It's Thursday night and your dad and I are downstairs watching television. He's curled up with his head on a pillow and gave me the good spot on the couch.
I've had a tough time today letting Eleanor run around. I wanted to hold your hand and make you walk on the grass and let me hold you as much as possible. My heart skipped a beat whenever you started to go faster on tile or concrete. The look on your face when you lifted up your head on Tuesday has been running through my brain over and over...
Was it the new shoes? Were they too big? Did your backpack knock you off balance? Did the boy behind you push a little too hard? Was there something, anything I could have done that would have prevented all this?
I know it's silly, but these are what I think about when you bite into a marshmallow and make that awful high pitched sound because your teeth hurt. You are all so strong. So brave and resilient that you amaze me every day.
I wrote something today on my Facebook page about your tooth and was answered by half a dozen parents whose little ones lost their front teeth. Naturally or through accidents. Made me cringe. What I loved was the one that said that there does seem to a plan in giving you kids baby teeth....
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Putting it all into perspective
Today was not one of our better days. It's Tuesday, grocery shopping day while Eleanor and Grace are in school. Jordan and I get five hours a week together. Five hours to run all the errands that need to be done without my other helpers.
So I was hoping it wasn't serious when Nora took a tumble while we were dropping off Grace in her class. I was wrong.
You'll probably figure it out as you get older- I can take blood, bumps, scratches, stitches, broken bones (although there is NO reason for you to test me on this) but anything to do with thumping teeth makes me nauseous. Sick to the stomach, bile in the throat, nauseous.
We sat for a few minutes while Eleanor cried, I sang to her to calm her down a bit and the teachers braved coming within a few feet of us to hand me a tissue. We headed off to the dentist where I got to sit in the chair with her while Jordan puttered around the foot of the chair and charmed everyone.
I know it sounds simple right now, but the hour seemed to take forever. Her right front tooth is loose and it terrifies me. We're supposed to watch it for a few weeks as it could tighten back up and revisit the dentist in two weeks. She couldn't even munch into a strawberry so I'm not very hopeful.
That's why I'm up this late. I keep replaying the thump in my head and my stomach rolls. The TV is on, bad late night reruns are on and even the brownie and Grand Marnier are not helping to help me sleep. The girls and I went to the commissary, picked up almost everything we needed on our shopping list and then headed home.
That's when Rich called. He's Todd's best friend and was the best man at our wedding. Turns out that the reason he hasn't called is that their kid was diagnosed with a-plastic anemia. Kind of puts a wiggly tooth in perspective.
Tonight's the first night we used the white board in the kitchen to put up our thank you list. If we're all going to be at the table during meals to say Grace, we're going say a prayer to say thank you at the same time. A safe journey for Dad up to Prudence, Sam and his parents and a colleague of Kerry's. We'll see how it works out... Today I'm freaked out by Eleanor's tooth, but am so thankful for our family's good health. I'm going to go knock on wood.
So I was hoping it wasn't serious when Nora took a tumble while we were dropping off Grace in her class. I was wrong.
You'll probably figure it out as you get older- I can take blood, bumps, scratches, stitches, broken bones (although there is NO reason for you to test me on this) but anything to do with thumping teeth makes me nauseous. Sick to the stomach, bile in the throat, nauseous.
We sat for a few minutes while Eleanor cried, I sang to her to calm her down a bit and the teachers braved coming within a few feet of us to hand me a tissue. We headed off to the dentist where I got to sit in the chair with her while Jordan puttered around the foot of the chair and charmed everyone.
I know it sounds simple right now, but the hour seemed to take forever. Her right front tooth is loose and it terrifies me. We're supposed to watch it for a few weeks as it could tighten back up and revisit the dentist in two weeks. She couldn't even munch into a strawberry so I'm not very hopeful.
That's why I'm up this late. I keep replaying the thump in my head and my stomach rolls. The TV is on, bad late night reruns are on and even the brownie and Grand Marnier are not helping to help me sleep. The girls and I went to the commissary, picked up almost everything we needed on our shopping list and then headed home.
That's when Rich called. He's Todd's best friend and was the best man at our wedding. Turns out that the reason he hasn't called is that their kid was diagnosed with a-plastic anemia. Kind of puts a wiggly tooth in perspective.
Tonight's the first night we used the white board in the kitchen to put up our thank you list. If we're all going to be at the table during meals to say Grace, we're going say a prayer to say thank you at the same time. A safe journey for Dad up to Prudence, Sam and his parents and a colleague of Kerry's. We'll see how it works out... Today I'm freaked out by Eleanor's tooth, but am so thankful for our family's good health. I'm going to go knock on wood.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Tumble tumble
I came in the other night to check on you and found you like this. Usually, we put Eleanor in her bed and Grace in her bed and then the two of you work out whether or not Nora is going to be snuggling for that night. I tried to wake up your dad to come see, but he was sleeping as soundly as the two of you. Besides, no one would believe me without the picture.
Yes, I tucked you both back in bed after I took the picture and turned off the lights.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Mommy is a Money Launderer
Later on in life, you're going to look at me and ask me what I did all day. To be honest, I'm not a little afraid of that question. There are mornings when I look around the house and wonder if my whole purpose in life is not to make sure that the house gets back to it's pristine (ah ha ha ha) morning condition by the time you guys head to bed. You take out the toys, we play with them, lose a few pieces, head off to a new activity, I make you come back and clean up the previous toy, put away whatever you were just adventuring with, and then you move on to the next toy. And this goes on about forty times a day. So what is it I do all day? I have no idea. There are days we are whirlwinds of productiveness- pictures, errands and chores all completed. And other days when I have two babies on hips all day long and the movies NEED to be on.
But no matter what I do, you girls are amazing helpers. You want to help me with the dishes. I love how you want to help me unload the dishwasher and put all the plates and silverware into the dirty sink. I love how you help me clean off the table by going into the laundry basket and pulling out the rag I just used to sop up some spill off the floor. (I really, really hope that is lemonade on that towel...) How you are so competitive over who gets to mix that we have a second bowl of Cheerios and Raisins ready to go at all times and how you help me fold the piles of folded laundry and hand me all the paper money you find in the dryer. I love my helpers.
So what do I do all day? I decide what's for breakfast. Yes, you can blame me later on in life for all the oatmeal you've been forced to eat. But let me tell you- right now, all of you are on a brown sugar and raisin kick. After that I get to help you put your dishes on the counter and then wash all those dishes. Then we head to school; which includes picking out your clothes (which I washed and put away) grabbing your shoes and coats (which I dragged you out for sizings and found under the couch. Again.) slipping on your backpacks (found on sale, emptied of previous day's art and papers by me, signed by me and your dad and repacked with goodies by dear old mom) and bringing the baby supplies with us as we head off into our morning.
The van, if it's clean, was cleaned by your dad. I have a few trash bags now and then, but the accumulation of french fries, receipts and assorted odds and ends are usually mine. But then again, so are the snacks. You can thank me for that later.
We'll go to the gym where you play in class or go to the Library for story time on days I'm feeling lazy. Your library Ladybugs are just too cute- leftovers from Grace's baby quilt. If we're lucky, a friend will come by and I get to play with another mommy while you three run laps around the house insisting that your friend yell "Argh Matey!" and put on their princess hat. Boy or girl, doesn't matter.
And then comes lunch. You want peanut butter and jelly. My job is to convince you that something else, anything else is more interesting or appetizing. You're a hard crowd, but easily swayed by "oohh, this tastes good." Right now I'm thrilled by this, but we will definitely be revisiting this when you're teenagers. THEN- it will be okay for you to say no.
After lunch comes more cleanup. And naps. I love it when you nap. Unfortunately, Gracie has given up on napping which means that I get to ask her to rest while I check emails or write to you here. Doesn't usually last more than an hour, so anything that requires any concentration happens during this time. Like the laundry folding, sweeping, bill paying, reading, writing or anything that needs meat chopped up later on in the day.
For some reason, you guys can tell when I cannot touch you. After I plunge my hands into raw chicken, a silent alarm rings out that only the under four set can hear and you all converge upon me and my knees asking for something RIGHT NOW.
And there is afternoon story time and tumbling and tea parties. Where I get to play Librarian, judge and hostess. All fun jobs, but in the back of my mind around four thirty, I start thinking about what I need to do to have dinner ready and how we can clean up the legos before one of us falls on that lake of red, yellow and blue....
And then your dad gets home. There is a flurry of activity as you all surrender whatever you were doing to go running to the front door screaming, "Daddy!" and I get thirty seconds where I am neither wanted or needed in your lives. This usually lasts until I get motivated enough to walk into the kitchen and touch the silent-alarm-chicken and you all come screaming back while Daddy changes out of his uniform.
Dinner is dinner. With silent and loud rebellions, depending on the night. I try to uphold the rule that you cannot sit on my lap while I'm eating or you're eating, but have you seen your pictures of you at this age. You're stinking adorable. It's hard. After that, it's something like melon on the back deck. And parading your art work for Daddy from school. And tumbling. Lots of tumbling now a days.
Then there are baths. With fresh towels and pajamas. And researched toothpaste that is age appropriate and Dora toothbrushes. And two, no three books before bedtime and a song.
And a kiss and a hug. That's my favorite part. Even the nights when Eleanor says, "No!" and makes the pouty face. And after about an hour of you little people whispering and sneaking books into your beds and thumping quietly into the hall, you finally fall asleep by the time you dad and I finish the dishes and put away the leftovers for his lunch tomorrow.
By this time I'm just tired. I've had a good day of singing, painting, coloring, playing, cooking, driving and just general girly-ness and I'm tired. So your dad and I go snuggle. And that's my day.
But back to the question of what I do all day. I'm going to go with what your Aunt Michelle says whenever anyone asks her.
"You would be surprised what I can accomplish."
But no matter what I do, you girls are amazing helpers. You want to help me with the dishes. I love how you want to help me unload the dishwasher and put all the plates and silverware into the dirty sink. I love how you help me clean off the table by going into the laundry basket and pulling out the rag I just used to sop up some spill off the floor. (I really, really hope that is lemonade on that towel...) How you are so competitive over who gets to mix that we have a second bowl of Cheerios and Raisins ready to go at all times and how you help me fold the piles of folded laundry and hand me all the paper money you find in the dryer. I love my helpers.
So what do I do all day? I decide what's for breakfast. Yes, you can blame me later on in life for all the oatmeal you've been forced to eat. But let me tell you- right now, all of you are on a brown sugar and raisin kick. After that I get to help you put your dishes on the counter and then wash all those dishes. Then we head to school; which includes picking out your clothes (which I washed and put away) grabbing your shoes and coats (which I dragged you out for sizings and found under the couch. Again.) slipping on your backpacks (found on sale, emptied of previous day's art and papers by me, signed by me and your dad and repacked with goodies by dear old mom) and bringing the baby supplies with us as we head off into our morning.
The van, if it's clean, was cleaned by your dad. I have a few trash bags now and then, but the accumulation of french fries, receipts and assorted odds and ends are usually mine. But then again, so are the snacks. You can thank me for that later.
We'll go to the gym where you play in class or go to the Library for story time on days I'm feeling lazy. Your library Ladybugs are just too cute- leftovers from Grace's baby quilt. If we're lucky, a friend will come by and I get to play with another mommy while you three run laps around the house insisting that your friend yell "Argh Matey!" and put on their princess hat. Boy or girl, doesn't matter.
And then comes lunch. You want peanut butter and jelly. My job is to convince you that something else, anything else is more interesting or appetizing. You're a hard crowd, but easily swayed by "oohh, this tastes good." Right now I'm thrilled by this, but we will definitely be revisiting this when you're teenagers. THEN- it will be okay for you to say no.
After lunch comes more cleanup. And naps. I love it when you nap. Unfortunately, Gracie has given up on napping which means that I get to ask her to rest while I check emails or write to you here. Doesn't usually last more than an hour, so anything that requires any concentration happens during this time. Like the laundry folding, sweeping, bill paying, reading, writing or anything that needs meat chopped up later on in the day.
For some reason, you guys can tell when I cannot touch you. After I plunge my hands into raw chicken, a silent alarm rings out that only the under four set can hear and you all converge upon me and my knees asking for something RIGHT NOW.
And there is afternoon story time and tumbling and tea parties. Where I get to play Librarian, judge and hostess. All fun jobs, but in the back of my mind around four thirty, I start thinking about what I need to do to have dinner ready and how we can clean up the legos before one of us falls on that lake of red, yellow and blue....
And then your dad gets home. There is a flurry of activity as you all surrender whatever you were doing to go running to the front door screaming, "Daddy!" and I get thirty seconds where I am neither wanted or needed in your lives. This usually lasts until I get motivated enough to walk into the kitchen and touch the silent-alarm-chicken and you all come screaming back while Daddy changes out of his uniform.
Dinner is dinner. With silent and loud rebellions, depending on the night. I try to uphold the rule that you cannot sit on my lap while I'm eating or you're eating, but have you seen your pictures of you at this age. You're stinking adorable. It's hard. After that, it's something like melon on the back deck. And parading your art work for Daddy from school. And tumbling. Lots of tumbling now a days.
Then there are baths. With fresh towels and pajamas. And researched toothpaste that is age appropriate and Dora toothbrushes. And two, no three books before bedtime and a song.
And a kiss and a hug. That's my favorite part. Even the nights when Eleanor says, "No!" and makes the pouty face. And after about an hour of you little people whispering and sneaking books into your beds and thumping quietly into the hall, you finally fall asleep by the time you dad and I finish the dishes and put away the leftovers for his lunch tomorrow.
By this time I'm just tired. I've had a good day of singing, painting, coloring, playing, cooking, driving and just general girly-ness and I'm tired. So your dad and I go snuggle. And that's my day.
But back to the question of what I do all day. I'm going to go with what your Aunt Michelle says whenever anyone asks her.
"You would be surprised what I can accomplish."
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Puddles
We've been having some trouble with the potty training lately. I know that my reactions to Eleanor's setback have not been helping, but with the ick that invaded my chest and the medications the time to make it to the gym and the motivation seemed to slip away. Twenty four seven with the girls has slowly made a dent in my patience level.
After school yesterday, Eleanor managed to pee in the garage, on the kitchen floor and on the bathroom floor two times. I know it doesn't sound like a big deal, but after going so long without accidents, for her to suddenly start making puddles is very, very frustrating. It's not just the mess. The first time, it wasn't a big deal. Take off trousers, panties, socks, get a towel, clean up the area, throw everything in the wash and disinfect the area that is going to call to the crawling/walking baby like a homing beacon. The second time, standing on a chair, again not a big deal. The pooping in her pants while looking at me and screaming all the way to the bathroom is par for the course with a new toilet user. But the third and fourth time IN the bathroom were just confusing. For everyone.
Times like this, I do try to keep my temper. I try. And I know that it's not a situation where I need to get angry, upset or loud. But after the fourth time in four hours, I start to worry. Am I really going to end up cracking like an Easter egg and smacking my kids across the face one day? At most, Eleanor ended up standing in the kitchen with no clothes on for ten minutes while I clean up. But I really do worry that one of these days I'm going to be stretched a bit too thin. And then what?
Todd came home around six to find two screaming banshees and one befuddled looking baby. The girls had decided that the Transformers mask was the prize of the century and that baby Jordan was trying to get it. "She's coming! Oh No!" and then a shrill yell with a few thudding feet. Forget the pitter patter- these kids are filled with cement that seems to echo with every footfall.
As for me, I made dinner. I cursed. Loudly. And then we had dinner and Todd took everyone upstairs to change into pajamas. My contribution to bedtime was one song and hugs and kisses. Sadly lacking, I know, but I'll make up for it. Pretty sure they'll hold me to it.
After school yesterday, Eleanor managed to pee in the garage, on the kitchen floor and on the bathroom floor two times. I know it doesn't sound like a big deal, but after going so long without accidents, for her to suddenly start making puddles is very, very frustrating. It's not just the mess. The first time, it wasn't a big deal. Take off trousers, panties, socks, get a towel, clean up the area, throw everything in the wash and disinfect the area that is going to call to the crawling/walking baby like a homing beacon. The second time, standing on a chair, again not a big deal. The pooping in her pants while looking at me and screaming all the way to the bathroom is par for the course with a new toilet user. But the third and fourth time IN the bathroom were just confusing. For everyone.
Times like this, I do try to keep my temper. I try. And I know that it's not a situation where I need to get angry, upset or loud. But after the fourth time in four hours, I start to worry. Am I really going to end up cracking like an Easter egg and smacking my kids across the face one day? At most, Eleanor ended up standing in the kitchen with no clothes on for ten minutes while I clean up. But I really do worry that one of these days I'm going to be stretched a bit too thin. And then what?
Todd came home around six to find two screaming banshees and one befuddled looking baby. The girls had decided that the Transformers mask was the prize of the century and that baby Jordan was trying to get it. "She's coming! Oh No!" and then a shrill yell with a few thudding feet. Forget the pitter patter- these kids are filled with cement that seems to echo with every footfall.
As for me, I made dinner. I cursed. Loudly. And then we had dinner and Todd took everyone upstairs to change into pajamas. My contribution to bedtime was one song and hugs and kisses. Sadly lacking, I know, but I'll make up for it. Pretty sure they'll hold me to it.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Fairy Tale Marines
Grace informed me this morning that her daddy wears a unicorn to work. With shinys.
That totally made my day.
That totally made my day.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Under the weather
We went to the doctor's yesterday. I've got the hacking cough from hell, the kids have all been running fevers and my parents called to say they were keeping their distance because they have bronchitis and are laid up in bed. Funny, my parents saying they went to the doctor was what got me thinking that maybe we needed to go.
Don't get me wrong, if the girls have a fever that won't come down or some other weird symptom like being quiet or lethargic, then we're heading off to the clinic. But if it's a sniffle with a cough, then it's a cold and we'll wait it out. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck and quacks like a duck- it's probably not Ebola.
My motivation was kicked into high gear when I was trying to get an appointment and baby Jordan was fussing a bit to get at the computer. When I put her down to stand between my legs she laid herself down on the floor and put her thumb in her mouth. She just laid there on the hardwood. She never just lays there.
The girls were great at the doctor, even during the unpleasant baby-chest-xray portion, and were tolerant of my limited selection of snacks and lack of foresight to bring more than one coloring book. Neither Grace or Eleanor were thrilled with my solution of pulling pages out of the coloring book so that they could both draw at the same time, but the compromise seemed to work for the moment. At the end of the day, it turned out that I've got a nasty viral infections that earned me cough syrup with codeine, uber ibuprofen and some other drug that I can't spell. Grace and Jordan both have an antibiotic to kill of their cooties and the baby has another drug to take care of the croupy cough. Fun, fun, fun for all.
The funny part was when the doctor told me I'm probably more than half way through and it should get easier from here. All I would need would be the meds, drink plenty of liquid and get some rest. I just smiled. Did he not notice the three kids?
So today we went to school. Or tried to. Grace was convincingly upset about having to go to school so she came home with me and crashed on the couch while I tried to get some work done in the library. Nothing of any real worth, just fussing with what was already there to make it look good. I pulled out some old photos and the very few knickknacks that we have to put them on the shelves. It's starting to look even better than I imagined. Now all we have to do is get the bedroom cleaned out before Beth's parents come this weekend. I'm sure we'll get that done in our free time.
Don't get me wrong, if the girls have a fever that won't come down or some other weird symptom like being quiet or lethargic, then we're heading off to the clinic. But if it's a sniffle with a cough, then it's a cold and we'll wait it out. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck and quacks like a duck- it's probably not Ebola.
My motivation was kicked into high gear when I was trying to get an appointment and baby Jordan was fussing a bit to get at the computer. When I put her down to stand between my legs she laid herself down on the floor and put her thumb in her mouth. She just laid there on the hardwood. She never just lays there.
The girls were great at the doctor, even during the unpleasant baby-chest-xray portion, and were tolerant of my limited selection of snacks and lack of foresight to bring more than one coloring book. Neither Grace or Eleanor were thrilled with my solution of pulling pages out of the coloring book so that they could both draw at the same time, but the compromise seemed to work for the moment. At the end of the day, it turned out that I've got a nasty viral infections that earned me cough syrup with codeine, uber ibuprofen and some other drug that I can't spell. Grace and Jordan both have an antibiotic to kill of their cooties and the baby has another drug to take care of the croupy cough. Fun, fun, fun for all.
The funny part was when the doctor told me I'm probably more than half way through and it should get easier from here. All I would need would be the meds, drink plenty of liquid and get some rest. I just smiled. Did he not notice the three kids?
So today we went to school. Or tried to. Grace was convincingly upset about having to go to school so she came home with me and crashed on the couch while I tried to get some work done in the library. Nothing of any real worth, just fussing with what was already there to make it look good. I pulled out some old photos and the very few knickknacks that we have to put them on the shelves. It's starting to look even better than I imagined. Now all we have to do is get the bedroom cleaned out before Beth's parents come this weekend. I'm sure we'll get that done in our free time.
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