Maya: "Mama! I fly up in the sky - I will be Buzz. And you will be Boody."
That's right. Boody. Not Woody.
She's awesome.
May 13, 2011
May 11, 2011
Bam!
Poor Fairy... not only did she pick up a slight cold yesterday, she also smacked her face on the edge of the dining table while fooling around on her foot stool, and had her left eye swell up all nice and fat. She looks like a self-induced pirate, albeit a charming one.
However! In the process, she learned to spray her own nose with saline (and has done this about seventeen times), as well as allowed me to ice-compress her goose egg. She really is the sweetest kid - with trauma issues.
However! In the process, she learned to spray her own nose with saline (and has done this about seventeen times), as well as allowed me to ice-compress her goose egg. She really is the sweetest kid - with trauma issues.
May 08, 2011
Here, lizard, lizard
Things from motherhood that continue to make me crazy-laugh: Maya, watching me use the bathroom right after her: "Mama! You went to the potty! Good job. Now," in the tone of an experienced proctologist and reaching for the toilet paper roll, "let me wipe you." ... Wow. I had to decline, politely.
Yesterday, coming home with Jack from Kroger (Allan and Maya gone to PawPaw's), I found all shoes off the shoe shelf near the front door. Complete chaos. At first I thought maybe Maya did that before leaving, but then realized I didn't see it earlier in the day. Since I left the back door open while we were briefly gone, I figured *something* got in the house and cats made the chase of it. But neither cat was lying in wait nearby, so I figured whatever it was, they got it, and hoped to not find yet another killed hummingbird near the fireplace. Nothing surfaced in obvious places by the time I went to bed.
Tonight, after washing several large things, including Jack's floor quilt, I was loading the dryer. As I shook out the quilt, a large, dead, limp, wet, tail-less lizard fell on my foot.
Only unending, incredible love for my sleeping children prevented a murderous scream born in grossed-out shock that bubbled up in my throat. Kids, if this doesn't tell you I love you, I don't know what ever will.
Yesterday, coming home with Jack from Kroger (Allan and Maya gone to PawPaw's), I found all shoes off the shoe shelf near the front door. Complete chaos. At first I thought maybe Maya did that before leaving, but then realized I didn't see it earlier in the day. Since I left the back door open while we were briefly gone, I figured *something* got in the house and cats made the chase of it. But neither cat was lying in wait nearby, so I figured whatever it was, they got it, and hoped to not find yet another killed hummingbird near the fireplace. Nothing surfaced in obvious places by the time I went to bed.
Tonight, after washing several large things, including Jack's floor quilt, I was loading the dryer. As I shook out the quilt, a large, dead, limp, wet, tail-less lizard fell on my foot.
Only unending, incredible love for my sleeping children prevented a murderous scream born in grossed-out shock that bubbled up in my throat. Kids, if this doesn't tell you I love you, I don't know what ever will.
Mother's Days
(Plural intentional!)
Although if this day was acknowledged, it would really be special, somewhere deep down I know I've got 365 Mother's Days each year, from now on. While there is an abundance of life's stresses and frustrations, every day there are moments that are their own testament to love for Dear Ol' Mom.
The way Jack fusses when I leave the room. Not because of anything tangible, but because I'm not there. I come back, and his world is normal again.
The way Maya hugs my legs, or holds on tight, or tells me Sweet Dreams and Good Nights, or gently bites my nose in a game we play.
The way Jack laughs out loud at tickles and 'sneezes'. The way he can fall asleep on my shoulder when he's overstimulated and is having a hard time settling down.
The way Maya wants me to hold her hand when walking to daycare
Although if this day was acknowledged, it would really be special, somewhere deep down I know I've got 365 Mother's Days each year, from now on. While there is an abundance of life's stresses and frustrations, every day there are moments that are their own testament to love for Dear Ol' Mom.
The way Jack fusses when I leave the room. Not because of anything tangible, but because I'm not there. I come back, and his world is normal again.
The way Maya hugs my legs, or holds on tight, or tells me Sweet Dreams and Good Nights, or gently bites my nose in a game we play.
The way Jack laughs out loud at tickles and 'sneezes'. The way he can fall asleep on my shoulder when he's overstimulated and is having a hard time settling down.
The way Maya wants me to hold her hand when walking to daycare
May 04, 2011
Small daily details
I'm savoring Maya's current Mom Craze phase. She's loving, kissy, huggy. She's just being unbearably sweet and I want it to last and last and last, although I really should know better. But for now, I'm just loving it.
Going to bed is its own ritual, with new cute twists and turns daily. Consider:
Me: "Alright baby, good night." Lights off.
Maya: "Mama. Go take a nap, and wash your hands, and go to potty, and I'll scratch, and say Amens." All in a tone of a total list-maker, or an elementary-grade teacher. The order of things to do is a separate crack-up reason.
In the morning, after getting out of bed and slowly coming out of sleep: "... Mama! I woke UP!" With enthusiasm - slash - joy which, in an adult, I would call a good fake.
Jack (in other news) is laughing. On purpose. When I imitate sneezing. Especially at the long 'ah-ah-ah... ' part preceeding the actual imitated sneeze. He looks on with this sly look of knowing we're having fun, and that's ... awesome. My little man is coming into his own. He'll be an amazing little boy to get to know more once he starts getting around and attempting to verbalize stuff. But this look of "I'm onto you" warms my heart. It lets me feel like I get him, and he gets me. Just a great feeling.
Going to bed is its own ritual, with new cute twists and turns daily. Consider:
Me: "Alright baby, good night." Lights off.
Maya: "Mama. Go take a nap, and wash your hands, and go to potty, and I'll scratch, and say Amens." All in a tone of a total list-maker, or an elementary-grade teacher. The order of things to do is a separate crack-up reason.
In the morning, after getting out of bed and slowly coming out of sleep: "... Mama! I woke UP!" With enthusiasm - slash - joy which, in an adult, I would call a good fake.
Jack (in other news) is laughing. On purpose. When I imitate sneezing. Especially at the long 'ah-ah-ah... ' part preceeding the actual imitated sneeze. He looks on with this sly look of knowing we're having fun, and that's ... awesome. My little man is coming into his own. He'll be an amazing little boy to get to know more once he starts getting around and attempting to verbalize stuff. But this look of "I'm onto you" warms my heart. It lets me feel like I get him, and he gets me. Just a great feeling.
April 25, 2011
All the hearts...
Sometimes the pettiness of my daily stresses is just astounding.
Then I read blog that leads to link that leads to blog that leads to link... So many sick kids. So many major health issues in such tiny, precious bodies. So many families rocked to the core and shaken forever by a loss of those chummy fingers, plump cheeks, feathery hair, fanned eyelashes... raised scars, numerous monitors .
The degree to which I'm able to be utterly ungrateful for my own life and its unending blessings on a daily basis is absolutely stunning. :(
Then I read blog that leads to link that leads to blog that leads to link... So many sick kids. So many major health issues in such tiny, precious bodies. So many families rocked to the core and shaken forever by a loss of those chummy fingers, plump cheeks, feathery hair, fanned eyelashes... raised scars, numerous monitors .
The degree to which I'm able to be utterly ungrateful for my own life and its unending blessings on a daily basis is absolutely stunning. :(
April 23, 2011
Rest, assured
Our new bed is here (well... frame + box spring + MATTRESS).
Do you know what this means?
This means OUR NEW BED IS HERE!
Coincidentally it also means I don't spend extra energy at night trying not to roll into a center of a large broken bed that sounds like a shrieking off-key violin every time one of us takes a breath.
Oh glory.
Do you know what this means?
This means OUR NEW BED IS HERE!
Coincidentally it also means I don't spend extra energy at night trying not to roll into a center of a large broken bed that sounds like a shrieking off-key violin every time one of us takes a breath.
Oh glory.
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