After a fun time watching Dora, Diego and Team Umizoomi, it was nap time.
Sometimes, she naps.
Sometimes, she doesn't.
There is no method or rhythm to the madness.
Regardless, she plays in her room because Mommy (I mean, The Redhead) needs a quiet time.
Typically, on days where she has (and I have) her (my) quiet time(s), I will return to the remains of what used to be her bedroom, only to find Barbies, books and dress up clothes strewn about. On a bad day, she will have sprinkled baby powder around or strewn the entire tub of wipes about in a champion-like effort to change her own diaper. You never know what you're going to get behind door number 1.
Today, I went upstairs to finish a couple chores. The tv was still on, and the volume was obnoxiously loud. Darby could still hear it behind closed door number 1. Heck, I could still hear it in my bathroom! You'd think I would have remembered to turn it off in order to save myself from running the risk of having the Diego theme song play over and over in my head for the remainder of the day.
A few minutes later, I heard Darby call out from underneath the door, "Don't worry, Diego! I'm coming to help you!!!"
No, no, no, little Red.
Diego has plenty of help...and Mommy needs a break.
He has Dora, and Boots, and that Swiper fellow...
...wait, Swiper's the "bad guy," right?
Well, he has various talking jungle animals and that Animal Scientist (is that his mother?).
Come to think of it, what kind of mom let's her, say, ten-year-old roam the jungle and come within inches of wild animals of all sorts in order to take a picture?! Who do they think they are, Nat Geo? What kind of mom am I letting my kids watch a show where the characters wander off into a jungle in search of a JAGUAR?!!! What is that teaching them?! Next thing I know, my kids will be wandering off into the woods, too! What if they take my new Canon?! Gasp! What if they break it?!
I think I have enough "dirt" on Diego to declare it "off limits" in my house now.
("YES!")
Mom victory.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Where did the ornaments go?
We have a Christmas tradition.
Every year, the weekend after Thanksgiving, our family bundles up and heads to the local tree farm. We take our black lab, Molly, and we hike the hills, the rows and rows of trees until we find "the one." After we find it, we take our picture in front of it and flag the guy on the four wheeler to come cut it down, throw it on his trailer and cart it in. We watch as they put it in "the shaker" to shake the dead needles off. We watch as they send it through that weird machine that bundles it up, and then we spend a good ten minutes tying that bad boy up on the roof of our car to make the trek home. When we get home, we hunt down the tree stand, lug the tree inside and spend a good 20 minutes trying to crank the screws into place only to find out the tree is crooked. After we finally get our tree situated, I spend a good, solid two hours putting the lights on before we begin the trimming. After vacuuming up the needles, watering and making sure the lights are off every time we leave the house, we get to remove our tradition from our house, only this time it's dead as a door nail and drops half its weight worth of needles on its way out the front door. After a good (I'm talkin' GOOD) vacuum, it sits outside for a few weeks until "Christmas Tree Pickup Day." End tradition.
I have asthma, allergies and now seriously bad eczema. Last Christmas, I spent most of December with sunglasses on because my eyes were so swollen it was actually embarrassing. And, when I got tired of retelling the story of how my husband does NOT beat me, I realized something had to go...our beloved Christmas tradition. The next Christmas would hold for us (much to my demise) a new tradition...the fake tree.
Christmas of 2012 came upon us like a freight train. I was two weeks late getting the Christmas tree up, in part because I was dreading going out and buying a fake tree. I was mourning the loss of our tradition, but we needed a tree. So, I began the process of trying to buy a fake tree that looked EXACTLY like a REAL tree (haha!). I went to Target, Kmart, Hobby Lobby (where the Pixie almost took out every fake tree in their little fake tree forest), and finally...Lowes. I looked at the trees with a critical eye. I checked out the pricing, the options (do you know they have revolving trees now), and their "real likedness," I bit the bullet and threw the best looking 8 ft tree I could find on the cart.
We decorated it, just like we normally would have...heavily ornamented on the bottom half. Darby decorated and redecorated, rearranged and rearranged for the duration of the Christmas season. Every day, ornaments were in a new place. It was sort of like an expanded version of "Elf on the Shelf" to include ornaments moving daily to a new location. However, one day in particular, I left the room. When I returned, ALL of the ornaments were GONE! I'm talkin', the ornaments at the top of the TREE were gone! I panicked for a split second, because I have some sentimental ornaments. As calmly as I could, I asked The Pixie where the ornaments were. With a shrug of the shoulder, she cooly replied, "I don't know." A slight panic arose in my body. I scoured the main level of our house for our ornaments. It's The Pixie we're talking about! They could have been ANYWHERE! I even checked the backyard, wondering if she pitched them over the side of the deck into the snow! I did not find them. Then, I went back to the tree to check the backside. Did she take ALL of the ornaments? I only left for a minute or two! How could that even have happened?! The farther I stepped into the back of the tree, the more familiar the ornaments became. I looked up and saw "Our first Christmas" ornament. THERE they were! They were ALL on the tree. It was an awkward feat to rotate the tree 180 degrees to the original position, but I did it. I looked from the tree to the couch, where she was sitting, happily watching Dora, and back to the tree. Pixie, Tree. Pixie, Tree. Three feet tall, Eight feet tall. Three, eight. HOW?
Never mind. If I tried to understand the goings on inside her brain...
Just...never mind.
Every year, the weekend after Thanksgiving, our family bundles up and heads to the local tree farm. We take our black lab, Molly, and we hike the hills, the rows and rows of trees until we find "the one." After we find it, we take our picture in front of it and flag the guy on the four wheeler to come cut it down, throw it on his trailer and cart it in. We watch as they put it in "the shaker" to shake the dead needles off. We watch as they send it through that weird machine that bundles it up, and then we spend a good ten minutes tying that bad boy up on the roof of our car to make the trek home. When we get home, we hunt down the tree stand, lug the tree inside and spend a good 20 minutes trying to crank the screws into place only to find out the tree is crooked. After we finally get our tree situated, I spend a good, solid two hours putting the lights on before we begin the trimming. After vacuuming up the needles, watering and making sure the lights are off every time we leave the house, we get to remove our tradition from our house, only this time it's dead as a door nail and drops half its weight worth of needles on its way out the front door. After a good (I'm talkin' GOOD) vacuum, it sits outside for a few weeks until "Christmas Tree Pickup Day." End tradition.
I have asthma, allergies and now seriously bad eczema. Last Christmas, I spent most of December with sunglasses on because my eyes were so swollen it was actually embarrassing. And, when I got tired of retelling the story of how my husband does NOT beat me, I realized something had to go...our beloved Christmas tradition. The next Christmas would hold for us (much to my demise) a new tradition...the fake tree.
Christmas of 2012 came upon us like a freight train. I was two weeks late getting the Christmas tree up, in part because I was dreading going out and buying a fake tree. I was mourning the loss of our tradition, but we needed a tree. So, I began the process of trying to buy a fake tree that looked EXACTLY like a REAL tree (haha!). I went to Target, Kmart, Hobby Lobby (where the Pixie almost took out every fake tree in their little fake tree forest), and finally...Lowes. I looked at the trees with a critical eye. I checked out the pricing, the options (do you know they have revolving trees now), and their "real likedness," I bit the bullet and threw the best looking 8 ft tree I could find on the cart.
We decorated it, just like we normally would have...heavily ornamented on the bottom half. Darby decorated and redecorated, rearranged and rearranged for the duration of the Christmas season. Every day, ornaments were in a new place. It was sort of like an expanded version of "Elf on the Shelf" to include ornaments moving daily to a new location. However, one day in particular, I left the room. When I returned, ALL of the ornaments were GONE! I'm talkin', the ornaments at the top of the TREE were gone! I panicked for a split second, because I have some sentimental ornaments. As calmly as I could, I asked The Pixie where the ornaments were. With a shrug of the shoulder, she cooly replied, "I don't know." A slight panic arose in my body. I scoured the main level of our house for our ornaments. It's The Pixie we're talking about! They could have been ANYWHERE! I even checked the backyard, wondering if she pitched them over the side of the deck into the snow! I did not find them. Then, I went back to the tree to check the backside. Did she take ALL of the ornaments? I only left for a minute or two! How could that even have happened?! The farther I stepped into the back of the tree, the more familiar the ornaments became. I looked up and saw "Our first Christmas" ornament. THERE they were! They were ALL on the tree. It was an awkward feat to rotate the tree 180 degrees to the original position, but I did it. I looked from the tree to the couch, where she was sitting, happily watching Dora, and back to the tree. Pixie, Tree. Pixie, Tree. Three feet tall, Eight feet tall. Three, eight. HOW?
Never mind. If I tried to understand the goings on inside her brain...
Just...never mind.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Darby CAN walk.
I HAVE TO WONDER:
WHAT, exactly, do doctor's offices give you an appointment time for?
WHY do they cancel your appointment when you are 15 minutes late when they lock you in a room with three (plus) things: books, a table with an entire roll of paper, and chairs?
Do they KNOW what we can DO with those things? We are like a modern day MACGYVER, folks!
You get the point. The doctor made us wait. I actually texted my friend, Kristin:
"Oh. My. Gosh. I want to gouge my eyes out! How long must we wait for the doctor? FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD!"
Her reply: "It's like part of their hippocratic oath...must make patient wait for obscene amounts of time before seeing them for two minutes."
Meanwhile, it probably sounded like I was throwing my children up against the wall, chairs scooting across the floor, paper ripping...
FINALLY, the doctor walked in and hesitantly eyed me..."Is she ticked?" Whatever, I just smiled. This is my life.
Our doctor's office, not unlike our church, gives out lollipops after your visit. "The Pixie" caught on to this "perk" real quick! So, our well check visit went something like this:
Doc: "Can you open your mouth really wide?"
Red: "Can I have a lollipop?"
Doc: "Yes! After I finish looking."
(Doc looks in mouth)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let me hear your back first."
(Doc puts stethoscope to her back)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let me feel your face and your belly first. Will you lay down?"
Red (completely...COMPLETELY compliant): "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc (laughing): "Just a minute. I'm going to finish my exam first, okay?"
(Doc pushes on Darby's belly etc)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let's take your shoes off and stand up on the floor."
(Red throws her shoes off, jumps down and stands up...following directions flawlessly)
Red (guess what she said): "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Darby. Will you walk to the other side of the room?"
Then something happened that I have NOT EVER seen before.
Darby...
...walked.
She WALKED!
The "Little Redhead Pixie," after skipping, running, jumping through life for THREE YEARS...walked. I was stunned. My jaw hit the floor. I actually said to the doctor, "I'm not sure I have ever seen her walk before!"
And THEN...
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Oh, dear me.
GIVE THE GIRL A LOLLIPOP!
JUST GIVE IT TO HER!
In fact, maybe I should carry around a stash in my gigantic purse to use for episodes which would require bribery to achieve a successful result.
I'm not above bribery.
WHAT, exactly, do doctor's offices give you an appointment time for?
WHY do they cancel your appointment when you are 15 minutes late when they lock you in a room with three (plus) things: books, a table with an entire roll of paper, and chairs?
Do they KNOW what we can DO with those things? We are like a modern day MACGYVER, folks!
You get the point. The doctor made us wait. I actually texted my friend, Kristin:
"Oh. My. Gosh. I want to gouge my eyes out! How long must we wait for the doctor? FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD!"
Her reply: "It's like part of their hippocratic oath...must make patient wait for obscene amounts of time before seeing them for two minutes."
Meanwhile, it probably sounded like I was throwing my children up against the wall, chairs scooting across the floor, paper ripping...
FINALLY, the doctor walked in and hesitantly eyed me..."Is she ticked?" Whatever, I just smiled. This is my life.
Our doctor's office, not unlike our church, gives out lollipops after your visit. "The Pixie" caught on to this "perk" real quick! So, our well check visit went something like this:
Doc: "Can you open your mouth really wide?"
Red: "Can I have a lollipop?"
Doc: "Yes! After I finish looking."
(Doc looks in mouth)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let me hear your back first."
(Doc puts stethoscope to her back)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let me feel your face and your belly first. Will you lay down?"
Red (completely...COMPLETELY compliant): "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc (laughing): "Just a minute. I'm going to finish my exam first, okay?"
(Doc pushes on Darby's belly etc)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let's take your shoes off and stand up on the floor."
(Red throws her shoes off, jumps down and stands up...following directions flawlessly)
Red (guess what she said): "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Darby. Will you walk to the other side of the room?"
Then something happened that I have NOT EVER seen before.
Darby...
...walked.
She WALKED!
The "Little Redhead Pixie," after skipping, running, jumping through life for THREE YEARS...walked. I was stunned. My jaw hit the floor. I actually said to the doctor, "I'm not sure I have ever seen her walk before!"
And THEN...
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Oh, dear me.
GIVE THE GIRL A LOLLIPOP!
JUST GIVE IT TO HER!
In fact, maybe I should carry around a stash in my gigantic purse to use for episodes which would require bribery to achieve a successful result.
I'm not above bribery.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Swim Lessons
Something had to happen.
We HAD to get OUT of this house on a regular basis!
NO MORE BARBIE!
NO MORE FOOD MESSES!
NO MORE...BARBIE!
It is a HARD job to be a stay-at-home mom! I'm not trying to "downgrade" how hard working moms work. I KNOW their job is HARD, too! But, it is HARD to deal with children from before sun up to WELL after the sun sinks into the horizon! Imagine being tested in every single thing you said and did all...day...long. ...EVERY day. It's exhausting...thankless...humbling. One day last week, I had had enough. I had a "Mommy meltdown" of sorts. The next morning, my husband told me he wanted me to go sign our family up at our local YMCA, so after I worked out, showered, got the kids up and ready for school, and after I took the girls to the doctor and then out to lunch and then, and then and then, and before MY doctor's appointment, I went to the YMCA and signed our family up. I also signed "The Pixie" and myself up for Mommy-n-Me gymnastics and swim lessons. We had our first swim lesson on Friday.
I was somewhat afraid of this hour long swim lesson. I mean, I'm a strong swimmer. I was a lifeguard in high school, but I'm no Navy Seal, and I've never been trained in water combat. I also had a feeling I was going into a situation in which water combat, armed or unarmed, would be necessary. A friend told me I'd be fine, but to wear a life jacket. I didn't.
The night before, I dug out our swimsuits, towels, shampoo etc. The next morning, we headed out for our swim lesson. Darby was PUMPED! We threw our suits on, and I realized we might have a small problem. The suits being the "problem." Darby's, even though it was a 4T, was seriously tight. Mine, because I haven't pulled my lap swim speedo out in a couple years, had essentially turned into a crumbly, stretched out mess. It was hanging off my butt! I actually had to gather the material and hold it when I was out of the pool so I didn't accidentally moon anyone! Darby, on the other hand, absolutely mooned EVERYONE! Her little bitty backside had a perpetual wedgie going on. She didn't care. No one else seemed to care, and I went to Target the very next day to buy her a new suit.
Darby is a WATER...BABY.
Every time she climbed out of the pool, she'd question, "Can I do it AGAIN?!" Then, before I counted to three, she was flying through the air, red hair blazing, right in my direction. Mouth full of water? No problem! "Can I do it again?" Near drowning experience? No problem! "Can I do it again?"
"Can I do it again?
Can I do it again?
Can I do it again?"
I almost went rogue several times when these little "water babies" and their moms were taking so long they may as well have been swimming through molasses!
"Can I do it again?"
"YES! Let's wait for your teacher to tell us what to do first!"
"Can I do it (she jumps and flies through the air, hits the water, pops through the surface and gasps, water dripping down her face) again?"
"Yes. Just...yes. Do it again! Just...do it again!"
We had a little play time at the end of class, and she was happily sitting on the side of the pool. I told her to stay there and watch me swim to the other side. I took off, swimming freestyle, to the other side of the pool. As I was on my way back, swimming breaststroke, Darby stood up and, you got it, JUMPED! I kicked it in to high gear while the teacher and all the other moms abandoned their posts next to their own little water babies in order to save mine.
Ultimately, we survived and will try again this Friday (after I go to the local sporting goods store to buy a new speedo~wink, wink).
So, here's to water babies everywhere!
Can we do it again?!
We HAD to get OUT of this house on a regular basis!
NO MORE BARBIE!
NO MORE FOOD MESSES!
NO MORE...BARBIE!
It is a HARD job to be a stay-at-home mom! I'm not trying to "downgrade" how hard working moms work. I KNOW their job is HARD, too! But, it is HARD to deal with children from before sun up to WELL after the sun sinks into the horizon! Imagine being tested in every single thing you said and did all...day...long. ...EVERY day. It's exhausting...thankless...humbling. One day last week, I had had enough. I had a "Mommy meltdown" of sorts. The next morning, my husband told me he wanted me to go sign our family up at our local YMCA, so after I worked out, showered, got the kids up and ready for school, and after I took the girls to the doctor and then out to lunch and then, and then and then, and before MY doctor's appointment, I went to the YMCA and signed our family up. I also signed "The Pixie" and myself up for Mommy-n-Me gymnastics and swim lessons. We had our first swim lesson on Friday.
I was somewhat afraid of this hour long swim lesson. I mean, I'm a strong swimmer. I was a lifeguard in high school, but I'm no Navy Seal, and I've never been trained in water combat. I also had a feeling I was going into a situation in which water combat, armed or unarmed, would be necessary. A friend told me I'd be fine, but to wear a life jacket. I didn't.
The night before, I dug out our swimsuits, towels, shampoo etc. The next morning, we headed out for our swim lesson. Darby was PUMPED! We threw our suits on, and I realized we might have a small problem. The suits being the "problem." Darby's, even though it was a 4T, was seriously tight. Mine, because I haven't pulled my lap swim speedo out in a couple years, had essentially turned into a crumbly, stretched out mess. It was hanging off my butt! I actually had to gather the material and hold it when I was out of the pool so I didn't accidentally moon anyone! Darby, on the other hand, absolutely mooned EVERYONE! Her little bitty backside had a perpetual wedgie going on. She didn't care. No one else seemed to care, and I went to Target the very next day to buy her a new suit.
Darby is a WATER...BABY.
Every time she climbed out of the pool, she'd question, "Can I do it AGAIN?!" Then, before I counted to three, she was flying through the air, red hair blazing, right in my direction. Mouth full of water? No problem! "Can I do it again?" Near drowning experience? No problem! "Can I do it again?"
"Can I do it again?
Can I do it again?
Can I do it again?"
I almost went rogue several times when these little "water babies" and their moms were taking so long they may as well have been swimming through molasses!
"Can I do it again?"
"YES! Let's wait for your teacher to tell us what to do first!"
"Can I do it (she jumps and flies through the air, hits the water, pops through the surface and gasps, water dripping down her face) again?"
"Yes. Just...yes. Do it again! Just...do it again!"
We had a little play time at the end of class, and she was happily sitting on the side of the pool. I told her to stay there and watch me swim to the other side. I took off, swimming freestyle, to the other side of the pool. As I was on my way back, swimming breaststroke, Darby stood up and, you got it, JUMPED! I kicked it in to high gear while the teacher and all the other moms abandoned their posts next to their own little water babies in order to save mine.
Ultimately, we survived and will try again this Friday (after I go to the local sporting goods store to buy a new speedo~wink, wink).
So, here's to water babies everywhere!
Can we do it again?!
Monday, January 7, 2013
She's no "Snugglebug."
She only likes to snuggle if it's HER idea...
My conversation with Darby first thing this morning:
Me: "Come snuggle with me!"
Darby: "NO! I don't want to!"
Me: "I want to! Come snuggle!"
Darby: "I want to eat breakfast."
Me: "Snuggle!"
Darby: "No. You can snuggle with nothing."
Then she walked away.
Totally happened.
My conversation with Darby first thing this morning:
Me: "Come snuggle with me!"
Darby: "NO! I don't want to!"
Me: "I want to! Come snuggle!"
Darby: "I want to eat breakfast."
Me: "Snuggle!"
Darby: "No. You can snuggle with nothing."
Then she walked away.
Totally happened.
Lil' Red's Grinch Dream
It was Christmas time.
As we were getting ready in our bathroom one weekend morning, when "The Pixie" meandered in and nonchalantly began, "Last night, a BIG TRUCK pulled up and stole all our Christmas decorations!!!" It didn't take long for us to figure out she was telling us about a dream she had the night before. Well, either that, or she saw the trash truck and thought the trash man was taking more than just our junk. The strange thing is that the girl hasn't seen the movie "The Grinch that Stole Christmas"! If I take the decorations down outside, will she think the trash man took them?
It's January now. I don't know if that dream just had a big impact on her little red head, or what, but she keeps bringing this dream up. Maybe it is just a recurring nightmare she has been having. You know, like the one I had when I was a kid where the monsters chased me down this long corridor until I came to a carnival stand where Bob Saget, who was convincingly dressed as my dad, promised to usher me to safety. Mama didn't raise no fool. I knew it was Bob, and I continued running. Dreams are weird, but I have to say that Darby's dream of the Christmas decoration thief probably trumps my childhood nightmare of having to choose between a life of luxury on the set of "Full House" and my own life (monsters and all).
Maybe, if I listen more closely to what my redhead has to say, I will have a topic for an AMAZING children's book one day!
I resend my statement. I think she might BE the topic for an amazing children's book one day!!!
Curious Darby, anyone?
As we were getting ready in our bathroom one weekend morning, when "The Pixie" meandered in and nonchalantly began, "Last night, a BIG TRUCK pulled up and stole all our Christmas decorations!!!" It didn't take long for us to figure out she was telling us about a dream she had the night before. Well, either that, or she saw the trash truck and thought the trash man was taking more than just our junk. The strange thing is that the girl hasn't seen the movie "The Grinch that Stole Christmas"! If I take the decorations down outside, will she think the trash man took them?
It's January now. I don't know if that dream just had a big impact on her little red head, or what, but she keeps bringing this dream up. Maybe it is just a recurring nightmare she has been having. You know, like the one I had when I was a kid where the monsters chased me down this long corridor until I came to a carnival stand where Bob Saget, who was convincingly dressed as my dad, promised to usher me to safety. Mama didn't raise no fool. I knew it was Bob, and I continued running. Dreams are weird, but I have to say that Darby's dream of the Christmas decoration thief probably trumps my childhood nightmare of having to choose between a life of luxury on the set of "Full House" and my own life (monsters and all).
Maybe, if I listen more closely to what my redhead has to say, I will have a topic for an AMAZING children's book one day!
I resend my statement. I think she might BE the topic for an amazing children's book one day!!!
Curious Darby, anyone?
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Little Red Riding Hood.
So...I think this story was born of an episode of Dora.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, our Big, Bad Wolf conversation:
Real Conversations with Darby #479:
Darby (wearing cat ear headband): "Mommy! I'm the Big, Bad Wolf!"
Me: "No. You're the GOOD wolf!"
Darby: "I'm the Big, BAD Wolf!"
Me: "Nope! You're GOOD!"
Darby (Makes grumbling noise): "No. I'm bad." (and she walks away)
I don't even know...
Yesterday, we had our friend, Kari, over with "Baby AWINA," as Darby calls her. We just LOVE Baby 'Wina (and Miss Kari, but that could probably be about 20 other stories for other days). I'm just happy we haven't smothered Baby 'Wina to death yet. Anyhow, as Kari and I were talking, Darby went and found her "Big Bad Wolf" ears (ie. cat ears) headband. She was wearing them, so I whispered to Kari, "Those are the 'big bad wolf' ears." Feeling like carrying on a little experiment, I told the Pixie, "Oh! You have your GOOD wolf ears on!" She happily replied, "Yes, I DO!"
There might be hope, folks.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, our Big, Bad Wolf conversation:
Real Conversations with Darby #479:
Darby (wearing cat ear headband): "Mommy! I'm the Big, Bad Wolf!"
Me: "No. You're the GOOD wolf!"
Darby: "I'm the Big, BAD Wolf!"
Me: "Nope! You're GOOD!"
Darby (Makes grumbling noise): "No. I'm bad." (and she walks away)
I don't even know...
Yesterday, we had our friend, Kari, over with "Baby AWINA," as Darby calls her. We just LOVE Baby 'Wina (and Miss Kari, but that could probably be about 20 other stories for other days). I'm just happy we haven't smothered Baby 'Wina to death yet. Anyhow, as Kari and I were talking, Darby went and found her "Big Bad Wolf" ears (ie. cat ears) headband. She was wearing them, so I whispered to Kari, "Those are the 'big bad wolf' ears." Feeling like carrying on a little experiment, I told the Pixie, "Oh! You have your GOOD wolf ears on!" She happily replied, "Yes, I DO!"
There might be hope, folks.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Stop Kissing!
And then there was the time that Dallas walked up to me when he got home and laid one on me...We were in the middle of the kitchen kissing. I have no idea why Darby was so bold as to think that she could break us up, but friends, we have been through five moves, pilot training, deployments, military service, a brain tumor and three kids. That girl's got NOTHIN'.
So there we were...kissing in the kitchen. Darby walks over and starts to pry herself in between us. When she realized her efforts were in vain, she proceeded:
"Stop kissing," she said! I looked at her and said, "No! Go away!"
Sometimes you just have to put your kids in their place.
My older daughter was standing nearby and had to add her two cents:
Naomi: "Ew, that's disgusting!"
Me: "What's disgusting about daddy and I kissing?"
Naomi: "You're trading spit AND saliva when you kiss!"
Whoa! Not spit AND saliva! I mean, spit is one thing, but SALIVA? That's a whole 'nother THING! If I had known what was ACTUALLY involved in kissing, I would have quit LONG ago!
So there we were...kissing in the kitchen. Darby walks over and starts to pry herself in between us. When she realized her efforts were in vain, she proceeded:
"Stop kissing," she said! I looked at her and said, "No! Go away!"
Sometimes you just have to put your kids in their place.
My older daughter was standing nearby and had to add her two cents:
Naomi: "Ew, that's disgusting!"
Me: "What's disgusting about daddy and I kissing?"
Naomi: "You're trading spit AND saliva when you kiss!"
Whoa! Not spit AND saliva! I mean, spit is one thing, but SALIVA? That's a whole 'nother THING! If I had known what was ACTUALLY involved in kissing, I would have quit LONG ago!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Election 2012
At the risk of bringing out my inner elephant, I will tell you a tale of Election 2012. As most stay-at-home-moms do, I voted with my Little Pixie while big brother and sister were at school. This is not the first time "The Pixie" has voted. I'm a pretty faithful citizen. However, I could not get it through the red on her head that were going VOTING, NOT BOATING. Check out the following conversation:
Conversation #11,998 with Darby this morning:
"Me: Darby! We're going to go vote this morning!
Darby: We're going on a BOAT?!
Me: No, No. We're VOTING.
Darby: Boat?
Me: No.
Darby: Boat?
Me: No!"
Later that morning, at the voting place...
"Darby: Can I jump off the boat?
Me: No.
Darby: Is this boating?
Me: No! It's VOTING!"
...a confused Darby searched the room for a boat, but only got a sticker that said she voted. And, she tried to steal all the American flags. Victory? We'll see tomorrow. !)
While she was roaming the room looking for the boat, I somehow managed to see SEVERAL people from my neighborhood...ALL of them sans children.
I.
DON'T.
GET.
IT.
Do they leave their children at home unattended?
Do they leave them in their cars unattended?
Is there some TRICK that they teach you somewhere?
Kinda like the Chick-Fil-A trick I just learned of today?
The one where you take your toy and trade it in for a kid's dessert ice cream?
WHERE do people learn how to DO THIS STUFF?!
...on PINTEREST?!!!
Anyhow, I voted while Darby was expecting to "boat."
We both got "I Voted" stickers.
I was tempted to cross off "VOTED" on hers and write in "BOATED," but I didn't.
Conversation #11,998 with Darby this morning:
"Me: Darby! We're going to go vote this morning!
Darby: We're going on a BOAT?!
Me: No, No. We're VOTING.
Darby: Boat?
Me: No.
Darby: Boat?
Me: No!"
Later that morning, at the voting place...
"Darby: Can I jump off the boat?
Me: No.
Darby: Is this boating?
Me: No! It's VOTING!"
...a confused Darby searched the room for a boat, but only got a sticker that said she voted. And, she tried to steal all the American flags. Victory? We'll see tomorrow. !)
While she was roaming the room looking for the boat, I somehow managed to see SEVERAL people from my neighborhood...ALL of them sans children.
I.
DON'T.
GET.
IT.
Do they leave their children at home unattended?
Do they leave them in their cars unattended?
Is there some TRICK that they teach you somewhere?
Kinda like the Chick-Fil-A trick I just learned of today?
The one where you take your toy and trade it in for a kid's dessert ice cream?
WHERE do people learn how to DO THIS STUFF?!
...on PINTEREST?!!!
Anyhow, I voted while Darby was expecting to "boat."
We both got "I Voted" stickers.
I was tempted to cross off "VOTED" on hers and write in "BOATED," but I didn't.
Barbie.
Darby's is TOTALLY into Barbie right now. Well, she's totally into undressing Barbie and then leaving her in all her nakedness strewn about the house. What is it with little girls? Seriously! They just undress Barbie and walk away!
She also likes Barbie movies. We are the proud owners of "Barbie and the Diamond Castle", "Barbie and the Three Musketeers", "Barbie-Mermaidia", "Barbie and the Nutcracker", "Barbie in A Christmas Carol", "Barbie-Swan Lake", and our most recent add, "Barbie-Sing Along."
I.
Hate.
Barbie.
Anyhow, Darby knows every word to every Barbie song out there. When Kristin and I were in Haiti on our missions trip, I jokingly said to Kristin, "You know the best part about being here?" "No," she replied. "BARBIE is NOT HERE!" We both had a good laugh, but I'll be darned if I didn't check "That book" later on that night to watch a video Dallas posted of Darby playing guitar and singing, 'Believe in all that can be. A miracle starts whenever you sing...'." Barbie had, indeed, graced the soils of Haiti.
The obsession with Barbie has, in my own opinion, gone too far. Darby was outside playing in the driveway one day. She came inside, and the following conversation ensued:
Darby just said, "I need to go to the seven stones!"
My reply: "How do you get there?"
Darby: "It's in Barbie and the Diamond Castle. Here! I'll show you!"
Curious, I followed her outside, where we went to our landscaping stones to play for a bit. But first, just to be on the safe side, I updated my status and told my friends that I would be "heading to the Seven Stones," and if I wasn't back in ten, to "just wait longer." !)
The most phenomenal influence Barbie has made on our young Pixie of late happens when we are out in public. Namely, anywhere anyone is shopping for anything. She will walk up to any stranger and say, "Excuse me! That belongs in MY KINGDOM!" That has become such a common quote to be heard gracing her lips during a shopping trip that it doesn't even phase me anymore. However, one day, she said it to an older man who had quite an exchange with the Redhead:
Man: "Oh. I can't buy this?"
Darby: "No!"
Man: "Well, what CAN I buy?"
Darby: "That thing, and you can ride a brown pony, and I will ride a pink horse!"
Another quick saying that She has picked up has become a "family quote." She says it to us, we say it back to her. It has been highly effective in behavior modification, and it goes something like this: "You are being a ROYAL PARTY POOPER!" That's it. One bold statement, and behavior changes to good almost instantaneously. Go ahead and try it at home. It might work for you, too!
Barbie...Darby...
Darby...Barbie...
There might be something to it.
Who knows?
She also likes Barbie movies. We are the proud owners of "Barbie and the Diamond Castle", "Barbie and the Three Musketeers", "Barbie-Mermaidia", "Barbie and the Nutcracker", "Barbie in A Christmas Carol", "Barbie-Swan Lake", and our most recent add, "Barbie-Sing Along."
I.
Hate.
Barbie.
Anyhow, Darby knows every word to every Barbie song out there. When Kristin and I were in Haiti on our missions trip, I jokingly said to Kristin, "You know the best part about being here?" "No," she replied. "BARBIE is NOT HERE!" We both had a good laugh, but I'll be darned if I didn't check "That book" later on that night to watch a video Dallas posted of Darby playing guitar and singing, 'Believe in all that can be. A miracle starts whenever you sing...'." Barbie had, indeed, graced the soils of Haiti.
The obsession with Barbie has, in my own opinion, gone too far. Darby was outside playing in the driveway one day. She came inside, and the following conversation ensued:
Darby just said, "I need to go to the seven stones!"
My reply: "How do you get there?"
Darby: "It's in Barbie and the Diamond Castle. Here! I'll show you!"
Curious, I followed her outside, where we went to our landscaping stones to play for a bit. But first, just to be on the safe side, I updated my status and told my friends that I would be "heading to the Seven Stones," and if I wasn't back in ten, to "just wait longer." !)
The most phenomenal influence Barbie has made on our young Pixie of late happens when we are out in public. Namely, anywhere anyone is shopping for anything. She will walk up to any stranger and say, "Excuse me! That belongs in MY KINGDOM!" That has become such a common quote to be heard gracing her lips during a shopping trip that it doesn't even phase me anymore. However, one day, she said it to an older man who had quite an exchange with the Redhead:
Man: "Oh. I can't buy this?"
Darby: "No!"
Man: "Well, what CAN I buy?"
Darby: "That thing, and you can ride a brown pony, and I will ride a pink horse!"
Another quick saying that She has picked up has become a "family quote." She says it to us, we say it back to her. It has been highly effective in behavior modification, and it goes something like this: "You are being a ROYAL PARTY POOPER!" That's it. One bold statement, and behavior changes to good almost instantaneously. Go ahead and try it at home. It might work for you, too!
Barbie...Darby...
Darby...Barbie...
There might be something to it.
Who knows?
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
The girl with the strawberry curl...
Oftentimes, when Darby is having "one of THOSE days," I find myself reciting a nursery rhyme to myself. It's fitting, but this day, Darby was "on a roll," as they say. In fact, she had a perfect little strawberry ringlet curl that somehow made it out of that ponytail I made earlier that day, and it was hanging down in the middle of her forehead.
If you read nursery rhymes, you already know where I'm going with this one, and you will appreciate this all the more. You see, it's NOT just me! There once was ANOTHER mother of a DIFFERENT Little Redhead Pixie, who had the SAME "problem." So, as a tribute to all mothers with little redheads who have little curls that cascade down their foreheads when they are having a mischievious day...
If you read nursery rhymes, you already know where I'm going with this one, and you will appreciate this all the more. You see, it's NOT just me! There once was ANOTHER mother of a DIFFERENT Little Redhead Pixie, who had the SAME "problem." So, as a tribute to all mothers with little redheads who have little curls that cascade down their foreheads when they are having a mischievious day...
There was a little girl with a strawberry curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very, very good
But when she was bad, she was horrid.
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