Hat Trick

2006-09-23T15:07:00.000-07:00

You are now officially a Preschooler, but you will always be my baby. There are eight sets of arms in our home ready to comfort you at any given moment, for any reason at all.

I love you, My Sugar!

2006-07-22T07:29:00.000-07:00

To my sweet Rose:

I'm so proud of you that after months of stony silence, aside from the standard 'Mama' and 'Dada', you have decided to speak!

I like that you are using the words 'Please' and 'Thank You', as well as 'God bless you' after you hear anyone sneeze (or cough, or clear their throat, or belch, or fart...).

I really wish you had not picked up the word 'No' so easily. I mean, really! As your mom, I rarely ever say the actual word. I prefer to say "That's not for you!" or "That really not safe!" Guess I can blame your big sisters. Finally.

And this fecal fingerpainting thing has GOT. TO. STOP.

Telling me "I poop!" after you've already filled your diaper to capacity seems like a happy alternative to spraying down your bedroom walls with bleach and making me thank your daddy for allowing me to originally paint your bedroom in a finish called 'Kids Paint'. It might have been a tad more expensive, but it's held up well under the eleventy-kajillion times I've had to scour it!

The excitement and genuine affection that you greeted me with when I returned from vacation has more than paid for all the crap I've had to clean up since you've been born.

2006-07-03T17:35:00.000-07:00

My oldest daughter has her arm wrapped around my youngest daughter as they watch The Fox and the Hound on Monday night. The daughter whose age falls between those pictured is going through a phase where she avoids having her picture taken. She saw the camera and made herself invisible.

2006-06-27T07:27:00.000-07:00

Rosie decides to wear my dress shoes: It's a struggle. She wears a toddler size 8, and those shoes are a woman's size 9 (shut up. I have big feet to counterbalance my forward projections). A few minutes later, Rosie gives up and comes crying to me. There's nothing like tears of frustration. I love it when my kids run to me for hugs!

2006-06-05T11:25:00.000-07:00

Please go over to my Flickr page and see the picture of the girls I have posted titled : See No, Hear No, Do No Evil.

2006-05-21T06:57:00.000-07:00

The girls love to play hide and seek with their dad. Good for them, since I'm not a gal who plays games. *wink wink - nudge*
DH came home about five yesterday, I cooked some stir fry, we ate dinner as a family. I should say we laughed through dinner. Halie and Catie were in a playful mood. Rosie? Notsomuch. While I cuddled with Rosie on the couch, DH and the other girls played a rousing game of hide and seek. Each took turns being 'IT': Halie first, Catie next, then finally DH. I must applaud my daughters on their ability to camouflage themselves. Halie climbed into the toy box in Rosie's room, buried herself in the toys, leaving only a tiny square of her purple nightgown showing. My husband almost walked right past her! Catie pulled the big (woofer) speaker away from the wall in the living room and crouched behind it. Halie missed her the first time through!
Then there it was my husband's turn. Here's how it happened: DH hid in the hallway bathroom, the door closed and locked behind him. Meanwhile, back at the ranch: I was busy serving as the safety net for my toddler, who decided to express her circus monkey/mountain goat genetics: Rosie swiftly climbed onto Catie's top bunk and pushed the ladder to said bunk onto the floor. She and I spent the next few minutes having the following exchange:

Me: What did you do?

Rosie: I kwime up!

M: How are you going to get down?

R: You hup (help) me!

M: If I help you down, I'm also going to 'help' you leave this room. M'Kay?

R: NONONONO!

M: YESYESYESYES! (spoken as I plucked her from Catie's bunk and plunked her down in the hallway)

Back to Hide and Seek: I did not see DH hide in the bathroom, so I have NOT A CLUE. Halie and Catie tell me that they've looked EVERYWHERE, but cannot find their father. I ask the girls to sit down and wait with me in the living room. Just then, the phone rings. I pick it up and before I can say 'Hello', I hear what sounds like heavy breathing. "Great", I think to myself, and hang up the phone. I had just put down the phone when it rang again. I looked at the Caller ID and saw my DH's cell phone number! I answered, and he hoarsely whispered, "The call is coming from inside the house!" I freaking LOST it!! The girls all wanted to know what had me laughing so hard, but I could not even pause to tell them, it was that funny. Eventually, DH began banging on the door from the inside, and the girls found him.

2006-05-12T07:05:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday we attended the birthday party of a preschool classmate of Catie's, M., who just turned three. By 'we', I mean: Halie, Catie and Rosie, and me - the girls allowed me to chauffeur them, mostly because I'm the only one big enough to reach the pedals in the SUV. Luckily, I'm not shy when it comes to meeting new people. My daughters were thrilled to be a part of their young friend's party, then they saw the cake. M.'s mom made a spectacular Minnie Mouse cake, which I did not get a picture of. Forgot my camera. I am fortunate that M.'s mom was able to forward me a precious photo of little Rosie with remnants of her seond slice of the aforementioned Minnie Mouse cake. My daughters were on a sugar high all afternoon. Can you say "play outside until you've burned it all off and don't come to get me unless it's broken, bleeding or on fire"? Well, that's exactly what I said. I must also tell you that they played together beautifully. No fighting. No biting. No kidding!

2006-05-02T09:50:00.000-07:00

Potty Training ~~Battle~~ 101
Rosie: 2
Mommy: 0

We have Rosie's potty seat in the foyer of our house. Anytime she removes her diaper, we point her to the miniature potty, with a verbal command, "Sit." She has yet to produce anything in the potty. Today was the closest she's ever been. She handed me her already wet diaper, then raced back to the potty seat. I closed up the old diaper and walked to the kitchen to throw it away. When I returned, Rosie had pottied alright: pooped on the floor right in front of the seat, and peed off to the side of it. So close, and yet so far...

2006-04-28T07:10:00.000-07:00

Click on any picture to biggify!
Afternoon Adventure with Catie and Rosie - in our backyard.
The weather was picture perfect yesterday, 75 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. Halie was at school.
Good day to shoo my younger daughters out the sliding doors and not worry about closing it behind them.
DH and I worked on the back windows of our house, and I ran to grab the camera when I realized that I had an opportunity to catch my daughters not fighting. More than just that: Catie actually paused to allow me to snap pictures of her as well. She normally runs for cover. I've modeled the fear of cameras, which has had no effect on Halie or Rosie, but Catie took it to heart. Until this afternoon, that is!

DH and I worked on tinting our back windows. Two sets of sliding glass doors: 8 feet x 6 feet EACH SET. One in the kitchen and one in the living room. Those, combined with my kitchen window, make up 85% of the back of our house, which faces the west directly. Very hot in the afternoon, even if it is only a 75 degree day. My kitchen is like an oven about the time I'm cooking and serving dinner. We're hoping to see a direct impact on our cooling bills this summer!

2006-04-15T05:22:00.000-07:00

DH has a three-day weekend that began Friday. Halie had no school Friday, in respect for Good Friday. Catie still had a day at Preschool, so DH took Halie to see 'Curious George'. When the pair of them came home afterward, DH said he enjoyed the movie. Halie, practically shouting, said " Curious George is just like ME! He picks his nose and scratches his bottom TOO!"

2006-03-28T11:41:00.000-08:00

This is my reward for creating a special dessert for Halie:

I was a mini-banana split: half a banana, split lengthwise, one scoop of ice cream, chocolate sauce, cool whip, and a cherry.

Apparently, I went a little heavy on the chocolate sauce: my oldest daughter's Cherokee heritage is apparent by the 'war paint' smeared on her face.
It's not unusual to hear from one of my daughters, "Mommy, BLOG me!"

So, willingly, I oblige...

2006-03-24T12:46:00.000-08:00

Some fun down on the family farm!
The great-grandkids enjoy the very same activities the grandkids enjoyed (including my very own DH). Nothing like jumping on the beds! You cannot see them in the picture, but there are three full-sized bed in the room, with only a few inches between them. The game involves jumping from one mattress to the next.

Another adventure that my husband and the other grandchildren enjoyed was sliding, belly-down on the steep carpeted stairs. Grams told me once that she often sent her at least one of her grandkids home with rug burn across the chest! Now, that count includes a great-grandchild - my youngest daughter. See below:

2006-03-07T19:13:00.000-08:00

Disability?

My youngest daughter Rosie has been undergoing Speech Therapy sessions twice a month and Behavioral Therapy once a month. As her speech improves, she's been able to communicate more, and so the tantrums are few and far between. Rosie will continue going to speech therapy through Early Childhood Intervention(ECI), until her third birthday. At that point, she'll be transferred to the local school district that has programs designed for preschoolers with disabilities. It's taken me a while to wrap my mind around that concept: My two year old is behind in her speech and her behavior, so she is considered disabled. At the end of April, she will begin the process of being evaluated by professionals to qualify as a student in our school district's Public Preschool for Children with Disabilities (PPCD). Rosie would attend five half-days each week, beginning in August, from 8AM to 11:30AM. Worst case scenario: my daughter does not qualify for PPCD. She will still qualify for speech therapy twice a week, 1/2 hour each session. With the ECI Therapists coming to our home for the past six months, Rosie has shown remarkable improvement. I think that continuing Speech Therapy would be further positive reinforcement for her speaking! I'm still not sure about PPCD. I will continue to be in prayer about this, and ask you to join me. Thank you to each of you in advance!

2006-02-27T07:08:00.000-08:00

My DH and I have a new Weider weight machine in our bedroom. No, our bedroom is NOT spacious. We DID have to rearrange our furniture, but thankfully the Weider is a Space Saver that folds up into a smaller space. It was delivered in a box that was nearly seven feet long, and when our daughters saw it, Halie began to lay architectural blueprints while Catie began the interior design floor plans. Rosie giggled hysterically, as if she was reading her sisters' minds and thinking, 'OH BOY! I can't wait to destroy it!" That was Friday evening. DH and I decided to let the girls have it for the weekend, then put it out for trash come Monday. Saturday morning, our daughters were elated with their new mansion! Halie ( my little architect) pointed out to DH where she'd like windows, and a front door, complete with peephole. Sunday, DH kept the girls while I volunteered at church. He also allowed them to decorate the outside with crayons. Apparently there was a disagreement at some point, since Halie made this sign near the front door:

Sometime later when they'd made up, the writing on the cardboard wall stayed as a reminder not to get on Halie's bad side. After the partying, arguing, graffiti that happened over the weekend, the 'mansion' went out for the garbage man to take this morning. Oh yeah. The neighbors didn't have to call the cops even once.

2006-02-23T08:05:00.000-08:00

Thirteen Things about Erin

1. I clean up poop almost everyday.2. I haven't figured out how my toddler gets to her own poop.3. She leaves her diaper on.4. She smears poop on everything.5. The ceiling is the exception.6. I'm sure she'll enroll in an art school.7. She'll major in Ancient Art.8. She'll learn about bodily fluids being used as paint since 3000BC.9. She'll graduate at the top of her class.10. My toddler will have a degree designed just for her.11. The degree will be for Art.12. In Fecal Fingerpaint Design.13. The degree will be printed on toilet paper.
Links to other Thursday Thirteens!
1. Erin (the other one)2. Killired

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

2006-02-18T07:50:00.000-08:00

Once a quarter, Fellowship Church has a special evening for parents to drop off thier children in our expert childcare for low cost, lets them eat out somewhere, then provides inexpensive entertainment back on the church campus. The only key is that you have to be members, which we are! Last Night was Date Night, and rather than plainly tell my daughters that they would be in church childcare AGAIN, I said "You're going to get to go and play with your friends for three hours tonight!" I got mixed reviews and a few questions after that. Halie said, "Mom? Are you feeling okay?" Catie asked, "My friends or your friends, Mom?" Rosie did just smiled and ran at lightning speed to the closet to retrieve her shoes. That's my girl - Rosie shares my enthusiasm!

On the way home from school, I further explain the evening's plans: Tonight was Mommy and Daddy's Date Night. I would drop them off at church about 6PM, and they would play with friends at church until 9PM. They grumbled and whispered between themselves in the back of the SUV, then I heard, "Are we having dinner there?" I told the girls that they would have pizza at church, which got little response. At least until I said "that means you don't have to eat anything Mommy cooks for dinner." The SUV was rocked with exuberant cheering from Halie and Catie: "AWW RIGHT!!" and "WE'LL BE EATING PEEET-ZZAAAAH! WOO-HOO!!" Rosie was her usual happy self, and just clapped along with her sisters' screaming.

We dropped the girls off after 6PM, headed out to dinner, returned to the church at 7:45PM for the evening entertainment. Pavlov's Dogs was hilarious! I found out later that this Improv Group performs at one of my favorite theatres in Dallas, and I plan to take my DH as a surprise one night in the Spring.
We picked up the girls at 9PM, headed home and tucked them into their beds. They were soon all fast asleep. It was about 11PM that I realized that I had taken Rosie's very last diaper to church with us. I set the alarm for 6AM this morning, to Walmart in my workout clothes (yoga pants, Carmax t-shirt, Reeboks) and was back before even one child was awake. Good thing, let me tell ya, since waking DH would be hard if there was a Texas Tornado coming down on our house!

2006-02-14T11:40:00.000-08:00

Showdown at the O.K. Corral...

Okay, so it was actually at our kitchen table. But we did indeed have a showdown. Catie rarely eats her vegetables. Guess she'd old enough to know that liking vegetables isn't 'cool'. The rule in our house is that if you don't finish your breakfast/lunch/dinner, you get absolutely nothing to eat until the next meal. I am quite tired of watching my five year old eat the entree portion of her meal, then ask to be excused, with no whining or moaning about being 'SO hungry' between meals. So, I decided to take a stand. Luckily, DH was home just after dinner Monday evening, so I did not have to stand alone. I can admit that I would have crumbled at some point. I told Catie that she would sit at the table until she had eaten all of her vegetables (1/2 cup), even if she eventually fell asleep in her seat. DH came home and added to the discipline, by telling her that he'd spank her awake if he found her asleep with her dinner unfinished. Just to give you some idea of what makes me think that I would have crumbled: We eat dinner at 5PM. DH came home at 6:30PM. At 10:30PM, DH banged the paddle on the table to wake Catie up. At 11:30PM, he actually spanked her once.
Catie actually ate her vegetables (ice cold, after 7 hours) and went to bed at midnight. Like I said, I pick my fights carefully. I'm pretty sure that Catie will eat every bite of dinner from now on!

**Update** I was wrong in thinking that the war was over. Today, Catie refused to eat the lunch I had prepared. Normally a favorite among my daughters, I served Crunchy Peanut Butter sandwiches with apple slices on the side. DH encouraged her to eat some, and my five year old, told her daddy "No" for the very first time. DH's bewildered look told me that I had actually heard Catie say what I thought I'd heard. DH maintained his unbreakable composure and let her know in no uncertain terms that she would be served the same food for dinner tonight. When I served dinner tonight at 5PM, I placed Catie's uneaten lunch in front of her yet again. She did not touch it. DH told her that he is not about to endure another night of the 'Midnight Kitchen Cafe'. As I type, my bull-headed five year old is sitting at the kitchen table, not eating her lunch/dinner. DH is running on the treadmill. It is 9:56PM. This could be a l-o-n-g night!

**Update to the earlier Update** Catie finally ate her dinner about 10PM. DH cut a deal with her: he cut the crusts off the sandwich (after five hours on the table they were rock hard), and she ate everything on her plate. Then my five year old went to bed. Woo-hoo!! I'm not saying that, as parents, we're opposed to our daughter's determination, but I believe it's safe to say that our Catie will be President one day!

2006-02-10T11:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was exciting for me! That is if you consider cleaning poop off every surface in your toddler's bedroom except for the ceiling something 'exciting'. If I were an optimist, I'd say that was the one good part of the whole pooptastrophe: Rosie cannot reach the ceiling. Yet.
Instead of getting angry, I ended up getting the camera. No need to pat me on the back. I've already congratulated myself on the choice to put a positive spin on the whole thing.

Here's how it went down: Rosie climbed into her bed about 1PM, of her own volition, which was unusual, except that she does have a cold. It's was time for her nap, so I walked into her room, tucked her into her bed, and just for good measure, put up the tension safety gate in her doorway. Graco has made a lot of money from my family. So, with Catie happily playing a tutorial program on her computer, I grabbed some blog time for myself. Fast Forward thirty minutes to this scene: Catie saying, "OH NO! Mom, Rosie stinks!"

What you cannot see (unless you look very close) is that she has poop matted in her hair, smeared on her face, arms, legs, hands and feet. The gate I put up for safety kept her in her room, but, um...well, it was not spared from Rosie's fecal fingerpainting. I picked her up, held her at arms length, and plunked her in the bathtub. While the tub was filling, I went back to assess the damage:

Yes, those are turds on her carpet, and the dark spot IS a small puddle of pee. I immediately went to my cleaning closet to grab the spot remover - then remembered that I used the last of it to clean up the last pooptastrophe. I then bathed Rosie, dried her off, sent her to the living room, and went to get her clean clothes. When I brought the clothes back into the living room, Rosie was holding a tissue up for me. I took it and asked her, "What's this for?" My two year old responded, "Kween!", and pointed to her bedroom. As sweet as that was, I still think she does it on purpose! DH was with coworkers at a mandatory event, so I text messaged him, pleading for him to bring home some Resolve. He called a moment later and asked what was up, so I gave him a brief explanation. He promised to bring some home later. Even if he had been home with us, I'd still be cleaning up the mess. I like to think he'd hold back my hair if I was puking, but I may never know.

I went back to Rosie's bedroom, and saw something I'd missed the first AND second time.

A POOP MURAL:

I set about cleaning up as much as I could before my husband got home or it was time to retrieve Halie from school. I picked up the turds with an inside out plastic bag (you dog owners know what I mean), cleaned the wall with Mr. Clean Orange, then disinfected with good ol' b-l-e-a-c-h. The first thing DH says when he walks in? "Sure smells bad in here!" DUH!! He did bring me the Resolve (my hero!), and I set about cleaning the carpet in Rosie's bedroom. The smell is gone, and I'll never know if the stains are permanent, since we invested in 'dark toast' colored berber carpet three years ago.

Until next time. I'm sure I'll blog about that one, too!

2006-02-09T08:42:00.000-08:00

The Invasion of The CRUD!

Every member of this household is snotty-nosed, coughing, and grumpy. My daughters sound like bullfrogs as they breathe in their sleep, and they bark in raspy coughs while awake. Not one has a fever so far, but I am not holding my breath!

2006-02-03T11:31:00.000-08:00

Here's Rosie assisted by her big sister Catie climbing the 'rock wall' that's on one side of their playground in our backyard. One is a closeup of Rosie's new dirt van dyke.

2006-02-01T08:31:00.000-08:00

At one point, I had done some injustice to my [then] five year old daughter. Frustrated and upset, she told me that she was running away. Whaa? I called DH quickly, since I didn't think 9-1-1 could offer any advice. His words were something like, "Help her pack!", then upon recognizing the panic in my voice, said "While you're helping her pack, you might ask her some important questions. Who's going to wash her laundry? Who's going to cook her meals? Who's going to read her bedtime stories?" So, I did what my husband said: I helped my daughter pack, while asking her those questions. She answered every one the same way. "Grandma." I told my kindergartener, "I'll go call Grandma and tell her to pack her bags. You're sending her on a guilt trip, aren't you?" I explained that in our family, we do not run away from problems. We talk about them until everybody feels like they've been heard. DH came home and took our daughter aside to speak with her. When they emerged from the other room, all was right in my five year old's world.
I have moments like that. I just want to run away and leave everyone and everything behind. I drag out my suitcase, open my closet and drawers, and that's as far as I ever get. 'What will I take with me? Who am I going to teach a lesson to? Who's going to wash my clothes? Who's going to feed me? Who's going to read me bedtime stories? My kids will just needlessly blame themselves. I will lose my DH's trust. That's when I decide that it's pointless to run away. The problem will still exist, even if I'm not present. I'm always glad I decide to stay, and I always get my opinions heard. Then, all is right in my 31 year old world.

2006-01-28T06:42:00.000-08:00

While the Terrible Twos have been a major factor in our household for several months, Rosie was satisfied with just screaming and crying (no tears, mind you). Today, she said another new word. My mother brought her some new Robeez, handed them to me to open and take the lambswool packing out. As I finished removing the pink shoes from the package, Rosie said, quite clearly, "MINE!" I'm certain that her next new word will be "NO!" When she turned two, the pediactrician was concerned about the fact that she only used two words with any regularity: 'Mama' and 'Dad'. He told me he'd like to have her assessed and get into speech therapy. I laughed at him. " I was in a big hurry to get my first two children talking. Now I cannot get them to be quiet. I'm in no hurry for Rosie to add to the constant noise in our home." One of these days, I'll have to post my running list of words she's saying since she began speech therapy last September.

2006-01-26T09:45:00.000-08:00

You may or may not know that my 2 year old daughter has been slow in speaking. Our Pediatrician originally said that he wasn't surprised because she simply could not get a word in edgewise in our home. Rosie is seeing a Speech Therapist from ECI in Denton, Texas. The therapist, B , comes to our home to meet with Rosie. I have taught my daughter some American Sign Language (not baby signs, the real thing), and she was once only using signs to communicate, then progressed to saying a few words and still using some signs. At the last session, Rosie amazed me AND the therapist. B brought a playdoh kit that included plastic pieces that could be used to create animals. Rosie picked up the playdoh, rolled it into a large ball, then tossed it towards me. Because I was not expecting it, I failed to catch it and it rolled onto the floor. "Oh, my. It fall down!" Rosie clearly said. She continued making the animals, with B handing her the plastic features of the particular creature she was designing. As B handed her the ears, Rosie said "Ear," and pointed to her own ear. She said "Bird" and she inserted the wings in the ball of clay. When Rosie pressed the beak in, she flapped her arms and said "Chicken!" The therapist asked me to start a running list of all the words I hear my daughter saying before she comes again next month. Rosie is still markedly behind others her age, but she's progressing nicely.

I admit that it's much easier just to 'put words in her mouth' and give her what I assume she wants. I know that Halie and Catie are guilty of using baby-talk with Rosie, and making requests on her behalf. I still expect Rosie to wake up one morning, and instead of murmuring 'Ma-ma' in her groggy voice as she wraps her arms around my neck, she'll say, "Good morning mother. I'd like to have a Denver Omelet for breakfast, with a glass of orange juice, please." It'll happen, I know it.

2006-01-25T11:21:00.000-08:00

As was routine after a good feeding with my newborn daughter, I put her on my shoulder and patted her on the back (read: whacked her repeatedly for several minutes) until she produced a resounding belch. Of course, DH and I cheered her. A moment after that, it struck me as strange, so I asked my husband, "At what age do we stop congratulating her on expelling gas?"
My handsome Prince Charming replied, "What do you mean?" Seven years later, we have three daughters that laugh hysterically as they announce it: 'Excuse Me' for a burp, or 'Pardon Me' for gas. My seven year old feels it's her duty to comment on the odiferous qualities of each one. She was once heard to say to her five year old sister, "That was a good one! Do I still have eyebrows?!" Ahh. My girls are actually boys in floral prints. What's nice is that I can now use the statement I heard my mother say repeatedly when I was young:

My life may be many things, but never boring.

My Turn Now?

2006-01-23T14:03:00.000-08:00

Many of you know me from my Family Circus blog. I post on anything and everything relating to my life, and I try to post every day. This blog will have occasional posts, all about events with or about my three daughters, who make up what my DH and I call our Hat Trick. Please don't be fooled by the polite faces in some of the pictures I post. I've posted some of the not-so-polite ones as well.