. More importantly, I did NOT change my jeans in the parking lot of IHOP.
I am NOT so out of shape that the two minutes of Jillian's workout I did on Friday made me sore for days. There's NO WAY I was groaning like an eighty year old just to sit down.
I did NOT decide to workout again this morning, and invite Emma to join me. And Emma did NOT say all of these things:
"Mommy, you are supposed to touch your toes. You are not reaching your toes."
"Well, I can reach my toes."
"After this, do you want to eat an ice cream sandwich?"
"I can do this much faster than you."
"How come you are breathing so fast? I am not breathing fast!"
I did NOT allow Emma to then play with play-dough in her carpeted bedroom, just to get rid of her, I mean, keep her occupied for a while.
Have a great Monday!
When It Helps To Be Insane
Lately when Emma has been getting all her smileys on her responsibility chart for seven days in a row, she has been asking for simple things that involve one-on-one time as her rewards. Baking something out of her fairy cookbook, having movie night, and so on. We have loved it because a.) We get special time with her, and b.) It's all free.
This last time was different. She wanted to either go bowling or go to IHOP and make a smiley faced pancake. The last time we all went out to IHOP was a year ago, and it did not go well for the twins and I. The story on that one is HERE. I was personally rooting for bowling.
Somehow, she decided she wanted both. And somehow, through batting her eyelashes at her Daddy, she was told we could do both. And she wanted the whole family to go.
Friday night was the big night. The boys and I met Marty and Emma in town, since it was a school day for her. I wanted to go to Old Navy first since they had their jeans on sale for $19 and I was sick and tired of wearing maternity pants. Unfortunately, just having three kids was not as easy as I had hoped, and we did not leave the house till almost five. My wonderful hubby met us at the mall and he stayed in the van with the kids while I ran in and got jeans, saving us oodles of time. However, we did not get to IHOP till 5:45.
I knew it would be best if we got settled and ordered as fast as possible, to get our food fast and get out of there. The older kids got their menus, which had coloring activities on the back, but no crayons. When I finally got the attention of our server, I was told they ran out of crayons. Really? How does a kid-oriented restaurant run out of CRAYONS? Deep breaths.
Like the good tomboy-who-always-wanted-to-be-a-Boyscout-because-their-stuff-was-always-so-much-cooler-than-the-Campfire-Girls-who-darned-socks, I am "always prepared" and I keep crayons in the van. Along with everything else in there the weight helps give me traction in the snow. At least that's what I tell myself to avoid thinking about what the 500 pounds of Cheerio crumbs does to my gas mileage.
Anywhoo, we got the kids (somewhat) happy coloring, and tried to keep them relatively quiet until our food came. About ten minutes later, our server, while walking by our table, suddenly remembered he had not yet put our order in. More deep breaths. Luckily, the people around us seemed to like our family and were smiling at the kids. The food came and the kids were very happy. Overall it was a successful dining adventure, and the server was actually very nice, great with the kids and apologetic about forgetting to put our order in.
On to bowling. We got to the bowling alley at seven. Bedtime around here is eight fifteen, so we knew we were pushing it. The bowling alley was packed, we got the very last lane available. But it went great! Drew slept through the whole thing, Grant was very well behaved, sitting in his chair until his turn without complaining or trying to run around. Emma was excited but well behaved, and Ben was crazy. Really, really crazy. He was having a good time, but whenever it was his turn, Marty would take him up and help him throw the ball, then Ben would try to take off running to the left. Every time. I was glad that the people on the lane to the left was another family, and they didn't seem too ticked off.
Emma tripped on the little step-up to the lanes, and hit her chin. Ben slipped in his shoes and hit his head pretty hard. Other than that, no injuries or crying. We managed to keep them all together and happy all evening. For those who do not have four kids, that might not seem like a really big deal, but trust me, it is. It went a long way toward letting us realize that we can take all our kids out places and survive.
On the way home, Grant kept saying "Bowling ball fun!" Although it came out as "Bow-ing ball bun!" And Ben, whose feelings were still hurt by the floor coming up and whacking him in the head, kept saying, "No bow-ing baw!" They never agree on anything.
It was a jam-packed weekend, but I will have to fill you all in later. Check back later today for Not Me! Monday!
This last time was different. She wanted to either go bowling or go to IHOP and make a smiley faced pancake. The last time we all went out to IHOP was a year ago, and it did not go well for the twins and I. The story on that one is HERE. I was personally rooting for bowling.
Somehow, she decided she wanted both. And somehow, through batting her eyelashes at her Daddy, she was told we could do both. And she wanted the whole family to go.
Friday night was the big night. The boys and I met Marty and Emma in town, since it was a school day for her. I wanted to go to Old Navy first since they had their jeans on sale for $19 and I was sick and tired of wearing maternity pants. Unfortunately, just having three kids was not as easy as I had hoped, and we did not leave the house till almost five. My wonderful hubby met us at the mall and he stayed in the van with the kids while I ran in and got jeans, saving us oodles of time. However, we did not get to IHOP till 5:45.
I knew it would be best if we got settled and ordered as fast as possible, to get our food fast and get out of there. The older kids got their menus, which had coloring activities on the back, but no crayons. When I finally got the attention of our server, I was told they ran out of crayons. Really? How does a kid-oriented restaurant run out of CRAYONS? Deep breaths.
Like the good tomboy-who-always-wanted-to-be-a-Boyscout-because-their-stuff-was-always-so-much-cooler-than-the-Campfire-Girls-who-darned-socks, I am "always prepared" and I keep crayons in the van. Along with everything else in there the weight helps give me traction in the snow. At least that's what I tell myself to avoid thinking about what the 500 pounds of Cheerio crumbs does to my gas mileage.
Anywhoo, we got the kids (somewhat) happy coloring, and tried to keep them relatively quiet until our food came. About ten minutes later, our server, while walking by our table, suddenly remembered he had not yet put our order in. More deep breaths. Luckily, the people around us seemed to like our family and were smiling at the kids. The food came and the kids were very happy. Overall it was a successful dining adventure, and the server was actually very nice, great with the kids and apologetic about forgetting to put our order in.
On to bowling. We got to the bowling alley at seven. Bedtime around here is eight fifteen, so we knew we were pushing it. The bowling alley was packed, we got the very last lane available. But it went great! Drew slept through the whole thing, Grant was very well behaved, sitting in his chair until his turn without complaining or trying to run around. Emma was excited but well behaved, and Ben was crazy. Really, really crazy. He was having a good time, but whenever it was his turn, Marty would take him up and help him throw the ball, then Ben would try to take off running to the left. Every time. I was glad that the people on the lane to the left was another family, and they didn't seem too ticked off.
Emma tripped on the little step-up to the lanes, and hit her chin. Ben slipped in his shoes and hit his head pretty hard. Other than that, no injuries or crying. We managed to keep them all together and happy all evening. For those who do not have four kids, that might not seem like a really big deal, but trust me, it is. It went a long way toward letting us realize that we can take all our kids out places and survive.
On the way home, Grant kept saying "Bowling ball fun!" Although it came out as "Bow-ing ball bun!" And Ben, whose feelings were still hurt by the floor coming up and whacking him in the head, kept saying, "No bow-ing baw!" They never agree on anything.
It was a jam-packed weekend, but I will have to fill you all in later. Check back later today for Not Me! Monday!
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