Battle in Bethlehem

Last week Andrew and I spent a quiet morning decorating while Caroline napped. The tree, the mantle, and the nativities looked perfect. We have one grown-up nativity in the kitchen, and Andrew has a sweet little one for his room. Once the decorations were in place, Caroline woke for her lunch feeding. Andrew dismissed himself to his room for my nursing, for which I was truly grateful.

Caroline and I were enjoying our peaceful moments together when I heard the clinging of toys. Strange, I thought, which of Andrew's toys cling? Hmph. Oh, no.

"Andrew, what are you doing?" I asked as I finished the last minute or two of the feeding.

"Nuffin'. Just playing," he replied ever so sweetly. Uh-oh.

I closed up shop and headed into Andrew's room. As I entered, I saw baby Jesus, the shepherd, and the flock sitting peacefully on the table. Andrew still had Mary in his hand. This left Joseph, now headless, on the floor alone.

"Oh, Andrew! How could you? What were you thinking?..." I berated for a minute and then fell silent.

Sheepishly, Andrew gestured to Mary and Joseph and said, "They were fighting... Mary won."

Apparently, she did. Bring on the super glue.

Merry Christmas.
:)
Anne

Being Thankful

As I read Facebook posts, I am always amazed at the number of people who use it to complain about how bad things are for them. I'm sure I've done it... we all vent. Here are all my knee-jerk complaints that I have thought about posting... this week.

1. My husband is gone once a week for grad school, so we don't see him those days.
2. My husband has night meetings that keep him from us a few times a month.
3. My daughter consistently wakes in the 4 or 5 AM hour to feed.
4. My house's foundation is moving causing the doors to stick.
5. My heater doesn't heat the kids rooms very well.
6. My 3 year old is full of sass and shares it readily.
7.My blah, blah, blah.... bitch, bitch, bitch.

Yuck. I know things are bad sometimes, but I think we all need a wake up call. I recently heard a speaker and had mine. She was just a mom, who has the most amazing outlook on life. All she said to us was this, "No matter what your life is like you are living the dream, so take the time to give thanks to God and enjoy it. You might not like your house: out of date, bad foundation, old siding, lousey neighborhood, etc... But you have a house. And at this very moment, someone is living in a tiny apartment dreaming of your house. You are so blessed. Please don't spend your life dreaming of more when you could be enjoying what you have."

Wow. I took a long hard look at myself and the little things I let bring me down...
1. My husband is gone once a week for grad school, so we don't see him at all. My husband is in GRAD school while working full time, so I can stay home. He's a rock star.

2. My daughter consistently wakes in the 4 or 5 AM hour to feed. I have a daughter. A wonderfully sweet, squeezy ball of love, who can't wait to spend those first few moments of her day with me. She's healthy and happy. What a blessing.
3. My house's foundation is moving causing the doors to stick. I have a house... a house that I love and a yard to enjoy with my sweet babies.
4. My 3 year old is full of sass and shares it readily. I have a very smart and very vocal 3 year old who uses he smarts for sass, but also he uses it to bless me. He realizes things like this, "Mommy, some mommies go to work all the time. You get to play with me. I'm so glad you get to stay home with me and Caroline."
5. My husband has to work late some nights, and I don't get a break. My husband has a job. Scratch that- my husband has a great job that provides for our family.


No matter how hard I try to be upset about something, I am slapped with the realization that my small inconviences are temporary setbacks related to a much greater blessing.

No matter what your life looks like, you are living someone's dream. Why not make it your dream and be thankful?

:)
Anne

Halloween part 1: Trunk-or-treat

Here's a taste of our Halloween weekend! We hosted a trunk at our church's Trunk-or-treat event last night. Here are the trunk and our two trunk-or-treaters!
:)
Anne

Sweetness

The look in her eyes makes my heart shine: Unconditional love for her Bubba.


:)
Anne

Really?!

Andrew hobbled out to the kitchen this morning, and here's the conversation:

A: Mommy, I think my foot hurts.
M: What do you mean your foot hurts? Show me where.
(I bent down to check out where.)

A: it's my ankle, Mom.
M (dumbfounded, I stared at Chris and asked...) really?! What's your ankle?

(Surprisingly, he actually points to his ankle.)

C: Bud, how do you know it's your ankle?
A: (shocked at Chris's ignorance- scoffs and replies) 'Cause it's the circle bone on the outside of my foot.

Really?! Where does he get this!?

:)
Anne

PS: here's a video of some sibling silliness packed with giggles!

Proper usage of f***

We are on our way to our friends' house for dinner, so we are listening to the Ranger's playoff game on the radio. In reaction to a bad play, Chris drops the f-bomb. Cue Andrew's genius:
"Daddy, fuck is a bad word, and that means you shouldn't say it."

Daddy, "I'm sorry, Bud. I shouldn't have said it."

After a moment of thoughtful reflection, Andrew said, "No, Daddy. You can say fuck if people drive slow in front of you, but you can't say it about baseball."

Thank you, tiny wordsmith. We laughed f-ing hard at that.
:)
Anne

Communication conundrum

I am having trouble communicating a few things around my house. Maybe these issues need to be in writing to be resolved, so here goes...

Dear neighborhood cats,

I can see where this might be confusing; however, andrew's sand box is not your alternate litter box. Go home then go pee.

Thanks,
Andrew's Mom

Dear motorcycle driving neighbor,

I will admit I know nothing of motorcycle care; however, I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't rev the engine (parked right outside Andrew's window) several times before and after you drive it. It's loud enough without these "warm up" and "cool down" periods scheduled daily at 6:30am and 8:30pm. Mopeds are cool, too and much quieter. I think I saw one on Craigslist. Check it out.

Thanks,
Andrew and Caroline's mom


 Dear Confused Caroline,

Settle down...The chalkboard is not covered in powdered sugar. Trust me, I've checked.

Love you,
Mommy

Dear Astute Andrew,

Yes you were cute, funny, smart, and very well behaved at the dentist; however, that does not mean you get to watch a movie... nice try, Bud.

Love you,
Mommy

Just a few of the day-to-day issues around the house.

:)
Anne

Rangers clench... Mommy cries.

 Andrew, Chris, and I watched to Rangers clench the division. It was such a fun night; however, I doubted (many times) whether Andrew would make it through the whole game. Luckily, he did.

Things started out with an unexpected bang! We parked and road the shuttle...boring, right? Wrong. We were the last ones seated, and the only seats left were the two in the far back: the full-sized and the half seat. Andrew sat BY HIMSELF on the half seat. The worried look on his face was pretty hilarious as he debated the safety of the whole experience having only ever ridden in car seats. Then, we hit a bump. His face lit up and he said, "This is amazing!"

Next,we had to wait at will call for our friends and our tickets, which soon soured Andrew's pregame excitement. My doubting began at this very moment. Although, once we got to our seats (right by first base), Andrew was in perfect position to see his favorite player, Michael Young. His excitement grew again... until the middle of the 2nd inning when he started asking to go home. Yikes.

Luckily, I had enough sugary treats in my purse to keep us all interested in the game. The Rangers helped by hitting a few home runs, and Andrew loved the celebratory fireworks. Throughout the game, he enjoyed most of the in-game festivities like the dot races, music, and foenormous video screen. He was a little distraught when they played the "stealing third" game. A little boy gets chance to "steal third" if he can run to it, grab it, and bring it back in time. Andrew's objection, "If they let him steal that base, then the Rangers won't have anything to run around." Good point.

Fast forward to the end of the game, and we are all waiting for the post game fireworks. Andrew (now several hours past bedtime) is cradled in my lap (where he spent most of the game). The evening's a little cool, so he is snuggling into me just a bit. The fireworks start, the music plays, and I'm loving every minute: singing Journey, snuggling my little man, and gazing up at the 360 degree show.

With the biggest smile on his face, Andrew looked up at me and said, "Mommy, this is the happiest I ever been in my whole life. Thanks for bringing me to the Rangers game."

Me too, baby. Waterworks again. This kid really knows how to melt my heart.

:)
Anne

Points of View

We had our dear friends, Rachel and Matt, over tonight for dinner, and with them came their 3 kids (2 of which are newly placed foster children). As the years of their fostering have past, we have seen many sweet faces pass through their care.

As an educated adult, I can barely wrap my head around the foster parent gig that my friends have chosen. Andrew has tried to understand the process, too; however, we don't really explain it all that well. I just have told him as his playmates come and go through the Clarke house that Mattie and Rachel help take care of other people's kids when those people can't. Mattie and Rachel are these kids' mommy and daddy when they need them. He seems very accepting of this.

Tonight, I saw two very different points of view of this process. Long after dinner and playtime, it was time to clean up (after two 3 year olds, a 6 year old, and a 15 month old-Yeesh). The very verbal and smart 6 year old stops cleaning and asks me, "Why do you have kids?" Slightly taken aback, I paused to reflect on such a deep question. Before I could answer, she continued, "Do you foster them?" I said, "Nope. I don't foster them, but I am surely living the dream." What do I say to that?

About 5 minutes later, we all finished our clean-up efforts and joined Chris, Rachel, and Andrew in the kitchen. As we were saying our goodbyes, Andrew said to Rachel, "Thanks for getting some new kids."

Matt then turned to the 6 year old and said, "That's why they have kids. Because they are funny."

In Andrew's mind, having foster kids as your best friends means always getting to have new friends.


I like that. So, thanks Mattie and Rachel for getting some new kids. (Although we all know it's much more than that. )

:)
Anne

Battle of the Sexes

To my knowledge, no one has told my little Andrew the "typical" gender roles of men and women. He doesn't know that women fill the teaching profession or that men seem to be the only garbage men. He has no reason to think that I am better than Chris or vice-versa simply based on me being a girl and daddy being a boy. He just knows that when he scrapes his knee, he prefers mommy. When he needs to know the "right" way to stand to be the batter, he trusts daddy.

Sadly, he seems to have made another correlation between the genders... although, I honestly don't know how. It all centers around bedtime. When Daddy's away in the evenings for business, school, or sport, Andrew has had a hard time going to sleep. We've been working on this issue for several weeks and have made a great deal of progress. I'm very thankful for that.

However, after three attempts at bedtime (going on an hour and a half tonight), I am saddened for my sweet boy. As I calmed him, I told him that I was very blessed that God gave him to me, and I thank Him nightly for Andrew.

Here's the conversation that followed:
Andrew: Is God in your room at night?
Me: Yes, baby. God is with us always. He's here to give us his love.
Andrew: Are there bad guys in your room?
Me: Nope.
Andrew: Oh. When Daddy's home, he has strong powers to keep the bad guys away. I wish Daddy was here now, so we could have his powers.

At the ripe old age of 3 and a half, he somehow knows that I am not physically strong enough to protect him. My heart breaks... for him to know this already and for me to be reminded of this. I guess it took him verbalizing it to remind me that I can't protect him from everything.

My prayer is that God covers Andrew in peace, so he can rest each night knowing that he is loved and cared for.

My precious, too smart, little boy.

Anne

Potty Training, cont.

Andrew has been potty trained/training since July of last year. We are still working on nights, but I'm fine with pull-ups for now to get us through our slumber. Anyway, my favorite thing about potty training has to be Andrew's urgent need for privacy. He's 3, and we all must afford him the right of privacy when he's going poo... although we still have to assist in the wiping that oh so private hiney.

So, Andrew insists on someone accompanying him to the bathroom if he needs to poop. Once you get there, he turns and says, "I need privacy". We must all wait patiently outside the door for our opportunity to help the king off his throne.

Here's the twist. The other day we went to the mall and had to all share the family bathroom. Andrew mounted his throne and gave his usual request for privacy. I shrugged at the exit to the single stall bathroom and explained that I couldn't leave. What was his response?

"Then, please, just don't look at my eyes."

Oh, my. It was all I could do to hold back the laughter.

:)
Anne

Beauty Shop Guy

Have you ever been to the hair salon, and the stylist left you feeling less than great about your 'do? I think we all have. For example, I once asked for her to trim about an inch to make it look healthy. To which, the stylist held up my abundance of split ends and said with disgust, "It's gonna take a lot more than an inch to make this look healthy." Ouch. That was the harshest comment by someone working with my locks... until now.
Flash forward to beauty shop time in the Shacklett living room. Andrew has started "doing" my hair recently. This time he said he wanted to brush my hair, so I let him work his magic for a few minutes. Then, I asked "Is my hair pretty now?" He sighed and replied, "Well, first I'm gonna need some scissors. Then I will have to keep brushing to get all the bugs out." Double ouch.

Apparently, I have let myself go.

:)
Anne

PS:
Great Auntie M,
Here is the picture proof of the newly mobile Caroline that you requested.

A girl's best friend...

Caroline did it! She finally managed to figure out crawling. We have been modeling, coaxing, pushing, pulling, baiting... but she never could make it happen. (To her credit, she could roll anywhere and wiggle backwards and an alarming pace; however, she never made those sweet little pudgy legs take her forwards.)

Saturday was the day. We sat her in the middle of Grandma Mary's front room in the middle of quite a crowd: Mommy, Daddy, big brother, Grandma Mary, Aunt Heather, Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Heather's friends. We offered several "forbidden fruits". We dangled shoes, candy, cupcakes, and puffs, but she just didn't budge. Then I caught her eye-balling my engagement ring, so I took it off and told her to come and get it. And, I'll be damned- she came and got it.




I guess diamonds really are a girl's best friend. Even if the girl is only 8 months old.

:)

Anne

Smooth Talker

In yesterday's post, I forgot to mention the best conversation of all. I witnessed this little gem at the playground the other night. Andrew, Caroline, and I went to the playground to kill time while Daddy tried out for the city's softball team. Two little girls, one 4 and one 7 years old, were already playing. Andrew approached the two of them batting his big blue eyes and flashing his pearly whites.

Andrew: Hi. What's your name?
Younger girl: Yuck! A boy. (She's saying this while running away as fast as she can.)
Older Girl (Cocks her head, slightly annoyed.): I'm Emily. She's Sarah.
(With the way she says this she's obviously way cooler than anything or anyone at the playground.)
Andrew: I'm Andrew. That's Caroline.
Older Girl: So, how old are you?
Andrew: Well, I'm gonna be 4.
Older Girl: So, you're 3 then?
Andrew (clearly defeated): Uh, yeah. I'm 3.
Older Girl: Well, I'm 7, and I can swing on the big monkey bars. There's little kid stuff over there.

Ouch. Nice try, kiddo. I do applaud his attempt, but it's a hard lesson to learn at 3-gonna be 4.  By the way, who taught him to lie about his age to impress people?

:)
Anne

PS: I still think he's a looker. :)

Andrew's To-Do List

Andrew can be very intense and sometimes behaves and speaks as if he were really a young adult. Here are some of our latest gems:

1. I asked Andrew a question at the breakfast a question. His response, "Hold on mommy. I just have to check my email." Then he looked down at the grocery list and wrote something down.

2. Andrew got up from his movie and put his shoes on headed outside. He turned and said, "Mommy, I have a lot of piles to do. I just need to get out there and start raking until all the piles are done." My response, "Good luck".

3. Against the fence, we have an old stump that needs to be ground. I found Andrew out there hitting it over and over with his bat. I asked, "What's up, Bud?" His response, "I'm just 'chinging' this until it goes away. I have to use my strong muscles." (FYI-To ching something is to hit it so hard that it makes a "ching" sound like two swords hitting.)

4. One morning, Andrew found my grocery list pad and pencil. He said, "I need to add some things to the list. We need: vanilla yogurt, milk, granola bars, veggie chips, Reese's cups for Daddy, maybe some lollipops, and oh yeah- we need more pretzels, too." Aside from the Reese's cups, all the rest actually should have or were already on the list.

5. Finally, this morning we ran an errand dangerously close to lunch time. Andrew was starving, so he began to bargain. "Well, Mommy, for lunch today, I think you should make me a sundae ice cream. We have ice cream, walnuts, and chocolate, so I think that means we should eat that."

On a Caroline note, she is still red on top with her sparkly blue eyes. Her 4th tooth popped through this morning. She is eating any and everything you put in front of her, and she's on the verge of crawling! Yeesh. She has also started to talk. Her first word? Bubba. Every time she sees her big brother, she lights up, squeals, and says Bubba, Bubba, Bubba. Then, she said Dada, dada. Grandma Mary and I think we heard a Mama yesterday... Hopefully, she'll be a talker like her brother... and her mother.

Oh, yeah... She also likes to roll under furniture just like her brother used to.

:)
Anne

No floaties?!

Andrew just finished two weeks of swim lessons with Miss Ginger, and now he's floatie free! I know what you're thinking, but it's true. Andrew didn't believe her either. Actually, he still doesn't believe it. When asked about swimming without floaties, he varies from excitement to concern that he will "float to the bottom".

Here are a few shots of Andrew swimming with his teacher. One picture on the shows Andrew preparing to jump of the diving board without floaties. He's getting a little encouragement from Miss Ginger. Her full time job is teaching high school students, so she has a completely different style for handling toddlers. It was fantastic. Initially, Andrew would ask over and over, "Did I do a good job? Was that a good one?" Finally, Miss Ginger looked in the eyes and said, "Andrew I really like you, but no. You are not doing a good job. Just put your head down and look at my feet. Do it again...right this time." No sugar-coating in Ginger's pool. He responded, and the evidence is in the pictures and in the pool. 

We still have some practicing at Grandma Mary's before we head off to the Hurricane Harbor, but he's doing amazingly well! Thanks for everything Miss Ginger! (By the way, Andrew is one of 150 little guys and gals that will learn to swim in that pool with Miss Ginger's guidance!)

:)

Anne

Happy 4th of July

Happy 4th of July from the Shackletts. We celebrated Caroline's first 4th with our first time participating in a 4th of July parade. Our very young neighborhood association started an annual parade for the 4th. The sign said there were prizes... We were in! Here is our "float".

At this point, we are clearly the front runners for the best decoration prize.

Caroline, although a very good sitter, didn't last long once the wagon was in motion. I soon moved her back to the stroller.

Including us, there were about 20 people, so I felt pretty good about our odds for first prize. We did one lap around the park, and all the middle-aged soccer men happily cheered and clapped for our tiny parade. After our lap, we enjoyed Popsicles and fake tattoos. A hush soon fell over the crowd, and the two little old ladies (the organizers) grabbed the prize box... She shrugged and said, "We have prizes, y'all, but I just don't have the heart to pick a winner. I think we'll just save the prizes for next year." Horse shit. 

This time next year, it's on. I encouraged the sweet old ladies to hire judges. The Shackletts will win the neighborhood parade. Isn't that what our forefathers would have wanted?

Either way, happy birthday America!

:)

Anne 



Sweet Siblings

We are having lots of laughs around the Shacklett house. Most are centered around the love between our two kiddos. Caroline adores Andrew, and he lives to make her laugh!...

This first one is from May. (I still can't covert and add the videos directly to the blog, so you will have to follow the links to YouTube. They are worth it with the sweet giggles. :))

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPHkEpW67HA

These two were from some spontaneous sibling sweetness last night.

This is Caroline's reaction to my laugh at the dinner table... you can see how quickly it turns sad when I stopped.  (PS: Did you notice those two chompers?!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JdtrKS9iFE

:)

Anne

Caroline's Baptism

A few weeks ago,Caroline was baptised. She did such an amazing job. She checked out Pastor Clayton, smiled at the choir, and never once cried.

Andrew did an amazing job as the big brother, too. Afterwards, we all enjoyed a delicious brunch at Amigos, and headed home for naps.

God is doing amazing things in our lives daily! We were so glad to have our friends and family their to celebrate with us!
:)
Anne

Spilled Milk

Sophocles wrote,"There is no sense crying over spilt milk." Sophocles was a man, and therefore, he never chose whether or not to breastfeed. Recently, someone said that I breastfeed because I am cheap, which led to some "crying" over spilt milk, or pumped milk... for the working mom.

Breastfeeding for a year
Pump (or pump accessories/parts for a borrowed pump) $300.00
Nursing Pads (changed 3 times a day to avoid infection) $171.00
Manual Pump for emergency pumping $30.00
Pump wipes to clean pump with no access to sink $40.00
Lanolin for sore nipples $40.00
Prescription for infection $10.00
Cream for infection $40.00
Cream for cuts $7.00
Milk storage $60.00
Nipple Shields for protection while baby nurses on sore nipples $15.00
Nipple Shells for protection from bra as it rubs your sore nipples $15.00
Nursing Bras (Sleep bra, day bra, jog bra) $60.00
Nursing Pajamas $40.00
Nursing Cover $20.00
Supplements for milk supply $60.00
Tea for milk supply $20.00
Nursing pillow $30.00
Pillow covers $10.00
Bigger tops for the bigger tatas (So far I have 5, so you've probably seen them.) $75.00
Total $1,043.00

That's my total if I never have to buy formula to supplement, which lots of girls must do. To compare, I asked a friend who is formula feeding, and she says she spends about $70 per month. $70 times 12 months equals $840... Even if we round up her formula cost by almost $20 more per month, it will only equal the cost of breastfeeding.

Aside from the cost, please take into consideration: Everything I eat or drink affects the milk. Every errand, appointment, or get together has to be scheduled around pumping or feeding the baby. I have to endure glares from people who are uncomfortable seeing my nursing wrap. I have to be the one up at every feeding, which means I never sleep in past the first feeding. I have popped buttons (in public) when my milk let down because a baby (any baby) cried. If we have people over and my feeding makes them uncomfortable, I go into another room to feed. I miss part of the festivities, so they don't feel weird. If I have a stomach bug, hives, or a sore incision from major surgery (C-section, duh), I still have to feed the baby. Yet for all of these down sides, I still do it. Why? Would I do all of that to save a few dollars?

Hmmm... No. I have an amazing bond with my baby, and I have the comfort of know that ALL experts agree that breastfeeding is best. The American Academy of Pediatrics states: Human milk is species-specific, and all substitute feeding preparations differ markedly from it, making human milk uniquely superior for infant feeding. Exclusive breastfeeding is the reference or normative model against which all alternative feeding methods must be measured with regard to growth, health, development, and all other short- and long-term outcomes. So, for those of you who think I breastfeed because I am cheap, think again. It's better for the baby. Period. And I work damn hard to do it.

Their are people who breast feed exclusively, people who formula feed exclusively, and all combinations in between. I promise to never make a judgement on whether you chose to put a breast or bottle in your kid's mouth. Please afford me the same courtesy.

:)

Glad to get that off my chest,
Anne

Waterworks

Today was my first day home after quitting my job to stay home with Andrew and Caroline. It's been a long time coming. The day was amazingly simple, and it ended beautifully.

Chris came home and instantly noticed the calm saying, "everyone seems so happy". We were. We were rested, not rushed. The evening flowed well with a family foam-bat sword fight followed by dinner, baths, and books.

Andrew crawled into my lap with his normal request, "Mommy, can you give the baby to daddy, please?" This means he wanted me all to himself, and I am ready... or I thought I was.

Andrew sat on my lap and "read" me his book. His tiny finger moving across each page to help guide his "reading". My arms hugged around him, and it hits me. I don't have to go back to work... Silent tears pour out over Andrew's shoulders, and he stops reading. He looks terrified. "Mommy, what's wrong?" I tell him that I am happy. That sometimes mommies are so happy that they cry.

Instead of sad tears in August, I get to have happy tears now.

:)
Anne

Caroline's First Easter

Caroline had her first visit from the Easter bunny, and Andrew was right there to teach her all about it. We spent Saturday evening dying eggs. Andrew dyed and Caroline chatted away the entire time as she admired his work. (And, yes, I stripped him down to dye the eggs. It's not my first rodeo.)

We left out some carrots for the Easter bunny and headed to bed. When we woke up, we headed straight to church. We had a lovely service and headed home to see that the Easter bunny had hopped by our house. The babies each had their baskets filled with goodies!

Before we dug through our treats, we were able to capture our Easter cuties in their Sunday best.

I know I'm biased, but they are a good lookin' pair.

Happy Easter!

:)

Anne

Best Butt-dial Ever

Yesterday my sweet husband was livin' the dream. Unfortunately for him, he was livin' my dream... That's right, folks. Daddy stayed home... alone... with both kids. I should have taken a picture of the look of terror on his face the night before. They ran errands in the morning and then stopped by school to visit me, which made my day! After naps, Daddy took the sweet babies for a walk in the stroller. His phone bounced around in his pocket until it butt-dialed me... and left me a message. Unlike most butt-dial phone call messages, I stuck with this one, and I was rewarded.

Here is the transcript:

(Swish- swish, woosh, swish- swish, woosh.. I can tell the message is a butt-dial.)

Andrew: Daddy, I have to potty.

Daddy: Andrew, I told you to go before we left.

Andrew: But Daddy, I have to go now.

Daddy: Then should we just go home now?

Andrew: No, you said we are going to the park. I have to go poop.

Daddy: (Sigh) You have to go poop? Bubba, you're not gonna like the bathroom at the park. You just have to hold it. (pause) And do not go in your pants.

(another pause)

Andrew: Is Mommy home yet?

I was laughing out loud in the car as I listened to this. The message continues for another 3 minutes and at least 2 more requests for mommy and/or bathroom. When I talked to Chris about 10 minutes later, they were at the park. Our conversation ending abruptly with Chris saying,"Andrew just ran out of the park to the soccer field... uh, he's not stopping. I think I need to go get him." Good idea.

Well, both kids and Daddy were no worse for the wear. Way to go, Daddy.

:)

Anne

Blessings

I have two beautiful blessings.... even at 3 am, they make me smile.

Now that I am back at work, the house, the laundry, and everything else has become a little neglected. Amongst the mess and after all the commotion of getting everyone home, fed, bottles washed, milk stored, babies bathed, etc., Chris looked at me and asked,"What did we do before we had children?"

Good question.

Love those babies. I have 29 days until I get to be with them full time!!

:)

Anne

Deep thoughts... With Andrew

I have hundreds of interesting conversations with my very verbose 3 year old. I can't tell if they are supreme genius or complete idiocracy. I'll let you have a taste, and then you can be a judge.

Deep thoughts about....Getting in Shape:

While on a jog today, here's our conversation:

Andrew: Mommy why are you jogging?

Me: Mommy needs to get in shape.

Andrew: (Turns around with a very serious expression) Mommy, a shape is like something you put in a puzzle. It's not a good thing for people.

I never thought of it that way. Does anyone need a jogging stroller? I guess I'm done with mine. :)

Deep thoughts about... Swallowing:

In the car on the way back from our trip to Leakey, Andrew asked for a piece of gum only minutes after getting a piece.

Mommy: Andrew, did you swallow your gum?

Andrew: No.

Mommy: Is it in your mouth?

Andrew: No. It's in my tummy.

Mommy: (Sigh) Then yes, Andrew, you swallowed your gum, and it's in your tummy,

Andrew: No, Mommy, I didn't swallow it. I just ate it in my mouth, and it went to my tummy. So can I have more gum?

Double sigh. What a clever way to get around the no swallowing gum rule.

Deep thoughts about... word choice.

Andrew has trouble sometimes with the words he uses as compared to what he tries to say. This can cause the conversation to derail quickly.

Andrew: Mommy, when we go to the mosque I will play.

Me: (I'm instantly intrigued.) The mosque? When are you going to the mosque?

Andrew: (annoyed by my stupidity) Mommy, when I go to the mosque, I will play with the zebra and snake, and I will slide down the waterfall.

Me:(Lightbulb) Andrew, that place is called the mall. Mall with an 'l'.

Andrew: (pointing to the high school) Yay! Look! We made it to hoes.

Me:(I search Chris's face for an explanation.) What is hoes, Andrew?

Andrew: Look, it's hoes, Mommy.

Me: Andrew, what is hoes?

Andrew: Hoes has the water fountains, and we can look and touch water.

Me: Andrew, that place is Lowes. La, la, Lowes. And yes, you can look at the garden fountains when we get there.

I'm sure there's plenty more to come....

:)

Anne

Music Man

Out of the blue, my little charmer has decided he has a musical side. I have to admit that I dig it. First, he showed us all that he has a knack for karaoke. With the mic in one hand, he said, "Mommy, I need a guitar."

A few weeks later, he received his Paper Jamz guitar, which makes anyone a instant musician. With the guitar in hand, he said, "I need a strap, Mommy".

Then, he revisited his drum and played an old classic, Hot Cross Buns. Although a very annoying tune played by a 4th grader on a recorder, it's pretty cute on a drum by a toddler.

By the way, he turned three. My little baby boy is 3! It was a month ago, and I haven't done a proper post about it... will one happen? I have no clue, but here's how we started his big day. The day before he asked, "For my birthday, can I have sprinkles for breakfast?" Sure thing, kiddo.

We went from cabin fever to Beiber fever. In our case, Andrew is convinced that Beiber is a girl... Baby, baby, baby...

:)

Anne

Cabin Fever: Blizzard 2011

"Andrew, give me the scissors, put your pants on, and clean up all that hair." Add that phrase to the list of things that I never thought I would say. Well, here's how it happened.

February 2011 turned out to be record-breaking in snow fall, temperatures, and days missed from school. For a girl on maternity leave, all of these things equal cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching. While others looked outside at the snow and ice and saw white, I saw green. For each day that the school was closed, I earned a "free" day of maternity leave. I never thought I would work so hard to earn a "free" day until I was locked in the house with a 3 year old boy and a newborn.

Day 1: Hello snow day! Chris has to go to work, so he dug his car off and headed out into the great white wonder. See you later, sucker. I'm all cozy inside and enjoying a fun movie day with my two little angels. We popped those movies in one after another, took a nice long nap, and then popped in some more. We all had a great day. Yay for a snow day!

Day 2: What's this? More snow and ice? Why thank you, and I will take that extra "free" day. My son knew the routine from the previous day, so he wanted to pop in movie #1, which was actually movie #1 from day 1. I said no way, Jose. I stupidly asked him to pick another movie, so he picked #2 from day 1. Noticing a pattern, I put all the unwatched movies on the TV stand and told him to pick from those. He did, and we navigating through the day with breaks between movies for crafts, naps, and baking.

Here's where the trouble started. Mommy and Andrew decided to bake some oatmeal raisin bars. Andrew had fun until about minute 3 when he realized you can't eat them for a long time. I let him go back to his crafting and movie watching. A few minutes later, I pour the batter in the pan, and I catch something strange out of the corner of my eye: naked toddler toosh. Uh-oh.

As I approach the scene, here's what I see. The living room looks like someone smashed a pinata of confetti, crumbs, and hair. Apparently, Andrew took a potty break (good), left his pants off afterward (well), and decided that he wanted to practicing cutting shapes (oh, no). After 3,000 tiny triangles, he got bored and gave his golden locks a trim, too.

So, I calmly say "Andrew, give me the scissors, put your pants on, and clean up all that hair." I tried to show him the damage to his 'do in the mirror, but he's three and a boy. He didn't care. His response, "Are the cookies ready?"

Day 3: I don't know if I can do this anymore. I need to go for a walk, run around, or see someone else other than my sleepy infant and stir crazy toddler. Enter the Clarkes. They came like angels with a peppermint mocha and their children to play with my son. Day 3 went by super fast. Yay, Clarkes.

Day 4: Things outside started to melt a little, so Andrew went outside. I didn't care that it was 15 degrees, and Andrew didn't either. He just needed to be out. So, I poured a bunch of salt on the porch, and out he went. I watched from the door.

Once the blizzard of 2011 ran its course, we were no worse for the wear. Sure, we were short several sheets of construction papers, a few locks of hair, and an entire tray of oatmeal bars, but I got plenty of quality time with my babies!

Oh yeah! Caroline also got to "play" in the snow for the first time. Andrew made snowballs, and Caroline "made" snow angels. Let's go with that. At least she was warm. Warm? Yes. Happy? Not so much. Did I mention I was mother of the year?

:)

Anne

So much for subtlety

I have reached another parenting or mothering milestone. I have now nursed in public. Wee! Well, I wish it went that well. Here's how the beautiful moment actually went down:

We arrived at Andrew's best friend's birthday party, which was held at an indoor soccer facility. Yum.) There were games being played and watched all around me. The hostess of the party, a fellow nursing mom, said I could sit at the party picnic table and nurse.

All the party people were either playing or watching their kids, so I could nurse subtly. I would alone-ish. I can do this. Cue the deep breath and positive self talk reminding myself that I have every right to do this, it's normal, beautiful, blah blah blah.

I get the baby out of the car carrier sitting on one bench of the picnic table and I sit on the udder side (Get it? Ha.) Anyway, I cover myself with my Hooter Hider, pop out the boob, and attempt to latch the baby.

Here's where the fun begins. The soccer ball slams against the nearest goal, so Caroline jerks her right arm, which pulls up the Hooter Hider. AHHH. I pull back in response subsequently shaking the picnic table, which knocks the car carrier to the floor. The loud crash of the car carrier causes all the soccer moms around me gasp and turn thinking that my sweet baby was left unattended and is now face down on the concrete floor.

With every pair of eyes looking at me and realizing that I have all kinds of boob action happening, I shrug and gingerly point to my covered baby. With several awkward nods, they return to game watching, and I pretend to be totally cool with the whole situation.

So much for subtlety.


Oh, well. Yay, boobs. And, yes, it's really called a Hooter Hider.


:)
Anne