Birthday Lunch Date

January 30, 2006

I had lunch with a Sweet Young Thing today…

Blonde hair, blue eyes,

Adorable little freckled face…

So sweet.

So pretty.

So smart.

So witty.

Nine years ago today, I held her in my arms for the first time,

And I fell utterly, completely in love.

I never knew how all-consuming love could be, until God graced my life with this beautiful bundle of joy.

My eldest child, my first-born,

My stubborn child, too much like her mother.

My pride and joy, my heart,

My daughter, my love.



In lieu of a newsletter…

January 27, 2006

Dear Big Boy,

Because I am a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad wretch of a mother, I didn’t get your 19-month newsletter written. But I need to note a few things, so I don’t forget…

You can now say “moooo” when we ask you what the cow says. This comes in addition to being able to grunt answer “oo-oo” when we ask you what the puppy dog says, and growling your adorable, guttural growl when we ask you what the bear says.

You can baby sign eat, drink, baby, book, hat, bird, cat, fish, apple, banana, baby, more, and telephone; and you have your very own sign for band-aid (touching your index finger to the back of your other hand).


You can point to your head, eyes, ears, nose, mouth, tummy, arm, hand, finger, leg, foot, toe, bo-bo, and wee-wee.


You’ve already started showing signs of the Terrible Twos, which we totally expected, since both of your sisters hit their Terrible Twos around 18 months. So you’ve started throwing temper tantrums – which, for you, means screaming at the top of your lungs and holding the scream out louder and longer than any human being should be capable of – whenever you don’t get what you want. Which is pretty often these days, since what you usually want is to have something you’re not allowed to have, or to climb somewhere dangerous enough to lead to head injury, death and/or dismemberment. But since you’re our third child, we’ve gotten surprisingly good at ignoring those little (and not-so-little) tantrums; and, hopefully, you’ll soon figure out they’re not getting you anywhere.


Just tonight, you started nodding and saying “yes.” I asked you if you wanted a cookie, and you nodded a very exaggerated nod and said, “ess.”

And my heart burst.

I kept asking you questions I knew you’d answer “yes” to, just to see (and hear) you do it again. It is absolutely the cutest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

Surprisingly enough, you haven’t started saying “no” yet, although you do shake your head “no” emphatically when the need arises. You’re getting better and better at letting us know what you want (and what you don’t want). We do try to “pick our battles” and let you have what you want whenever it’s feasible…even if what you want at the moment is to wear your pajamas, houseshoes, flannel jacket, and fleece hat all at the same time and in the house, resulting in an ensemble that definitely makes a statement. And that statement is, “When Hollywood makes a movie about my life, my part will be played by Steve Buscemi.”



Your sense of humor has really developed over the past few weeks. You purposely do things you know everyone will think are funny, and you LOVE IT when you get a laugh.


You like to tickle us – basically, you wiggle your fingers in the general direction of Daddy, The Drama Queen, Miss Attitude, or me, and say, “ticka, ticka, ticka,” – and we can’t help but laugh, you’re just so darned cute.

Big Boy, I don’t know what on earth I ever did to deserve to have such an awesome little person in my life – this heartbreakingly beautiful little boy with the sweet disposition, this tender little creature who can take me from miserable to euphoric in 0.2 seconds just by smiling that angelic smile or touching my hair – but I sure am glad I did it. I don’t know what we ever did without you.


I love you, Little Man.


An Open Letter to You

January 23, 2006

Dear [Your Name Here],

Please accept my sincere apologies for not [(Choose One or More:) posting an entry on my blog, responding to your comment on my blog, visiting your blog, commenting on your blog, sending you an email, replying to your email, calling you, returning your phone call, mailing that letter/note/package I’ve been meaning to mail you]. I’ve been involved in a battle with the Universe of late, and it seems the Universe is winning. In the last week and a half I’ve dealt with two sick children, one child having problems in school, two trips to [larger town an hour away, where we go for shopping and pediatrician appointments], with another trip (an appointment with Miss Attitude’s pediatric pulmonologist) scheduled for tomorrow. I’ve missed two full days and two half days of work (and pay), which has put me three full days behind during my busiest time of the work month. In the midst of the chaos, I’ve also been trying to adjust to the change in my medication; planning and preparing for The Drama Queen’s birthday party, scheduled for next weekend; helping The Drama Queen with her Math Project; and desperately missing my car, my dear, sweet Suburban, as she sits PARKED beside the house, looking lonely and forlorn, until we can figure out where the hell we’re gonna get $1200-1500 to get her a new rear end.

So, [Your Name Here], I humbly ask your forgiveness for being such a terrible [(Choose one or more:)blogger/friend/wife/mother/daughter/daughter-in-law/granddaughter/sister/sister-in-law/blogfriend/faceless online acquaintance]. I’ll be sure to pencil in my public flogging in the next available space on my schedule. How does 17 years from now work for you?

Sincerely yours,

Be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

January 22, 2006

The Drama Queen [said with great glee]: Hey, Mom, you know what? After my birthday, it’ll just be, like, four more years ’til I’m a teenager!

Is there a Tired Mommy form of Tourette’s?

January 17, 2006

My apologies for not responding to comments on the last entry sooner. I’ve been home with sick kids the last two days. And though I have been able to get on the computer long enough to check email, I haven’t really had the chance to be on the computer until after the kids go to bed. And by then, of course, my brain has turned into a steaming pile of goo, and I can no longer form a coherent thought that doesn’t include the words Nemo, poopoo britches, or A clue! A clue!

Some incoherent thoughts, then, in the form of a list:

– I didn’t get the job. I’m okay with that. They’re hiring a guy with several years experience doing exactly what they’re looking for. I can’t blame them.

– The Drama Queen is continuing to sharpen her comedy skills. As we watched the parade of pitiful performers on the season premiere of American Idol tonight, she remarked, “That girl sounds like two cats fighting over a dead fish!”
(It was the “Bluuuue Moooooon” girl, for those of you who watched.)

– I switched medications again a couple weeks ago. So far, so good.

– I suddenly seem to have run out of listy stuff.

– See there, a steaming pile of goo, just like I said up there in the first paragraph. Any minute now, I’ll start quoting Disney movies and Blue’s Clues videos.

– Sigh. Perhaps I should just stop typing now.

Who needs a self-cleaning oven? What I want is a self-cleaning kids’ room!

January 14, 2006

I made arrangements for the girls to spend the night with Mother-In-Law last night…not so that Deputy Dad and I could have a romantic night together – although that would have been nice, but so I could surreptitiously clean out their room while they were away. I do this periodically when their room reaches the Point Of No Return, the point where they – literally, I am not exaggerating – have to take turns putting their shoes on in the morning, because there’s not room enough in the floor for both of them to sit down at the same time.

I spent FOUR SOLID HOURS (in the interest of disclosure, I did take one 2-minute pee break) cleaning out their room this morning. I wasn’t surprised it took so long, because Every Single Time I clean out the girls’ room, I always, always…

…fill anywhere from 2-6 large (lawn size) black garbage bags with trash, broken toys, lidless markers, broken pencils and crayons, etc.

…find toys I’ve never seen before. I have no idea where the girls get some of that junk. (Where does this stuff come from??)

…find dozens of tubes and containers of lip gloss, lipstick, and lip balm. (My rule is…if I find one without a lid, it goes in the trash. I threw away at least a half dozen today.)

…find those tubes and containers of lip gloss, lipstick, and lip balm EVERYWHERE, often in the strangest places. (The prize for Weirdest Find today goes to The Drama Queen. I found a tube of hot pink lipstick in the bottom of her pillowcase.)

…find dirty laundry everywhere but in the hamper. (Another prize for The Drama Queen. I found one lone, dirty sock in a backpack she had stuffed with toys.)

…find toys, clothes, hats, purses, jewelry, etc. that have been missing for days, weeks, or months.

…fill at least one plastic Wal-Mart sack with small toys (mostly forgotten Happy Meal toys). Those go to my kindergarten teacher friend’s classroom “treasure box” (The kids in her class often get to pick a “treasure” from the treasure box as a reward).

…remove several toys and a dozen or more stuffed animals the girls never play with. They almost never notice anything is gone.

…find everything in their room covered in glitter. (Seriously. What is up with that?)

…worry my vacuum cleaner will meet its doom, that it will be injured beyond repair trying to suck up a Lite-Brite peg or a Barbie shoe.

Surely I’m not the only woman in the world…

January 13, 2006

…who finds her husband incredibly sexy when he’s laughing and playing with his toddler son.

…or who finds him even sexier when he’s sitting in the floor trimming that toddler son’s fingernails with itty-bitty baby nail clippers.