Last night was another fun night of trying desperately to get the kids to go to bed. Eventually all was quiet. Later I went in to check on them and this is what I found. Don't you love the way my flash lights up an otherwise dark room?
Here are my kids with their very first "first cousin." Not that they don't have second cousins that they love very dearly! But this is sort of monumental because Steven and I were the only ones of all our siblings to have kids. Now we are not.
Yesterday I hear Jordan yelling "Mommy help!" This is what I found. The best parents take pictures before freeing their children.
A little mid-morning tea party. Their blocks are delicious!
Because it's my own blog I don't feel the need to excuse my own gratuitous posting of a half-decent picture of myself with one of the kids. I even took it myself.
I snuggle Tennyson on my lap enjoying that he is such an excellent cuddler. "Tennyson," I say, rocking him back and forth, "are you my baby?"
"Are you my little girl?"
"No. Big Boy."
And he is. He's so big. I don't know where the last couple of years have gone with him. He's tall, he's ridiculously silly, he's conniving, he's sweet, he's hot-tempered.
He wears size 8 shoes and size 3 clothes. He could probably wear a 4, but you know the pants would be too big.
He gets mad when we drop Jordan off at school and he doesn't get to stay. "Me chool! Me chool!" he begs. I actually feel like I'm cheating him out of something when I carry him out of there, his big blue/green eyes desperately watching the kids play with the toys, the scissors, the play dough.
Next week he's going to be two. I'm excited for him because I know he wants to be "big" and do the things that Jordan does. …
I think any parent knows how frustrating bedtime can be! I left the kids' rooms 40 minutes ago. Since then, I've had to chase Tennyson back to bed a number of times and scold them for being out of their beds, hitting each other and climbing the dresser. Somehow Jordan managed to bang her head on the headboard so now she's crying. They've also finally managed to wake up Mitchell, so it's a crying chorus upstairs.
Oh how I wish for another bedroom! I know, it's not that easy. It's not like I can just convert my dining room. It's not like any one bedroom is big enough to divide into two. My solution? Just suffer through the next few years of bedtime mayhem and keep my best "Mom Voice" handy.
I can now hear two kids crying and the third singing or something - and I'm in the basement.
Sometimes I'll be doing something mundane and something will happen and I'll think "Finally, something to blog about." Do I make a note of it? Nope. Do I quickly run downstairs and whip up a post? Nope. Instead I just forget about it altogether. I'll sit at the computer days later and remember that there was something funny I had wanted to write down in here but it's like a dream - you sort of know that you should remember it but it's not quite there.
Sometimes I wonder where my days go. I feel like I spend all day moving, cooking, picking up, doing something and at the end of the day I look at the heap of crusty dishes and the laundry spilling over the baskets. I sigh at the ring around the bathtub and the toys scattered throughout the house. At 9 o'clock at night I pick up the toys and throw errant socks into the piles of laundry waiting to be washed and wonder what I did all day.
Where does the time go? Sometimes when I've gone to make plans with…
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My daughter used to sit sort of nicely at the table and eat her dinner. Now she finds multiple excuses to get up and run around: I need more water, I have to poop (in those words), my hands are sticky, there's a bug on the window, I'm a kitty. We try our darnedest to get her to stay put but by the end of most meals the baby is crying, Tennyson is freaking out for reasons unknown and Jordan is running around the kitchen table.
The other day Steven was working so it was just me and the kids eating a square Hamburger Helper dinner. Jordan was running around - again - and I had to leave the table for something. I know, I'm a horrible example. When I came back I saw her red bowl in the sink. Then she came back and asked for seconds. I scolded her for putting her bowl in the sink if she wasn't done. She insisted that she hadn't put it in there. To her credit, the bowl didn't look as though it had HH in it. I checked the cupboard and the sink, and with Tennyson's b…
This is Mitchell in his high chair. Notice the puddle forming underneath it right now. In my frustration, and to save my own sanity, I have taken a brief leave from this situation before dealing with it. I'm somewhat annoyed. I actually contemplated taking my vacation time until I remembered that I don't have that kind of job.