Things have been eventful and busy around here since my last post. So, normal. There's been some potty training, some sickness, a week of reorganizing/cleaning, a toddler sitting in an ant pile, home school, some Christmas decorating, and a three year old who decided to stick his index finger in the pencil sharpener and sharpen it. I guess his quick wit wasn't enough, he needed a backup secret weapon.
I've also been taking tons of pictures, of which I feel very privileged to do. I look at these and I think about how exciting it is to get a good picture of your family and I'm excited for them. I know how relieved I am when I feel like I capture one of my kids personalities.
Speaking of personality, we've got plenty of it around here. I am so thankful for my vibrant little offspring. Even though they like to raise the level of demand on me as a mother to a new (never thought possible) level on a daily basis, I welcome it. I just hope they remember the times when I'm laughing and having fun and not the times when I go into my room and lock the door.
And while we're on the subject of locking the door, this is what I must resort to do if I have to talk on the phone. I have a complete and total deficiency as a parent. I have neglected to teach my kids phone manners. They in fact seem to do the exact opposite of everything I have ever asked of them in this area. Mom is on the phone? Time to yell at her, pull off her clothes and generally act as if the world will end if she doesn't talk to you this very second. I need to practice with them and get some kind of reward system going and the whole nine yards but for some reason I just can't get there. Where is my sticker chart to remind me to do a sticker chart with my kids? Where is my candy when I successfully teach something to them? Can I please get some sort of positive reinforcement from the Mom Fairy of the skies? Because I sure could use a piece of chocolate when I do something good as a Mom. A sticker? A reward? A check on my Mom Fairy chart? Anything!
What I really need is to sharpen my index finger so it will be much more effective when I wave it at them when I'm on the phone...
11/20/2009
11/06/2009
Birthday Suit Poop
Well, I wanted to post on Penelope's birthday but it was met with a few activities I'd rather not remember. (Yet here I go anyway...) I have refrained from writing about our dog, Bella, because she is a dog. Not a human being, no matter how much she and everyone else in the family believes her to be human. Do you hear me, kids? Bella is NOT a human because humans don't do the following...
Penelope, on her birthday, decided to strip down naked (How could I not let her wear her birthday suit on her birthday??) and play outside in the sandbox. She yells for me, "Oh no Mom, poop!" (NOT words you like to hear when you're me) and I run out there to see that she's pooped outside on our deck. Not a major disaster, except that her index finger was poised and ready to play with it. Luckily, I called to Jimmy for help and caught her just in time. Now, I love Jimmy, and he's a huge help around here. But when it comes to times like this, he seems to think I've called to him so that he can come and watch me deal with the mess. So he came, and stood there. But at least I had moral support. I dragged Penelope over to the hose, sprayed her little bottom clean, while he watched, and then turned around, and, to my horror, witnessed the dog eat Penelope's poop off the deck.
I screamed and declared the dog could not come inside for at least 24 hours and of course blamed Jimmy for letting it happen. He was just laughing because, he is the true saint who cleans up after the dog, feeds the dog, deals with the trash the dog drags all over the yard, so he knows what the dog puts in her mouth on a regular basis. Penelope's poop is probably pretty clean. But having to watch the dog actually do it...I prefer to live by the policy "If you don't see it, it didn't happen." For someone who has resorted to rubber gloves to deal with excrement, I do not want the image of my dog eating it going through my head when I hit the pillow at night.
I put Penelope in the bath. Guess what? She pooped in the tub. Contamination! Had to go through getting everyone out, scrubbing the tub, washing the toys, washing the kids...aahhh!
Later that night Jackson slept walked into the hallway and lifted the lid of the clothes hamper as if it was the toilet seat and was in position and ready to let it loose. Luckily I caught him and did some redirecting. I dodged a bullet. So, I'm wondering, will I ever get used to this part of the job? Because I've acclimated to many things being a mother. But do they ever run out of different ways to pee or poop on something? And will I ever stop freaking out about it?
So here I've gone and written a birthday blog about poop. I better wrap it up before I think of more to say. Luckily we didn't celebrate on her birthday, so I can remember tonight's celebration instead of the poop fiascoes. Tonight we had cake and presents. Happy Birthday Penelope!
Here's a pic of one of her cupcakes and also a few I took in the yard yesterday of she and Libby. Dressing my girls in matching clothes will never get old to me. They love it now so I'll enjoy it while I can. They had some fun with my glasses. They're like my mini-me's in them!
Penelope, on her birthday, decided to strip down naked (How could I not let her wear her birthday suit on her birthday??) and play outside in the sandbox. She yells for me, "Oh no Mom, poop!" (NOT words you like to hear when you're me) and I run out there to see that she's pooped outside on our deck. Not a major disaster, except that her index finger was poised and ready to play with it. Luckily, I called to Jimmy for help and caught her just in time. Now, I love Jimmy, and he's a huge help around here. But when it comes to times like this, he seems to think I've called to him so that he can come and watch me deal with the mess. So he came, and stood there. But at least I had moral support. I dragged Penelope over to the hose, sprayed her little bottom clean, while he watched, and then turned around, and, to my horror, witnessed the dog eat Penelope's poop off the deck.
I screamed and declared the dog could not come inside for at least 24 hours and of course blamed Jimmy for letting it happen. He was just laughing because, he is the true saint who cleans up after the dog, feeds the dog, deals with the trash the dog drags all over the yard, so he knows what the dog puts in her mouth on a regular basis. Penelope's poop is probably pretty clean. But having to watch the dog actually do it...I prefer to live by the policy "If you don't see it, it didn't happen." For someone who has resorted to rubber gloves to deal with excrement, I do not want the image of my dog eating it going through my head when I hit the pillow at night.
I put Penelope in the bath. Guess what? She pooped in the tub. Contamination! Had to go through getting everyone out, scrubbing the tub, washing the toys, washing the kids...aahhh!
Later that night Jackson slept walked into the hallway and lifted the lid of the clothes hamper as if it was the toilet seat and was in position and ready to let it loose. Luckily I caught him and did some redirecting. I dodged a bullet. So, I'm wondering, will I ever get used to this part of the job? Because I've acclimated to many things being a mother. But do they ever run out of different ways to pee or poop on something? And will I ever stop freaking out about it?
So here I've gone and written a birthday blog about poop. I better wrap it up before I think of more to say. Luckily we didn't celebrate on her birthday, so I can remember tonight's celebration instead of the poop fiascoes. Tonight we had cake and presents. Happy Birthday Penelope!
Here's a pic of one of her cupcakes and also a few I took in the yard yesterday of she and Libby. Dressing my girls in matching clothes will never get old to me. They love it now so I'll enjoy it while I can. They had some fun with my glasses. They're like my mini-me's in them!
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