Confession

This past April friends and family came over to celebrate my son’s 2^nd birthday.  Lucky for me he LOVES construction sites, trucks, tractors, and dirt so with help the decorations, food, and activities amazingly all came together for a successful event (I feel like we live in a construction zone with a wild toddler in our home-party or not).  Before the celebration started my sweet 10-month-old niece went down for a nap in our nursery.  After she was settled my sister-in-law came down the stairs laughing, asking, “Who gave you that quilt monogrammed with G’s name and date of birth?”  “Well, you gave me the quilt but I had it monogrammed” I explained-and she started laughing harder!  She then proceeded to inform me that it is dated with “August”, not “April!” 

In summary-I have had a decorative baby quilt in my son’s nursery for 2 years, in plain view with the WRONG birth month monogrammed for ALL to see and I have never once noticed!  I recall picking the quilt up from the store and the clerk asking me if everything looked okay with the monogram-that’s right!  I approved the incorrect date!  Awesome!

So I ask you, is this the point in my life that I seek professional therapy?!  WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

Crib Climber

I woke up this morning with a jolt to an unidentified sound (I later determined that that is what the child safety gate sounds like when it closes and you are in a deep sleep) at 9:15.  I laid there for about 1-2 minutes trying to figure out what the sound was and Griffin started crying-but not through the monitor!  I then realized that the monitor was NOT in my room!!!  Apparently, I slept without it last night for the first time in over 25 months.  GASP.  I open the bedroom door to find Griffin halfway down the stairs.  Obviously, he had climbed OUT of his crib!  YIKES.  I set him on the counter and searched him for swelling, gashes, bruises, bleeding, etc. when the schnoodles expertly notified me that there was a visitor at the door.  I had been awake for 15 minutes (God, only knows how long Griffin-who was wearing Santa Claus pajamas-had been awake).  I am wearing my glasses, a t-shirt and have unbrushed teeth.  I removed Griffin from the counter and dashed to the bedroom in pursuit of some shorts.  Found some in the dirty clothes and shamelessly put them on.  The schnoodles were still in the throes of greeting the guest at the door who I immediately recognized as a very kind MK customer of mine.  I welcome her in (pjs, nasty breath, but hey-at least I have on more than a t-shirt-Mrs. Mary Kay at your service!).  She was very sweet (as always) and told me she had arrived to pick-up her order and that she had emailed me at 8:30 (per my request) to tell me should would be by at 9:30-she didn't want me to have to make any unnecessary trips with Griffin.  HA!  At this point, I would like to pause and thank God for giving me the strength each night to pick-up the toy explosion that occurs daily in our home.

As she left, I crossed my fingers that she wasn’t on her way to call CPS for neglect. 

Naptime was unsuccessful as I watched him swan dive, head 1^st onto the hardwoods 3-4 times before calling it quits. 

We will be building the toddler bed tonight and enforcing some new rules.  Wish me luck!

A Day in the Life

All Mommies reading this will agree that nothing compares to the excitement and exhaustion packed into the daily adventures of motherhood.  This is a little glimpse of the escapades we’ve enjoyed over the past few days…at least, the ones that I can remember…

On Tuesday my wingman and I journeyed about an hour-and-a-half to visit my sister-in-law, nieces and nephews.  About forty-five minutes down the road I realized my son was being suspiciously quiet.  Using the baby viewer mounted on the windshield I noticed that he had his new “straw” sippy cup turned upside down watching the water slowly drip through his fingers and into his lap.  Great.  Upon further examination (you know, dangerously turning around to remove the cup from his investigative hands, while driving) I discovered that three-fourths of the water had been drained.  Did I have a change of clothes?  Nope.  Therefore, upon arrival his pants were promptly removed and placed in the drier while he ran around in a diaper.  It was a fun visit!

On Saturday my husband and I attended a benefit to support the local RMH.  I decided to go ahead and feed our son before my super, helpful in-laws arrived to babysit.  My son informed me that he was finished with his chicken nuggets by launching one on the floor.  One of the ten-pound yappers inhaled the nugget whole as my in-laws pulled into the driveway.  The two mini schnoodles went into full alarm mode at the door and the guilty nugget eater started choking and proceeded to vomit at the feet of MiMi and PopPop.  While I was cleaning up the first vomit, the schnoodle in question vomited a second time, per usual.  By the way, all of this took place on our white rug and before my husband had returned home from work.  The husband finally got home and I proceed to get dressed in our room.  As I quickly updated my war paint and headdress I stopped and realized that everyone was in the master bedroom with me…husband, son, mother-in-law, father-in-law, and both dogs.  I had to laugh!

On Monday evening our 22-month-old son found the twelve-foot ladder propped against the shed in the backyard.  In a matter of seconds he had scaled the whole thing and was eye level with the roof!  I. thought. I. would. die.  My husband climbed to the top to retrieve him while I held my breath, poised to catch all 33 pounds of my little dare devil.  So, there went my shot at “Mother of the Year.”  I don’t even know how it happened so quickly and I was with him the entire time!  Clearly, I need to do better, work harder, and pray without ceasing!

WILD Goose Chase

I couldn’t make this up if I tried… 

After locking the front door this morning I placed the keys in the front pocket of our diaper bag.  It is a deep pocket that sometimes holds my phone, ipod, lipstick, lipgloss, & keys when they aren’t in the ignition.  My husband and son were already in the car, waiting patiently, in reverse.  We were on our way to church to keep the nursery.

Once we arrived I took Griffin to his classroom only to realize that he along with the majority of his classmates had been promoted to a new room down the hall.  He handled the change surprisingly well and Randy and I reported to our assigned nursery room-the crawlers/new walkers-and that’s another story…stay tuned!  At about 12:15 we picked Griffin up and of course, he was the only child remaining because we were waiting on parents to pick up their children from our room (one of us should have gone and gotten him…now I know).  We got in the car with the diaper bag and went to our in-law’s favorite local Mexican restaurant.  Once Griffin had more rice and beans on his face than he actually consumed we went home, with the diaper bag.  When we pulled into the driveway I realize that the keys were missing from the deep front pocket. 

After performing a cavity search of the bag and car my patient husband retraced our steps: both classrooms, two lost-and-founds, Mexican restaurant, and respective parking lots.  At this point we realized that it was possible that the keys had fallen out of our bag and were accidentally placed in another bag.  I called our largely populated church and could practically hear the tumbleweeds blowing down the halls.  NO ONE was there and I was prompted by an answering service to contact the pastor on call for emergencies, crisis, or death (of course, I felt like this was an emergency/crisis but I didn’t think the POC would share my heightened level of concern).  I left a non-emergency message “to be returned on the following business day.”  Then I realized that I had the cell phone number of one of the preschool coordinators.  Score!  I called her annnnnnd left another voicemail.  I thought for a minute and asked my husband if he could remember the name of Griffin’s new Sunday school teacher and AMAZINGLY he provided me with both his first and last name! So, I used handy-dandy whitepages.com and ta-da the couple’s phone number and address appear.  I called and spoke to the Mrs.  She told me that her husband remembered picking up the keys from off of the floor and placing them back in what he thought was our bag (remember, it was their first day having most of these kids).  She also informed me that sadly the preschool director’s father had recently passed and his funeral was today and ALL of the coordinators were presently supporting her and celebrating his life.  These ladies would have access to the class role and therefore the contact information for the other children’s parents in the room.  She told me she would also message one of the coordinators and they would try to track down the keys. 

A few hours later my phone rang and I was in complete anticipation of the news that the keys to my life had been found.  Nope.  The coordinator had spoken with the teachers and they thought that the bag that was hanging next to Griffin’s bag may contain the keys.  This student’s parents are members of the deaf community of our church.  The coordinator had tried to call the family through the use of TTY but the number provided was no longer in service and whitepages.com had no listing.  She believed that the pastor of the deaf ministries would certainly be able to get in touch with the family and she called and left a message (since, apparently NO ONE was ANSWERING their PHONES). 

I momentarily felt defeated and then I remembered the power of facebook!  I found the deaf ministries pastor’s wife and messaged her…and then realized that she wouldn’t get the message until she logged onto fb.  Then I discovered that I have six friends that are friends with her!  YESSSS!  I messaged the six and asked them to please look at her “info” page and send me her email address.  I received her personal email address and his work email address in a matter of seconds! 

At 9:55 pm I received an email from this dear pastor with a picture of my keys and a caption that read, “look familiar.”  HALLELUJAH!  Hopefully, I will be able to meet up with this sweet family early tomorrow.  Crisis averted.  Maybe this is why God led me to take ASL for four years during high school and college!

THE Bike Ride

A few weeks ago my (very in shape) friend Emily and I decided to take our little ones to a local greenway with our bikes and double trailers.  We had four children in tow: Sadie (3), Griffin (21 months), Rowan (7 months), and Snow (7 months). 

WHAT WERE WE THINKING?  Um…we WEREN’T.

The day was gorgeous-sunny with a slight wind.  It took us about 15 minutes to piece together the equipment, couple the trailers to our bikes, and load up the kiddos.  Sadie was reluctant to ride in our trailer (because she wanted to be in her mommy’s, “the flat one” & because she is 3 and a she) but after a little convincing decided to join Griffin and me.  Everyone was strapped in and we were ready to go…just before I mounted my bike, the slight wind blew it over.  My response to Sadie’s look of distress was, “It is going to be okay!  The bike fell over because we are on gravel and the kickstand wasn’t secure!”  The little confidence she had collected in riding with me was completely shaken but she is brave and persistent so we pressed onward—until I realized that my keys were missing.  We hadn’t made it very far so we pulled our little caravan over and I ran back for the keys that apparently landed in the parking lot when the bike fell. 

The next 1.5 miles were the “Eye of our Storm.”  Emily and I were able to chit-chat, the kids were settled with snacks, no major issues to report.

Thirty minutes into our journey Sadie was in need of a change of transportation so she switched spaces with Snow.  Snow was content with where she was originally seated. After the change she momentarily placated the adults, but she soon began to fuss.   About 10-15 minutes later the fuss had turned into a full-blown meltdown.  Again, we pulled over and switched babies.  At this point I had Rowan and Griffin and Emily had Sadie and Snow.  Please bear in mind that each time a child is moved they are being taken out of a 5-point harness and repositioned in another 5-point harness.  Snow continued to protest her disapproval of the choices made by the adults and so Emily and I decided to turn around and head back to the cars.  I remember stupidly making a comment along the lines of, “This proves that boys are easier than girls.”  Rowan heard me and decided to challenge my statement.  Truthfully, he was hungry.  With two babies crying Emily and I begin to pedal faster.  And, by the way, YES-the people that our entourage passed were quite amused.  In an attempt to comfort Rowan, Griffin began to pet him on his head.  Surprisingly, this didn’t help and Rowan began to cry harder and so Griffin retaliated by hitting him, repeatedly, on his head.  Still pedaling, I turned around and used THE VOICE to discipline Griffin, who began to cry.  Just in case you aren’t keeping score, 3 of 4 children are now screaming.  Poor Sadie had resorted to plugging her ears with both hands pressed firmly into either side of her head to block out the wailing (Emily and I were jealous that we couldn’t join her). 

For the next 15 minutes or so we pedaled as hard as possible.  The slight wind blowing against the trailers causing just enough resistance made the last leg of our journey quite difficult.  I have never been so happy to see our cars!  My legs felt like jello and I was certain that cement had filled my shoes.  Emily immediately carseated and bottled both babies.  I retrieved Griffin from the trailer and realized he had soiled his diaper.  Awesome. 

Sadie and Griffin proceeded to run around in a nearby harvested cornfield while I dismantled the trailer and loaded the bike.  Feeling resourceful I used one of the giant boulders dividing the field and the parking lot as a changing table.  I have failed to mention that Griffin HATES to have his diaper changed-in ANY environment.  I laid him across the boulder and he gave me the “your kidding” furrowed brow.  Midway through the procedure with Griffin’s head hanging off the other side of the rock I realized I was out of wipes.  Sadie had come over to survey my handy work and I asked her if she would please go and get some wipes from her mother (still attending the babies).  Sadie responded with, “Well, no, you can’t use my wipes Laurie because…they are special wipes and they are just for me to use and for Rowan to use and for Snow to use because…they are special wipes.”  All this being said while Griffin’s feet are being held above his head, hiney exposed to the elements and two friendly black labs that had come to sniff and observe.  Needless to say, Griffin and I were both very thankful that Emily had heard my request for wipes and appeared with enough to complete the job.

After the older two enjoyed a few base jumps off of the boulders and into my arms it was finally time for our adventure to come to an end.  

Don't Judge

ATTN parents of my previous students:  I take back all quasi-judgmental thoughts I ever had regarding your parenting skills (well, most of them anyway)!

My son and I recently visited one of my teacher friend’s classroom to see her pet “shish, shish!”  The kindergarteners love to entertain/try to teach him and I enjoy catching up with my friend.  The teacher and I were engaged in a brief conversation when out of the corner of my eye I see my sweet child run towards the manipulative shelf grabbing several large plastic bends of small items (counting cubes, magnetic letters, marbles, colorful poms) and blindly slinging them over his shoulder at the speed of light!  He wasn’t even looking up to notice where they were landing!  One of the brighter and linguistically advanced students observing the whole fiasco exclaimed, “THE BABY IS ON A RAMPAGE!”  I was shocked. The kindergarteners were shocked.  And, even though she is forever the picture of grace, I am sure my teacher friend was appalled.  It was a Kindergarten Natural Disaster-a State of Emergency.  So, I ran over and made a futile attempt to reprimand the little tornado and encourage him to pick up some of the hundreds of pieces and what does he do?  He grabs another bend of small objects and sends it flying!  Mortified, I decided to hold my thirty-one-pound man-child while crawling around and collecting the pieces.  The teacher calmly sent some “buckaroo helpers” over to assist me and five buckaroos/ten minutes later, peace was restored. 

So, here’s to the “throwing phase” ending quickly and me figuring out this whole parenting thing.  Prayers will be greatly appreciated!

“It Has So Much Character!”

I remember the day very clearly:  My husband and I anxiously showed up at the inspection of our first home to meet the inspector annnnnnd the current homeowners.  LAME.  My husband tried to keep up with the professional and I tried to make small talk with the natives.  Mr. Homeowner gave me a quick tour of his “handy work” leading me into the kitchen where he beamed with pride and boasted, “Here’s the dishwasher.  I installed it myself!”  I am sure my gift of shamelessly wearing my emotions on my sleeve graciously allowed my face to read, “OBVIOUSLY!”  The dishwasher, instead of being flush with the underside of the counter, hung down-roughly two inches-by two thin metal mounts.  Lovely. 

Fast forward to the present:  Today as I was unloading the dishwasher (putting away the bowls and mugs on the other side of the kitchen) my soon-to-be two-year-old son decided to climb up, stand on the open dishwasher door, and JUMP.  I shouldn’t have been shocked at the sight of the entire dishwasher tilting forward, door forming a ramp to the ground with both baskets hanging out!  Oh, and my son was still standing on “the ramp.”  I calmly removed him, simultaneously held both drawers inside the dishwasher, closed it and shoved the entire thing back into its original position.

I have decided NOT to turn the thing on until my husband returns from work and let’s hope it stays in place until then…