The Princess Party

This year I made at least one good parenting decision. That decision was to follow the age old rule of inviting as many kids to the birthday party as is the age of the child.

That meant four for PJ. Then, one did not show, so we had a total of four.

This party was delightful. These girls did nothing but giggle, giggle and then giggle some more for two solid hours.

Happy Birthday Party Day Princess PJ…her “real” birthday has yet to come.

Check, check, check

At PJ’s preschool they have a morning routine. When the child walks in the door, they do the following:

1. Wash hands
2. Spit out gum (this is only in the case of my gum chewing children)
3. Choose one of the many projects that is set out in front of you

When CT went to preschool, PJ would follow right behind him and do everything he did, and by the time it was her turn to actually be the student she knew exactly what to do.

Now that KP has been watching how school works over the past year, he knows the routine and today he did it almost perfectly.

1. Spit his gum into the garbage can
2. Washed his hands
3. Picked his gum back up out of the garbage can and shoved it back into his mouth.

You can use this too…next Easter

Church seems to be a difficult activity for our family. But this past Lent, I wanted to try to go every Sunday. So we tried. After many weeks of practice we got to go to the grand finale, Easter Sunday mass. Which, by the way, I spent half of chasing a 1 and 3 year old up and down the back halls of the church, all the while asking God for some grace so I wouldn’t have what I like to call “church rage”.

Once everyone was done running, I brought them back into church just in time for communion. We all went up, Adam and I swapped out jobs, and I got to sit with CT (who had sat so still all of mass) and enjoy a bit of calm.

Then, CT started to complain. Complain about how his feet were hurting in his new shoes. He went on, and on, and on. Even when I asked him to stop, he wouldn’t. I finally looked at him and said in a whisper that was probably a bit too loud, “Your feet? Your feet hurt? You have no right to complain. Jesus…now he has a right to complain, he was NAILED TO THE CROSS. DO YOU HEAR HIM COMPLAINING?”

Quote of the week

On the way to the park last week, one of the neighborhood kids tagged along with our posse as we made our way down the street. I could tell he was out of sorts as he kept kicking the ground with his shoes that were too big for his little feet. I looked at him and said, “Hey Ray, what’s up?” And he replied in his very deep voice, a voice way too deep for any child of his age…

“My mom is stupid, I hate her and…and SHE’S FIRED!”

23 months…and 5 days

As I look through last months pictures of you, all I can do is laugh. You are one funny kid!

From the noises you make, to the full sentences you try to get out of your mouth, to talking with the cats, to shoving five peeps into your mouth at once and then putting a butterfly net over your head and purposefully falling down for a laugh…you are just plain old funny.

Erik once said…”that kid is going to drink a lot of beer.”

I’m afraid he might just be right.

I love you funny boy.

Mom

Easter Bunny memories

When I was seven-years old the Easter Bunny brought my brother and me our very own bunny for Easter. We were ecstatic and took right to him. We named him Floppsy Mopsy Cotton Tail; why not get all the good bunny names into one, right? We put diapers on it so it would stop pooping on the floor. We even tried to breed it with our Guinea Pig. You know, to make a Guinea-bunny.

But, the following story is what I remember most about our sweet little bunny. It was the middle of the summer and all the neighborhood kids were gathered playing kick ball in my best friend Julie’s back yard. I was running late and the game had already started but it didn’t matter, I had to stop by to see Floppsy Moppsy Cotton Tail.

When I got to his cage, I saw Julie’s miniature Dachshund, Poppy, in the cage with him. Not only was she in the cage with my bunny, but she had taken him down and viciously ripped his throat out. And as she sat there looking at me, licking her chops, I screamed hysterically.

Oooooooohhhhh sweet childhood memories

Spring…

has sprung!

And the white flags are a fly’n

I just…I just…I just don’t get it. Why on earth some days are like torture. Why wee little ones prefer to push and push and push until there is nothing left of me or them.

Today I have had the misfortune of having to “follow through” with a whole slew of threats that I doled out and all for not listening, the first time. I’m honestly done with my kids ignoring me or dismissing me.

PJ is the one who seems to be having the hardest time with this new concept of listening, the first time. Today she has missed out on a swim outing and milk and stories before quiet time. If things continue down this path, she will lose her TV privileges for the day. And to tell you the truth, that is all I got left. There is nothing else to take.

Even though I am not the beating type, days like this one make it hard to find balance in the rage. And now as I sit and try to write away my anger I find myself thinking of her fortitude and her strength and her stubbornness and her will power and how she is forging her own way and making it her own, standing out from her brothers and taking her own stand.

Someday, when she is older and wiser, she will take all that makes her maddening to me, bundle it up, use it to her advantage in life and be a VERY strong and beautiful woman.

And people…mark my words, you all better watch out, because if you get in her way I have not doubt that she will cut you.

Wondering…

How many crusts of unfinished sandwich does it take to make a whole sandwich?

And this is how…