PHASES

Phase One:
Newborn baby cries. You go into Baby's room and fix whatever problem; feed or change diaper. Put Baby back to bed

Phase Two: Baby cries and you go in to find Baby standing up in crib and not wanting to be laid back down. You beg and plead and pray "Baby, pleeessseee go back to sleep".

Phase Three: Toddler climbs out of crib and walks into living room where you are watching reruns of "the Office" and is sooo happy to see you! Feeling NOT mutual. Put Toddler back to bed. Again. And Again.

Phase Four: Toddler climbs out of crib in middle of night. You awake from your slumber only to find Toddler once again sooo happy to see you! Feeling oh so NOT mutual. Put Toddler back to bed and threaten him with evil doings if he gets up again.

Phase Five: Toddler climbs out of bed and is sitting on top of you before you realize that it is NOT Matthew McConaughey that is in bed with you. Darn it!
Take Toddler back to bed room and tell him if he values his life, he will not wake you again.

Last night, we entered Phase Five. Jeven was indeed on top of me saying " MOMMY! WAKE UP! CAN'T FIND BINKY!" I am not even sure how long he was on top of me! I took him back to his room, crawled around under the bed looking for binky, produced it and Jeven exclaimed, not in his inside voice mind you, "YOU FIND IT!".

I am looking forward to Phase 12. When the Teenager sleeps in every chance they get. Maybe then I'll catch up on my Matthew McConaughey dreams!

Disclaimer: I don't really dream about Matthew McConaughey. I just picked the hot male star of the moment. The point I was trying to make was that whatever I was dreaming at the time I was woken from my slumber was better than hunting for missing binky under childs bed.

Fashion 101

I do not claim to be a fashion diva. Most days, it's jeans and a t-shirt, no makeup and hair up in a claw clip. Partly, because I don't have an extensive wardrobe and the other part really? Who do I have to impress?

But still. I do know that you can't wear (or shouldn't wear) big clunky white tennis shoes with a skirt. Or bright yellow pants with an orange sweatshirt. But my daughter? She finds all this not only acceptable but cutting edge.

Since she started school, I try to get her clothes laid out the night before. And I do try to let her pick out what she's going to wear. After all, if she's picked it out, there's a better chance she'll get dressed faster in the a.m.
But. WHAT. A. BATTLE! She always wants to wear a dress which would be fine if she had enough of a selection. But she wants to wear her Christmas "formal" dress. From 2 Christmases ago.

So, where do I draw the line at: her choice vs. I am the boss?

I guess I feel that how she is dressed is a reflection of me. Of how I take care of her. So when she goes to school wearing the turquoise skirt with the red tights and pink shirt, her teachers will wonder "Doesn't her mother care about her at all?"

And the answer will be: yes, I do care. I care enough to let my child make her own choices and reap her own rewards. Even if it is "worst dressed kindergartner" award.

But, then she may not win that award. Have you SEEN how some of those kids are dressed? Don't their mothers pay attention to them?

Pictures say a gazillion words

Family on the beach!



Jayce lookin' good!



Jeven enjoying the sun!



Josie on the first day of school.



Jayce and Pastor after Jayce's Baptism.



Jarrett with his big catch!



All the kids. Together. Not fighting.

Baby Beluga

Beluga via Noolmusic.com




When I graduated from high school, many moons ago, I wanted to be a marine biologist. Or at least I thought I did. I wanted to be one of those people that worked with the dolphins and whales at Sea World. Not one of those people that were put on a deserted island for months studying the mating habits of sea slugs. Turns out you can't just go get a job training animals at Sea World. Imagine that.
But, my lack of college education and experience has not hindered my love for the ocean and the animals in it.

There is a certain kid's song about a sea mammal. "Baby Beluga" is sung by Raffi. He is the Hannah Montana of child songs, of the 80's. "Baby Beluga" is the only song I know of his. I swear.

Ever since I started having children, many moons ago, I have been shoving it down their throats encouraging them to love the song and book also. With no luck.
Until Jeven! He LOVES "bawooga". I have been greeted early mornings by a book in my face with "Pweese? Bawooga?".

This makes me so happy for some sick reason. It gives me an excuse to sing a silly little song about a whale? It gives me some "special" time with my baby? It proves that I can make my child like something? All of those reasons I suspect.

I have searched for some "deeper" meaning to all this but I just conclude that it makes me happy and it makes Jeven happy so that's good enough.

Have you ever?

Have you ever had the pure joy of getting gum out of eyelashes?
OR
Trying to wash peanut butter out of a screen door?
OR
Said to a child "If you fart on your sister one more time...!"?

NO?
Oh, I feel soooo sorrrryyy for you! You don't know what you're missing.

It's not mine!

We went to a birthday party a few days ago and one of the kids brought home one of those balloons with the rubber band attached. The big, thick ones? Yeah. One balloon--4 kids. Not a good ratio.

Today, I finally blew it up and gave it to Jarrett to play with. Here is how it went down:

Josie: Hey, that's mine!
Jarrett: No, it's mine!
Jayce: Josie, you gave it to me!
Jeven: Mine!!
Josie: That's not fair!
Jayce: Too bad!
Jarrett: Don't take my balloon!
Jeven: MINE!!!!!
Josie: Let me have it!

****POP!!!****
Now the broken, defeated, balloon is on the floor.

Me: Throw it away, please
Josie: It's not mine!
Jayce: It's not mine!
Jarrett: It's not mine!
Jeven: Not mine!

Typical.