Monday, February 2, 2015

Super Bowl

Because it wouldn't be a party if one of my kids didn't shit all over the bathroom of someone else's home.  Rosaline's been doing really great with number two's.  Like so great that we've completely moved out of the potty training phase.  Unfortunately we spent the weekend up at the cabin and one by one the girls came down with a slight case of the diarrhea. ... of course, when has a slight case of diarrhea ever been slight?  Rosaline was the last to get hers, just after we got home and a few hours before we crossed the street to our neighbors to watch the big game.  At the time Gina noted how lucky we were that her bought happened before the party started.  I stared at the words as they hung in the air above us, then I shrugged my shoulders and moved on with life. ... like there was no reason what so ever to be concerned about the uncontrollable bowel of my recently potty trained offspring who has a propensity to dissapear upstairs at strangers houses and test the very finest cleaning solutions the planet has to offer.  Sure enough, two minutes into the third quarter - "Momma?!  Daddy?!  Zozzie has khaka on her legs."  She did.  It was true.  She also had it on the bathroom counter, the lid of the toilet, the outside of the toilet, the tile floor, the tub oh, and every inch of herself.  Touchdown!!!!!!!  I love how a bunch of the commercials yesterday were geared at dads, tugging on their heartstrings about the beauty of fatherhood.   You'll note that not one of them showed a kid covered in fecal matters and their pregnant wife bent over a toilet screaming the words "go get the Clorox wipies - we need reinforcements on this one!"

Thursday, January 22, 2015

And then there's this damn thing!

Do we really need all the dad's in the United States crying in unison?

Midnight Barter

The other night Rosaline came into to snuggle.  She's pretty consistent with these visits, but we try to limit them to a short time and then take her back to her bed.  Some times it's just her, sometimes she brings stuffed friends - sometimes she brings all her sisters like she did Sunday night and it's a real party.  This time she brought only her precious "buvvy" doll.  She's had this thing since day one so it's very important to her. ... like, "she'll cut you" important. 

So she comes in, get's her cuddle on, a few minutes (maybe hours, hard to tell between 12 and 2am how much time is really passing) and Gina takes her back to bed.  I fall back asleep but am woken back up a short time later with a proposition.  Rosaline has left buvvy in our bed and I am no sleeping on top of him/her/it (can't make up our mind on the gender of this half elephant half blanket thing).  Clearly I was cuddling and Rosaline felt back about the request, so she had brought me her back up buvvy - known as "khouka buvvy" because of it's female doll like head.  Naturally I accepted the swap and cuddled happily with khouka until it was time to get up.

I just love the thoughtfulness of a three year old.  She could have easily screamed and demanded that I return her precious, but instead she took my feelings into concern - perhaps I loved buvvy equally as much - and tried to make sure that after the buvvy removal, I would still have something to cuddle with.

I don't want them to grow up.  I mean I do, I do.  ... but I don't just the same.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Coming Down the Mountain

One of my all time "looking forward to this" moments finally came to fruition this past holiday weekend.  We took the girls up to the mountains and the twins took their first snowboarding lessons.  I was so proud.  I had always wanted them to start early before fear and trepidation really took hold.  I was up on skis by 3 but they've not always shown great command of their bodies or the over all desire to try new and exciting things.  But this year they were ready and - happily - they loved it.  Neither of them showed any reluctance and both were equally excited as we were getting their rental gear squared away.  Gina and I watched the first bit, for our own reassurance, but the further up the mountain they went the harder it got to observe so we finally retreated back to the cabin and waiting the 3 hours until class was done.  As we entered the ski school to pick them up, we braced ourselves for unhappy "why did you do this to us" children.  But there they were; laughing, drinking hot cocoa, completely thrilled with their day.  As they grow up in to womanhood I have no idea where they will go; how they will be; what they will love.  My hope, though, is that no matter where their lives take them or what passions they find for themselves, there will always be little bits of me in there; seeds that I have sewn, that we still have in common.  Even when they become the first sisterly President and VP of the US combo, we'll still strap our boards on together and slice up a mountain or two.
oh, and Rosaline puked about 1/3 of the way through the drive back down the mountain. ... nothing like cleaning up a vomit soaked kid and carseat on the side of a windy, narrow mountain pass while drunk snowboarders yell obsenties at you as they pass.  Thanks for that guys; makes parenting so much easier.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Clipped Wings

There's one in every family.  The kid who carries the "crazy" label with them everywhere they go.  This isn't the "we really need to up the dosage" crazy, but the unpredictable, uncontrollable, incomprehensible kind of crazy that gets this kid into trouble at every turn.  That's Rosaline.  I wasn't back up and blogging a few months ago when it happened, but she fell coming down the stairs and knocked her two front teeth back up into her gums.

Those teeth have only just now come back down out of the gums (from May) and we're already back in the x-ray room. 

Yesterday afternoon, she was climbing down the ladder of a friends trampoline and not paying attention - as usual - and she slipped and fell.  I was still driving home from work when I got the call.  She's a tough girl and had already been crying for ten minutes straight.  That coupled with the swelling on her clavicle told us right away we probably had a break.

Four and a half hours in the ER later and, yup, she broke her collar bone.  I know this is the most common form of bone break, but she's not even three yet.  What kind of warranty do we have on this kid?  I know most home appliances come with a 3 year policy. ... did we buy the option on her because I'm not sure she's going to last until December.

All in all she did great, though.  By the time we made inside the ER she had stopped crying and was her normal conversationalist self (albeit moving a bit like a zombie because her shoulder hurt so much).  She had most of the waiting room in stitches the entire time. ... even the guy in the corner who was waiting to get stitches.  And that's the positive I took away from this.  While it won't be our last visit to an emergency room with this kid, at least I can reflect on the brilliant personality that shines through her in her darkest hour.  She stood still and smiled ("cheeeeeese") for the x-ray pictures.  She diagnosed everyone in the waiting room (owie, owie, she's feeling yucky, that ones cold and needs a blanket, ect).  She told the doctor, with out any prompting or encouragement from us, exactly what had happened ("I no pay detention on ladder") and was an all around bright spot in an otherwise dismal Thursday night hospital trip.

So here's to her not breaking anything ever again. ... least of all her spirit.