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Today Linda at 2nd Cup of Coffee is hosting
This morning I managed to get up off my rear and go on a long walk/jog.
No, my husband’s running a marathon this week did not inspire me. I’ve been meaning to start exercising for a long time. (And then I’d remember after I’d already taken a shower.)
(Clearly, I lacked motivation.)
I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow but the energy boost was nice for today.
After I had showered and ‘put my face on,’ I baked a quick batch of scones and invited myself over to Nicky’s for a little mid-morning tea party with her and her mom.
(And to get away from Andy practicing voice in our living room. I mean, I can only handle so much.)
We had ourselves a nice little time. (“Sit down, Nicky. Do not pick him up. Let me get that. No, for heaven’s sake, sit down!”) You can tell she’s been stuck on a couch for 4 days.
Tonight I decided to load everyone up and take my kids to the free play area in our mall. I’ve just spent the last several nights at home by myself with the kids; I needed to change things up a bit.
And it just so happened it was Kids’ Night at the Chick-Fil-A there and so we got a free kids’ meal, which is handy. They could have done a craft, but I graciously opted out of that.
(I might have reconsidered for free candy.)
Andy got home from work just as we were pulling in the drive. Monday nights are really hit-or-miss at the restaurant, but you take the good with the bad.
And I for one am glad to have him home early.
This just cracks me up.
Madeline's rendition:
Deep & Wide from Please Pass the Salt on Vimeo.
Old Man Andy is currently hobbling around the house and it's quite the sight to behold. But he and Ezra finished in the top 20% out of about 1,200 runners, so I guess he earned it.
They even received a cool medal:
Funny story. A spectator yelled out to him "ARE YOU SINGLE? IF YOU ARE I WANT YOUR NUMBER AFTER THE RACE!!! ...I'M SERIOUS!!!"
Single? Uh, no.
(And who hits on red-faced, sweaty men in the middle of a race?! Who does that?!)
Two Fridays ago now, Dolly called to see if we were doing anything that Saturday, since Ethan had to work here in town. She caught a ride with him and she and the kids played with us all day.
We went ahead and renewed our membership at the children’s museum then. Having her in town was a good excuse. (Like I needed one.)
My angel sisters watched ALL the kids that night, so we could go out to dinner (Andy’s restaurant, of course). Heaven.
And then early in the week, I made myself finish up the work on the house, including getting rid of that pesky box sitting next to my china cabinet all this time. I got the rest of the pictures hung in the hallway, and the extras carted up to the attic.
I love, love, love finishing major projects. It’s cathartic.
Some other, smaller projects I checked off my to-do list were letting out the hems in several of the girls’ dresses (now ironed and ready for a few Sundays), converted a lot of Madeline’s old hairbows from alligator clips to French barrettes, (I love me a glue gun) and organized the laundry basket full of random fall-ish clothes that’s been sitting in the hallway for the last forever.
We met Sarah and her girls twice at the museum this week – the first time on one of Drew’s school days and it was nice to have just all the girls. Calmer, shall we say. I love my Drew, but he can wear a mama right out.
I picked him up from preschool on Thursday only to have the teacher tell me he had had some trouble listening and obeying in class. Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened. He’s obviously getting comfortable in his surroundings there. (A little too...)
So, we’re working on THAT.
And that brings us to Friday, which you already read way too much about. Today the kids and I had an uneventful breakfast, got a few groceries at Walmart, played outside, took a nap, ate a cookie, went to the playground, ate pizza outside on the patio table (less mess to clean up), and played some more.
I usually bathe my kids Saturday nights, and as you can see, tonight they were in dire need of a scrub-down. I’ve managed to get all three in bed and now my sisters are here doing their laundry and we’re about to pop in a DVD.
Oh! I almost forgot – the marathon!! Andy said they finished a little under 5 hours. They ran the full 26 miles and he said around mile 17 he thought he was going to die. He thought there was no way he could run a whole other hour and a half! But they did.
In “pouring down, torrential rain,” no less. Even got a medal for it.
He comes home tomorrow afternoon and I don’t know who will be more relieved.
[I had a wonderful bloggy break, thank you! And after taking a whole week off, I feel refreshed and ready to blog now in earnest. In case you’re wondering, THIS is the promised new post, really, since technically I've had the Before & After: Girls Room post (below, in case you missed it...for some reason feedreaders didn't pick it up) finished since July. And after not hearing from me for a week, I’ll expect comments from every last one of you. Fair is fair.]
Today was one of the craziest mornings I’ve ever had, which is really saying something considering I have a separate category for 'Morning Mishaps.'
I mentioned before that Andy is running a marathon in New York, and it happened to be this weekend. He had signed up (and paid) before we moved and we were able to find a really cheap flight. So, in the end, he was able to keep his commitment with a friend.
However, since our city is about two hours from any major airport (although several to choose from), he was scheduled to take a shuttle today in the wee hours of the morning so that I didn’t have to drive him to the airport.
And for some unknown reason, he set the alarm for 4:10. He was supposed to board the shuttle at 4:30. It takes around 10-15 minutes to get there.
We woke up at 4:40.
(!@#*$%^&!)
In a groggy panic, we surveyed our options – none of which were even remotely appealing. We do have two cars; Andy's service engine light is on, however, and he wasn't comfortable driving it that far. I couldn’t even think straight enough to come up with a plan; I just knew I did NOT want to load the kids and drive Andy two hours away to the airport.
Especially at 4:40 in the morning.
A fleeting thought suddenly crossed my mind – he’d been dropped off from that same shuttle service on our side of town before after returning from an out-of-town trip… maybe they’d be willing to stop and pick him up?
I frantically grabbed the phone book, looked up their number (cursing my tired brain that would not churn out my ABC’s) and finally got a hold of the operator. He was pretty sure that the driver had already passed us on the highway.
I asked him if he could please check, just to be sure. Turns out the driver WAS willing to pull off and pick up Andy, and hadn’t passed us quite yet. I practically threw Andy his cell phone on his way out the door and then waited on pins and needles by my own phone to hear if he had made it.
I talked to him right as he was pulling into the gas station; no shuttle in sight. We figured out he was one exit down from where the driver was waiting, at another BP. He hopped on the interstate, sped over to the right place, and got on the shuttle.
[Cue the Hallelujah Chorus in all of its splendor.]
We could not have orchestrated it any better. It was totally and completely a God-thing. I laid in my bed afterward, my mind still racing and not wanting to think about what would have been necessary if Andy hadn’t made that shuttle; my eyes tearing up at the Lord’s mercy and silently repeating “thank you, Jesus,” over and over.
Even when I woke up a few hours later, my head was still spinning from that close of a call.
But the morning, it had only just begun.
First, Adelaide dumped her million pumpkin bread crumbs all down herself, her chair, and the floor – I saw her lift up her plate and felt myself switch into slow-motion as I moved across the room to try and stop her. It was too late.
Moist bread chunks and crumbs are not exactly easy to sweep up, turns out. I took the whole chair, booster seat and all, out to the back deck and turned it upside down.
(I let her out first, in case you are wondering.)
Then, after breakfast, Madeline came up and handed me several locks of hair – her own – asking me if I could put them back. I knew there would be a day where she tried to cut her own hair; I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.
I explained that it doesn’t work that way, that I can’t just fix her hair and put it back the way it was. She cried. Thankfully, they were mostly small cuts, and none of them right next to her head. She’s got a head full of layers, so it blends in fairly well.
Several times throughout the morning she said “I’m so sorry for my hair, Mama,” and would cry a little. It was such a delicate balance in responding because I wanted her to know that it’s just hair, after all; it will grow back. But I also don’t want her thinking she can just go chop off her hair whenever she happens to spot a pair of scissors.
Meanwhile, we’d tentatively planned to go to the children’s museum and all morning I had been trying to move in the direction of getting everyone out the door. So far I had only managed to change Adelaide out of her pajamas and into a clean diaper before Madeline’s hair cutting spree.
Next thing I know, I’m looking down at Adelaide, still wearing only a diaper, sitting in a dirt pile in the backyard with a shovel in her hand. And she was filthy.
She needed a bath, no way around it.
As I was getting myself dressed after that, I came out to the living room where Madeline had spilled the sugar bowl all over the place. It was a grainy, sticky, dusty mess. And then my head, it suddenly exploded into tiny little pieces.
Kind of like the sugar.
After THAT mess was taken care of, what do I do but go outside, and Adelaide is BACK in the dirt! This time only her hands needed washing, and boy, it’s a darn good thing.
[Also, all of this mayhem caused me to completely space that it was trash day, and I totally forgot to get our can out to the street. It may not seem like that big of a deal, but forgetting is one of my pet peeves. Now we have to wait another whole week and it was already almost full.]
Sarah and I did spend a couple of hours this afternoon at the children’s museum and although really fun, it totally wiped me out. (I got up at 4:40am, remember?) I had the kids nap for an hour when we got home, gave them an interesting collection of foods and called it dinner, and then attempted to get them all down for bed before I suffered a nervous breakdown.
Once in bed, Drew wanted a children’s Tylenol because he said his head hurt. Whatever, fine. A few minutes later, I hear him wailing because he squished it and the tablet broke all over his sheets.
I’m so glad I have a trusty vacuum cleaner and I’m so glad that I can go to bed now.
Welcome to my edition of
Or cry.
I usually choose to laugh.
Last night I was trying to get Adelaide quickly to bed, but, after playing outside several times during the day, she really needed a bath. Madeline loves baths, and thinks that every time Adelaide gets a bath, she’s entitled to one, too.
And Drew’s never one to turn down a party.
So, I shrugged, said “fine!” and let them all get in. I went downstairs for something and a little while later heard “Mom! There’s poop!”
Perfect timing, Adelaide, as always. (Think she plans it?)
I somehow managed to get her squirmy, slippery self clean and rinsed, meanwhile Drew was playing with the faucet and succeeded in spraying the entire bathroom. I looked down and realized I was kneeling in an inch of water. My poor jeans.
I grabbed Adelaide (who felt rather like a greased piglet), stuffed her into a towel, threw her diaper on, and left her in the girls’ room so I could finish refereeing the bath party.
Oh, and the poop cleanup. Let’s not forget about that.
The three of us finally made it out of the bathroom, mostly unharmed and relatively dry, and I began trying to wriggle pajamas onto two jumpy kids (otherwise known as A Mother's Nighttime Workout). Madeline insisted on dressing herself, which inevitably I had to help her turn her shirt around, but then I just left her pants backwards.
I mean, I can only take so much.
I ran down again to get Adelaide’s bottle, but while I was waiting for the microwave I heard the upstairs bathroom faucet turn on.
(Not a good sound when your bathroom is already sitting under an inch of water.)
It turned out they were just brushing their teeth, but unfortunately Adelaide had crawled in after them, which meant she was soaked. I changed her into fresh pj pants and dry socks, and put her to bed.
I immediately went back into the bathroom, perhaps a little nervous at the tooth-brushing chaos I was about to witness. They had all three selections of toothpastes out, each one opened and generously sampled.
Needless to say, there were blue spots all over the counter and the white bath mats on the floor.
Since it was obvious their teeth were sufficiently brushed, I made them wrap it up and shooed them out. However, as I was stepping back to let them pass, I stepped on an opened tube of Tow Mater toothpaste:
Yeah.
Like I said, all I could do was laugh.
Originally published May 2008.
Originally published as a guest post at Musings of a Housewife, August 2008.
I've been thinking a lot lately about parenting and how it's not a 'one size fits all' relationship, even to the children within a single family. I've known quite a few parents and grandparents alike who will not do something for a child or grandchild unless they can afford the time, attention, or money it takes to provide that thing or opportunity to every child.
Now of course I'm not advocating playing favorites. And of course we should strive to show love equally to our kids. But the outworking of that love might look very different from child to child. And that's a good thing!
Some kids have special needs that require a greater amount of parental time and attention. Other kids are low-maintenance and don't require much at all. We see this in the adult world as well and I'm sure you know this to be true. We all have 'high-maintenance' friends (or maybe you are one!); while other people are so even-keeled, we'd actually have to work to ruffle their feathers.
As parents, it's okay to take considerations for personality, special gifts and talents, and limitations and disabilities. We see each child as an individual and try to parent according to their specific needs; not according to what the other kids are doing or get to do.
Is one child struggling with reading? Maybe he needs some extra summer help. But you shouldn't feel guilty about not giving that particular attention to the other kids. Maybe they'll need extra guidance in some other area and have their own time in the spotlight.
Just the other night I decided to pop over to an old friend's house that I haven't seen in a while. I didn't have the energy to bring all three of mine with me, so I brought my girls and left Drew home with Daddy. He did not like being left behind. At all. But later, after the girls were tucked in bed, Andy decided to go for a short walk around the neighborhood, and he asked Drew to go with him. Drew's turn came; he was able to do something that the girls did not get to do.
Kids need to understand that life simply isn't meant to be 'equal' or 'fair.' We appreciate the ups and downs; they are what it is to be alive. We teach our children to be glad for their siblings when they succeed and empathetic when they fail.
We also need to encourage our kids not to constantly compare themselves to others or their abilities to that of their siblings and friends. That sort of self-measurement is unhealthy. Each child is unique and that should be celebrated and fostered.
And this is certainly how God deals with us – uniquely, as individuals. Sure, we may be part of the larger body and have some similar circumstances. But one person may be dealt a trial while another is in the midst of smooth waters – and perhaps each for no other discernible reason than that He is glorified.
Originally published April 2008.
[Now, before you think me a terrible wife, let it be known I have full authorization to hit the "publish" button when I'm finished with this post. And thank you, honey, for being such a good sport.]
A couple of years ago I caught Andy, hunched over the toilet, shaving all his hair off. He was going to become the next great swimmer or something.
(He even made me buy him a particular piece of men's swimming attire that I will not specifically mention here. Ahem.)
(And he did go swim some laps.)
(Once.)
Yesterday I dug through some of our old pictures and actually found a photo of him right after he had buzzed his hair:
Anyway, I had warned him before this little shaving spree that if he ever did shave his head, I would get a haircut of my own. A short one. And even though he’s typically a fan of longer hair on me, clearly my threat accomplished nothing.
I promptly had my hairdresser friend cut my hair; I was pregnant with Madeline at the time. I even found an old picture of it, too:
It was a fun change. That’s really all I have to say about that.
Except.
This past weekend I was sitting here at the dining table, reading through my Google Reader, and I heard the bathroom door shut quietly upstairs, and the buzzers turn on. I felt my heart drop into my stomach.
I took the stairs two at a time, and threw open the bathroom door. There was Andy, caught red-handed with the clippers again.
Me, amused: “What are you doing?”
Him, sputtering: “I, uh... I need a summer cut. Look, it’s a Number Eight. It’s not that short.”
Me: “Okay, but you should do shorter on the sides and back. And if you need help trimming the neckline, I’ll come back.”
Here’s what I came back to:
That, my friends, is no Number Eight.
That is a Number Four.
Oh my.
I may be paying my hairdresser a quick little visit.
BUT! I found some other photo album gems while I was digging around and let's just take a fun little walk down the memory lane of Andy's Hair. You game? Good!
Here's one from when we were in college and Andy was studying abroad in Vienna. Some of my cousins and I were studying in the South of France and he came for a visit. This is what he looked like upon first walking in the door:
I whisked him off for a haircut and shave, posthaste:
His hair and beard grown out for the Madrigal Dinner (I think his senior year?):
Our first Christmas married (still long; no beard):
Cut short for his senior recital:
Short, add goatee (I was pregnant with Drew):
This one says it all:
Who is this next guy? Doesn't look familiar...
Wow. Shouldn't you be in Hollywood filming something?
Well. Nevermind.
(Also the funniest bed-head picture you'll ever see.)
More bed heads:
At least Drew comes by it honestly.
The Mop Tops.
(This family is obviously not lacking in the hair department.)
Cut again short for my cousin Courtney's wedding:
Long again by Thanksgiving:
Still long at Adelaide's birth:
Cut for her baptism, understandably:
To conclude, here's a more recent picture of Andy's hair (also entitled 'Meet My YouTube Junkies'):
And thankfully this Number Four business won't take too long to grow out.
[It didn't. Now it's September and he could use a little trim. :) ]
Originally published March 2008.
This morning was one of those times where my attitude about getting out of bed was along the lines of "I don't care if they burn the house down, I simply cannot get up yet."
The kids usually content themselves by eating breakfast bars, playing around the house, climbing on me, watching a movie, or whathaveyou. But this morning? Somehow Drew got the plastic toddler-proofing cover off of Adelaide's doorknob and Madeline decided they'd play a few games.
Adelaide wasn't so thrilled. And you may want to shield your eyes:
The jumbled up mess of cards she was apparently sitting on:
The full disaster:
And a box of Andy's business cards, thrown in for good measure:
We won't discuss how long this took me to sort out and put to rights (and you can see how tiny those Risk men are, in that box right there).
Okay. Well at least they DIDN'T burn the house down.
Alright, interpeeps, I need a break and I'm taking it. I'll have a new post up next Friday.
In the meantime, however, I plan on republishing a few of my archived posts. So don't go too far! (Especially if you're a newish reader.)
This has been quite the week for playdates! It started last Friday, we went to see Laura and her darlings and have lunch with them. She also has two girls and a boy, so there’s sort of a friend for everyone.
On Tuesday, Nicky and her boys came over. We had some tea and teased Andy about doing his vocal exercises at home. (Did y’all know I married a music major? Well I did.)
(Sometimes my ears wish I hadn’t.)
(Like when I’m trying to fall asleep.)
Yesterday, Oriel came over with her beautiful little girl, who is five-going-on-thirty. I’m so glad it worked out since I haven’t had much time to catch up with them since we’ve been back. (Sorry again about the grass in A’s hair.)
(My son, he acts like a boy.)
And then today my girls and I went up to Sarah’s for a little tea party while Drew was in school. I think that was Madeline’s first real tea party. And it was tea, not just juice or lemonade.
(It probably had more sugar than either, though, I’m afraid.)
We had such a good time talking about fall girl clothes and hairbows, I almost forgot to pick Drew up from school. I was sweating the drive over there, hoping against all odds I wouldn’t be charged the $5 late fee.
(They mean business.)
I made it, somehow, and there were two other little boys still to be picked up. Whew! Totally by the hair of my chinny chin chin.
So I'm curious, what's a fun thing you like to do with friends? (It can be anything, of course, but I'm particularly interested in ideas that would be suitable for preschoolers.)
She loves her some spaghetti:
"Um, Mom? There's a horse behind our car."
Oh, that's safe:
Apparently she got tired of playing by herself:
Hurricane Adelaide:
Andy's "organic natural home remedy" for the wasps' nests:
The aftermath:
Why is my toothbrush wrapped up in a nasty washcloth?!
Daddy love:
Escape Artist:
Helping themselves to the party food:
Leaning Tower of Pasta:
Our new BFFs:
She really does like broccoli:
Washing her own face, with diaper wipes:
Pouting:
Madeline likes to sample the butter:
My famous tomato sandwich:
Hey! Where's all my stuff?!
She comes by it honestly:
So THAT'S where Drew set his popsicle down:
Who needs a swim suit when you have clothes?
Late night tea party:
A little too eager for bathtime:
Three's a crowd:
Three's still a crowd:
Battle of the Bow:
Baby Jokes:
Madeline, the Supermodel:
Adelaide's first encounter with the bank teller lollipop:
Maybe this is why they say 'no bottles after a year':
Arrived home from preschool yesterday:
Shoot me now.
The End.
(In case you missed it, here's the original Photo Dump.)
When we lived in this house before, there was this massive, not-very-nice-looking mantel and gas fireplace right as you walked in the front door. Seriously, HUGE.
The fireplace never worked, so it served only as a receptacle for seasonal decorative items, as well as all the junk we routinely unloaded as we passed by coming inside.
(Let’s just say it was USUALLY piled high with quite the assortment of books, keys, clothing, CDs, purses, backpacks, and whathaveyou. You know, clutter.)
We sort of planned on having it removed someday, but then never actually did anything about it. It stayed, season after season after season, and then we moved. And not surprisingly, we didn’t care much about the non-functioning fireplace after that.
Out of sight, out of mind.
This summer when we moved back in, two of our friends helped us take the entire unit out. The fireplace sat on our front walk for, oh, several weeks, and the broken-down mantel wood is still propped up on our backyard fence.
We like to do things in stages, see.
Anyway, I had the piano placed where the mantel used to be. The only problem is the gas line still stood about six inches above the floor, so I couldn’t put the piano exactly where I wanted it. Durn those superfluous gas lines.
And, same old story, I’d remember I had forgotten to call the gas company to come and remove it – again – as I lay in bed each night, mentally putting it on tomorrow’s imaginary list. Weeks of this! Pathetic, I know.
The good news is I got a rep from the gas company to come last Thursday. The bad news is they don’t do anything with the actual pipes and that I needed to call a heating and air guy. Great.
Fortunately, the heating company I called was able to send someone that very afternoon, and within an hour of his arrival the line was gone. I jammed a cork in the hole in the floor (thank you Steve Lewin and your genius ideas) and was able to slide the piano over to its new home.
Which means I was also able to finally hang the picture over the piano, put the entryway table in its new and permanent place, and hang its shelf over top. Lastly, I bought a dark leather bin for our shoes that actually fits underneath that table (the old basket was the wrong color and much too large).
New and improved piano location:
The rest of the room (tiny, I know):
(Like my child-proof lock on the DVD cabinet?)
And here's that entryway table:
Wala! The room is done.
Just a quick weekend update. My friend Jenny called me Friday afternoon for another spontaneous movie night. We watched “What Happens in Vegas,” which I’d already seen but I’m always up for free movies. It’s a fun one. El flicko chicko.
(No, I don’t speak Spanish. I don’t know if that’s grammatically correct.)
(Don’t care.)
Saturday morning Andy took Drew and Madeline to the mall to get himself some new running shoes at Rack Room (BOGO1/2off) because he’s running a marathon at the end of the month. Try to wrap your head around that one. And then he also let them run around in the play area and eat Chick-Fil-A.
I got to vacuum underneath my couch cushions so clearly life is fair.
I called my sisters to see if they wanted to run some errands that night, and they did (I knew they could be counted on for shopping and food). We went to Target and they needed to go to the party store for a Mexican-themed dorm event. (FUN!) Then we had fast food for dinner and stopped in at Walmart on the way home for rice milk and bananas. We had a fun time together, as usual.
Sunday we went to church and then had lunch plans with a friend. The kids got to do a little swimming, and then we all came home for marathon naps. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had that good of a nap.
While we were fixing supper, my cousin called and wanted us to come up to Aunt Collyn’s for popcorn. (That may or may not mean anything to you.) We gobbled down our food, ran out the door – in the rain – and drove on up to her house.
Other than trying to contain the kids and keep them from breaking anything, we had a really nice time hanging out with the college crowd and singing hymns. Actually, Andy sang while I chased three unnamed kids.
(Hey, shout out to Jeannette, I finally met your sister Luisa!)
After we were home and had the kids in bed, we popped “Daniel Deronda” into the dvd player and I may or may not have dozed a little to that. That’s another good movie I’d recommend, along the lines of "North & South," "Wives & Daughters," and the Jane Austen movies.
(Convenient that my sisters used my camera when they were babysitting last Thursday.)
(I hope you people realize I'm joking around on this blog about 95% of the time. I'm just sayin'. I didn't really go to K & Nicky's shower for a piece of chocolate cake, delicious as it was. You knew that, right?)
So. Today has been designated The Cleaning Day of the Century. Or at least Month. We've been busy every day this past week and even the evenings have been full. And it shows.
It might just be easier to burn the house down and start afresh. But that might be inconvenient. So I'm off to play cleaning lady. What are your big plans for this lovely Saturday, hurricane conditions notwithstanding?
We live in a college town. My sisters (twins, nine years my junior) are back in the area for their sophomore year.
Hello, Free Babysitting. How very nice to meet you.
They came over last night to watch the kids so I could go to Nicky’s baby shower. Nevermind that I didn’t bring her a gift, I was just there for the coffee.
I mean decaffeinated Earl Grey tea.
And chocolate cake.
I think she got some great stuff, although I couldn’t see a thing during the gift-opening process, but she said she got a ton of diapers (which she asked for). It’s a good thing, too, because I already gave her all of Drew’s old clothes.
(4 huge Rubbermaid tubs' worth. How many clothes does one boy need?)
The shower was also for another friend (Hi, K!) who is having her first boy after two girls. So I’m sure she got some wee boy clothes, but again I couldn’t really see from where I sat. (But I was only there for the party, remember?)
When I got home I hung out with my sisters for a while and Carrissa told me she had asked Madeline when her birthday was.
“Twenty minutes.”
Yeah, baby girl, I sometimes wish that, too.
Had an impromptu pajama party last night with two friends who are the kind of women you don’t mind seeing you in faded grungy clothes and a makeup-less face because, well, it sort of feels like they’ve known you forever and will like you despite your varying personal appearances.
We watched “Baby Mama,” had popcorn, and drank this raspberry-cream tea (decaf) one of them brought over for us to try. Yum.
I still can’t decide what I thought of the movie. It had some hilariously funny parts...but I’m wondering if it was hyped up to me so high that anything would have been a letdown. Although I will say it was quite interesting to watch it with a hugely pregnant friend.
(I mean a beautifully glowingly, um, horizontally (not)-challenged friend.)
(If you know her, you know she’s dying laughing right now.)
Did you see it? What did you think?
And, I’ve got to run for now because I have to get Drew ready for preschool and then a meeting at 10:30. More on that later.
Our area’s largest consignment sale started today, so I buzzed over there this morning, leaving the kids with Andy. It’s the kind of thing where you have to dig through a lot of rubbish to find a few gems, and in those types of situations, I can’t fully concentrate unless I’m alone.
I had to park pretty far away; a lot of the parking lot was sectioned off or marked as reserved. I walked in the door to racks upon racks upon racks of clothes and every kind of baby/child thing you can imagine, all "gently used" and fairly cheap. Also, several vendors had booths off to the side of new items (hairbows, boutique dresses, baby gifts, and the like. You know, EXPENSIVE).
The mailed flier had said NO STROLLERS but lots of people had strollers anyway. I kind of wished I had brought my umbrella one just to load up with stuff. As it was, I had to hold everything as I browsed. AWKWARD.
I mainly wanted to find a winter coat for Madeline and then maybe a few long-sleeved shirts for Drew (as playclothes). And I always have to scour clothing sales for cute dresses. Here are some of my fun and cheap finds:
A Strasburg fall jumper with a matching Gymboree turtleneck, $10:
And one for Adelaide (this one from Old Navy), I think $5?:
A Christmastime dress for Madeline, about $8:
A fall jumper for Adelaide (at least I think it will fit her), also about $8:
The coat I found for Madeline, $6:
(You can't beat that!)
And this little ditty for Drew, $10:
(I found several other steals but they're not really worth posting.)
Glad I went! And even gladder Andy was home to babysit!!
As Nicky was picking up her boys this evening, Madeline ran into the kitchen exclaiming and carrying my phone: "LOOK MOM! IT WAS IN MY PURSE!!!"
Note to self: check Madeline's purses next time anything goes missing.
I think my ‘dry-clean-only’ clothes are out to get me. (Which, as a mother of young children, are few and far between.) First, a dress I had just picked up from the cleaners was the one I was wearing when the wasp stung me. Some of the venom got into the fabric and every time it touched my skin, I felt like I was being stung again. Back to the cleaners it went. (So much for getting a few wears out of it first.)
Then today, I pulled another skirt out of the plastic to wear to church, only to have my kids bump my arm and send my communion cup flying, drenching both my skirt and Madeline’s sock.
(I’m just thankful it didn’t get Madeline’s dress or my cute, cream-based top. Those would have been infinitely worse than the skirt, which was black, even if it had just been cleaned. Again, a few uses would have been nice.)
Of all the Sundays we’ve had communion with kids (that would be four-and-a-half-years’ worth), this was the first time I’ve ever been spilled on. Which is pretty good, considering.
Several of my friends have had terrible experiences with Sprint PCS and its customer “service.” For us, though, Verizon was only worse. So we’ve stuck with Sprint (but admittedly, mostly because my family also uses them and we can talk without using any minutes).
And also, there’s the minor detail of being locked in by a little something they casually call an “early termination fee.”
(Otherwise known as torture on a phone bill.)
However.
I mentioned already that I can’t find my phone. My current suspicion is that the baby threw it in the trash and somehow we missed it. We don’t have a landline, either, so I’ve been rendered utterly disconnected. (If it weren’t for wireless internet, I don’t know what I’d do.)
This evening I even had to send a gmail chat to a friend, asking her to call another friend and tell that friend to check her email, in which I asked if I could drop my kids off to go to the phone store and procure a new phone. Talk about networking.
Anyway, I was able to leave the kids with her (belly and all), and drove out to Sprint.
What an absolute waste of time.
Turns out I have to call an 800 number, report my phone missing, and then wait by the mailbox several days for them to send a new one. And only after I’ve paid a $50 deductible. I’m wondering what on earth good all that insurance money has done me.
And they couldn’t even help me solve Andy’s phone dilemma, and, well, I just can’t think about that right now.
So, yes, we’re having phone issues.
After collecting my kids and returning home, bathing them, and putting the baby to bed, Drew and Madeline were horsing around, running up and down the hallway, and Madeline tripped and fell, knocking a lower baby tooth a little loose.
(That’s when the no-phone thing quickly became more of a scary inconvenience. I had to consciously beat back all the “what-ifs” that immediately came to mind.)
She’ll be fine. I sent a quick e-mail to Ethan, our resident go-to for all things teeth. There’s nothing to be done until Monday (since it obviously wasn’t bad enough to warrant a trip to the ER) and I’ll continue to peek inside her mouth for any discoloration or change.
I gave her some children’s medicine for the pain, and it was obviously starting to work because as we were reading bedtime stories she smiled and excitedly said, “my tooth is all better!”
He said it might take 7-10 days to regain gum tightness around the tooth. So I guess she’ll be eating her fair share of jello and applesauce this week, which will make her quite happy.
(But I still don’t have a phone.)
This morning was another one of those times when I just could not get out of bed when Madeline woke up at o-dark-hundred. I got Adelaide a bottle in the hopes that she’d fall back asleep and scooped Madeline into my bed because she complained hers was too cold.
She didn’t stay with me long. She must’ve turned a movie on for herself or something. I dunno, I wasn’t there. I was in bed. Asleep.
Drew eventually woke up so I let all the kids just play while I tried to wake myself up, but, um, accidentally fell back asleep.
(What can I say? My bed is warm and snuggly.)
(And it was EARLY.)
When I walked into the living room later, I found an opened pouch of hot chocolate powder strewn about the carpet and Adelaide’s face, several opened tea bags, and last night’s popcorn spilled everywhere.
And also the bin that holds Madeline’s hair stuff overturned in the bathroom. Tiny rubber bands, barrettes, clips all over the floor.
Good morning! It’s gonna be a great day!
(If you're wondering, Andy wasn't home. He had met some buddies at Starbucks. I don't know what possessed him to leave the house at such an hour.)
Plus, I had lost my cell phone two nights ago and still have yet to find it. So I spent some of the morning pulling out furniture and dumping out toy boxes and checking inside shoes. No phone. (I do have insurance but who wants to go haggle with the phone company with three kids in tow?)
Oh, and there’s a new leak under our kitchen sink.
Lovely.
Introducing Drew's room, new and improved.
When Drew came home from preschool and saw it he exclaimed, "You fixed my room, Mommy! I LOVE IT!" and then ran over so he could slap me a high-five.
Dolly originally told me about these, and I love them enough to pass on. They are sort of like those rubber wrist bands you sometimes see loads of people wearing, but they are reusable labels meant for bottles, sippy cups, sports/water bottles, or whatever. 
We both love ours, and if you need something to help keep track of cups or bottles and hate having to peel sticker labels off, we highly recommend them. They come in blue, green, pink, and purple.
(Would make a great baby gift, as well.)
They can be found here at Inchbug.com.
I'm typically not all that interested in politics (save for my own dear dad), but I am interested in preserving the sanctity of life and other issues that we should be concerned with as Christians. I also don't always agree with everything Doug Wilson writes, but on this issue so far, I do. Absolutely. So I'm just going to take the easy way out and link to his recent posts on the subject at hand.
An excerpt, (also why this election is so critical) from DW: "my touchstone issue on whether or not this reversal is likely or possible has always been the abortion issue. That is the issue that we have to begin with, and it is therefore a non-negotiable. If we repent there, we can get to other issues as they arise. If we don't repent there (with repentance measured by nothing less than overthrowing Roe), then it doesn't really matter what we do elsewhere because it will be nothing but God's judgment, whatever it is.
"...if the Dalai Bama is elected, we will have absolutely no chance of getting pro-life judges on the Supreme Court. And if the Republicans have the White House, we might or might not get pro-life judges. But wait . . . there's more. McCain's persona of deliberately irritating conservatives with that maverick schtick of his has been such that it convinced me that there was no way that he was going to be the one to topple Roe -- right up to the recent reports that were circulating that he was actually considering Lieberman for his VP pick. But the bottom line has always been that if I knew that McCain was going to appoint pro-life judges to the Court, I would be more than happy to vote for him. But I -- like many other conservatives -- believed his various erratic and eccentric signals. "Don't ever trust me on this one" was his message, and "okay" was my response. This choice of Palin appears to a clear signal in the right direction, a signal that goes well beyond a pie crust promise --easily made, easily broken. So, is this VP choice making me rethink this election? Yes, it is."
And later: "Scripture gives us examples of extraordinary women who are used by God in extraordinary times. The woman's seed was to crush the serpent's head, and we see this prophecy of Christ typified throughout the Old Testament in striking ways (Judges 4:21; Judges 9:53). It seems to me that Sarah Palin, as a walking rejection of the pro-aborts more emotional arguments, will be in a position to give Roe a bowl of motherly milk and then put a stake through his head. If that happens, then the question for Christians will not be "how could a woman do that?" Rather, we will see that no one but a woman could have done that." (My emphasis.)
I'll go ahead and link to the posts from Doug Wilson so far on Sarah Palin for those that are interested and don't read his blog (admittedly, I don't that often myself) because they are very well written. And don't worry, they're also not too long:
Post 1: Kinda Spooky When You Think About It.
Post 2: Cons and Pros on Palin.
Post 3: And Another Thing...
Post 4: John Knox and Sarah Palin.
When we moved in two months ago, I worked frantically to get the house at least acceptably livable. And then I took about a month off. I just could not get past the decorator’s block or whatever it was that plagued me.
One of the big jobs on my list was getting Drew’s room finished. The renters (who did have permission to paint) had painted it from its original soft yellow to a dark gray-blue. And the paint job around the trim and ceiling was atrocious, to say the least.
Anyway, I woke up yesterday morning and actually felt motivated to tackle the paint job awaiting me in his room. Nice to have Andy home the entire time, being a holiday.
Before:
After:
I'll post another picture once I get the curtains and wall deco hung.
(Whenever the motivation bug bites again.)
Because I can't sleep.
This is the Labor Day meme over at Rocks in my Dryer today:
How long were your labors?
Kid #1: 6 hours.
Kid #2: 1.5 hours? I dunno, it was fast.
Kid #3: also under 2 hours.
How did you know you were in labor?
Kid #1: I knew I had to get to the hospital because I "couldn't do it any longer."
Kid #2: midwife broke my water.
Kid #3: midwife broke my water.
Where did you deliver?
All at the same WONDERFUL women's hospital in town. It's sort of like going to a spa and returning home with a baby. (Although, unfortunately, no pedicures in sight.)
Drugs?
Yes, please. Actually, with Madeline I was almost fully dilated before the anesthesiologist got to my room (see? fast) and I was almost denied my rightful epidural. Not a bright and shining moment for either me or my midwife. But we survived.
C-section?
No, thank heavens.
Who delivered?
With Drew, my regular midwife was on Christmas vacation, so he was delivered by another midwife in the practice, who I liked just as much. My regular midwife delivered both of the girls and I heart her.
