Oh, yes they would!
Me: Grace, you need to eat two big bites of spagetti. Then you can get down.
Grace: Mom. I cannot take big bites. Then I will choke. rolls eyes
Ellie: She said she didn’t love me!
Grace: She said she won’t be my friend anymore and she said I was a baby and she said to go away.
Girls: singing "Presents! Presents! Yayyyyyy!"
Me: "What do you say when you get a present?"
Grace: "Do you have any more?"
I’m not big on YouTube, but this was soooooo impressive! Its called "The Evolution of Dance." And if this doesn’t make you want to get up and boogie, there is something seriously wrong with you!
Nothing like getting all the way to 2:30pm and realizing your skirt is on inside out.
And, yes. Yes, I did leave the house this morning.
I haven’t been writing about the baby lately. Mainly because he’s been the least of my concerns, what with the getting locked out of rooms and sassing that’s been going on around here with the other two children.
Colin is my delight.
He is the sweetest, cuddliest little thing. And my "little," I mean "technically smaller than everyone else". Because he is actually HUGE. As in over 18 pounds at the ripe old age of four months. Four months. Already!
His baby giggles are so fantastic, you just have to join in. He talks constantly – I can only imagine what he will be saying when he starts using actual words. He lights up when he sees anyone in his family and smiles with his entire body. He adores his sisters and is content to lay next to them as they play – just watching them and babbling away like he is a part of the conversation. Every morning I wake up to hear him talking happily to the mobile hanging over his crib. I open his door and peek over the edge of the crib… and he positively squeals in delight.
And his very favorite place in the world is in my arms.
I love that.
Yesterday we truly needed a day of rest.
Friday:
Be sick all day. Feel like crap. But still let Husband go out with friends to watch Dark Knight, with promise of my turn to go out tomorrow. Drink NyQuil as soon as kids are in bed. Zonk out.
Saturday:
10:00-2:00 — Run errands. Lose husband in Home Depot for an entire hour after he goes to ask someone a question about cement while carrying your cell phone. Go sit in car with children and think dark thoughts while trying to keep children entertained. Then go to Sam’s, which is rarely a good idea on a Saturday. Take kids to bathroom. Go try to find Husband and MIL. Ten minutes later, run back to bathroom with child who JUST INSISTED that she did NOT have to go. Clean up accident. Try not to lose temper. Wish for change of clothes since skirt is now wet. And not with water.
2:00-7:00 — Yard work. Lots and lots and lots of yard work. Do you know how much a bag of mulch weighs?
7:00 — Margaritas with dinner. Frozen ones.
7:30 — Decide to go out tomorrow. Since arms aren’t working properly after aforementioned yard work marathon. And the children were running around the house unsupervised while we were doing yard work. So you can imagine what it looked like…
9:00 — Fall dead asleep.
Sunday:
11:00 — Church
2:00 — Hand crying baby to Husband. Drive to Barnes and Noble. Alone. Order heaven in a cup. WITH whipped cream. Curl up in a fluffy armchair in a quiet corner with a huge stack of magazines. While it stormed outside. And I was curled up, reading, alone. Alone. Alone, alone, sipping heaven, ALONE!
5:00 — Come home, feed baby.
5:30 — go out to dinner with Husband. Have two straight hours of conversation. Uninterrupted conversation.
8:00 — Come home, feed baby. Put children to bed.
9:00 — go out to movies with Husband. Alone.
I needed that.
flower beds without weeds
cherry coke zero, in a glass with ice and a straw
a good book
homemade cookies just out of the oven
my kids laughing
sleep
my baby’s smell just after his bath
freshly cut grass
fruit salad
a clean kitchen
the beach
laughing until my face hurts
vacuum lines in the carpet
cuddling
listening to my husband cooking breakfast with the kids
and you?
Me: "Ellie, your job is to put the silverware on the table. Grace, your job is to put napkins by everyone’s plate."
Grace: crosses her arms "I don’t want to do a job."
Me: "Sorry! Everyone has to do a job. That’s part of being a family."
Grace: hands on hips "Well, what’s your job, Mom?"
Are you kidding me? If she has this much attitude when she is three….
Lately I’ve been feeling like I need privacy.
Ironic, yes, talking about privacy to the Internets who I blab about my life to almost daily, but stick with me here.
Its having three kiddos, one of whom is a baby who wants to be in my arms every waking moment, two of whom are preschoolers who see a closed door as an invitation to barge right in. Its having my in-laws living with us for going on three months now. Its having something social on the calendar practically every day. Its looking at our schedule and seeing it booked for weeks ahead.
And I love my family. I love my kids, my husband, my in-laws, my friends. I love our full life.
I just am feeling the need to be alone. Ideally, alone in my house since that is my favorite place to be. Soaking in a bubble bath, sipping a glass of wine, curling up to watch a girly movie in my pjs, perhaps while eating some ice cream. All uninterrupted, in quiet. But realistically, I’d just love an anonymous day out. Sitting in Barnes and Noble, sipping coffee and reading a gossip magazine, I mean an intellectual-type book. Browsing through the mall with no stroller or kids in tow. Just some time to be alone. Not talking to anyone, not taking care of anyone, not having to stop what I’m doing every three hours to nurse a baby. Just gloriously alone.
Sigh. A girl can dream.
Ellie was mad. She stomped into her room and slammed – slammed – the door.
I got Grace calmed down. Then I went to talk to Ellie about being angry, loving her sister, blahblahblah. But the door was locked.
Locked.
Maybe it was an accident, I think.
"Ellie, open the door, please."
Nothing.
"Ellie, open the door."
Still nothing.
"Ellie, you come open this door right now."
No response.
Oh, my five-year-old did NOT just lock me out of her room on purpose. I don’t think so, Dearie.
So I get the key and unlocked the door.
Boy, was she surprised when that door opened and Mama walked in.
