A visit to the farm

We got to go visit my dad, CowPapa, at his house today.
As you can imagine, Nathan was in heaven. Not only did he get to ride and "drive" dad's lawn mower, he got to also drive the buggy, Dodge dually, boat and John Deere tractor (that just happened to match the shirt his mommy made him). Whoo hoo! Can it get any better than that?
Katherine was slightly less than impressed with the outing. Go figure. Her grip on my leg would get a little tighter when the cows got too close to the buggy, the dogs were too friendly and the bugs landed on her too much. I'm afraid she's not much of an outside kinda gal. I'm sure her non-interest in the farm had nothing to do with her tripping and falling into fresh manure, with both hands. It was hard for both of them to remember there were fresh patties all around the feed troughs, so the shoes got a good hosin' off after all was said and done. The good news is, I'm getting better about all this kids-mixing-with-cow-poop stuff, I prepared for it. (Thank you God for travel-size and convenient antibacterial wet wipes)

And look at Nathan here, I even excitedly called out the word "EXCAVATOR" to try to get him to look up. Didn't work, he could care less if the world crumbled around him. There was a tractor nearby. I think the only thing she has on her mind has to do with washing her hands with soap.

Her measure of cute-ness

We enjoyed spending time with the in-laws last Saturday night. They invited over lots of their friends for a dinner to honor devoted helpers of the Boy Scouts. Katherine and Nathan were the only kids there, so most eyes were on them.

The next day in the car Katherine declared, "Mom, I was trying to be really cute at Bamah's farm yesterday."

Me: You were? Well, you and Nathan did a really good job. You both were super cute and very well-behaved. Thank-you.

silence

K: Mom, I can get cuter. I'm getting cuter and cuter everyday.

M: I know sweetpea. I know.

His 19-month-old favorites

One advantage to having an older sibling is how much they model behaviors. Nathan has chosen lately to emulate his sister taking showers. This child LOVES taking a shower.

* * * * * * * * *

His latest fascination is with the lawn mower. He will ask to go outside and "drive" the lawn mower about 20 times a day. He reaches for the keys to the shed we have hanging in the pantry hallway area and says 'lawn mower, lawn mower, lawn mower' over and over again until I acknowledge him. Then usually after I've explained to him we are not going outside, he's very upset and ends up on the floor. Well after naps today, I needed more time to get the grocery list finished so I drove it out and parked it so I could watch him. That was all he wanted. He sat on it for 15 minutes until it was time to leave. This was my view from the kitchen window.

The Million-dollar dog

I've said it before: For some reason, God has decided to bless us with two very healthy kids.

One thing that was not in the "healthy plan" for our household was our animals. George was diagnosed last summer with lymphoma and Gracie has severe skin allergies. George was given the shortest time span of 4-6 months to live and he seems to be doing just fine; what we can see from the outside. Gracie is, well without exaggerating . . . . .

Miserable.

She has skin allergies that cause her skin to itch uncontrollably and when she constantly licks and scratches, it causes secondary problems on her skin. The summertime doesn't help, it gets much worse. We went through the entire month of April medicating her heavily. Which included antibiotics twice a day for the secondary bacterial infections forming on her skin, yeast medicine for the yeast making the itching even worse, thyroid medicine twice a day because her thyroid is low and aggravating the underlying issue, steroids to try to keep the itching and inflammation down, medicated shampoo twice a week to help the pads of her feet quit burning with itch and special cleansers followed by medicine to cool the burning and itching in her ears.
She looked and felt great after all the meds, but as soon as the antibiotics and yeast meds ran out, she was back to itching uncontrollably. So, after a sobering visit from the vet today (3 visits in 6 weeks with another one planned for next week) we are reminded that antibiotics, yeast medicine, thyroid medicine and steroids are most likely in the long-term, daily plan for her.

Sigh

It is exhausting and I am at a loss.

Monday stuff

Katherine's best bud, AC, came over yesterday and Miss Shear Genius did her hair. I had no idea she had so many pink bows.
This is what I woke up to yesterday. And no, he's not in the crib that long for him to attempt a clothing-optional mutiny. He just gets impatient or finds a string on his shirt that he doesn't like.

Summer days have begun

Now rather than get all upset that we have a blue hole in the ground located in our screened back porch that will cost over $5k to make functional again, I choose to look at the bright side.

1. Our kids aren't old enough to swim by themselves anyway and it can be rather exhausting trying to keep two of them from drowning.
2. Pools are very expensive and very time consuming to keep up.

So the next best option is a $15 pool from Wal-Mart inflated and set up in the back porch. Shoot, we got a pool. Yep, come on by. Just make sure you're not wearing sharp shoes when you get in.
We started out with the freezin' cold water from the hose and I got the bright idea to add boiling water. Nobody got hurt, but all I could do was think, "this is a disaster waiting to happen." I added about 3 gallons of boiling water and it warmed it maybe a degree. We'll have to wait for ole Mother Nature to do that warming.

Katherine got all excited about putting on her bathing suit. Nathan got down to his bare essentials (those swim diapers must be scratchy) and boy did I convince the girl to smile pretty for me. I'm sure it had nothing to do with threatening to make her get out unless she smiled for the camera. Nathan's trigger has more to do with being able to look at his picture after it's taken. Whatever works.


Here, he's saying, "I see, I see!"

...and I always thought he'd be the first one to do it

I never, not once, thought Katherine would be the first one to do it. I'd heard stories about childhood playmates that had to make special Dr. visits because of it, and I pretty much summed up, It'll be the boy, first. Most likely not her at all.

I was wrong.

On the way home from lunch today, a usually happy and talkative 4-year-old started shrieking from the back seat. One second she's babbling on about who knows what and the next second she's screaming, with shear terror in her eyes.

I turned around quickly, did the "mom stretch" from the front seat with my seat belt on and demanded to know, "What is wrong? What happened? Are you okay? What hurts?"

Her eyes were overflowing with tears and she kept pointing to her nose exclaiming, "My nose! Ouchie, it hurts! My nose!"

"What's wrong with your nose?"

"It's stuck up in there!"

"What is?"

inaudible

"Where?"

(she points to her right nostril)

By this point, I have no idea what it is, but it's scaring her to death, which is starting to scare me, and it must come out quickly.

"OK, sweet pea. I'm going to press this side of your nose and hold it tight. I want you to take a deep breath through your mouth and blow out the other side really hard. OK? Like this!" (I modeled the actions so as to make sure she didn't suck it up any further)

(she nodded eagerly)

"OK, I'm pressing this side, take a deep breath and BLOW!"







Out projected a flimsy piece of clear tape, the size of a rice krispie kernel.







She had been playing with her brother's truck book, which has been patched and taped together many times because of his destructive nature, and for some reason unknown to any mother that has ever lived --> she decided to shove a small piece of the clear packing tape up her nose.

After a hardy laugh with her father, I explained to her why we don't do that and I happened to have a true story to back up my motherly wisdom.

A boy I grew up with stuck a bean up his nose when he was little. I don't know what kind of bean or how little he was, but something tells me he was big enough to know better and nearly drive his mother insane. He stuck it up his nose and didn't tell anybody. I guess it didn't bother him that much because it stayed up there until it started smelling. Now remember, his mother had no clue the bean had already settled in its new home. It seems like it, although I might be embellishing a tad, but it seems like it took a couple of days for his mom to figure out what was smelling.

OK, so I got a visual with this one. The bean was up there long enough for it to start smelling, and then mom can't figure out what the smell is for another couple of days. I swear. I can so see myself catching a slight whiff of something not so fresh as I played with one of my kids, or gave them a bath or helped them get dressed and I shutter to think it would take days to figure it out. She eventually had to take him to the doctor. True story. I think the exaggerated length of the tweezers-like contraption used to get the bean out of his nose might be the hook in the story I used for Katherine to not try that again.

This is a PERFECT example of why Mothers temporarily lose their brains. Can you imagine the brain power sucked up by subconsciously trying to figure out for DAYS what was causing the smell emanating from your small child?

I'm convinced more and more every day that Motherhood is God's precious little reminder that we are not in control, we never have been no matter how "with-it" we were before kids, we never will be and there's joy in letting Him take the wheel. Because frankly, anything shoved up a kid's nose, after the coast is clear and no one is hurt, is funny.

Labeling our children

The in-laws and us have had fun labeling our children. Yes, the exact thing you're not supposed to do. Whatever. But they're kind of fun labels we're enjoying behind their backs, at nobody's expense. Through the years, the 4 middle grandchildren have formed these very distinct personalities and through those personalities, we've come up with these nicknames.

The oldest girl, R, has been dubbed: The NegotiatorWe can see her being sent to a foreign country, on the brink of war, with the intentions of negotiating peace and/or disarmament. Or maybe even defending a high-profile case that has gone to trial. This girl is the one you want on your side, negotiating on your behalf because she doesn't give up. There's got to be a way to work around these things called "rules".

The next girl, Katherine, has been dubbed: The JudgeYes, she has a serious streak of royalty in her, but get her in a new situation in front of new people, and I dare you to get barely a lip twitch out of her. She can pull off a stone-face better than professional poker players. And what you don't know is that she might be warming up to you. You'll never know until its too late.

The oldest boy, J, has been dubbed: Mr. Secret ServiceSimilar to his older cousin, this one here is a hard one to convince. As far as he's concerned, you are guilty until proven innocent. It takes a lot of proven, hard, cold facts for him to be convinced of your argument, even if it is as simple as "put on your shoes, we're going outside." You better bring your "A+" game to this one, he's expecting it.

The next boy, Nathan, has been dubbed: The AmbassadorLooking up the definition of ambassador has me wondering if it should really be a mixture of that plus The Politician. This kid may look too young for it, but he's ready to start shaking hands and kissing babies. Fellow restaurant patrons, he's saying 'hiyee' and 'biyee' to you all with a well-defined flip of the wrist wave and bank teller ladies watch out, he's coming straight for you with a flower off the bush outside, a hand-blown kiss and a smile that will knock your socks off.

A view from our front porch

So many of our mornings, afternoons and evenings are spent on the front porch. We have a great front porch and if we ever move, it will be hard to duplicate. Two swings hang in two great shade trees, there's plenty of comfortable seating and a view of the neighborhood, perfect for starting up conversations with passerbys. I'm starting to notice that lots of our kid's pictures are taken out on this front porch. Which means, lots of memories.

This is our view:

Daddy's helping hands...

A new favorite toy...
An attempt to play with the dog...
Mom trying to get all artsy with the camera...
But nobody wants to cooperate...
So, lets get one of all three of us. Ugh!
I'm blaming this one on camera angle.

"Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most"

From what I can tell by being "educated" through Google, I think Mark Twain said that quote above and sometimes I wonder when I'll get my old mind back, if ever.

BK (before kids), I would get so immersed in drafting surveys or record plats for hours that I'd realize about 3 o'clock I was close to urinating on myself and hadn't had lunch yet. No interruptions, no phone calls, no emails, no visits, just pure and simple intense focus on my work that lasted for hours. I'm good at that. I was good at that. I don't know if I am any more or not. The only stretch of long periods of time I have is while sleeping, occasionally.

I asked our wise neighbor the other day, "Mrs. P. how old were you when you started to notice your mind changing?"

She looked at me funny and said, "Changing? Are you noticing something that I'm not?"

"No, no. I mean like when your kids were small. Did you notice that you weren't able to concentrate on hardly anything because of their constant attention?"

She was relieved to hear I wasn't insinuating anything else and gave me the advice I've heard before, but find hard to believe because I'm so deep in the world of little people.

This too shall pass. I will get my mind back, maybe not ALL of it compared to when I was 18, but most of it.

The most recent example I have of losing "it" was Thursday on the way to an ear re-check for the 2nd child in a row with small Eustachian tubes. Background info: when we leave our house and get to "the intersection", the fastest way to get to the Dr.'s office is to go straight.

For reasons that would make most people question my abilities to raise two small children (small things like acknowledging a truck drove by before Mr. Small Tubes has a coronary or answering the 16th question in a row by Miss Inquisitive) my mind went blank and instead of going straight, I took a left. As soon as I straightened out the steering wheel I noticed what I had done and was disgusted with myself. As you can imagine Miss Inquisitive was in the back seat asking me why I said, "Oh poo".

In the middle of trying to regain my thoughts, plan out the next fastest route and explain to her what I had done I glanced up in the rear view mirror to watch Daddy drive across the intersection, going straight, the way I should have gone. What I should have seen was his profile, looking straight ahead, driving. What I saw was the outline of his ears and I lost it. "It" being any and all seriousness I might have had about getting to a Dr.'s appointment on time.

In the middle of explaining my "oh poo" comment I busted out in laughter. Laughing so hard, it was hard to see through the tears in my eyes. You see, unbeknownst to my husband, his ears were what made me laugh so hard. Seeing his ears meant he wasn't watching the road ahead. His ears meant that he was watching his wife drive off in our car with our two small children on another path that didn't make sense and would add minutes to our arrival time. His ears meant his mind was reeling over why in the world I turned left instead of going straight.

Well then, of course, more questions started about my laughter, more screeches for truck acknowledgment continued and now I'm looking for tissues, napkins or even old socks to dry my eyes so I can see the road. ( I've said it before, I'll say it again: it's no wonder mothers don't get into more accidents while driving than they already do.)

I finally got it together and we arrived on time, but it was one more reminder that the old mind I had must be on vacation. I'm hoping it is, because I'd like for it to come back refreshed and ready to work it's tail off.

Hopefully soon, concentration will once again be a skill I can perform because of less interruptions and distractions. Projects will be easier to complete in one, maybe two, installments (as opposed to the 5 attempts it took me to wash the windows in the house. No, I'm not kidding). And maybe, just maybe, there will be time for other "stuff" because there won't be the need to change diapers, referee, dress them, put their shoes on, pour every single drink, clean up spills, prepare and clean up all meals, wipe their faces, go get more toilet paper and help with brushing teeth all before 8:15.

I know me, though. I'll miss their constant need for me, but I think I'll also enjoy having some of the little "extras" in life back that I seriously took advantage of.

I've often heard "being a mom is the hardest job in the world" because my kids are little and I also have lots of friends with small kids. I've often thought that many other jobs could be harder. But I know now, when considering all the facets it takes to make up a whole person, I'm now convinced that mothering affects them all: heart, mind, sanity, sleep, intellect, relationships and spiritual growth, to name a few. It is certainly the hardest job I've had so far, but one I would NEVER trade.

Water babies

It's official. I gave birth to two children that have morphed into amphibians.

THEY LOVE THE WATER!

Which is a HUGE blessing because I feared for a while that neither one of them would like it and with both of their parents being raised half in/half out of the water, that was going to be an issue.

Mother's Day was sketchy with the little one, but that was because of an ear infection. As of Tuesday, he exhibits more of a Commando-style when it comes to swimming. Similar to "it's up to you to catch me when I fall in" or "wanna see if I can touch the bottom" type of mentality.

And she has shown a deep desire to learn how to swim without floaties. Putting her face in the water still isn't high on her priority list, but I can tell she wants to, it's just not comfortable for her yet.

It makes for an interesting/non-relaxing trip to the pool, trying to keep an eye on both of them, but I'm so thankful.

One day soon I won't be able to provide enough water-time for them.

Motherhood

I've been wondering what in the world I would write about motherhood for Mother's Day. Then I ran across Amber's post in her Life with the Ferrells blog, and rather than reinvent the wheel, I give her all the credit for writing this beautiful homage to motherhood. I couldn't haven't written it better myself.

Motherhood is an ever-changing, full time position with more ups and downs than anyone expects. There are days when it takes every ounce of your being to not pull your hair out by the roots, and there are days when you smile a never-ending smile while reflecting on the day's events as your head hits the pillow.

It's a job that pays in cheeto-fingers on the windows, spilled chocolate milk on the freshly shampooed carpet, mini bouquets of wild flowers and weeds, and hugs and kisses at evening's end. Amidst the numerous stages of motherhood through the ages of the children, I wanted to make sure and jot down what this honorable position means to me in this time in my children's lives, as I know that it is a fleeting time...

Mothering 3 small children means that the toys are never fully put in their proper places. Lego imprints on the bottom of feet become the new tattoo fetish, Hungry Hungry Hippo marbles get kicked under bookshelves, clothes never seem to actually stay on the Barbies, and Hot Wheels become incredible skates through late night adventures through the house.

Motherhood creates stimulation deep down in the brain sensors, causing certain phrases to erupt such as "Don't pick your nose", "Pick up your dirty clothes", "Don'choo argue with me", and "Because I said so". It gives you the ability to multi-task like a pro, but neglects to reward you with the super power of getting everything done at all times. It gives you the ability to remember all the words to "Hush Little Baby" and "You are my sunshine" but forget where you put your car keys 3 minutes ago.

It makes you realize the importance of your children respecting each other and trying like mad to shape their relationships with one another to be long-lasting ones. You try so desperately to "figure out" the ins and outs of the differing personalities of all the little heads living under your roof and tailor discipline techniques and daily life to each child. Motherhood causes you to pray that you aren't screwing these precious little people up.

Motherhood is full of conflicts. Sugar vs. Natural Juices. Vaccines vs. Non-vax. Soccer vs. Piano. School vs. Home. Spongebob vs. Phineas and Ferb. You try to stay up to date on the various forms of technology in this tech-heavy world and give little doses while still encouraging time to explore. You desire for them to see their small world for themselves, yet cringe when you watch an Amber Alert news flash. Friendships are encouraged and then later discouraged when you realize what new information about life is being passed around to innocent ears. You wonder how much is too much and how little is too little.

Motherhood is about sacrifice. Setting the alarm extra early to get them to school earlier for whatever reason. Watching the hours pass while lying in a foreign bed because a little one woke and can't fall back asleep. Keeping a log of who got what medicine when. Staying up to date on the schedule of events the kiddos may like.

Motherhood likes to befriend worry. Am I too harsh? Too lenient? Do I push enough healthy foods amidst the crap the kids eat all day? Do I read to them enough? Are they learning at a good level? How much do I push? When do I just let them be? Am I allowing their personalities to shine or squelching their spirit? As much as you try to conquer it all, you will never feel like you could completely succeed at being the mother you wish to be.

Motherhood is fun. Telling ghost stories in the closet with a flashlight and teaching them how to put chips on their ham and cheese sandwich are prerequisites to the job. On any given day, there are little hands and feet ready to take a spin on the homemade dance floor called the living room carpet. There are bellies that need tickling and noses that need eskimo-kissing. You are often needed to trace body outlines on the driveway, creating a homemade scene in a forensics show. You can watch movies that gave you such satisfaction when you were a kid and relive them through the eyes of your child all over again. Oh yes, motherhood is so incredibly fun.

Motherhood is a gift. Its sometimes difficult to realize how much of a gift this title of mother entails as you are breaking up sibling spats, cleaning poop off the floor, and washing copious amount of dishes and clothes...but right there, circling around your feet, are little eyes watching your every move. Right there are miniature people looking up for guidance and direction in this big world, and God has given us the ability to instruct and help these precious children through this life. Motherhood is indeed an incredible gift...one that we should never take lightly.

That was absolutely beautiful Amber.

Some of the differences in our household would be: I don't have 3 kids, we don't have small legos or a Hungry Hippo game yet, but we do have plastic tools that end up in the couch crevices, under beds and inside kitchen cabinets. And instead of catching the child actually picking his/her nose, I'm usually late and my comment is, "What would make you think eating the boogie was a good idea?"

My Mother's day was just right for me. I got to kind of sleep in, breakfast was made after two cutie patooties gently climbed up in the bed, nudged my nose, got eye-to-eye with me and whispered, "Eat!" There was little to no squabbling while getting ready. We got to church on time. Nathan didn't cry when we left the nursery and after skipping a nap, he was surprisingly pleasant all through lunch. Afternoon naps lasted a good amount, including mine, and afterwards we went swimming with my mom and grandma in their heated pool. Daddy was gracious enough to take little guy home earlier than expected (found out yesterday he has another ear infection, so swimming just wasn't his thing) and on the way home in Mer's car, Katherine, Mer and I got to watch the fireworks from the Symphony under the Stars celebration.

It was a beautiful day of simple celebrations, something I've grown to appreciate much more through motherhood.

I couldn't have asked for kids better suited to me. I am so thankful to be called "Mom".

Boy, has she heard this a time or two

Yesterday, as I was trying to praise Katherine for being so well-behaved and obedient, Nathan was in the background increasing the volume like he usually does when no one is acknowledging him.

She was gazing into my eyes, taking in all the praise I could give, then held up her finger, signaling me to "wait a second", turned around to her brother and said sternly:

"Nathan, please be quiet. What you are doing is called INTERUPPING!"

Then she calmly turned back around to me and said, "anyways."

We've got a biter on our hands

How is it that a blonde-haired, blue-eyed angelic-looking boy that blows kisses and delivers a hand full of weed-flowers to older ladies to make them melt, can be a holy terror?

In my experience, teething gets blamed for almost everything. Just ask my mom. Teething is the reason for, crankiness, not getting enough sleep, colds, not eating, runny noses, fevers, diarrhea and now biting. I get it, somewhat. Except that the American Academy of Pediatrics and all those "learned doctors that went through so much schooling" seem to disagree with most of my mother's wise words. Which in itself is ironic because, according to her, usually if your title starts with a DR or an REV, your opinion has got to be right.

So what is it? Sheer frustration with not being able to communicate? Impatience? Budding soon-to-be-out-of-control temper?

I think I'm leaning more toward the "just being plain rotten" explanation. A good friend of mine summed it up pretty good when she referred to her children's bad behavior as "they're just being sinners." Amen sister to that.

But I guess I'd have to include myself in that explanation when the cherubim decided to lock down on my arm and drew some blood. He bit so hard, I was seriously thinking it was infected because of how much it welted up within minutes.

During his and mommy's appointed time-out, I ended up apologizing to the 4-year-old girl who is always soaking up all of the events, reactions and words being said. She saw reactions she probably shouldn't have seen, no bad words thankfully, but I shutter to think of her reacting that way towards anybody.

Good news is, could there be any better time to point out my imperfections and turn her attention to our Heavenly Father's perfect love for us and remind her of how much more He loves us even when we bite him? I'm sure the concept of biting Jesus is a little far-fetched in her mind, but at least I think she's getting the love part.

So here's a question for the 3 readers I have:

What did you do with a biting child?

For each biting incident, all the circumstances have been different: impatience, lack of communication skills, disobedience, being wronged.

Our MOPS group had the Wise Women Panel today and even our wise women were stumped, or at least their answers weren't the spelled out equation or list of suggestions to try next I was looking for.

It's certainly not everyday, which is really good for his father because farming 1100 acres could get a bit difficult with a toddler riding around in the front seat all day long. And it also gives me a chance to refuel my admiration for his sweet little face that loves to give his mommy open-mouth kisses.

If you get a chance, let me know what you think I should try next. I'm aware that my pride is an issue also because the idea of having "that kid that bites" is horrifying to me. So what I'm looking for is not only practical advice for our little wolf in sheep's clothing, but also advice on my struggles as well.

Katherine quotes

Some funny sayings today:

K: Mommy, R told me that when she grows up, she wants to be a teacher.
M: Really? That's nice, she'd be a good teacher.
K: Well, when I grow up, I'm not quite sure what I want to be. Oh I know! I want to be a Princess.

* * * * * * * * * *

M: When we get home, would you like to play with some chalk and draw on the driveway?
K: Oh yes, and I want to draw a picture of you and daddy getting married. I'll draw daddy with a big head, and I'll draw you . . . . with a small head.
M: You're welcome for buying you all the bedding, honey.

Big girl bed

Our little girl passed through another rite of passage in her 4 short years of life. It all came about through some friends of ours, the right timing and a little extra cash raised from selling the double stroller my husband loathed and had nicknamed "The Limo."

Katherine has moved on up to a full size big girl bed.

This past week, I had been using my time out on the front porch, while watching kiddos play, to sand down the loose paint areas. Yesterday was the big painting day. Today was the day to purchase the linens. And tonight was the always fun assembling of the bed, sheets, pillows, shams and re-arranging of the room, again.

The kids had a blast jumping and playing on the mattress while it was on the floor. Daddy even got in some tickle time on me, which Nathan thought was hilarious.

Although, there was one slight problem. Right when it got to the really fun part of putting the bed together with sheets and pillows, Jim and I stood staring at the assembled bed with furrowed brows, speechless. The mattresses were insanely tall and they covered the headboard minus about 2 inches peeking out the top.

I guess our first concern was how tall it was, because Katherine is still kind of sleeping half on and half off of her toddler bed.

The other perplexing part of it all was how the mattresses covered the headboard. The headboard was what I was interested in most about this bed. It's got great little girly-girl curves with turned bedposts and it wasn't too big of a bed for her. So what in the world can we do with this great bed that apparently isn't high enough for the mattress that came with it?

The children found what they could do, which was use the footboard as a ladder, climb up on top of the insanely high bed and jump on it, almost hitting their heads on the spinning fan above.

So far, until she's a little bit more familiar with this bed, she's minus a box spring. If daddy lays on it, the mattress bulges through the support slats underneath. We'll try the box spring again later.

Guess that would explain why I got a really good deal on it.

Good news is that mommy gets to practice a little Design on a Dime and break out some more sewing and painting skills. I see this as the last chance I'll get to decorate her room before she really has some definite likes/dislikes that don't coincide with mine or our budget.

Average morning

Occasionally, mommy needs about 15 minutes to either get cleaned up for the morning without having to chase down a child eating dog food, or she just needs the chance to put on her make-up without having to search for it under rugs or in trash cans after two little ones have had their fun playing with it. The answer: barricade them in one of their rooms.

Katherine usually prefers his room, probably because he won't mess up the stuff in her room, so here is a typical morning of them being barricaded in his room for the time it took me to dry and curl my hair (without having little hands reaching for a hot iron or climbing up my leg), in relative peace.
Not bad, if I say so myself. Anything and everything that happens across the road is always more interesting than our house and hooray for books being interesting to the little guy.

A typical visit from CPapa

When requiring attention from grandparents, our two kiddos still couldn't be more different:

She wants to play doctor

and he wants to drive heavy equipment toys.

We're glad you're back CPapa!