It takes effort to vote. I've never missed an opportunity to vote, but some days it just takes more effort. Not that it's hard. It just takes some doing to get there. Like today.
For one thing, it's raining.
Two, Daniel still has a touch of diarrhea and had to have a full bath before we could leave.
Three, it's raining.
Four, I had to locate my voter registration card - which wasn't exactly where I thought it was.
Five, neither child could understand how going with Mommy to vote could be more fun than watching Clifford on tv.
Six, Daniel has not exactly mastered the 'stand right here next to Mommy and don't move' rule. So he has to be strapped into the stroller when I go in to vote.
Seven, Did I mention it was raining?
We managed to survive it all. :) The trickiest part was trying to keep the stroller dry while I got Daniel out of the car. Oh and pushing the stroller straight with one hand while holding the umbrella in the other. I'm sure we were amusing to watch. And I'm equally sure no one cared enough to watch us. Inside we headed for the check-in tables. The one corresponding to our last name had no line, which surprised me. Michael had said we might have to wait quite a while and in the rain. Instead, we went right through.
I went immediately to a touch-screen computer and voted. I always feel a little uneasy with the touch screen. I know they're fine, but it feels like my vote could be lost in a millisecond. When we punched the card they could always go back in and find it. And count it by hand. Or check for chads. Or hanging chads. Or partial punched chads...
We got our stickers and came on back home. Daniel didn't find the whole experience exciting enough and he refused to get out of the car, screaming "Go Bote, Mommy! Go Bote!" He was apparently expecting something more.
Our annual election party had to be canceled because of the lingering stomach bug symptoms. But have no doubt - we will be camped in front of the tv and computers tonight! We love to watch the returns coming in! And tonight we're watching from a swing state so there's even more anticipation than normal.
I love election day!
Showing posts with label kid stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kid stories. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
May she always feel this way....
Brenna had been outside playing with our neighbor boy this afternoon, when she suddenly burst through the back door with her hands on hips. As he peered through the glass door, I asked, "What's going on?"
With all the huff and irritation a five year old can muster, she replied, "I'm not so fascinated by his fast talk!"
With all the huff and irritation a five year old can muster, she replied, "I'm not so fascinated by his fast talk!"
Saturday, August 09, 2008
It's Saturday night and I'm tired...
We have finally acquired Wii Fit. As I type, Michael is attempting to walk between high rise buildings on a tight rope. He's flapping his arms wildly....The birds nearly did him in. Awww... he fell. Oh well. Better luck on the ski jump.
Thursday we spent the day cleaning carpets. The first time we did our carpets I was horrified by the black, and yes I mean black, water that came up through the machine. It was so bad, that we did them twice before returning the cleaner. Since we're through the rough part of potty training, we decided it was time to clean again.
(here's Daniel, eager to help)
This time the carpets weren't as bad. The water was still gray, but nothing like before. We did the downstairs and then Brenna's room.
Which reminds me...earlier this week at dinner, Michael and I were complimenting her for keeping her room clean. Ever since we did the big clean-up and rearrangement in June, she's really been keeping it nice. So we congratulated her and she said, "Thanks! So what are we going to do about that?"
Indeed. Little rascal. Nuthin'! We're doing nuthin' about it, except tell you you're doin' good!
***************************
Thursday we spent the day cleaning carpets. The first time we did our carpets I was horrified by the black, and yes I mean black, water that came up through the machine. It was so bad, that we did them twice before returning the cleaner. Since we're through the rough part of potty training, we decided it was time to clean again.(here's Daniel, eager to help)
This time the carpets weren't as bad. The water was still gray, but nothing like before. We did the downstairs and then Brenna's room.
Which reminds me...earlier this week at dinner, Michael and I were complimenting her for keeping her room clean. Ever since we did the big clean-up and rearrangement in June, she's really been keeping it nice. So we congratulated her and she said, "Thanks! So what are we going to do about that?"
Indeed. Little rascal. Nuthin'! We're doing nuthin' about it, except tell you you're doin' good!
*************************
I talked to my mom a little while ago. She said she took Daniel out to play on the swing set this morning. He wanted to swing so she started to unhook the little plastic car swing they have for him. But that wasn't what he had in mind. "No baby, Gamma, no baby." Almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. He wanted to be on the big boy swing. "No baby, Gamma, no baby."
I talked to my mom a little while ago. She said she took Daniel out to play on the swing set this morning. He wanted to swing so she started to unhook the little plastic car swing they have for him. But that wasn't what he had in mind. "No baby, Gamma, no baby." Almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. He wanted to be on the big boy swing. "No baby, Gamma, no baby."
Saturday, July 19, 2008
First Sentence
Daniel's first understandable sentence:
"My Nenna [Brenna] is a boy!"
How sweet. She started to argue, but they both ended up in a fit of giggles because he just kept repeating it.
"My Nenna [Brenna] is a boy!"
How sweet. She started to argue, but they both ended up in a fit of giggles because he just kept repeating it.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Escape
I used to wonder how parents could let a small child escape unnoticed out the door. I'd hear stories of a 2 or 3 year old who wandered away from the house and I'd think "how on earth did that happen? why don't they just lock the door?"
I no longer wonder. I am that parent.
Daniel hasn't gotten any further than the front porch because he's fascinated with the doorbell. Thank goodness. Just this morning, I was making spaghetti casserole in the kitchen, when the doorbell rang. Sure enough, it was Daniel.
"Doorbell, Mommy!"
"Get back in here, you little rascal!"
Our screen door stays locked, but he's had that figured out for a while. The only way to keep him in is to close the inside door and use the deadbolt. I would prefer to keep that door open because it lets in so much more light. For now, though, it'll have to stay closed...lest I make the evening news as one of "those" parents.
I no longer wonder. I am that parent.
Daniel hasn't gotten any further than the front porch because he's fascinated with the doorbell. Thank goodness. Just this morning, I was making spaghetti casserole in the kitchen, when the doorbell rang. Sure enough, it was Daniel.
"Doorbell, Mommy!"
"Get back in here, you little rascal!"
Our screen door stays locked, but he's had that figured out for a while. The only way to keep him in is to close the inside door and use the deadbolt. I would prefer to keep that door open because it lets in so much more light. For now, though, it'll have to stay closed...lest I make the evening news as one of "those" parents.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Saying Goodbye
I scurried into church just in time this morning. Michael and Brenna had gone early to practice with the band. I dropped Daniel at the nursery with the white haired woman who complains about the idiosyncratic pottying techniques of the toddler boys. (shoes off, backwards, pants off...etc.) She asked if Daniel had any special instructions. I lied and told her no. He won't go while he's there anyway. Then I quickly headed downstairs to the computer.
After double checking that the service layout was in place, I opened my phone to check the time. 10:55. I was late starting the 5 minute countdown. (We start ours at 7 till.) Not a good start to a service that would eventually run overtime.
As the countdown played on the screen, Michael leaned over my shoulder to ask if Jonathan had had a chance to talk to me this morning. Confused, I shook my head. It was then that I learned of his resignation. Jonathan, who is the youth pastor, and his wife and two kids are moving back to Texas. His wife and kids are leaving this week. Jonathan will follow later in the summer.
Jonathan's older daughter is Emily. Age 5. Brenna's constant companion at church. They sit together nearly every week and dance together as the band warms up. They walk to kids church holding hands where they keep each other company and color pictures together as they wait for Jonathan or I to pick them up. Afterwards, they play and giggle like little girls should in the rec room while we tear down from the service and prepare to leave. It's that way every week.
After church today, I picked up Daniel and then climbed the stairs to the kids church room. Brenna and Emily were sitting on the floor, coloring and laughing. When they saw me, they quickly put their supplies away and Brenna followed me out the door, with a quick "See ya later Emily!" over her shoulder. As we descended the steps, I gently shared the news of their move. By the time we hit the bottom step, Brenna was sobbing. I knelt down to my knees as she wrapped her arms around my neck, crying hard and asking why.
We stayed like that a few minutes and then began to move down the hallway, toward the stairs to the rec room. Jonathan brought Emily down and I confirmed that this was, indeed, her last week. Brenna's tears began afresh and she reached to hug her dear friend. She told Emily that she was her best buddy and that Sundays wouldn't be the same without her here. They hugged again as Brenna cried harder.
I looked up through my tear speckled glasses to see the tears running down Jonathan's cheeks and the ones welling in Michael's. Our hearts broke for the pain of a five year old. I reminded Brenna that we could write to Emily, and send her e-mails...and even call her. At which point the girls each very seriously recited their phone numbers to each other and Emily said, "If you can remember that, you can call me." Grinning, her dad whispered that they would send us the new one - in Texas.
Much of the way home, Brenna wanted to talk about how much saying goodbye hurt and how Sundays would be so different and lonely. I told her about how I cried when my friends Jonathan and Tara moved to North Carolina. We talked about all the good things that will happen to Emily, like getting to see her grandma. After a while, I looked up in the mirror to see the tears had stopped and she said, "It hurts a lot because I love her so much". So true. So very true.
Emily was Brenna's first real friend at our new church. In a congregation where attendance fluctuates dramatically, she could always count on the youth pastor's daughter to be there. She's mentioned precious few other names of girls "who are friendly to me." I think the girls are nice, they just don't come every week.
She knows she'll make new friends at school in September, but she also knows new friends don't replace old ones. Emily will always have a very special place in her heart.
After double checking that the service layout was in place, I opened my phone to check the time. 10:55. I was late starting the 5 minute countdown. (We start ours at 7 till.) Not a good start to a service that would eventually run overtime.
As the countdown played on the screen, Michael leaned over my shoulder to ask if Jonathan had had a chance to talk to me this morning. Confused, I shook my head. It was then that I learned of his resignation. Jonathan, who is the youth pastor, and his wife and two kids are moving back to Texas. His wife and kids are leaving this week. Jonathan will follow later in the summer.
Jonathan's older daughter is Emily. Age 5. Brenna's constant companion at church. They sit together nearly every week and dance together as the band warms up. They walk to kids church holding hands where they keep each other company and color pictures together as they wait for Jonathan or I to pick them up. Afterwards, they play and giggle like little girls should in the rec room while we tear down from the service and prepare to leave. It's that way every week.
After church today, I picked up Daniel and then climbed the stairs to the kids church room. Brenna and Emily were sitting on the floor, coloring and laughing. When they saw me, they quickly put their supplies away and Brenna followed me out the door, with a quick "See ya later Emily!" over her shoulder. As we descended the steps, I gently shared the news of their move. By the time we hit the bottom step, Brenna was sobbing. I knelt down to my knees as she wrapped her arms around my neck, crying hard and asking why.
We stayed like that a few minutes and then began to move down the hallway, toward the stairs to the rec room. Jonathan brought Emily down and I confirmed that this was, indeed, her last week. Brenna's tears began afresh and she reached to hug her dear friend. She told Emily that she was her best buddy and that Sundays wouldn't be the same without her here. They hugged again as Brenna cried harder.
I looked up through my tear speckled glasses to see the tears running down Jonathan's cheeks and the ones welling in Michael's. Our hearts broke for the pain of a five year old. I reminded Brenna that we could write to Emily, and send her e-mails...and even call her. At which point the girls each very seriously recited their phone numbers to each other and Emily said, "If you can remember that, you can call me." Grinning, her dad whispered that they would send us the new one - in Texas.
Much of the way home, Brenna wanted to talk about how much saying goodbye hurt and how Sundays would be so different and lonely. I told her about how I cried when my friends Jonathan and Tara moved to North Carolina. We talked about all the good things that will happen to Emily, like getting to see her grandma. After a while, I looked up in the mirror to see the tears had stopped and she said, "It hurts a lot because I love her so much". So true. So very true.
Emily was Brenna's first real friend at our new church. In a congregation where attendance fluctuates dramatically, she could always count on the youth pastor's daughter to be there. She's mentioned precious few other names of girls "who are friendly to me." I think the girls are nice, they just don't come every week.
She knows she'll make new friends at school in September, but she also knows new friends don't replace old ones. Emily will always have a very special place in her heart.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Lunch: Butterflies and Caterpillars
I was a little late grabbing the camera last Friday and the caterpillar had already lost most of his legs. Some little body was hungry! We had a caterpillars and butterflies lunch. And fish. Unrelated, but it just felt necessary to add another animal to the plate.The Butterfly is made with a half sandwich, a carrot and two slivers of celery for the antennae. The Caterpillar is made with grapes and raisins. The fish were dumped from the bag. : )
Monday, June 02, 2008
The Birthday Boy and The Excavator Cake
The Twizzlers were extremely uncooperative, as you can see, but other than that our cake turned out pretty well.
This is pretty much how he opened his gifts - no difference between tissue paper and clothes. He just threw it all over his shoulder. If the gift came in a box, he just knew he needed the box empty before he could play with it.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
"He's All Boy"
I feel like we make that comment multiple times a week. On Mother's Day we got this week's quota in all at once. Take one look at this picture, and you'll see what I mean.
Oh yes he did.
Got his own bowl and spoon out. Pulled a kid sized chair up to the counter and dug himself out a good chunk of chocolate cake. Michael caught his chocolate smeared face enjoying every bite.
This, of course, was after Michael had already cleaned up the moss from my ficus tree that Daniel had scattered throughout the living room. And after we'd both about lost our hearing while trying to get him to use the restroom at the church. And after we'd removed him from the middle of the dining room table. And after he hadn't taken much of a nap. And not too long before he tried to snitch a drink of my Pepsi and dumped it down the front of his shirt.
Oh, and yours truly put him to bed Saturday night in underwear! Hello? Dummy! I guess I wasn't paying attention. Anyway, poor Michael had a mess and a half to clean up Sunday morning.
We didn't make it to church in time for Sunday School this week.
Oh yes he did.Got his own bowl and spoon out. Pulled a kid sized chair up to the counter and dug himself out a good chunk of chocolate cake. Michael caught his chocolate smeared face enjoying every bite.
This, of course, was after Michael had already cleaned up the moss from my ficus tree that Daniel had scattered throughout the living room. And after we'd both about lost our hearing while trying to get him to use the restroom at the church. And after we'd removed him from the middle of the dining room table. And after he hadn't taken much of a nap. And not too long before he tried to snitch a drink of my Pepsi and dumped it down the front of his shirt.
Oh, and yours truly put him to bed Saturday night in underwear! Hello? Dummy! I guess I wasn't paying attention. Anyway, poor Michael had a mess and a half to clean up Sunday morning.
We didn't make it to church in time for Sunday School this week.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Monday, May 05, 2008
Let's Make Mommy Look Like A Fool
I've been so excited about Daniel's potty training success. He's done so well and I really haven't been shy about telling our family and friends when they ask. Let me tell ya, though, there's nothing like having company to bring out the "I'm-gonna-make-mom-look-like-a-fool" in a kid. We had family visiting from Ohio and South Carolina this weekend so Daniel decided that he was not going use the bathrooms at my parents house. At all. Not the one on the first floor. Not the one upstairs. Not the one in my parents room. And definitely not the little potty we bought to keep at Grandma and Papa's house.
It went a little like this:
Me: Daniel? Do you have to go potty?
Daniel: No Mommy. (run the other way)
Me: Daniel, you tell Mommy if you have to go potty.
Daniel: No Mommy.
Ten Minutes Later.
Me: Daniel, it's time to go potty. Let's go.
Daniel: No Mommy. (runs away)
Me: Daniel, I said it's time to go potty. You need to try.
As I caught him up mid-run, he'd begin screaming and kicking. "Nooooooooooo!" Once inside the bathroom, he stomped around yelling 'no' while I tugged on his pants and tried to keep him from hitting his head on the tub or the toilet or the cabinet. No small feat, I tell you. Then we'd spend fifteen deafening minutes in a battle of the wills. How long could I hold him on while he struggled to get off? Each time I eventually gave up. Redressed him and sent him running back out to play with cousins or aunts.
Five Minutes Later.
Daniel: Uh Oh Mommy. Pee-pee. (As he points to the puddle around his feet.)
Me: Daaanniiieeeelllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll! (in total exasperation)
During the three days of the weekend, he went just fine on his travel potty at the soccer fields and Chick-Fil-A. (Maybe I should've taken him out to the driveway to go at Mom and Dad's.) By Sunday evening I was tired of the whole thing. I was just sure we'd lost a month's worth of work and that I was going to have to start all over again with training on Monday morning. No reason for anyone to believe me that he was doing so well. I'd completely given up and resorted to pull ups in an effort to make it through the day.
We said goodbye to our Ohio family, ate some ice cream and loaded the car. Daniel and I walked in the door at home, and had the following conversation-
Daniel: Mommy! pee-pee!
Me: Do you have to go potty? (me incredulous!)
Daniel: I do!
And he did.
So, what on earth is the deal with the bathrooms at my parent's house? And why are they more traumatic than the automatic flushing ones at Target and Ukrops? No doubt he didn't want to miss out on anything, but my word, was that really necessary?!
It went a little like this:
Me: Daniel? Do you have to go potty?
Daniel: No Mommy. (run the other way)
Me: Daniel, you tell Mommy if you have to go potty.
Daniel: No Mommy.
Ten Minutes Later.
Me: Daniel, it's time to go potty. Let's go.
Daniel: No Mommy. (runs away)
Me: Daniel, I said it's time to go potty. You need to try.
As I caught him up mid-run, he'd begin screaming and kicking. "Nooooooooooo!" Once inside the bathroom, he stomped around yelling 'no' while I tugged on his pants and tried to keep him from hitting his head on the tub or the toilet or the cabinet. No small feat, I tell you. Then we'd spend fifteen deafening minutes in a battle of the wills. How long could I hold him on while he struggled to get off? Each time I eventually gave up. Redressed him and sent him running back out to play with cousins or aunts.
Five Minutes Later.
Daniel: Uh Oh Mommy. Pee-pee. (As he points to the puddle around his feet.)
Me: Daaanniiieeeelllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll! (in total exasperation)
During the three days of the weekend, he went just fine on his travel potty at the soccer fields and Chick-Fil-A. (Maybe I should've taken him out to the driveway to go at Mom and Dad's.) By Sunday evening I was tired of the whole thing. I was just sure we'd lost a month's worth of work and that I was going to have to start all over again with training on Monday morning. No reason for anyone to believe me that he was doing so well. I'd completely given up and resorted to pull ups in an effort to make it through the day.
We said goodbye to our Ohio family, ate some ice cream and loaded the car. Daniel and I walked in the door at home, and had the following conversation-
Daniel: Mommy! pee-pee!
Me: Do you have to go potty? (me incredulous!)
Daniel: I do!
And he did.
So, what on earth is the deal with the bathrooms at my parent's house? And why are they more traumatic than the automatic flushing ones at Target and Ukrops? No doubt he didn't want to miss out on anything, but my word, was that really necessary?!
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Weekend Pictures
It has been a wonderfully busy weekend and I'm tired. So I'm taking the lazy way out and posting pictures only tonight. Hopefully tomorrow I can coherently add detail to images.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Narrowing Brenna's Career Choices
My uncle Jeff (mom's youngest brother) was visiting us last Sunday night from Ohio. He sat next to Brenna at dinner and did a little teasing. When Brenna got kinda huffy and glared at him, my mom tried to empathize with her. She started telling Brenna that even though Jeff is her younger brother he used to pick on her all the time when they were kids. Before she could get any further, Brenna looked her right in the eye and said, "Get over it!"
Cross Counselor and Psychologist off the list.
Thank goodness my mom and dad thought that was hysterical. I'm pretty sure if I'd said that at her age, it wouldn't have gone over so well.
Here are a few pictures from the evening. We had a great time showing uncle Jeff how to play a wii. (The pictures of him must be on mom's camera.) Even my grandparents played a little!
Nana had a little trouble getting the timing down for bowling, so Stephen helped her out.
Cross Counselor and Psychologist off the list.
Thank goodness my mom and dad thought that was hysterical. I'm pretty sure if I'd said that at her age, it wouldn't have gone over so well.
Here are a few pictures from the evening. We had a great time showing uncle Jeff how to play a wii. (The pictures of him must be on mom's camera.) Even my grandparents played a little!
Nana had a little trouble getting the timing down for bowling, so Stephen helped her out.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Brenna's Tip Of The Day
When your little brother chases you into a room, make sure your thumb is out of the way before you slam the door.
Updated: The cast is off and the fractured bone has healed. We just have to wait and see how the rest of the injury will heal. I'm resisting the urge to write all about the orthopaedics experience. One word comes to mind: ridiculous. I'll leave it at that.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Why We Don't Have Bushes In Front Of Our House
Potty training at the Peapod became legendary after just one child. I had read a book about potty training in one day and that was my very misguided expectation.
After 4 or 5 days of constant training, I was frustrated to the core. Standing at the window in our living room, I became irritated that the bushes had grown so high they were covering the lower third of the glass. I decided trimming them with the clippers would be just the way to work out my frustrations. And so I slammed the handles of those things together with as much force as I could muster. It gave me great pleasure to see the trimmings go flying in the air.
Before long I noticed that while the bushes were green on the outside, they were brown in the middle. All my efforts at "trimming" merely exposed the ugly insides. Of course the ugly part had to go. Dead brown bushes in front of my house was worse than overgrown green ones. Slightly worried, I went back to working the clippers.
When Michael got home from work, we only had ugly brown bush stumps left. He had every right to yell at me and be very,very mad. Instead, he was kind enough to simply ask, "what happened?" I poured out the whole story while he helped me dig up the stumps.
When I mentioned potty training Daniel (3 months younger than Brenna was) Michael hid the clippers. Or maybe he sold them...seeing as how we don't have any bushes to trim anyway.
Since I fell for the potty training in a day ruse the first time, I did a lot more research this time. It seems that before disposable diapers became common, mothers trained their children long before they turned two. I also discovered that in many other countries and cultures, children are potty trained even before they turn one.
I figured that meant Daniel was plenty capable of being trained as soon as I was ready to make it happen. And really, why would I want to keep buying diapers if I didn't have to? The more powerful motivation, though, was his red bum. Cotton Elmo underwear is much kinder to his skin.
So I gathered up my mother-determination and got started. Mostly I used the methods outlined by John Rosemond, adapted to meet our own needs. After three weeks of work (I was warned that boys are harder to train, after all.) we've had three consecutive days with no accidents. I'd say he's got it - when we're at home. Sunday he made it through lunch at a restaurant. (I packed his potty in the car and he took a break between the meal and dessert.) I'm not confident in public just yet. But we're getting there.
More importantly, though, I didn't chop, cut, clip, hurt, or in any way destroy anything in the process. We still don't have bushes in front of the house, but that's because we haven't planted new ones yet. Not because I chopped them down again.
After 4 or 5 days of constant training, I was frustrated to the core. Standing at the window in our living room, I became irritated that the bushes had grown so high they were covering the lower third of the glass. I decided trimming them with the clippers would be just the way to work out my frustrations. And so I slammed the handles of those things together with as much force as I could muster. It gave me great pleasure to see the trimmings go flying in the air.
Before long I noticed that while the bushes were green on the outside, they were brown in the middle. All my efforts at "trimming" merely exposed the ugly insides. Of course the ugly part had to go. Dead brown bushes in front of my house was worse than overgrown green ones. Slightly worried, I went back to working the clippers.
When Michael got home from work, we only had ugly brown bush stumps left. He had every right to yell at me and be very,very mad. Instead, he was kind enough to simply ask, "what happened?" I poured out the whole story while he helped me dig up the stumps.
When I mentioned potty training Daniel (3 months younger than Brenna was) Michael hid the clippers. Or maybe he sold them...seeing as how we don't have any bushes to trim anyway.
Since I fell for the potty training in a day ruse the first time, I did a lot more research this time. It seems that before disposable diapers became common, mothers trained their children long before they turned two. I also discovered that in many other countries and cultures, children are potty trained even before they turn one.
I figured that meant Daniel was plenty capable of being trained as soon as I was ready to make it happen. And really, why would I want to keep buying diapers if I didn't have to? The more powerful motivation, though, was his red bum. Cotton Elmo underwear is much kinder to his skin.
So I gathered up my mother-determination and got started. Mostly I used the methods outlined by John Rosemond, adapted to meet our own needs. After three weeks of work (I was warned that boys are harder to train, after all.) we've had three consecutive days with no accidents. I'd say he's got it - when we're at home. Sunday he made it through lunch at a restaurant. (I packed his potty in the car and he took a break between the meal and dessert.) I'm not confident in public just yet. But we're getting there.
More importantly, though, I didn't chop, cut, clip, hurt, or in any way destroy anything in the process. We still don't have bushes in front of the house, but that's because we haven't planted new ones yet. Not because I chopped them down again.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Workin' The System
We've been potty training here at the Peapod. Things are going pretty well, too. I can tell because I haven't asked Michael to stop and pick up diapers for at least a week. At home, we're getting pretty successful. Out in public....well, we haven't really tried that yet.
Last night Daniel figured out how to work the system. He's known for a while now that every time he goes in the potty, he gets M&Ms. But last night he started really trying to earn those M&Ms. By the time we got his underpants back up and cleaned out the potty, he was nearly done with his treat. He'd last about 2 minutes before he decided he needed some more.
"Pee! Pee!" He'd shout. So we'd start all over again. He'd sit down; try real hard. You could see the concentration. Then he'd jump up in victory, pointing at the dime sized drop of pee he'd managed to leak.
Over and over and over....
By about the 4th time it was funny. By the 6th we were hiding the potty, hoping for the out-of-sight-out-of-mind mentality to take over.
Last night Daniel figured out how to work the system. He's known for a while now that every time he goes in the potty, he gets M&Ms. But last night he started really trying to earn those M&Ms. By the time we got his underpants back up and cleaned out the potty, he was nearly done with his treat. He'd last about 2 minutes before he decided he needed some more.
"Pee! Pee!" He'd shout. So we'd start all over again. He'd sit down; try real hard. You could see the concentration. Then he'd jump up in victory, pointing at the dime sized drop of pee he'd managed to leak.
Over and over and over....
By about the 4th time it was funny. By the 6th we were hiding the potty, hoping for the out-of-sight-out-of-mind mentality to take over.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Soccer Season Is Here
Here's one of Brenna's great throw-ins.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Dust Mite Drama
This morning Brenna knocked on my bathroom door. "Mommy?....Mommy?"
"Mommy, I need to read you something. It's really sad. We're going to have to sit down."
I asked her what it was, but she insisted on waiting. When I opened the door, I saw right away that she was holding her Kids Almanac. With a worried expression, she began reading. "They're in your pillow! Take dust mites, for instance. You can't see them, but they cozy up in bed with you every night."
She shivered and looked up at me with sad eyes. I wasn't sure what to say yet, so she kept reading.
"Scientists estimate that a typical mattress could have {100 comma zero, zero, zero} to 10 million mites inside it! What's more, almost 10 percent of the weight of your pillow could be mites - dead or alive - and their droppings."
Now I was horrified too. She went on to explain that they can cause sneezing and itching, and that every one of her sneezes and itches in all of her life has been caused by mites. She's sure of it.
I managed to change the subject and distract her momentarily with the laundry and dressing Daniel, but it didn't last. When I brought her breakfast into the dining room she was standing beside her chair scratching herself all over - head, stomach, legs, arms....
I could see this wasn't going away easily, so I told her we would wash her pillow today. That didn't solve the "itchiness" though, so I made an extra effort not to roll my eyes and told her that God made our bodies in such a way that we can live with dust mites and be okay. For some reason she accepted that lame explanation and sat down to eat.
I, though, am still pretty disgusted with the thought of anything leaving it's droppings on my pillow or mattress. ugh! What a way to start the morning!
"Mommy, I need to read you something. It's really sad. We're going to have to sit down."
I asked her what it was, but she insisted on waiting. When I opened the door, I saw right away that she was holding her Kids Almanac. With a worried expression, she began reading. "They're in your pillow! Take dust mites, for instance. You can't see them, but they cozy up in bed with you every night."She shivered and looked up at me with sad eyes. I wasn't sure what to say yet, so she kept reading.
"Scientists estimate that a typical mattress could have {100 comma zero, zero, zero} to 10 million mites inside it! What's more, almost 10 percent of the weight of your pillow could be mites - dead or alive - and their droppings."
Now I was horrified too. She went on to explain that they can cause sneezing and itching, and that every one of her sneezes and itches in all of her life has been caused by mites. She's sure of it.
I managed to change the subject and distract her momentarily with the laundry and dressing Daniel, but it didn't last. When I brought her breakfast into the dining room she was standing beside her chair scratching herself all over - head, stomach, legs, arms....
I could see this wasn't going away easily, so I told her we would wash her pillow today. That didn't solve the "itchiness" though, so I made an extra effort not to roll my eyes and told her that God made our bodies in such a way that we can live with dust mites and be okay. For some reason she accepted that lame explanation and sat down to eat.
I, though, am still pretty disgusted with the thought of anything leaving it's droppings on my pillow or mattress. ugh! What a way to start the morning!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Yesterday Was Crazy
It's official. Cable tv and blazing fast internet are now bursting into our home on fiber optic cables. The technician, Manny, arrived at our house about 10:30 yesterday morning. He pulled into our driveway and we waited for the doorbell to ring. But it didn't.
Not wanting to appear too anxious, we asked Brenna to look out the window and see if he was coming. She reported, "He's on the ground!"
What?? He's on the ground? We both jumped as she rushed to explain, "I mean, he's out of the van and his feet are on the ground, Mom. He's walking up the sidewalk."
I had visions of the cable guy passed out in the front yard with firetrucks and ambulances blaring their sirens, while our 5 year old reported the news. So glad THAT was a misunderstanding!
Anyway, Manny came in and we liked him immediately. Which was a good thing because switching to fiber optic cables is an all-day-long process. He was here for nearly 6 hours. That's 6 hours of a stranger in my house, under my house, in my attic, on my computers, drilling holes in my walls, and messing with our tv.
And 6 hours of a stranger going in and out of my bedroom. But I wanted cable up there so I squashed the uneasy feeling. It was worth it. Michael hooked the tv up to our new stereo system we got for Christmas and we have really nice sound up there. Of course, it's coming off our 13 in. tv, but, hey, one. thing. at. a. time!
By 1:30 I was making cookies for my family. And Manny. Because by then he was more like a cousin. A much darker cousin. But a cousin, nonetheless. We even sent cookies home with him to share with his family. I tell you, it was a good thing we liked him, because it was a very long day.
Somewhere around 2 I left to take Daniel to mom and dad's for a nap. He needed a quiet place to sleep and I was tired of chasing him out from behind the tv, and away from the telephone cords.
Last night I had the kids while Michael went to practice. Even though Daniel had a nap, he still dumped the computer trash can, scattered all the napkins from the holder, and emptied the three drawers that hold his plates and cups. At one point I heard a strange clinking noise and found him sitting in the middle of the dining room table playing with the salt and pepper shakers.
Oh, he went to bed at 7:40.
And the gates went back up. Today he is so not leaving the living room. Maybe not ever.
Not wanting to appear too anxious, we asked Brenna to look out the window and see if he was coming. She reported, "He's on the ground!"
What?? He's on the ground? We both jumped as she rushed to explain, "I mean, he's out of the van and his feet are on the ground, Mom. He's walking up the sidewalk."
I had visions of the cable guy passed out in the front yard with firetrucks and ambulances blaring their sirens, while our 5 year old reported the news. So glad THAT was a misunderstanding!
Anyway, Manny came in and we liked him immediately. Which was a good thing because switching to fiber optic cables is an all-day-long process. He was here for nearly 6 hours. That's 6 hours of a stranger in my house, under my house, in my attic, on my computers, drilling holes in my walls, and messing with our tv.
And 6 hours of a stranger going in and out of my bedroom. But I wanted cable up there so I squashed the uneasy feeling. It was worth it. Michael hooked the tv up to our new stereo system we got for Christmas and we have really nice sound up there. Of course, it's coming off our 13 in. tv, but, hey, one. thing. at. a. time!
By 1:30 I was making cookies for my family. And Manny. Because by then he was more like a cousin. A much darker cousin. But a cousin, nonetheless. We even sent cookies home with him to share with his family. I tell you, it was a good thing we liked him, because it was a very long day.
Somewhere around 2 I left to take Daniel to mom and dad's for a nap. He needed a quiet place to sleep and I was tired of chasing him out from behind the tv, and away from the telephone cords.
Last night I had the kids while Michael went to practice. Even though Daniel had a nap, he still dumped the computer trash can, scattered all the napkins from the holder, and emptied the three drawers that hold his plates and cups. At one point I heard a strange clinking noise and found him sitting in the middle of the dining room table playing with the salt and pepper shakers.
Oh, he went to bed at 7:40.
And the gates went back up. Today he is so not leaving the living room. Maybe not ever.
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