Toothpaste in My Hair

Last night my son took it upon himself to bathe in the sink with the hand soap while he washed the mirror with his sister's toothbrush. Tonight as he played with his new toothbrush, he managed to get toothpaste in my hair.

Unfortunately, I immediately became angry. I said something like "Kids! Hmmph!" I'm just that mature.

I then told my two older children that I would read them one story and Bible, but that was it because I was D.O.N.E.

I started reading them stories and they cuddled beside me. I thought to myself, "Kids, sweet precious kids. I'm so thankful for them." Fickle, aren't I? Needless to say, I read them more than one book. We read five to be exact.

You think by now I would have learned to expect the unexpected and not respond in such an immature way, but noooooo. Instead, I expect the perfect and get frustrated when, well when I get toothpaste in my hair, or dog doo on my foot or my son somehow manages to douse his hair in juice just before we need to leave for an important evening meeting. (Yes, that all happened in just a few short hours tonight while Tony had to work late.)

I know that someday I'll look back and miss these days. Really, I do know that, but sometimes...

I'm feeling grateful that tomorrow is a new day. Happy almost Friday!

That Crazy Kid!

It all started with the new bath tub toys I bought yesterday. We're reading a book this week about a boat. I happened across a package of boat bath toys. They are just like a rubber duck, but they are boats. I didn't expect the kids to be too excited about them, but you would think they were gold or sugar (to speak in a language my kids would understand). My son even slept with one of them last night.

Today, I thought the excitement had worn off a bit until my son was begging for a bath. We hadn't done much today, so I decided baths weren't really necessary. He wasn't too happy about my decision, but thought my suggestion of playing with the boats in the sink was a decent alternative.

I should have known when he immediately agreed to play in the sink that his idea of playing and my idea of playing were entirely different.

You see, I pictured him playing like my daughter did last night. While I bathed my youngest, my older daughter filled the sink with a few inches of water and played with her rubber boats. That is what I expected my son to do.

This is what he did.

He dumped all of the hand soap into the sink and climbed in for a little improvised bath. At one point he actually managed to get his entire body in the sink. I know I should have been upset, but it was just too stinking funny. Be sure to notice that he is cleaning the mirror with his sister's toothbrush!

Oh how I'd love to know how that little mind works. Actually, maybe I wouldn't. It might scare me. Still, I love that crazy little man!

Mom Fashion

I have a bit of a confession..Somewhere between reading Goodnight Moon (for the 5,293rd time) and The Little House Series, I try to find a bit of time for fashion magazines...Read more at my KCParent Blog.

Silly Me, Sweet Ann

I played soccer all through high school. Indoor, club, school--you name it, I played it. My daughter is also showing athletic tendencies, however she does not like to be "sporty" whatever she thinks that means. She has, however, been asking to take dance. That is why we found ourselves getting ready for her first dance class one morning last week.

Ann had asked me each day for a week prior to her first class when she was going to get to go dance. Every morning I would tell her just how many days she had left to wait for that special day. She was so excited she could hardly stand it, but not me, I was nervous.

My nervousness has nothing to do with Jane. I knew she'd be fine. She is wonderful in new social situations. I was worried about me. Somehow I had convinced my 31-year-old self that I was going to be somewhat of the oddball at the dance school. I pictured the other mothers dropping their children off at school with perfect poise and grace. The soccer field I could handle, but a dance studio!?

Sure enough, my ever klutzy self managed to nearly trip before we made it out of the parking lot and into the building. Somehow the straps of the backpack Jane was holding as she sat in the umbrella stroller managed to get tangled in the stroller wheels. I tripped, but didn't fall and Jane was just fine. After a brief moment of taking Jane out of the stroller and untangling the straps, we were good to go.



We walked in the building and found Ann's class. She walked in without so much as a look back. I glanced around and noticed that most of the other moms were indeed just like me. Some of them even had a crazy toddler with them. (Though I didn't notice anyone else with two younger children in tow.) I even ran into a mom I recognized from story time last fall.



Sure, some of the moms might have been former dancers who knew the different dance positions. Yet, I have a hunch that some of them might have also been stepping out of their comfort zones for the sake of their children. After all, it's what we do starting from the moment we know we're having a little one.



Here is my big girl who is getting so tall. She isn't quite 5 and yet she is taller or as tall as most 5-year-olds and some 6-year-olds.

I love you, Ann!

That Whole "Glass Half Full" Thing

Last night, I tucked the kids into bed and sat down to work on my little blogging job. It was taking a bit more concentration than usual because it had just been one of those days. Nothing major had happened, but a lot of minor inconveniences and some crazy kids was enough. I was trying to get myself in a better, more positive frame of mind in order to write something a bit more uplifting than "I'm tired of the craziness, blah, blah, blah."

Before I even had a chance to get the computer fully started, my son was at my side. I looked him over and didn't see any blood and he looked perfectly fine. I decided there was absolutely NO reason he should be out of bed.

Apparently my observational skills were a bit weak because the poor kid was not wearing his pants or his night time diaper. Hmmm.

He laid down on the floor while I helped him get the diaper fastened. Meanwhile, I told him that I would not be coming back upstairs to tuck him in yet once more. In the middle of this little lecture, I shrieked.

My son had poo on his leg! He had clearly had taken care of the potty business, but no so much the wiping thing.

The funny thing is, rather than make me frustrated and think there was no way I could be in a positive mindset now, it just made me laugh a bit.

In this parenting thing, it is always something. Yet, that something is so often a wonderful thing, that I might as well shrug off as much of the unpleasantness as possible.

As I write this, all three of my children are playing "clubhouse." They are sharing and using their wonderful imaginations. It is a joy to watch. Moments like this just might make up for the chaos and amounts of bodily fluid or sticky hand residue I seem to always be cleaning off of something!

A Father and Daughter Weekend

The other day, Tony commented to me that, "it may sound cheesy, but ever since Ann and I went on that trip our relationship has been better."

I didn't think it sounded cheesy at all. After all, he was speaking the truth.

In mid-July, Tony took Ann on a road trip to go to a wedding in Kentucky. They stopped for a couple of hours in St. Louis both on the way out and the way back.

I somehow managed to part with the camera so that they could capture their weekend. I'm so glad I did. Look what I would have missed out on if I had kept it with Chris, Jane, and me.

Apparently the theme of the weekend was to stick out your tongue! There are about a dozen more photos of this same pose in a variety of locations. Nice, huh?

In all seriousness, look at this great shot.

Then, there is this one that I think is so cute. Right now, Ann seems so big because she is our oldest. Yet, I know it won't be long until I look back at pictures like these and wonder how she was ever so small.

I often take for granted what a wonderful father Tony is to our three children. Seeing pictures like these remind me that my children are incredibly blessed to have such a loving daddy. I hope they soon realize that when it comes to daddies, they got the best!

Elite Eight

Monday marked eight years of marriage for Tony and me. I couldn't resist the title of "Elite Eight" because I'm not sure Tony has ever been prouder of me than he was when I finally stopped calling the final eight teams in the NCAA tournament the "Great Eight" and began using the proper term.

Oh, I kid. He may have been more proud when I could accurately say on which MLB teams Derek Jeter and Derek Lee play.

We celebrated our eighth anniversary tonight by going out to eat at Ted's Montana Grill. Our celebration had to be delayed a couple of days because Tony had to go out of town for business on Monday night.

I was telling a friend this on Monday morning and she said she was sorry. I was almost a bit confused, but then assured her it was a really no big deal. After all, did she know how we celebrated our first anniversary?

We didn't celebrate our first anniversary by eating the top of our wedding cake. I suppose we would have had to save it to do that! In fact, we weren't even together on our first anniversary.

I was busily preparing for my first day of teaching school and Tony went to a college football game with his dad. Now, in all fairness, Tony did ask me if this was okay and I assured him that it was just fine. That is, I said it would be okay if I could rub his nose in the fact that he chose football over his beautiful bride on our first anniversary. And, you can believe I did just that. I almost cringe as I write that because I think of how petty it is to do that!

You see, if you measured our marriage by the way we celebrate our anniversaries, you'd have reason to think our marriage stinks. Sure, we've celebrated a time or two on the day of our anniversary, but mostly life just goes on, but it goes on well and I'd marry him again in a heartbeat.

Special days are fun to create traditions, break up the routine of life, and are a great excuse to eat some dessert, but they are just days. One day of wonderful celebration doesn't make up for the other 364 days in a year.

I'll take the mostly wonderful year I get any day over celebrating on our specific anniversary or birthday or whatever the case may be.

You see, I know if push came to shove, Tony would choose me over the Chicago Cubs any day!

Happy Belated Anniversary, Tony! I love you!