Slave to the Mommy Trade

The Reality Is--

2012-01-09T22:43:00.000-05:00

Lydia's test results are finally all in and processed. The biopsies showed she, indeed, has acid irritation in her stomach lining. They also found a ~~technical term~~ thing that can be indicative of Celiac Disease. However, where they'd expect to find the same ~~technical term~~ thing in her small intestine, there was none.

Several blood drawls later...

She doesn't have Celiac. They even tested for a genetic marker. She doesn't have one. She will never develop Celiac Disease. Which, on one hand-- WOOO HOOO!-- but on the other hand-- FUCK!.

We were hoping, hoping-hoping-hoping, for a positive diagnosis. Wheat/gluten we could treat. Just add it to the list of things she already can't have. It would have been an easy fix.

But no.

I asked GI Doc if, possibly, she could still be intolerant to gluten because, let me tell you, Jeremy and I have studied the SHIT out of Celiac Disease and the number of odd-ball, what-the-fuck symptoms Lydia presents is covered under this disease. So. Maybe it could be possible she's intolerant to wheat/gluten the same as she's intolerant to half the food in this world?

GI Doc said it could be possible. Hell, anything's possible at this point. All we know is SOMETHING is irritating her stomach. Its the one and only proven fact we have to work with.

We've switched her medicine to Prevacid in hopes that it will start heal her tiny little insides. I asked GI Doc about going gluten free, anyway. She suggests we take one month to see how well the new medicine does or doesn't work on its own and, after a month, we can try a new diet plan.

The good news is, we're one week in and she's FINALLY! started sleeping through the night again.

Oh, how I love my sleep.

Though, what I love even more is that I'm not spending half the night rocking a writhing Lydia as she cries herself back to sleep.

One day at a time. One step at a time. That's the reality of it.

Happy Birthday

2011-12-31T23:43:00.010-05:00

Happy, HAPPY, Birthday my lovely Lydia Kate. Thanks to a VERY busy day yesterday, we had to celebrate your special occasion a day late. Not that you minded, or noticed.

All you wanted was FISH! for supper once you spied the seafood monger at the farmer's market. We made your fish. Lemon Sole, to be exact. You also wanted potatoes, fresh spinach and an unpeeled carrot. We spend lots of money at our farmer's market thanks to you. And believe me, that's a very good thing you've brought into our lives.

For desert, you wanted a Chocolate Lava Cake. You, my dear, are a true woman. Chocolate truly is your very best friend in any form! You polished your plate, took your spoon, and started digging into the baking dish~ inviting your sister to join you!

This year was your year of all things that GO! Cars, trucks, balls. Planes and trains. Bikes, ice skates and scooters. If it moves, you're in love.

Which is perfect, because you received a lot of trains and cars. You also fell in love with a new baby, two dresses, an art easel and a little electronic game. Come to think of it, I'm not sure there's a toy made, for boy or girl, that you don't LOVE.

Without a doubt, though, cars and trains are the front runners.

You played with this set up until we had to tear you away for a bath and then bed. You, were NOT a happy camper!

Sometimes I think you're a giant tom-boy. One of the biggest I've ever seen. But then I watch you play barber shop with your babies or squeal with delight over the frilliest of dresses, and I know you're just Lydia. My 3 year old Lydia.

Family Skate

2011-12-27T00:44:00.005-05:00

I'm not sure how many wrecks she caused on the ice once the place filled up, but Lydia is a pint sized hazard. She's like a little Kamikaze with the left foot stroke she has going. I just want to put a skateboard under her right foot and let her go at it. She can haul ass on the ice... until she gets her right foot moving. Then the flailing, falling, bowling for people belly slides on the ice happen. No, really, watch for yourself.

Untitled from Alicia on Vimeo.

Kyra on the other hand, has learned the art of avoiding the camera at all costs. I think I liked her baby days better when she'd flat out ignore me. Kyra, look here! And I'd get nothing. When I whip out the camera now, she runs away and hides.

Untitled from Alicia on Vimeo.

I think I'm going to start treating her like I tell strangers to do the dogs... If you want Cricket to come close enough for you to pet him, focus all your attention on Bishop. Jealousy will ensue. Certainly this tactic works with children, right?

Christmas Highlights

2011-12-25T13:10:00.012-05:00

The dusting of snow. It was a white Christmas, after all!
Kyra- after finding out Santa brought them a gymnastics mat sullenly says, "I think Santa wants me to practice my hand stands..." Lydia- "MY 'NASTICS?! DANDA BROUGH' ME MY NASTICS?!" [squeals with joy]
Lydia- peering into her stocking, "RAY-CAR! DANDA BROUGH' ME RAY-CAR!"
Jeremy- watching the girls duel with their new Harry/Hermoine wands, "Don't point those at people!" Me- "How else are they supposed to accurately cast spells?"
Kyra- opening a sand art set, "Ooooh! Its BEAUTIFUL! Its my favorite!" Jeremy- horrified look, "Who gave her that?" Me- "Granma." Jer- "I thought she liked us."
Lydia- sifting through a gift bag from a family friend, "I GOT PANTIES!" Jer- "I think she likes her panties..."
Kyra- kneeling in wait for Communion, "Mommy, do you see that boy a few rows behind us? He looks like Harry Potter! Well, not Harry Potter, but the guy in Harry Potter..."
Lydia- stepping in front of Deacon to receive her blessing, "I GOT THOMAS THE TRAIN!"
Lydia- yelling at Father after the mass, "I GOT THOMAS THE TRAIN!"
Jeremy- said with a proud grin, "The best part of Christmas is you didn't guess your present this year." I got a pasta maker. Something I asked for months ago but never expected to actually receive.
Jeremy- after putting together his new BluRay player and starting Cars for Lydia, he says with awe, "WOW! You don't even have to wait for this one. It starts right up." He received a BluRay a few years ago but wanted a second one for the main TV. I guess things have improved in the last few years.
Kyra and Lydia- bouncing mindlessly together on their new (mini) trampoline Santa brought while watching Cars.

Christmas Eve, 2011

2011-12-24T23:42:00.001-05:00

'Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the house

Two girls were posing for pictures

Like everyday super models.

Excited, they were, for Santa's arrival

They prepared snacks to eat

and laid the stockings out neat.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Brought to you from the land of Its Fucking Cold

With not a speck of snow. What kind of crap is that?

Somewhat on Schedule

2011-12-16T00:23:00.000-05:00

Kyra's quilt is finished. Sure, you don't need to tell me how I started cutting it last winter, bought the rest of the fabric this summer and only now, one year after the start, its done. And Kyra's sleeping under it tonight.

Christmas cards are filled out, stuffed, addressed and waiting for stamps. The girls presents are bought, wrapped and waiting to be torn open. All that's left is candy making, little girl dress sewing and package mailing. 10 days to go....

I'm farther behind then I hoped to be at this point, but farther ahead then I was this time last year. Things may not arrive before Christmas, but at least they'll make it within a couple days before or after.

Works for me.

Family Movie Night

2011-12-11T16:45:00.000-05:00

Harry Potter Style. Jeremy has single-handedly created an entire family of Potter Nerds. At least we're bonding, right?

Kind Words Mend Souls

2011-12-10T01:54:00.000-05:00

In all this apparent chaos and frustration, it's always nice when someone looks at you, or writes to you, and tells you that you're doing a great job at life, or sometimes just at parenting.

Sometimes they don't even tell you in words, reactions of people can be just as rewarding.

We all know I've been pulling my hair out and screaming obscenities at the Universe lately. I can't help it when my baby cries in agony for months with no medical relief, or when one or both of them try to stop breathing within days of each other. And lets not even start with the dog... who knew canines were such the drama inducing things they are?

As it is, the dresses turned out to be great-fine-andwhatever. I ended up using the remnant of Kyra's dress to make the baby doll's dress. The tops of the dresses for the girl and the baby were different, but as it turned out, the kid didn't seem to care two shits. She ripped open the paper, casually showed her mother the dress and then pulled a, LOOK MOMMY, A DOLL DRESS!!!!

It was priceless in my mind and was perfect for my bruised ego.

Landing on top of that, this week I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies that were dairy, soy, egg, gluten, corn and nut free for the girls' ice skating class. Apparently it's chock full of needy little food allergy babies. The last day of every session the coaches generously set up a table with juices and cookies for the kids and parents. This session, we came to find out 4 out of the 6 kids have food allergies. And not the same ones.

I was able to accommodate 3 out of the 4 with my cookies. The 4th kid's dad said he was allergic to nuts (among other things he listed that aren't involved in cookies). When I said, Oh, he can have these, I made them without this, this and this... the dad then looked at me and said, He's allergic to coconut. Now, I'm not sure if he classifies this as part of the nut group (it's not) or if he forgot to mention it when I was proclaiming how fantastic coconut oil is in place of butter. Either way, I tried. And 5 out of 6 kids, plus their parents and 2 coaches got to indulge in some yummy goodness.

I was handed two email addresses asking that I forward the recipe along. To which I did. The replies I got back were beautiful.

One ended her with, And thank you for easing my new-skating-mom nerves this session. [My child] and I both appreciate it.

I honestly helped her out once, the first day, when she was a novice at tying skates and then pinched her child's neck with the helmet strap. I watched her flounder, get frustrated and start to pack her bags before I stepped in to help. I talked to her teary eyed tot in my most soothing Mommy Voice. Showed her how to hold on to me while she put her foot in the skate. I spoke gently as I showed the best way to tie the skate. And I managed to gain enough trust from the child that, while she refused her mother's attempts to strap on her helmet, she allowed me.

I told the mother how I made all these same mistakes with Kyra. I told her how it's a right of passage for us mothers to fail miserably with crying children and a captive audience to boot. It just the way this world works.

One kind gesture and eight weeks of chit-chat on the ice-- and she's thanking me. I never thought to sit down and write a thank you to the people who helped me. But when I saw this mother and her daughter struggle the same way I have, I knew it was my turn to pay it forward.

The second reply ended with, You and Jeremy are great parents!

The second one especially touched my heart. It was from one of the girls' coaches. She's watched us, and coached Kyra, for the last two years. She's seen Lydia's tantrums, watched Kyra's flightiness. She's seen me discipline poor behavior, praise the good behavior and refuse to give excuses when the girls don't act or listen respectfully. She's seen, essentially, the good, bad and the occasional ugly.

It's times like these, these tiny, miniscule reminders, that among all our chaos, there is inherently something right in this world. That *I* am doing something right in this world. I am a good parent, a good friend and a good person.

I have my shortcomings, sure. Especially when the world seems to be crashing down around me and I'm hen-pecking my husband to death. But in the end, I'm doing something right.

At least, I hope I am.

Where's the Easy Button?

2011-12-02T10:25:00.005-05:00

Holy Mother of all things good, please grant me just an OUNCE of your patience and grace.

We have a birthday part to attend tomorrow. Tuesday, Kyra and I made the little girl a dress. Out of the scraps for the dress, we were going to make a baby doll dress, today.

This morning (Okay, fine, it's still morning. 20 minutes ago) I heard Kyra get up and entertain herself quietly. I heard her make herself breakfast. I heard Lydia get up and they entertained themselves quietly some more. What I didn't know was that while Lydia was entertaining herself with coloring, Kyra was hacking up the scraps for the doll dress in an effort to "help" me make it.

SHE HACKED UP THE USABLE SCRAPS. TO HELP.

I know, I get it. She was trying to help and was very proud of herself until I started asking in a hysterical voice, What did you do? What did you doooo???

While I was actually proud of myself for not yelling, because inside my head I was SCREAMING, my reaction still crushed any pride Kyra once had. And I'm fairly torn with this.

This isn't the first time Kyra has picked up a piece of scrap I was intending to create into something and hacked it up. In fact.... THIS IS THE THIRD TIME. And, since I can only assume 3 is the magic number lately, she might, you know, QUIT IT!

On the other hand, the last thing I want to do is squash her creative streak. The other two times I didn't get hysterical and spoke nothing more then a, I was planning something for that fabric so please use your manners and ask permission next time. I will gladly find something for you.

The thing is, there is no point in the dress for the birthday girl without the matching dress for her baby doll. The birthday girl eats, sleeps and breathes all things baby. To the point they dress alike. SHE DRESSES LIKE HER BABY DOLL. Her baby doll that, by sheer luck, still has a skirt for a dress but has no top.

GAHHHH!

Well, what can I do? What's done is done.

I can't figure out a way to fix it without making seams where seams don't need to be. If I had the skills of the Sewing Diva I learned this trick from, it would be no problem. But I don't. I have the sewing skills of a novice. An easily flustered novice, at that.

Its times like this I miss Facebook. A quick picture with caption and people smarter then I would chime in where needed.

As it is, maybe while cleaning my house an idea will come. Maybe. Still, GAHHH!

Wanted: Functioning Brain. Or Xanax. Either One Works.

2011-12-01T22:37:00.000-05:00

I'm fairly certain my brain has vacated my skull. My reasonings for this are far to vast for me to recall, but I'll give you a few examples.

(1) The vet has called several times in the last week and a half about anything from updating us on Bishop's current medical crisis to sending him home and calling every other day to ask us about Bishop's current medical crisis. My brain became so muddled I asked the very patient doc to please call my uncle [who is also a vet] and relay all this information to him so he could, in turn, help me translate and make an actual informed decision on what's best for our pup instead of trying to guess which door was hiding the All Expenses Paid Caribbean Vacation Package to Aruba Where Someone Will Toss My Dead Body Into the Water and Get Away With Murder!

Believe me, that door prize would have been a welcomed relief after all the crazy shit that's gone down.

(2) My house is a wreck. I've found myself retreating to my bedroom every night only to fall asleep at some ungodly early hour so I can wake up, feel disgusted at the state of my house and march the children out the door for some activity that has nothing to do with cleaning my filthy house. Anyone who knows anything about me knows that a dirty house drives me up the mother fucking wall. And, yet, I haven't done a thing about it. Not one thing past bare minimum.

And (3) Today, I took the girls to get their Christmas pictures. Every year, after I make them sit still and behave like muted, hogtied monkeys as I pick out what to order, I reward them with a trip to see Santa. I also shell out bare minimum to purchase the smallest portrait package available for a keepsake photo. This year's picture? Left on Sears' bathroom floor. I realized this, oooh.... about 4 hours after the fact. And an hour away from Sears.

Now I'm in a debate with my brain of do I call Sears to see if someone found my lost 5x7's or do I chalk it up to a $20 keepsake gone and never to return.

Ahh...

Jer tells me I'm probably over scheduled. And I'd be willing to guess he's right. I haven't stopped life except to run small children and pets back and forth to doctor's appointments. Which, come to think of it, isn't really stopping-- is it?

I need a vacation. Not necessarily one to Aruba. But not one to a corn field in the middle of harvest season, either.

[Oh, hey! Didn't I tell you? We went to The Land of the CornHusker and on Halloween night Lydia came home with a rashy face! To what we can only assume to be all the corn whatnots VISIBLY FLOATING through the air. Boy, that was good times! Keeping 6 small children in the house for a week so one of them doesn't come back looking like splotchy awesomeness...]

Better yet, maybe what I need is a good doctor that could get me a Xanax prescription.

I wonder if they prescribe it intravenously...?

Inhale.... Exhale....

2011-11-26T23:10:00.006-05:00

Kyra is doing fine. Her pediatrician says we should expect her to need to use her nebulizer every time she gets a virus, since that seems to be what sets off her asthma. Specifically when we hear that croupy cough she seems to catch Every. Year.

[Side note: did you know most children catch croup once in their life time, occasionally twice, and develop a natural immunity to it? Ya. Well. Kyra's had it the last 5 years. Because she's awesome like that. Overachiever all the way.]

We now have medicines, nebulizers, steroids and inhalers, to help prevent any future ambulance emergencies.

**************

Lydia is also much better. Her croup has developed into an, Awww, that poor baby... kind of cough. I'll take it. Anything but the wheezy, thin, gaspy breaths she started out with.

With any luck, this will also be the first and last time she has croup.

**************

Bishop is home but still refusing to eat anything that is not canned tuna. We're waiting on test results to come back this next week. Possible cancer, possible tick born disease. Neither one ideal. We're expecting the worst while hoping for the best. As with most things, only time will tell.

**************

I'm thankful for this experience. Well, not so much this experience, but the friends who drove 22 hours to spend this week with us, not knowing what lie ahead. The friends who stuck by, watched my family fall apart, one by one, and stood there holding the pieces, holding us, until we could stitch ourselves back together in time for Thanksgiving dinner.

I don't know how many times I apologized for how the week turned out. Or how many times I was told it wasn't our fault and, "Maybe this is why God sent us to your house this week."

Friends. Best friends. They don't get any better than ours.

3's

2011-11-22T01:33:00.002-05:00

Saturday, 1AM, Kyra wakes up in severe respiratory distress and we had to call an ambulance for help [for the second time in 18 months]. Monday afternoon she's formally diagnosed with asthma by her pediatrician.
Monday, 4:30PM, dogs visit the vet for yearly vaccinations. Bishop hasn't eaten a thing all weekend. He's put in puppy hospital because his pancreas is shutting down.
Monday, 10PM, Lydia wakes up in respiratory distress and Jeremy drives her to the ER. She has a nasty case of Croup. We are ordered to stick her outside in the below freezing temperatures if she's in distress again.

Life happens in 3's, right? 3 major incidents in 3 days. I think we ought to be good through the New Year...

At the very least.

Monday, Monday

2011-10-24T10:14:00.003-05:00

I can think of better ways to spend our Monday then to be hold up in a hotel room while insisting to Lydia that No, you are not hungry because that is the 4th bowl of jello you've had this morning and ITS ONLY 10 O'CLOCK!

I have no doubt the child is probably starving to death already. By this time, most mornings, she's already consumed one banana, one bowl of cereal and a piece of toast and jelly while still begging for more to eat.

As it is, by the time noon comes around, the jello will disappear in favor of a spiced cider I slow brewed yesterday. Though, I am going to lace it with 238 grams of Mirilax. And when she finishes a half gallon of that its....

JELLO AND CHICKEN BROTH TO YOUR HEART'S CONTENT!

Oh the joyous time we shall have, today.

I bet tomorrow will be even better when we wake her up before the ass crack of dawn, refuse her anything by mouth and then haul her down to the hospital for a 2 hour wait before her procedure.

You'd think, being a children's hospital and all, they'd have a better schedule devised then requiring us to show up at 6:45 for a 9am procedure with a starved 2 year old. But then again, I bet they're completely used to it. It'll probably be me who is driven insane.

As it is....

I can still think of better ways to spend a Monday then to be hold up in a hotel room-- like having a pap smear. Yes, I'd rather lie back and stare at a blank ceiling while someone makes me feel as awkward as possible. At least it's quick.

One Song, Three Takes

2011-10-17T19:43:00.000-05:00

I found this song cover on an internet news report somewhere:

Which then led me to find this cover of the same song:

And now I can't decide which one I love more. That girl can belt away. But Linkin Park... how I've loved them a long time.

Though, if you ask Lydia what her favorite cover is, she'd tell you this one:

That little girl is so stinking cute! Lydia loves to watch this videos and sing along, mumbling her way through the chorus.

Light Bulb Moment

2011-10-12T22:14:00.002-05:00

I was going to take a break from moaning and complaining about the state of our littlest, but something happened last night that gave me a mental break through and has seemed to calm my soul a bit....

Last night Lydia vomited all over my bed. [3AM awesomeness, right there...]

On the drive home from our field trip today, I started thinking, last night was INCREDIBLY reminiscent of something I wrote back in March of 2010.

"...3AM, the crying started. Then the coughing. Followed by the vomiting."

And suddenly this last weeks turn of events has made complete and total sense. The swollen belly, the come and go rashes, the vomiting, the knees to chest colicky cries and Dr Jekyll/Mr Hyde behavior... it's all the same in a more verbally complaining form.

GI Doc said last Thursday she thought Lydia might be outgrowing her prescription for Zantac and how we might need to find her a stronger medicine. And I'd be willing to bet top dollar she's right.

Which would probably be why she gets paid the big bucks and I get a medically bizarre child.

The shit that's been going down.... its EXACTLY like it was BEFORE +the Blessed Zantac Gods+ came along. The difference is she's verbalizing it in word form, now, where as before it was incessant screaming and tantrum throwing and Jer and I would have no clue what the fuck was wrong.

The addition of phrases like "belly/neck/eyes/nose hurt" have added a whole new spin on things. Almost like it was easier to deal when she wasn't CONFIRMING that yes, Stupid Parent, there is, in fact, something NOT RIGHT WITH THIS PICTURE.

Once this dawned on me, it was like my brain stopped blaming itself for being a complete suck of a parent. If this theory is correct, then it's out of my control. All I can do is make her comfortable until her scopes and medication change happens.

At least now I know one thing for sure, her fruit intake is being cut back down to 2 servings a day and no later then 4 hours before bed time.

Hopefully, that will squelch the early morning vomit sessions.

Only time will tell...

Coping with the Better and the Not So Good

2011-10-11T21:54:00.001-05:00

Since I left off, we did end up in the ER with Lydia Friday night.

By the time she awoke from her nap, she was running a 101.5 fever and in sever pain.

She seems to have stopped screaming when she's in pain. Instead she closes her eyes and sucks her thumb while moaning and grunting continuously. Think Lamaze breathing. Now picture a two year old doing it.... There, that's Lydia. That's how she's coping.

According to the ER, Lydia is suffering from gastroenteritis, a.k.a., the flu. The sent me home with instructions on how to care for her as she vomits and has diarrhea. Neither symptom, mind you, did or does she present.

Obviously they have no clue.

Saturday went better then Friday. She complained of her belly hurting but desperately wanted to spend our rare, warm fall day playing outside. Jeremy took her to the park where he said she'd take off running, grunt, pause, grab her stomach and shut her eyes. Jer'd ask her if she was okay and she'd reply, "Yee-ya belly hurt. Yee-ya go pay."

No belly pain was gonna stop her from trying to have a good time.

Sunday was about the same, minus all the playing. She hardly picked at breakfast, curled up in our laps at church, sucking her thumb and occasionally telling us her belly hurt. She managed to finish her meager lunch of cucumbers and crackers over the span of 2 hours time, took a nap and woke up to proclaim her belly hurt and she wanted to watch a "Moo-me, peas." Supper was mostly played with.

Yesterday was better. Less complaining, more eating. Still not the norm. But today seems to have taken a step back, reminiscent of Friday without the dramatic evening turn of events.

Who knows what tomorrow will hold. It seems she's having better days and not so good days. No signs of getting back to normal. Not yet, anyhow.

I'm coping, too. Letting her get away with lots of bad habits I've worked hard to break or minimize.
Midnight requests to sleep with Mommy.
Grazing meals through out the day.
Picking her up, carrying her around on request.
Sucking her thumb.

At this point in time, I'm willing to do anything to make her more comfortable.

[Sigh]

Helpless

2011-10-07T14:11:00.000-05:00

She's doing it again. The "belly hurt." The thumb sucking, muffled grunts. The closed eyes, curled legs. Slight, one hundred degree temperature.

She's two. Two year olds don't sit on the couch for four hours reading books. Leaving only for retrieval of a new stack of books or bathroom breaks.

Sure, she's not screaming and writhing in pain this time; but neither is Comfortable her middle name.

I don't know what to do for her. After nearly three years, I'm well aware doctors don't have a fucking clue what kind of freak study she is and, therefore, don't want to get too involved. The GI doctor is too far away to pop in and say, "Oh, hey-- by the way-- do you mind taking a quick sneak peek and letting me know I'M NOT FUCKING CRAZY!"

This is, by far, the worst part of being a parent. The complete and total inability to take away pain and suffering of one of your most precious loves.

If I could have one magical power, that would be it, the ability to siphon pain.

How Lydia Baffles Modern Medicine, Again

2011-10-06T23:55:00.004-05:00

It's like a dream, these past two days. A, What the Fuck Just Happened? or What the Fuck Was That?, kind of a dream.

Wednesday, watching Kyra skate on the ice, Lydia playing around the entrance, myself, talking to a new friend.

Lydia comes to me several times, "Mommy, my belly hurt."
"I'm sorry, Babe. What can I do?" She runs off to play again.

Then it happened. Doubled over, clutching her stomach, screaming with such agony I haven't heard before. "MY BELLY HURT, MOMMY!"

I pick her up, squeeze her tight. We sit down on the bleachers as I apologize to my friend, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on. This isn't normal. This isn't like her. She has issues, but this isn't noramal."

I excuse myself to call the pediatrician. With Lydia screaming into my neck, I barely hear the nurse tell me to take her to Urgent Care. Rushing back in to collect Kyra and our things, I apologize again. "I don't know what's going on, this isn't normal," I keep thinking aloud, as Kyra's coach strips her of her skates and stuffs her into boots. My friend, looking on, confused and helpless.

Urgent Care employees take our information and whisk us to a room immediately. The nurse starts checking vitals as Lydia continues her guttural screams, squishing her knees to her chest. It's then I notice how her stomach is contracting, almost reminiscent of severe menstrual cramps or labor contractions.

By the time the doctor comes in to check her, she'd been crying for nearly an hour before she cried herself to sleep. The examination is done with Lydia in my arms, curled around my waist. She never stirs.

The doctor is confused.   Knowing Lydia's GI history and her impending appointment less then 24 hours away, invasive actions might be more of a hindrance then a help. X-ray of the abdomen is ordered.

Lydia wakes shortly thereafter, sucking her thumb, looking confused for a few moments until she hears a door close. "What's that?" she perks up, sly smile spread across her face as if nothing has ever happened.

By the time the doctor comes back in to check on us, Lydia's chatting away in the most animated, two year old fashion. A happy, confusing sight.

X-rays are taken, Jeremy arrives, Lydia's asked to dance and jump with the doctor. Normal. She's completely normal.

Jeremy takes the girls to the registration area while I sit in the room, waiting to sign the discharge papers. Just as the nurse finalizes the computer, in through the doors Jeremy strides, with a screaming Lydia. Curled up, knees to chest, begging for Mommy.

Consultations are made. Second doctor comes in with the first. Confusion. Utter, confusion. Clearly no one knows what to make of this.

We can't treat with pain medication because it could irritate her already temperamental GI track. Can't do invasive procedures because it could hinder her appointment the following day.

Damn it. Why couldn't this happen on Thursday?

Discharged again. Chalking it up to constipation and gas. The kid, who 6 months ago, shit 8-12 times a day. The kid, who still today craps no less then 2-4 times a day. Constipation is the least of our worries.

Whatever puts your mind at ease, doc. Clearly you're wishing, just as much as I am, that we were near our GI and not three hours away.

Screaming and writhing in pain, I strap Lydia into her carseat.

She suffers these painful bouts until we get her to sleep at ten o'clock at night, in a hotel room.

This morning she wakes up fine. Perfectly and absolutely fine.

Her GI doctor runs over yesterday's events with us as she watches Lydia squat on the floor, banging two cars into each other before sending one racing into the wall with squeals of delight. You'd never know anything out of the ordinary ever happened.

History of the last six months given, how everything went perfectly fine until mid August, when things started to fall apart. Abdominal distention, belly aches and not sleeping through the night are rehashed. Complaints of, "my neck hurt" and an associated cough are new issues.

GI doctor suspects Lydia is outgrowing her current Zantac dose and a stronger acid medicine could be necessary. This is not a good thing, she says. Children her age should grow out of these things, not need stronger medicines. It's also mentioned how this is a sign she might not be a candidate to come off of antacid prescriptions. I can't help and think, "long term or short term?" ...but I never ask.

Scopes are ordered for later this month. They're looking at both the top and bottom of Lydia's GI system. The only problem GI doctor foresees, the anesthesia usually used to put the patient to sleep is soy based. As of last week's food challenge, Lydia still doesn't tolerate soy. There will be discussions in the coming weeks to find an alternative.

No one knows what the hell happened yesterday. Jeremy and I continue to turn it over, discuss it. Did we change something? She doesn't react unless we change something. Even then, she doesn't react like this.   This was new, brand new. Similar to her uncontrollably crying colic days, but not the same.

Maybe it was a fluke. Or maybe it's something more.   Maybe the invasive scoping will finally give us more answers then questions. Or maybe we'll be left right where we are today, coping with the black and white we know while dancing around the uncertain grey.

SUR-PRIZE! It's a dollar!

2011-10-03T20:26:00.002-05:00

Kyra lost her first baby tooth Saturday morning while eating a banana. The tooth fairy has yet to pay a visit.

That makes me sound like a total failure of a tooth fairy, doesn't it? Yes, yes, I see you all nodding your heads. Don't you think I have a perfectly good explanation?

Kyra has a burning desire to keep her tooth-- and still get her "prize."

What prize, you may ask? Kyra has it in her head that the tooth fairy is going to bring her some candy and a toothbrush as payment for her lost tooth.

Don't ask me where she comes up with this crap...

She thinks that if she writes the tooth fairy a note, she or he will leave her tooth under her pillow along with her prize. Which, is A-OK with this fairy.

Mostly.

Saturday comes, she forgets to write her note. We tell her she can write it tomorrow.

Sunday, still no note. Well, Babe, we will definitely write it tomorrow.

Today, as part of her school work, she writes her note. And then goes to bed not knowing where her tooth is. Excellent.

With any luck, tomorrow night, her 4th toothless night, the tooth fairy will FINALLY come and leave a prize under her pillow.

Hopefully she'll settle for a dollar she can use to buy her own toothbrush. Besides, I'm not giving up my candy for a tooth that can't enjoy it.

The Price of Changing Leaves

2011-10-02T19:47:00.005-05:00

Lydia has a doctor's appointment this week with her Pediatric GI. We are hoping beyond hope that they'll scope her.

That sounds very mean, doesn't it?

Excuse me, Doc, do you mind shoving a camera enabled tube down her throat and possible up her ass, too. If it's not too much trouble, mind you.

The issues we have are (1) the leaves are changing and (2) the city we're traveling to is at least a 3 hour drive. These wouldn't be problems if her appointments weren't always at the ass crack of dawn. Because of our early appointment, we need to find a hotel room for the night before. And not just any hotel room, one with a kitchen in it since our delicate little flower can't eat restaurant food for shit without reacting to the unknown.

The place we stayed back in April was lovely. Affordable over priced, yes, but lovely. To stay in that same hotel this week, it's MORE THEN DOUBLE the previously affordable over priced rate.

Let that sink in.... MORE. THAN. DOUBLE. the price.

Because leaves will be at their peak. The cost, per night, to see a stupid red, yellow, or orange leaf is THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS.

Oh, fuck me.

I guess I'll just take it out of Lydia's college fund. Not like she'll be able to afford college, anyhow, what, with all that expensive fresh, non processed and pasture raised food she'll have to buy. And I'd like to see just how much time she'll have to study since everything she cooks will have to be made completely from scratch.

The price we pay for our Wee Delicate Flower.

She better remember this when she's picking out the nursing home for Jeremy and myself in 40 years.

Problem Solving

2011-09-28T18:36:00.006-05:00

Kyra is, apparently, a pretty good ice skater. You could call it, her thing. Her knack in life.

She's surpassed the "Learn to Skate" classes. This summer we put her into something called "Bridge." It's supposed to be for the kids in between L2S and full on private lessons.

The problem is, Bridge is where Kyra should be, but its is also what the rest of her class has accomplished at the ages of 10-12. Kyra may have the skills to be there, she doesn't quite have the maturity to be there.

While the other girls are standing still, listening intently to what the coach is telling them, Kyra is skating circles around the group. When the coach tells them to try the new move she just showed them, Kyra's watching the other girls to figure out where she's supposed to be. When the coach calls them back in, Kyra skates as fast as she can, bear hugs the teacher and then jumps up and down asking if the coach saw what she did.

All things you'd expect from a newly 6 year old. Though, not so much appropriate for the class she's in.

Jeremy and I have discussed it on and off with her coach and we have 3 options:

No one honestly believes she fits well in the Bridge class, though, clearly she did learn new skills from it. We could try it again and maybe there might be some new, younger, student to join, too, or maybe Kyra will start to pick up on the older girls' cues.
We also all believed that if we stepped her back down to the L2S level, she could still practice the skills she already knows while working on her technique; not to mention she'll be with kids closer in age and maturity. The downside is, she isn't learning anything new and because she's not learning anything new, she tends to be less interested and more space cadet -ish.
A third option would be to start private lessons. Once a week, half hour lesson, half hour practice. Though, admittingly, more expensive. It also means we'll be starting to commit more to the sport, which is a scary thing to do when your kid is only 6.

I'm not sure what the right answer is.

Jer and I thought we had our minds made up to put her back into L2S so she'd be with kids (slightly older at her level, but still).

Then, this weekend her coach emailed us to say she'd like us to come in for a private lesson this week, as there was a new student on the ice. A soon-to-be 6 year old homeschooler.

This is important information.

NONE of Kyra's homeschool friends ice skate. Kyra has taken notice. It makes her feel like no one in her skating class(es) like her because they all know each other from school and don't always talk/play with her.

Today we had that private lesson, where she met a very friendly and delightful little girl. Kyra's talking about her like she's her new best friend.

To top that off, our coach gave us another option for private lessons that would be significantly cheaper then what we had anticipated. It'll be as if we're swapping horse riding lessons for private ice lessons, monetarily. And since we're finished riding this season....

Learn to Skate: less cost, group lessons.
Private Lessons: manageable cost, a single friendship.

...now that I write it out, I think the solution is obvious.

First Day

2011-09-25T21:01:00.003-05:00

Of Catechism, CCD, Religious Education or whatever they decided to rename it this year, Kyra comes home to tell me, "My school is NOT about church, it's about GOD!"

Well, okay then. Obviously you have not been listening all these years in church.

2011-09-24T00:58:00.002-05:00

You know what? There really is life after Facebook. And, surprisingly, it is so. much. better!

It's funny, because way back when I signed up for it, I stated I thought it was crap. Okay, well, I didn't say it was crap, I said I didn't know if I care all that much about it. And, strangely enough, for two whole years I've been saying again and again how stupid the site is and how I should really remove myself from it, and, yet, there I sat. Obsessively glued to Facebook as if Jesus, Himself, was going to appear at any moment with a band of leprechauns leading a baby unicorn, and they would all be surrounded by a flutter of ferries.

This Spring, I got to talking to my most favorite aunt in the world about how Facebook really is very stupid.... unless you like to be nosy and all into other people's business. She asked what I posted about, so I told her. The most stupid, pointless crap imaginable: What chores I did that day, what I was cooking, plans for the day.

Really? Whooo caaares...?

A couple weeks ago, I got into a typing argument with someone I actually really like and admire on Facebook. But they were out of line... for the third time in six months... and I felt the need to point that out. And then, like you'd expect, things went south from there.

It was at that point when I realized, I'm arguing with someone I care about, on a site I frequently think of abandoning. So I quit.

I. Quit. Facebook.

And, ya know what? I have since started perusing the internet again. Looking for SOMETHING to keep me entertained. Which has lead me to Mumford and Sons who, yes, I could listen to their album on repeat all. day. long. (okay, maybe not all day, but a round or two...)

Through YouTube-ing all things Mumford, I found the movie Like Minds. (In a very, vastly odd, round about way are the two connected.) Its a really, really creepy movie that I recommend only smart people to watch. I had to remember what I learned in high school of The Canterbury Tales to understand some reasoning and that's just wrong for a movie to make you recall such complicatedly written, historical nonsense.

Don't get me wrong, I liked learning the historical nonsense-- I hated reading it.

And lets face it, even my historically smart husband came back after watching it and said with a sly grin, "What the fuck was that?" Good movie, if you're smart enough to understand it. And I barely made the cut.

I've also somehow, though I don't remember what led me there, found episodes of The Graham Norton Show on YouTube. Funniest talk show EVER. I mourn that they don't show it here in America. Seriously, let this clip cue up to the minute thirty/minute fourty-five mark, you'll thank me later.

And now that it seems like I'm becoming slightly obsessed with British entertainment, let me just say... Apparently I am. I'm even rereading the Harry Potter series for the second time. I read it for the first time this summer at Jeremy's request, with a little extra prodding from my friend Jennifer.

Biggest waste of time that I hate to put down.

Moral of the story: Good bye Facebook, hello pointless internet searches! Trading one vice for another.

Decision Time and 9 Months Early!

2011-09-15T19:17:00.001-05:00

Jeremy got a list of possible commands for next June's start of a new sea tour. Our options, as it stands today, is to head back to the Toxic Crap Hole or venture into new territory: Granola Nation, Beach Tans Required, or The Pacific Speck.

Vague. I know. I like to keep it that way so our families will never find us.

Now, our first hope was for Granola Nation, but they only have 1 boat available for Jeremy's position. So, if we jump on that train QUICKLY we'll be set. It's a type of boat Jeremy is used to, but not the schedule I was hoping for. Which is fine. Really. Life is life and then we move on.

Our second hope was to head back to the Toxic Crap Hole. We've been there. We have friends there. Life will continue on as we've always known it. But, then, where's the excitement and adventure in that?

Next up, we have Beach Tans Required. Its exotic, expensive and comes with overpriced food and teeny-tiny-housing. But, if you're living your life and homeschooling your kids on the beach... who cares if you're broke and live in a shanty!

Finally we have The Pacific Speck. Which we know absolutely nothing about. Except, HEY! WE'LL BE OUT OF THE COUNTRY! WON'T THAT BE EXCITING?!

I'm kinda leaning to Granola Nation or The Pacific Speck. Jeremy seems to be shooting for anywhere that isn't the Mason Dixon Line.

Where to go, where to go...

Happy Birthday, My Love

2011-09-13T22:06:00.000-05:00

It's almost as if...

The older Kyra gets

The worse Jeremy's ability

To scan a decent picture becomes.

At least you get the idea,

My baby hardly resembles a baby anymore.

Happy [Music] Place

2011-09-13T00:09:00.001-05:00

Why has no one told me about Mumford and Sons?

I'm addicted to this group. Hopelessly, pointlessly, neglecting my life's duties kind of addicted.

I think my favorite song might be either Timshel, Sigh No More or White Blank Page because they are simply beautiful songs. But I also wouldn't count out Little Lion Man as my favorite for it's wonderful use of the word "Fucked" in the chorus.

Never underestimate the power of a great cuss word said with a British accent.

Though, my favorite songs may even be The Cave and Dust Bowl Dance, as it was the first songs I heard/video watched and had the overwhelming urge to stomp my foot through the whole damned thing.

Certainly couldn't be because I interpret The Cave to be a giant Fuck. You. song and in Dust Bowl he happily sings about and admits to murder.

[Why, yes, I'm actaully in a GREAT mood, why would do you question?]

I bought the CD today. I never buy CD's. There isn't a single song on there I don't love in one way or another. Best ten dollars I've spent in a while.

"So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down
You can understand dependence
When you know the maker's hand

So make your siren's call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say

Because I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it's meant to be

And I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again"

I've found my happy place in life again, that's for sure. It didn't take finding a fantastic new band to do it, but... it doesn't hurt.

Purgatory Dues Paid? -- Check

2011-09-06T21:42:00.001-05:00

D'ya know those parts in life, the ones where you're positive there is a Heaven and a Hell, and you're certain at that very moment that you're somewhere in between?

We, Catholics, call that Purgatory. And I'm pretty sure that is where I've hovered for the last 9 weeks.

The good news is, The Kid goes back to school tomorrow.

[cue angels singing] HALLELUJAH!

The even better news is, I'm pretty sure I've served my time in Purgatory and I'm now going to get to Heaven.

Or, maybe I just spent my Labor Day weekend in Heaven.

***************

This last weekend, Jer and I left the girls with our neighbors and headed off to New York City for three days and two nights and IT. WAS. BLISSFUL.

Friday we arrived, checked into The Alex Hotel (which is currently running a 50% off military discount!!!) where I drooled over the limestone bathroom with a tub so deep one could easily drown while Jer drooled over the television in the bathroom.

Boys are so stupid with their silly electronics obsessions.

Friday night, we went to see the play How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, and can I just say, we totally booked these tickets because of Dan Radcliffe and John Larroquette. It. Was. Fucking. Phenomenal! My cheeks were quivering by the end of the show because I couldn't stop smiling and laughing through the whole thing.

So funny. So very, very funny!

Saturday we saw a 2 o'clock showing of Anything Goes. Which with all their acting, singing and holy shit amazing tap dancing-- we left there being both blown away and feeling wholly inadequately talented.

Saturday at 8 o'clock we stopped in to see Memphis. Another fantastic performance. Just. Amazing.

The thing was, How to Succeed was so amazingly funny and left us on such a high note Friday, we wanted to leave Sunday on the same high note.... So we bought tickets to see it a second time.

Which... was even funnier then the first.

I'm pretty well certain, it is John Laroquette's job to try and make Daniel completely crack up on stage, which he somehow manages not to do (more then a tongue in cheek grin and a wipe of the mouth or scratch of the face recovery). This only leads the rest of the audience to die with laughter and roar with applause.

And I can't forget to mention the Nephew character who is a giant scene stealer. Spot. on. timing.

******************

In essence, I guess what I'm trying to say is that my idea of Heaven is, apparently, a child free weekend, with my beloved husband, piddling around and watching Broadway Musicals.

The only thing better might have been if my babies had been in the city with us.

And also in the care of sitters while we saw the plays.

It was nice to get away but I had missed them so sorely that when we arrived home at 10:30 Sunday night I ran next door and insisted we carry them home to sleep in their own beds.

You know, just so it would be me they woke up bright and early Monday morning.

Yes. This weekend, I was in Heaven.

Stressed

2011-08-10T09:33:00.002-05:00

I'm stressed and I'm strained and I am, honestly, not dealing very well inside.

I baby sit a kid. A kid who comes to me with issues. Issues beyond my control. Issues that affect me. And my children. Issues that I was sure, if I could just keep the child's life constant, here, in my house, we could work things out. Teach right and wrong. Consequence and reward. Kindness and respect.

Four and a half weeks in, things are no better then day one. And worse, my children are starting to pick up on this poor behavior.

There are 4 more weeks until school starts. But I'm not sure we're going to make it until that point.

Every morning, I wake with a feeling of foreboding. Every day, I wish to tell the parent I can't do this anymore. Every night, I fall asleep with the regret of not speaking up.

I also feel immense guilt. I feel like I'm giving up on a child. And that thought tears me apart. Tears my heart to shreds.

The kid needs stability. Structure. And someone to guide the way.

Its hard. The kid seems to lack sympathy and empathy, caring what is right and wrong and whose feelings are hurt. The kid pushes boundaries, ignores requests and breaks all the rules, and a lot of the toys.

The kid lacks discipline but is full of entitlement. Speaking with the parent, its obviously a norm in their house, though probably exasperated by the recent upheavals they have faced.

But when the kid is good, the kid shines. Climbs in my lap, longing for attention. Showers kisses, petting my arms and face. Eager to be doted upon, eager to please.

That's when my heart aches. The bad times are more frequent then the good. But the good times are great.

And I'm at a complete loss as to what to do. How to cope. How to move forward.

Four more weeks. A blink of an eye. One can hope, right?

2011-07-04T22:43:00.003-05:00

Day 5 of the raw milk and it seems to be working well for Lydia... I think.

She seems to sport some impressive flatulence since the introduction and her stool is a bit on the mushier side. Think melting ice cream texture. [Was that a bit TMI?] These could be attributed to the extra bacteria the raw milk is introducing into her system-- or it could be signs that doom is poking around the next corner. Hard to tell, sometimes.

The good news is her belly isn't firm and distended. She's slept beautifully through the night for the last week. [A trend she started before the raw milk and has continued. Boy, how I missed sleep.] She's not crying that her belly hurts nor is she pulling Jekyll and Hyde behavior. And, most obvious, there are no rashes of any sort. All signs and symptoms things might not be turning south for us.

So far, so good. I must admit, though, I'm still afraid to exhale.

Day 2 of Lydia's swim lessons kinda-sorta went maybe a smidgen better then day 1. She spent the first 15 minutes refusing to go into the water. Then the teacher told me we could try letting Kyra swim with their class for a bit and see of Lydia co-operates then.

No such luck.

The instructor then said if I don't mind Lydia crying, neither does she. And since Lydia cries ALL. THE. TIME. I plunked the kid into the water and went to sit down.

Lydia spent the next 10 minutes screaming for me as the teacher dragged her along with the rest of the class to the other end of the pool. Once there, she saw that they were jumping off into the deep end and she shut her pie hole and started to have fun for the last 5 minutes of class.

When it was Lydia's turn to get out and Kyra's turn to start her class, Lydia then threw a tantrum because, how dare we let Kyra swim without her. The horror!

Yesterday, at church, one of the ladies we know by sight came up to us and asked how old Lydia was. I responded, "two and a half." She said next week they're going to have their 2 year old niece with them and how her parents don't attend church so they are worried as to how she'll react.

She went on to say that sometimes as they talk to father and talk about how well behaved our girls are in church and how they wondered if Jeremy was in the military and they aren't sure what we're doing with the girls but whatever it is, we're doing it right. How that connects, I don't know. I've seen some pretty rotten kids from military parents the same as I've seen some pretty rotten kids from civilian parents. Either way, I'll take the compliment!

Though it got me wondering, who are they? We've never formally introduced ourselves to any of the priests of our church. Nor have we registered with this parish. [Yes, we've been attending for 2 years, now. We're a bit on the slow side.] I get that we sit front and center every Sunday, but how often are they talking about us? And is it always such glowing reviews as this?

Last night the girls spent the night next door with our neighbors. Or, as Lydia calls them, Granma and Papa. They're an older couple. One son. No grandchildren. They've adopted our children as their grandchildren and dote on them the way any grandparent would by letting them eat what they wanted (last night is was a cucumber, tomato, carrot and cantaloupe smorgasbord), stay up until 9 o'clock at night and then letting the girls play in bed until they fell asleep.

To take advantage of our child free night... Jer and I did a whole lot of nothing. We went to Wal-Mart to pick up more stripped fabric for Kyra's dress and then came home and watched movies. It was lovely. And fabulous. And I got to sleep until 9:20 this morning.

I still say Jer and I don't necessarily need date nights. But it does help tremendously to not only have an uninterrupted night of sleep, but the the extra blessing of sleeping late, too.

This week, life. was. good.

The Raw Milk Challenge

2011-06-30T14:15:00.001-05:00

Some how, it miraculously came to be that I ran out of Lydia's coconut milk when making the blueberry muffins yesterday morning.

It also miraculously came to be that during the girls' naps I came across a blog about raw milk while researching dairy, soy and corn intolerance.

In this post, it talks about a family who had two small children with diary issues and somehow they came to start drinking raw milk and miraculously the whole family could drink and use dairy again without consequence.

So then I started to search my best friend, Dr. Google, for dairy intolerance and raw milk. Low and behold, there are people in this world who can not tolerate pasteurized milk, but can tolerate raw milk. Something about lacking stomach enzymes and raw milk bacteria helps with this problem and a whole bunch of other stuff I can't regurgitate combined with a whole lot of other whatnot.

I googled the shit out of this subject until 3 in the morning.

It turns out that this pasteurized milk intolerance thing is kinda-sorta well known throughout the natural healing, granola eating, hippy world.

Hmm. Who knew?

So I ran right out and procured a gallon of raw milk from a local farm 17 minutes away from my front door.

Ya'll, that's closer to me then the supermarket.

For the next week, at least, our family will be drinking raw milk. Lydia, included. Maybe we'll get lucky. Maybe Lydia will tollerate dairy in this form. Maybe it'll be the extra bacteria that helps her stomach. Maybe it'll be the grass fed, pasture raised cows. Maybe life will become a smidgen simpler.

Or maybe she'll have the same reaction as with pasteurized milk and I can say at least we tried.

Either way, this morning I measured and poured 6oz of cow's milk into her cup. And I'll do the same tomorrow. For now, it's all a game of wait and see.

At least there's still hope.

Don't Tell My Children

2011-06-29T10:29:00.002-05:00

But I've found the secret to making sure they finish their breakfast...........

Make both a batch of blueberry muffins AND oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. AND THEN, inform them that I would be more then willing to finish off the muffins and cookies if those bowls of cereal don't get finished.

It's great. Suddenly their whines of "I'm not hungry" and "I'm full" are replaced with the less whiny sounds of spoons scrapping bowels and quiet eating going on.

[side note: I'm not one who really much cares if they finish their breakfasts. In fact, most mornings they get a breakfast OF THEIR CHOOSING, much like this morning. I've learned to give them very little of whatever they ask for and wait to see if they want more. The rule in our house for each meal is, if you don't finish breakfast, lunch or supper, then you do not receive a snack or dessert in between meals.]

This wasn't my actual plan for this morning. It was more just I had a urge to get some baking done today and the sooner my sweet tooth was soothed, the better.

I think I should try this technique more often.

Swimming Missteps

2011-06-27T13:03:00.002-05:00

Bright and early this morning I woke up, slapped some car worthy breakfast together, woke up and dressed my two sleepy little girls for their first swim lesson of the summer and threw them in the back seat with a bag carrying two cups of dry cereal, two bananas and two spill proof milk containing drink thingys.

Bright and early this morning we showed up to the pool in which only old people were occupying for a exercise class. I asked the lifeguard if there were supposed to be lessons today and she informed me we were a half hour early.

Crazy. I swear when I rechecked the email confirmation this morning it said this specific time.

A half hour after bright and early this morning, the teachers and other children showed up. Instructions were given. Names were taken. Ours were not on the list.

Seriously? I showed up a half hour early for a class I didn't sign up for?

One of Kyra's older instructors shows up, recognizes Kyra and informs today's instructor she's at a higher level then both the classes today and we're probably signed up for another day, but we can join today's classes, since we're already there and all. I knew I liked that woman....

Kyra joins, no problem. This is old hat for her.

Lydia joins, no problem. This kid is fearless.

Lydia takes off in the pool as one of the instructors tries to hold her head above water. Discussions take place between instructors as to why Lydia needs extra attention, "She's too good for her own good."

Apparently, she's swimming in a flat on top of the water position, just like you're supposed to.... She's just has no clue she's supposed to pick her head up out of the water and is sputtering everywhere and scaring the teacher.

All is happy. Until Lydia notices Kyra in the lane next to her.

Lydia wants to swim with Kyra and if she can't swim with Kyra she will instead cry and whine and demand "Mooooommyyyy!" And when I come to save my sweet babe, she cries and whines to me, "Yee-ya, bimming!" She does not want me, per se, she wants me to tell her she can go swim with Kyra. Instead I tell her if she wants to swim, she's is to swim with her teacher. Without crying.

We danced this dance 3 times. Because this child is impossible. She is impossibly stubborn and hard headed and if she doesn't get her way then she wants to sit and cry about it, damn it! [side note: I must admit she comes by this lovely character trait rightly as I'm sure Jeremy's middle name roughly translates to "hard headed" and mine is something along a linear line of "stubborn."]

Later this week we go back for round 2. The good news is, Kyra's class isn't in the water at the same time as Lydia's. The bad news is, I don't think this will matter much. This is going to be an awesome 8 weeks.

I Interrupt This Silence

2011-06-22T21:52:00.006-05:00

To tell you that I am too busy to post because I'm sewing Lydia a new dress. By hand.

Why, yes, my sewing machine is working just fine. But I only have a wee little bit of this specific green thread color and in an effort to make it last, I'm stitching the dress by hand.

Because I'm cheap.

Quit judging.

Also. Supper tomorrow is pigs in a blanket. Except with steak wrapped in bacon. In the crock pot.

What kind of sides should I serve? Fresh picked green beans or sugar snap peas, potatoes or rice, sweet cornbread in the cast iron? And it's going to rain tomorrow so I can't make sun tea, so is cornbread even worth the effort? Hmm...

In the Kitchen

2011-06-14T22:44:00.001-05:00

Today I have made:

3 batches of pizza crust
2 double batches of pizza sauce
2 pie crusts
1 chocolate filling
1 banana cream filling
2 batches of meringue

Plus breakfast:
A piece of bread spread with hummis and a plate of blueberries for Lydia.
A piece of cinnamon sugar toast and a plate of blackberries.

Lunch:
Mixed lettuce salad with green peppers, tomatoes and goat cheese feta.

And supper:
Shepherd's pie in the crockpot.

I'm a bit exhausted.

Tomorrow we have a play date at the park with one of our homeschool groups, pick up our CSA share at the farmer's market, figure out EXACTLY what I'd like to take to a food swap and, if I'm lucky, find time to wash the grey out of my hair. And all that in between making and serving breakfast, lunch and supper.

I'm already exhausted just thinking about what I have to do with tomorrow.

Can I get a few more hours in my day? Is that possible?

Chicken, It Might Be What's For Dinner

2011-06-13T21:13:00.000-05:00

Under my belt, so far, are 4 regular size jars of barbecue sauce, 5 jelly size jars of strawberry jam and 6 jelly size jars of strawberry/blackberry/blueberry jam. And we haven't even had the chance to pick berries yet.

All the stawberries came from our CSA share and the blackberries and blueberries were courtesy of BJ's Wholesale.

I can't WAIT until blueberry season comes around. After having some of my friends blueberry basil jam, I'm totally making some blueberry jam. [I don't have nor do I grow basil and I have not a clue how to use it in jam if I had the chance. Maybe I'll be lucky and she'll make some more this year and share it again.]

Also. Some exciting news!

[No. I'm not pregnant. Why does everyone assume that?
Me: Hey! Guess what!
Person: You're pregnant?!
Me: Ya, um, no... ]

I scored a pastured chicken last week from the farmer's market. Its a chicken that, while also fed a mixture containing corn, minerals and I'm sure a few other organic what-nots, it is mainly gallivanting around in a pasture all day long while living the high life eating bugs, worms and whatever else it may find in nature.

I took this whole chicken and made a greek chicken crockpot recipe last week and we tried Lydia on it with the hopes that since it's diet isn't solely corn and soy, Lydia might not have a reaction to it. [She's like that with pork and beef. If the animal eats a diet of corn and soy, Lydia has a reaction. It it is pastured and eats what God fully intended it to eat, Lydia miraculously can enjoy the same meats we can.] I only served her enough chicken to qualify as two nuggets from McDonalds, but so far, a week into it, we never saw any sign of a reaction!

As exciting as that is, I'm not getting my hopes up... yet.

[Yes, it's a baby butt that's all rashy. I totally made it small for all you with a weak constitution. Just think, this rash was mostly healed. It gets so. much. worse!]

I'm not getting my hopes up because THIS is what we get when we feed her "Chop Steak with no seasoning" from Ruby Tuesday. It's also what we battled all summer last year when our elderly neighbors were feeding her store bought hamburger meat once and twice a week.

The farm we receive our CSA veggies from is now selling pastured chicken. In pieces. This week I put chicken fingers on our menu. I purchased two chicken breasts and I'll bread them up and serve them on a salad. Probably tomorrow or Thursday. We'll see how she does. I'll up her portion size to the equivalence of 4 chicken nuggets and see how we do.

At least if she her tummy does swell, we have Zantac on hand to help curb the length of discomfort. And if her butt does break out in another rash, we've figured out that bathing her in baking soda takes away the sting. And bathing her with soap we are also buying from the farmer's market doesn't prolong the rash. And bathing her in epsome salt, not only makes her skin feel wonderfully soft, it also helps heal her wounds faster.

[Side note: Lydia started one of those rashes when we left on our really long trip. Six weeks later, she still had it. To a lesser degree but still, it was there. And quite obviously. I, on a whim, bought oatmeal almond soap from a vendor at the farmer's market and the rash was gone by the end of the week. I'm not sure what's in store bought bar soap, but apparently that doesn't agree with Lydia's skin either.]

Anyway. Here's the recipe for Greek Chicken. Jeremy and Kyra thought it was good and I thought it a bit bland when we started eating it. I had the bright idea to drizzle everything (potatoes, onions, chicken) with honey and it was stinking fabulous. Jer, Kyra and Lydia followed suite and VIOLA! One awesome meal!

6 medium potatoes, quartered
3 lbs chicken pieces, skin removed (I used a whole, 5lb chicken and removed the skin myself)
2 large onions, quartered
1 whole bulb garlic, minced
1/2 cup water
3 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 Tbl olive oil

1) Place potatoes in bottom of slow cooker. Add chicken, onions and garlic.
2) In small bowl mix water with oregano salt, and pepper.
3) Pour over chicken and potatoes. Top with oil.
4) Cover. Cook on High 5-6 hours or Low 9-10 hours.

I'm not a big fan of eating chicken. To be honest, I usually really hate it. It's always greasy, bland and gross or dry, stringy, bland and gross. This chicken, though, was so. very. yummy! After we drizzled the honey. We'll definitely make it again. Especially if it turns out Lydia CAN have pastured chicken!

Oh, it'll be so nice to add a few new items to our menu!

I Think She Speaks Only In Cowgirl

2011-06-13T11:12:00.000-05:00

Me: How do you know 75 cents is more than 50 cents?
Kyra: Because I'm smart. And I know a lot about horses. And because I'm really smart I know even more about which one is more. And 75 is more than 50.

Well, alright then.

Maybe I'll Be A Cowgirl When I Grow Up

2011-06-10T09:37:00.000-05:00

This morning I woke up to Lydia in my bed and Kyra making noises that sounded like breakfast preparations in the kitchen.

Kyra's been making her own breakfast for the better part of this "school year," which usually consists of either dry or milk laden cereal, yogurt or jellied toast and a glass of milk.

After 20 minutes of banging around in the kitchen, I decided to investigate. See if she needed any help. The usual breafast bangs don't tend to last 20 minutes. Ten or 15, sure. But not this long.

I find Kyra standing on the step stool in the corner of a counter that is covered in flour. I'm not kidding you, it was COVERED. IN. FLOUR.

Kyra has a big smile on her face. "Mommy, I'm making you a surprise! We're gonna have these cookies because I have a really good memory and I remember how to do it!"

I couldn't dare squash her excitement so I play along all while panicking My flour! Look at all my flour! [I don't buy the cheap stuff. I buy the organic, unbleached, Holy Grail of flour that you have to sacrifice a small baby lamb every time you pay for it because I want the pesticide free, grown and milled in America flour. And a giant bag of it, please.]

I start quizzing:
How much flour did you use? Three cups!
How did you know it was three cups? It was this much! [just over a cup, but not quite a cup and a quarter] Three times!
What else did you use? Sugar! This much. [3/4 cup]
And why was there milk in the measuring cup when I don't see any in the bowl? Because I was going to make THIS recipe, over here! [flips back through half the book]
You were making french toast? Ya. I read right here, "egg" and "cup milk." [then motions to a soggy piece of bread on the unplugged griddle.]
You didn't eat that bread, did you? Ya! It tastes good! [rips off another piece and eats it while making a small face.]

I tell her what a great job she did and how Mommy was very surprised and proud of her. Now would she please go feed the dogs and Mommy will clean up her mess so we can see her recipe.

While her measurements were no where near what the recipe called for, I racked my brain thinking of ways to make it work for the chocolate chip cookies she was going for. And it wouldn't. Not easily, anyway. So I decided to spin her flour/sugar concoction (which was almost exact for a double batch) into blueberry muffins.

Later on, while the muffins are cooking, she comes back into the kitchen announcing, "Maybe I'll be a cowgirl when I grow up!"

Part of me wanted to tell her it's good to stick to what'cha know.

The other part of me was happy she's stretching her boundaries. Even if it included a quarter of my flour stash.

At least we got twice the blueberry muffins for brunch!

I guess, in the end, even a cowgirl needs to treat herself to french toast and cookies for breakfast. I might as well start showing her how to measure properly and keep pushing her on her reading skills. I'm sure there's probably not that many cookbooks out there with step by step picture directions.

Any Given Sunday

2011-06-05T21:50:00.002-05:00

As Kyra was wiggling around in Church today, Jeremy told her she needed to sit still and listen to father. Kyra quickly replied back, "I listen to God and learn from Him, so I don't have to listen to father." To which... uhhh... who can argue with that?

*******************

As we were making our way out of the church, a kind older lady stopped me, gushing how well behave my girls were. She said their dresses were so lovely and they looked so sweet. The girls reminded her of her own girls when they were little. They were 3 years apart, too, and and my girls brought back such wonderful memories.

When it was our turn to greet Father, Kyra and Lydia did their usual running hug (Father really should look into wearing a cup as Lydia's head is just the right height and neither of the girls pause for a gentle embrace). The older lady squealed with delight and when the girls were finished, she had some words with father about how precious the girls were.

I guess that conversation beats out two weeks ago when I took Lydia, SCREAMING, from the pew to the bathroom for a quick bit of disciplining. I thought we were in trouble since Father was in the middle of his Homily and I heard him pause as I rushed out of sight. Apparently, after I left, he made a mention that he hoped it wasn't something he said that set Lydia off. While I was mortified and dieing inside, he and the rest of the congregation had a good laugh! [I wasn't aware of the comment until long after we were driving home. I must not have heard it over Lydia's wails.] As we were exiting the church that day, it was a gentleman who watched the girls do their running hug routine and pointed out Lydia saying, "Watch out, Father, there's your competition!"

I swear, each week with the girls' behavior, I flounder between wishing for a dark hole to crawl into and beaming with pride. When they're good, they're good. And when they're bad... oh, Heaven help 'em!

******************

There is this very nice lady in our church who comes in with her 12 year old daughter most Sundays. Right before Chistmas, she brought the girls a gift bag with some Christmas books about the birth of our Lord, some little religious board books more Lydia appropriate and a couple coloring/activity books of the same religiously themed style. Not only did she have that gift bag in hand, but she had 2 or 3 sacks (I'm not talking grocery store bag size) full of clothes for the girls. It had dresses, shoes, pajamas-- nice, decent, mostly hand-me-downs with some brand new stuff thrown in, too. I thought that was beyond kind being that neither Jer nor myself are all that active with our church and only knew these ladies by sight and quick conversation, not by name.

Today, the same mother and her daughter stopped us and asked if she could give us an Easter basket she had put together for the girls. She didn't know we were away on our 5 week trip and had held on to it all this time, so I said "Sure, they'd love it!" This lady and her daughter, Patty and Abby, pulled out of her vehicle a sack with a gorgeously done pink Easter basket stuffed two little bunnies and two little chicks, stickers, lip gloss, a book, and Resurrection Eggs...... along with 3 more sacks of clothes and shoes for the girls.

I'm not sure if the words Thank You are enough to show my sincere gratitude to Patty and her daughter Abby. Some people are down right amazing.

Universal Tease

2011-06-02T13:38:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty sure the Arctic Tundra is teasing me.

Seriously? It's JUNE! And this is our HIGH TEMPERATURE FOR THE DAY:

And let it be known, Universe, that I was not the one complaining about the high 80 degree temperatures you've miraculously brought our way these last five or so days. I've rather enjoyed them and have refused to turn on the air conditioning so I could bask in these warm days.

In fact, just yesterday the inside temperature read 82. AND I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT.

Today, Universe, you suck. You totally, absolutely and completely-- suck.

Behold! A Dress!

2011-05-31T22:05:00.000-05:00

Remember waaay back when, when I told you all I was making dresses for the girls and I was going to post pictures and then..... didn't.

Well, this isn't one of those dresses.

But, HEY! I can now give you PROOF that I have been creating!

This was supposed to be finished for Memorial Day. As usual, though, life happened and it wasn't finished until a day later.

At least she'll be festive for the Fourth of July, right?

Exhausted

2011-05-28T21:17:00.004-05:00

Last night was a rough night. Storms rolled through bringing bright flashes of light, LOUD claps of thunder and two frightened children to our bed. The girls slept soundly after climbing in my bed, I did not.

Alarm was set (ON A SATURDAY, NO LESS!) for a 7AM wake up call. A Memorial Day parade to attend, Kyra was walking for the first time with her 4-H group. I'm pretty sure she'd now like to spend the rest of her life walking in a parade with a cheerfully clapping crowd to witness.

A stop at the farmer's market brought us home our usual bounty of milk, cheese and meat and an extra bag full of various types of heirloom tomato plants. No veggies or eggs today, I've sorely been off game since arriving home from our trip and have yet to create a menu. The first week home I was sick, so Jer served the girls.... something... I couldn't tell you what. Last week I threw together random meals that held no rhyme or reason. This week, looking to be much of the same.

We came home for a quick pause to put Lydia down for a nap and then threw ourselves head long into planting the flowers and some of our vegetables into our gardens. Tomatoes, sweet peppers and yellow and zucchini squashes are all in. Green beans, wax beans, sugar snap peas, cucumbers and carrots all await their turns.

Back out the door for supper and more shopping. I came home with more remnant fabrics, 4 patterns (this will be a miracle in itself, I have never used a pattern) and a storage bin to start organizing my various sewing fabrics.

Writing it all down, it doesn't seem like a whole lot. But I promise you, we have been going non stop since this morning. Add on a poor nights sleep last night, and I am plum exhausted.

Tomorrow our only plans are Church, finishing the vegetable garden and a crockpot supper. Somehow that sounds much more relaxing then today.

Busy-Bee Chippers

2011-05-27T22:49:00.008-05:00

We are all alive and well. I'm just eating some delicious chocolate chip cookies and its hard to free up one's hands to type when you're busy stuffing your face.

For all those times I've searched for a dairy/soy/corn free chocolate chip recipe on the internet and came up empty handed, I'm posting my new favorite chocolate chip recipe for all of you wonderful people.

Thank you, Better Homes and Garden's Cookies and Candies, copyright 1966. You. Are. Fabulous!

Besides I bet there has to be someone else doing the same hair pulling searches. Surely I can't be the only person with a child so difficult to bake for, right? Right?? Anyone???

Oh, well. Anyhow.

Busy-Bee Chippers
1/2 cup butter or margarine (or coconut oil)
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup honey
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 cup plus 2 Tbl sifted all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 6oz package (1 cup) semisweet chocolate pieces (or hunt down a Kosher Jew and ask her for a cup of chocolate chips if you need them dairy, soy and corn free)(or stock up on then during the season of Passover)(I think Lydia was Jewish in a past life, there is LOTS of Jewish food she can eat.)
1/2 cup chopped walnuts (I was plum out this time, maybe next bake.)

Cream ~~butter~~ coconut oil; add sugar and honey, mixing well. Add egg and vanilla; beat well. Sift together four, soda, and salt; add to creamed mixture, mixing well.
Stir in kosher chocolate pieces ~~and nuts~~. Drop batter from teaspoon onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake in moderate oven (375*) for 10-12 minutes. Makes about 4 dozen cookies. (Or 2 dozen. Apparently my teaspoons are larger then theirs.)

The cookies are soft. fluffy. chewy. and SO FUCKING DIVINE you'll make a second batch because you just might eat the first before the kids wake up from their naps.

Not that that's what happened or anything....

The awesome thing is, Granma let me swipe this cookbook during my recent visit to her house. There are SO. MANY. recipes I can alter ever so slightly (one ingredient here, maybe two there) and there's a slew of new cookies and candies Lydia has never had before. And probably would never have, if I didn't spend so much time scouring for old cookbooks.

The internet is good for a lot of things, though it seems I make most of my best breakthroughs the old fashioned way... opening a good book.

And By "Tomorrow" I Mean, Whenever I Get Around to It

2011-05-16T21:31:00.001-05:00

Those pictures and the post about The Brother's House will just have to wait.

We've had a crazy busy weekend with things like farmer's market and grocery store shopping to fill our empty fridge, a 6 year old's Little House on the Prairie birthday party, a Pampered Chef party, church, house cleaning and naps.

Today we went on a little Home Schooling field trip to a farm an hour or so away where the kids got to dredge nets through pond scum and see what they could find. Kyra was beyond thrilled, as was Lydia. Nature. It's right up their alley!

Making it to the field trip was an adventure in and of itself. I had a terrible, fitful night of sleep last night. I was so cold. Bone chilling cold. The kind where I lay under one sheet, two thinner blankets and one down blanket with a mattress heater and I still could not stop shivering.

To top that off I've had the worst headache I've ever had In. My. Life. I now know what a migraine feels like. The children's talking and chatter hurt my brain. Lights hurt my brain. A cloudy, overcast, rainy day, HURT. MY. BRAIN.

We came home from the field trip right before nap time, so I explained to Kyra that even though she wasn't tired, Mommy NEEDED her to lay in bed as quietly as possible while Lydia and I slept. She didn't fight me. Asked me if I was sick and if that's why I keep rubbing my head. She hoped I'd feel better.

So. Damned. Sweet, that child is.

Lydia slept for 2 hours while Kyra remained on her best behavior. I rested, fitfully, again. I must have dozed off for a bit because next thing I know, two little girls are quietly standing at my bedside, staring at me. I offered a movie in Mommy's bed, if they'd lay very still and quietly.

Jeremy came home shortly after that. Saw two quiet children and a Mommy with her head under the covers to block out the light of the TV. He took them down stairs and let them watch TV the rest of the evening. Made pancakes. And doctored me up.

Jer thinks I'm suffering caffeine withdraws since I loaded up on the stuff for 4 out of the 5 weeks of our trip. [I'm not normally a soda drinker.] My mom thinks I'm coming down with the flu.

I'm not sure what it is but the 800mg of Ibuprofen and 12oz bottle of Coke sure made me feel better. Though, it's 5 hours later and I'm typing this through some wicked bouts of shivering and another oncoming headache.

Either way, I think the last 5 weeks of CRAZY is starting to catch up with me and Jer's working late tomorrow. Pray for the children, won't 'cha? If this continues, surely it's only going to lead to half assed parenting and lots of television watching.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm gonna climb farther into my mound of blankets and wish for a better tomorrow.

I Have My Wooden Spoon and I Know How to Use It, Badger or No Badger

2011-05-10T23:36:00.006-05:00

IF Jeremy read my blog [he doesn't] he'd laugh because he says I poke with a stick, I claim it's a wooden spoon. I like to cook, not play with sticks. He thinks I'm equally retarded and funny, and I am okay with that.

The girls and I are home, safe and sound. Man, oh, man was this trip a roller coaster ride in and of itself.

The Sunshine State was just as pleasing and lovely as ever. The Land of the Country Bumpkin was a series of peaks and valleys that we all could have totally done without. And The Brother's house was more wonderful and special then I ever thought it could be.

Now, to get some things out of the way...

As far as the SIL thing, thank you to all of you who stood by me. YOU are the one's who know me, love me and get me and it's for YOU that I write. If you don't like me, don't like what I say, how I feel and the truths I express.... STOP STALKING ME ON MY BLOG.

Its like this, I don't particularly care for football. It's a bunch of testosterone filled, too tight pants wearing morons ramming their heads into one another all for the sake of I WANT THAT BALL! IT'S MY BALL! GIVE ME THE FUCKING BALL BEFORE I BOWL SOMEONE OVER AND IRREVERSIBLY DAMAGE MY BRAIN IN THE PROCESS OF IT! It's a stupid game and a stupid concept, in my opinion. Not everyone agrees, some people really like football. But I don't try to turn anyone against the sport just because it's not my cup of tea. I don't watch the games in hopes that I'll find another misstep [another concussion, another over paid athlete with a short temper, large ego and sense of entitlement] to hold over the founder of all things football to prove to everyone else what a stupid man he must have been to come up with such a lame idea. I don't like it. So I don't watch it.

If you don't like me, don't read me. Seems like common sense, but I guess it's like some people say, common sense isn't so common, anymore.

So. Yeah. In the Land of the Country Bumpkin we:
-hid in a basement for a total of 8 hours over a two day span thanks to tornadoes passing through town [one of which was a deadly one that hit the next town over],
-watched the girls find trouble since it rained nearly 2 1/2 weeks with hardly a break [cabin fever, much?],
-dealt with the SIL's drama,
-cooked good food,
-hung out with good people,
-bought warmer clothes [winter, apparently, hasn't left parts of the south, yet],
-felt helpless as the MIL suffered another heart attack almost exactly a year since her last one,
-rejoiced as a family no longer mine [due to a divorce] still accepts us with open arms,
-and felt trapped as flood waters cut off interstate and highway roads that would lead us home.

Peaks. And. Valleys. I guess it's a good thing we've been averaging this trip once every two years. Jer and I love our families... but that state is out to get us.

As for The Brother's house, I'll fill you in on that tomorrow. Maybe you'll get lucky and I'll have pictures uploaded!

Or maybe not. You're all still waiting on pictures from the dresses I made 5 weeks ago. Whoops!

Devil Went Down to Egypt

2011-05-02T17:47:00.001-05:00

Kyra overhears my MIL and I discussing Bin Laden's death and gathers for herself that he must have been a bad man.

Kyra: "He's gonna go live with the devil."
Me: curious as she's never mentioned something like this before, " Do you know where the Devil lives."
Kyra: forehead crinkled, thinking, "Uhhh... Egypt?"

No clue where she came up with this, but it made for a good laugh!

Best Advice Ever

2011-04-30T23:14:00.005-05:00

"Willing isn't the same as doing or praying."

And it's probably dead on right. Because if I'd-a-just prayed, I still would have been oblivious that the SIL read my blog.

Live and learn, right?

Doesn't change my feelings. Only proved them further.

I did learn, though, that if you use the phrase "conniving bunch" in a tongue and cheek manner, it will not be taken as such. It will be taken as This family is a bunch of lying, cheaters and thieves which is not where I was trying to go with that. But that's the thing with tongue and cheek, it can be misunderstood. And I frequently take that risk in my writing.

All I can do now is hope that the people hurt know that it was not meant to be a rude or ugly statement, just a poor~~ly placed~~ one. And now I'll move on with my life.

If a certain someone doesn't chew me up and spit me out like she promised. Eww.

But I should really Shut. Up. before the Huz accuses me of poking the badger with a stick again. At least he snickered through his frustration when I replied, I'm sorry! I was unaware the badger read my blog!

See. Tongue and cheek. Some people get it. Some people hate me.

The Power of Willing

2011-04-27T10:17:00.001-05:00

Ya'll. I'm off to my in-laws house today. We'll be there for a week. And generally my in-laws are really great wonderfully awesome people, but the mother-in-law wants to take a trip to the sister-in-law's house and frankly I think I might cry.

My SIL isn't, well, very nice. To me. I hear she can be nice, she's just not. The Huz says she's just a bitch. The MIL says she's a bitch. The FIL says "You two are just strong willed women who both love Jeremy very much..."

Clearly she's a daddy's girl.

Anyway. Jeremy says under no circumstance am I to venture to the SIL's house because our children don't need to watch her verbally tear me apart. Again. Jer's mother says it's not fair that the kids don't get to spend time with their cousins. Kyra has physically seen them twice. Neither time was she old enough to remember.

While I'm all I grew up knowing 1 out of a jillion cousins and I think I turned out relatively fine. And Jer's all I grew up with ALL my cousins and I think most of them I could have done without. So. WE, as in JEREMY AND MYSELF, are on the same page. I have serious doubts about the rest of his family. They're a conniving bunch.

So, if you don't mind. I'll be using The Power of Willing to the best of my ability to keep the SIL at bay. If only so the girls don't see what a giant wuss I am when she starts screaming at me, again, as I sit there curled up on the couch trying to figure out how to close my mouth.

Nothing like seeing your mom defend herself with a gaped mouth and tears.

Homeschooling lesson: How to defend yourself from a bully! Watch closely, kids, as your mother fails miserably and gets EATEN. ALIVE.

Good times are going to be had, ya'll. Good times.

Pecan Grafting and the Lord's Rising

2011-04-24T15:44:00.007-05:00

Only in the Arctic Tundra can you finish up a major holiday service in an hour flat.

Only in the Land of the Country Bumpkin can the Homily contain a story about grafting pah'cawn trees and tie it in with the Lord's Rising.

Happy Easter, Ya'll!

Reasons to Never Leave The Sunshine State

2011-04-19T21:31:00.001-05:00

The flowers. Oh, for the Love of God, the flowers.

The humming birds. Beautiful, tiny, winged things.

Sunshine on smiling faces.

Butterflies! By the bazillions!

Weeki Wachee

With friends

Is required.

Pictures with Mermaid, not to be forgotten.

Much like The Sunshine State.

There are very few things more enjoyable in life than parking myself at Granma's house and watching the girls be kids.

Dirty, wondrous, playful adventurous and helpful girls. Nothing dainty, here.

I Can't Help What I Think

2011-04-18T22:18:00.000-05:00

Minding my own business, driving along the I-75 corridor today. Girls, playing/fighting/ignoring/pestering/playing in the back seat.

Ignoring the children and singing along to the radio I continue to notice the over abundance of billboards advertising for Strip Clubs and "Adult Toy Stores." The thought that creeps into my mind...

I wonder if the tampon was originally invented for the stripper.

I know. There's something wrong with me. Makes you wonder though, huh?

No? Just me? I guess I am a weirdo. Hmph.

Mad Dash

2011-04-01T23:17:00.000-05:00

The girls and I will be leaving very soon for our Really Big, Really Long trip. ALL of the trip will be below the Mason Dixon Line. Which means it'll be warmer weather then the Fucking Cold we're still suffering from here in the Arctic Tundra. Whatever the temperature is I don't care. Because it won't be snowing. And that thrills me just a bit.

Upon starting to pack for the girls, it's come to my attention that Kyra has no shorts in her current size. Not a one. She has 10 short sleeve shirts, a handful of skirts but no shorts.

Lydia's not fairing much better. She has probably 10 pair of shorts, a handful of skirts and 4 short sleeve shirts. Better then Kyra, yes, but still. 4 shirts is not enough. And I wouldn't even have those 4 shirts were it not for a friend who gave me bags of hand-me-downs a few months ago that contained, among other things, 4 short sleeved shirts.

To remedy this situation, I've dragged out my bag of fabric remnants and started sewing dresses for the girls. I have one summery dress half done and a pillowcase dress fully finished for Kyra, and a pillowcase dress almost finished for Lydia. Lydia's dress is so long that I have to measure the length on her tomorrow morning and after I cut off the bottom I'll still have plenty of length left to put an elastic band in to make a skirt for Kyra. It's 2 in one. Awesome!

With any luck, pictures to come tomorrow. I know, you're all thrilled to bits and pieces. I could tell.

The Cold That Won't Go Away

2011-03-31T22:07:00.004-05:00

These little snot mongrels decided to sling their snot my way. This evening is the first time in 7 days that I have been able to breathe through my nose.

Kyra's over her cold, for the most part, but she's on week 2 of The Cold That Won't Go Away. Luckily, if you want to call it that, it hasn't been too bad for her. Just really drawn out and annoying.

Jeremy seemed to only have been affected for 3 days. The bastard. So not fair.

Lydia and I have been hit the worst. Lydia's been sleeping with me for the better part of a week. I'm not a co-sleeping kind of parent, but she is just so pitiful at 3AM, I don't have the heart to tell her to go back to bed.

She's essentially kicked Jeremy out of bed as he's slept down stairs through this whole thing. Which might explain how he got over his cold so easily.

Last night she, again, slept most of the night in bed with me. Or, should I say, on me-- as I sat propped up in bed to allow her a little leverage to breathe. And because last night seemed to be the worst so far, with the added enjoyment of a dry, raspy, hacking cough, she didn't sleep through the night. Which means neither did I.

But tonight I can breathe. So I'm hoping tonight Lydia will breathe. And we'll both finally sleep.

I must admit, though, it's been awfully nice that she's wanted to cuddle with me in the bed at night. It's certainly not something she likes to do in the day time.

Ignore the Thumb. One Day I'm Gonna Chop. It. OFF. That's Right, I Said It.

2011-03-30T12:35:00.002-05:00

Kyra's favorite move at the age of 2 was The Little Mermaid.

Lydia's favorite movie at the age of 2, Finding Nemo.

Hey, look! They do have something in common-- a love for things under the sea!

Maybe they're not complete polar opposites. Just mostly.

A Daily Funny

2011-03-27T22:53:00.004-05:00

Kyra has taught Lydia the fine art of stomping bugs to death, or, if unable to stomp, calling Daddy to kill said bug for her.

So, Lydia found a spider on the wall this morning. With all the urgency her little voice could muster, she earnestly requested Jeremy to come get the spider. Jeremy, being the wonderful daddy that he is, saved his sweet daughter's life by smushing the harmless arachnid with a piece of toilet paper and then flushing it down the potty.

For the rest of the day, Lydia has been absolutely terrified to use that one specific potty, which is the only one in the house set up to accommodate Lydia with a step stool.

We've tried everything to explain to her that the spider is gone. Gone gone gone. From showing her there is nothing in the potty, to flushing the water down a few extra times and even arming her with a flashlight so she can check the nooks and crannies, herself.

The only thing that seems to work is for either Jer or myself to stand there with Lydia, speaking sweet nothings to console her, as she precariously positions herself to view the inside of the potty from between her legs. I guess she wants to make good and sure that spider isn't coming back to bite her in the ass.

Literally.

I had forgotten all about this when I woke her up to take her potty before I lay down for the night. Lydia was not too happy to be using that potty. She wanted "Mommy potty!" As in the master bedroom's bathroom.

Even half asleep, she still worries that spider is hanging out, biding it's time. Poor Lydie Kate.

Jeremy's just gonna have to find another way disposing smushed critters from now on.

Mental Note

2011-03-27T15:49:00.001-05:00

Whenever Lydia asks for a PEE TEE POOH, apparently, she wants a "Piece of fruit."

Huh.

How Kyra figured that one out I'll never know.

More Reasons Never to Turn to My Husband...

2011-03-25T16:08:00.003-05:00

For car assistance.

Three weeks ago a gauge in my car sounded telling me I had low tire pressure. I inform the only owner of a penis who lives in this house and he heads out to the garage, comes back in some time later, and claims to have fixed the problem.

One week ago, I inform the only owner of a penis who lives in this house that my gauge light is on again. He waits three days until he's driving it, pulls into a gas stations, puts air in all the tires and claims the problem has, again, been fixed. Oh, and by the way, the problem is certainly the left rear tire.

Yesterday, the mother fucking light chimed came on again! Today, I call our mechanic, briefly explain my problem and he says to bring it in and they'll take a look.

Problem? The spare tire IN. THE. TRUNK. was low on air. The other 4? Perfectly fine. Except filled with too much air.

Lessons learned: Never ask the only owner of a penis who lives in this house for simple maintenance on my car. He is only pretending to be smarter then me when it comes to that department of manliness... but.... he's not.

I guess penis carriers can only be either a computer nerd or a car guy.

Jeremy is definitely a computer nerd.

On The...

2011-03-24T09:24:00.001-05:00

Baking Front: Made banana oatmeal blueberry muffins for breakfast this morning. I take the basic muffin recipe in my cookbook, add two browning bananas, 3/4 cup oatmeal and 1 cup of blueberries and VOILA! delicious breakfast treat! The girls think they are in heaven. They might actually be in heaven if I'd just put the rest of the blueberries on their plates. But I can't. More on that in a minute...

I also have 6 more bananas that have also browned. Exactly the number needed for 2 loaves of banana bread. Banana bread is much like any other baked good in my house... it doesn't last very long at all. Jeremy and Lydia could each eat an entire loaf by themselves but I'm a mean ole broad who forces both of them to share with the rest of us. I may even add some walnuts, this time-- which will only thrill Lydia's little taste buds to the core as she first tears apart the bread searching out every last nut before she consumes the bread itself.

I wanted to make this fruit leather today but I'm out of parchment paper. That's what I need the blueberries for. I was going to add them to the strawberries I already have in the fridge and give this new recipe a try. With any luck, it'll turn out well and keep even better so I can pack some fruit leather for the girls to snack on during our really, really looooong trip in a couple weeks.

Health Front: This morning Kyra reported that her ear doesn't hurt anymore. Which is great and good, that means her new antibiotic is working. But, ya know, wouldn't it just be LOVELY if she'd recognize when her ears hurt to begin with instead of acting like the world is totally against her and the only thing she can do is fall into a puddle of tears and anguish for 3 days?

Which, know what? I guess puddles and anguish is an improvement over the whole acting completely normal and then waking up from a nap in hysterical tears because your ear hurts and turns out you have two completely infected, about to rupture ear drums. Or the 103* fever she would run for 4 days but otherwise play happily and normally until I take her into the doctor and find out she has green ooze seeping from her ears.

So, ya. I think falling into a puddles of tears is definitely a step in the right direction. She must be getting the hint that SOMETHING is wrong, if only she'd realize what is wrong.

Oh! But you know what the downside of antibiotics is? YEAST INFECTIONS! Kyra's now complaining it hurts when she pees. Isn't that just awesome!..? [insert eye roll]

Store Front: I guess since I'm out of parchment paper and now I need to get Kyra some cranberry juice and yogurt, I'll be heading to the store today.

Also, I found this milkshake recipe online on St. Patrick's Day. Maybe I 'ought to add mint extract and vanilla ice cream to my list, too. [giggling] I hear from my friend, Joelle, that it tastes GREAT. Mmm... yum!

Never Fails

2011-03-19T22:13:00.000-05:00

Kyra gets a snotty nose. Snotty nose leads to a cold.

Kyra lasts a week with a cold behaving like a normal 5 year old. Week ends, Kyra looses her mind.

Kyra spends 3 days not listening, being even more easily distracted and ends every possible situation, good or bad, with a giant puddle of tears. For no other reason than it seems, to her, appropriate at the time.

Kyra makes a single comment at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon that her ear feels funny when she yawns. Saturday morning, 8AM, pediatrician confirms her left ear is disgustingly infected.

Every single time Kyra gets a snotty nose that ends with a coughy, hacky cold she gets an ear infection. Or two.

Every. Single. Time.

The last few times we've been seen for this, the pediatrician tells me to dose her up with Benadryl before she lays down to sleep to dry up her sinuses and keep it from draining into her ears. This time I did exactly that. No such luck.

She's on a new antibiotic, Omnicef. Probably because she's on Amoxicillin every 4-6 months and that seems a bit over kill, even to me.

Maybe the next time she gets a snotty nose that leads to a cold I should just dial up the pediatrician and ask for an antibiotic. Because it never fails, the ear infection follows.

Always Surprising

2011-03-07T12:35:00.001-05:00

Add this one to things I never thought I would say as a parent:

Lydia, we DO NOT hit the puppy with Saint Teresa.

Clueless

2011-03-05T19:29:00.000-05:00

I'm throwing my hands up in the air for the day. I don't know what to do. Lydia seems better, but she's not.

It took 7 days before she would eat more then three bites a day. Wednesday she surprised me by waking up and requesting breakfast. Twice. She ate two helpings. Thursday morning it was three helpings. Cereal, banana, pancake.

She doesn't seem to have diarrhea anymore. Which I'll take. She was put back in pull-ups full time for several days because of all the #2 accidents she was having. And might I mention, there is nothing worse then a potty trained child uncontrollably pooping in her pants, especially in the middle of the night. Lydia. Was. Horrified.

But she still, STILL, is complaining about her belly hurting. "Beh-we. Hurt. Dotor. Beh-we." She moans and groans and cries. "Up up, peas!" Lots of hugs, cuddles and coddling are needed before she gets down and plays again.

A typical game she's started playing this week is taking all her dolls and animals to the doctor. She runs to me, wherever I am, "Beah. Beh-we hut. Dotor." "Your bear's belly hurts and your taking him to the doctor?" "YET!" And she scampers off to wherever Kyra is, requesting Kyra play the roll of doctor. As Kyra works on bear, Lydia finds someone else in need and repeats the whole process.

How many 2 year olds play this game? Then again, how many 2 year olds, who don't have allergies [HA!], but still suffers mystery stomach ailments that clearly I'm not imagining.

I wish I knew what to do to help her. Do I give her Tylenol? Would that even help? Or those Pepto-Bismol chewables they have for children? Maybe we should pay even more visits to the pediatrician then we already do?

We have a month until her new GI appointment. Until then, I'm clueless. I wish children came with manuals. That would be so nice.

What A Shitty Week

2011-02-27T20:56:00.001-05:00

Wednesday- Lydia starts a fever during her nap.

Barely into Thursday- Calls placed to the on-call pediatrician at 1:30A.M. because her fever has reached 104.7 and we're still 2 hours away from her next dose of Tylenol. Pedi says dose her up anyway, recheck in an hour. If no relief, visit the ER, if fever goes down, call her doctor first thing in the morning. Fever reascends.

Thursday- Visit the pediatrician where Lydia proceeds to interrupt the visit 3 times to empty her bowels. Doc thinks a nasty stomach bug has taken hold. Upon informing him that, no, she can not have Pedialyte or Gatorade because of her allergies, doc informs us that The only thing she's tested positive for is corn, and that was a very low number..... [Uh, seriously? According to the allergist she tested negative for EVERYTHING!] High fever and diarrhea persists all day. Refuses to eat but has no problem drinking. Movie day.

Friday- Low fever. Food refused. Sucks down water and juice like it's the best thing in the world. Who knew her body could hold that much liquefied poop? Jer and I agree it might be a good idea to grant her wish to "Pay! No!" (Play! Snow!). Fresh air and cold temps might do her some good.

Saturday- Fever gone. Small amounts of food eaten. Wouldn't it just be easier to hook her up to an IV with all she's drinking? Once again, astonished by how much shit this kid has. Snow day, take 2.

Today, Sunday- Will only eat pancakes, crackers, bacon or bananas. In small amounts. At least she's eating, right? Drinking like there is no tomorrow. Shitting like she's full of it. She IS her father's child!

Clearly it's been an adventurous week. One that would be completely okay me if we didn't have to repeat.

It was supposed to be a week of ice skating everyday. Instead we've been wiping a butt to the point of rawness.

Thursday, the doctor said this would probably last for several days. I'm hoping we've met our quota for "several days" because this sucks.

No Signs of Slowing Down

2011-02-22T21:12:00.000-05:00

The sights and sounds of my Lydia, my little baby, are long gone. My baby is now "officially" a toddler, but boy howdy, is she moving FAR away from that toddler title and head strong into a little girl without so much as a second thought to slowing down.

It was just two months ago that we transitioned Lydia from a crib and into a toddler bed. Already, it's a nightly routine that Lydia drags her pillow around the house asking anyone who will listen, Yee-ya? Dia-day bed? (Lydia? Kyra Shea's bed?).

Sippy and spill proof cups are no longer. Lydia now drinks out of a cup. A cup cup cup. And she does it without spilling a drop.

Lydia is speaking full sentences. Full paragraphs. Sure, we may not understand half of what she's trying to say, but she's doing it.

She is monstrously independent. My Yee-ya do it! child who tries to dress herself, putting two legs in one hole and getting frustrated when I try to step in and help. Putting her own shoes on and wondering why I'm taking them off, telling her Good job, Babe! But they're on the wrong feet. This way. Try it this way... as she puts them on correctly, all by herself.

And, now, she ice skates. My just turned 2 year old-- ice skates. Marching around the ice for the third time, EVER, today. She could stand and move across the ice better then most of the 4-10 year old's out there who used traffic cones to keep themselves standing. All the while shouting Dia-day, I dating! Mama, I dating!

She very much wants to be where ever Kyra is and do whatever Kyra does. In her mind, they are exactly the same size and she can be a big girl like her big sister.

Most of my days are spent guiding Kyra through her day, holding her hand and leading her all the way while Lydia powers through on her own, no need for my instructions, just my encouragement.

I suppose this is probably the way it always is with first and second children. Or maybe it's not.

The first child lolly-gagging through life, checking out the scenery along the way while the second child blazes through, hardly stopping to notice the flowers as they yell back fower, Mommy, fower! as they play the game LETS GROW UP AS FAST AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE while running after their sibling.

If only I could convince Lydia that there's no need to run through life. That sometimes it's nice to keep up, but it's also just as nice to stop, breathe and admire the roses.

I suspect it's probably impossible to convince a 2 year old of such ideology. Instead I'll continue to watch, encourage and hope. Hope that she'll slow down. One of these days.

Cooking With New Recipes

2011-02-21T13:47:00.008-05:00

The weekly menu:
Saturday we had baked founder.
Sunday saw pancakes.
Monday: Tacos
Tuesday: Stuffed Peppers
Wednesday: Pizza
Thursday: Left Overs
Friday: Scandinavian Beans*

*crockpot meal.

We have no activities this week so I can actually stop and spend a few minutes preparing and cooking supper. It's something the schools call Winter Break, here in the Arctic Tundra, all schools and extra curriculars are put on hold. Growing up in the south, all we had was Spring Break. Then again, we also got out 5-6 weeks earlier in the summer then the Arctic Tundra does. Give and takes, I guess.

*******************************

The bread I made last week didn't quite measure up to snuff. I'm clearly in need of a bit of practice, again. I'll try a new loaf this week. Last weeks bread was made into home made breadcrumbs using this recipe. Lydia's never had anything breaded. I'm thinking in the next few week's menu plans, that's gonna change.

*******************************

Today I'm making all our taco necessities from scratch. Like most things in life, Lydia's never had a proper taco. On taco nights, she usually gets a plate of browned hamburger meat, black olives, tomatoes and lettuce. No tortillia, no cheese or sour cream. The poor kid... doesn't know what yummy goodness she's missing.

So far, I've mixed up taco seasonings, steamed and purred some left over butternut squash and now I'm waiting for my balls of dough to rest before I roll them out into proper tortillas shapes. All recipes were rightfully stolen from this lady, again. It's gonna be different then what I usually make, but I bet it'll be a lot healthier too, with the added squash and minus the seasoning packet's mystery ingredients.

[Updated to add: Jer says it tasted very similar to Taco Bell's taco meat. Except, you know, with more then 35% beef. (Ha!) He also said it was spicy. So much so that Lydia kept coughing and choaking with every bite. Whoops! Jer loved it spicy. Poor man, has to live in a house full of wussy girls who can't take the heat. Guess I'll subtract a bit of seasoning next time to accommodate Lydia a bit more.]

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Yesterday we were invited to a birthday party. Knowing Lydia wouldn't be able to partake in the birthday cake experience, I whipped up a single 9" cake and 12 cupcakes. We took 2 cupcakes with us and Jeremy took the single layer cake to work with him today leaving us with 10 more cupcakes to devour here at home.

I didn't think it would turn out to be anything special, just a yellow cake with a fluffy white frosting. What I didn't know was that I could swear to you the frosting tasted VERY similar to the marshmallow fluff that comes in jars. It's unbelievably tempting to make it again and this time use it for peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches.

In fact after looking at this recipe to make your own marshmallow fluff, I now know it's the same. Except I used inverted sugar instead of corn syrup and powdered sugar, two things Lydia can't have.

Why, oh, why do I look these things up?! Now I want to make another batch for sandwiches. Good thing I don't have any bread made, yet, or I probably would! If you have any extra bread and peanut butter laying around but no marshmallow fluff, here ya go. You won't regret it!

Fluffy White Frosting, aka corn free Marshmallow Fluff:

1 cup sugar
1/3 cup water
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
2 egg whites
1 teaspoon vanilla

In saucepan combine sugar, water, and cream of tartar. Cook and stir 'till bubbly and sugar dissolves. In a small mixer bowl combine egg whites and vanilla. Add sugar mixture very slowly to egg whites, beating constantly with an electric mixer on high speed about 7 minutes or till stiff peaks form (tips stand up).

Voila! You can either frost up to two round 9" cakes or make Fluffernutter sandwiches to you little heart's content.

Jillian Michaels would be so disappointed in me....

Bed Hog

2011-02-19T20:51:00.000-05:00

Peaks and Valleys

2011-02-16T22:10:00.001-05:00

Both girls seem to be doing and feeling much better today.

Lydia, for the most part, is almost back to normal. She had her moments today, a case of the crankies, which may or may not be related to the mystery illness. No fever, full appetite, mostly sweet.

Kyra, who seems to have been hit the hardest, has had her peaks and valley's today. She lays low for a while, reading, resting and looking a bit pitiful. Then she'll get up, run around and play with Lydia before crashing back down, cheeks scarlet, and asks Lydia to lever her alone, she doesn't feel well. Her eating has been just as up and down, breakfast was had, lunch- skipped, dinner- half eaten and dessert, also half eaten.

Tomorrow will be better. I know it...

The two of them are, at this very moment, babbling and playing with each other in Kyra's bed. They are supposed to be going to sleep, but it doesn't sound like either one of them are tired as of yet. This is night three of them sleeping together. They've been begging to do it for a few months and we finally caved and let them. It's absolutely delightful to listen to the two of them, laugh, giggle and truly enjoy each other they way sisters are supposed to.

So, so sweet.

Where Few Things Happen as Planned

2011-02-15T18:54:00.016-05:00

Kyra went to swimming today and did absolutely wonderfully. She listened, followed directions and even attempted to retrieve the dolphin toy from the bottom of the pool with her classmates. Lydia played happily in the bleachers with a frog that is used as a water exercise for the smaller kids.

After swimming, we stopped by the grocery store to pick up some lettuce, since I needed to change my menu plan for today to BLT's. Kyra jabbered on and on, Lydia was seemingly possessed by Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Next came lunch at the ice rink. Kyra meandered through her lunch of 2 boiled eggs, a handful of cherry tomatoes and some peanuts. Lydia blazed through lunch, doing her best to finger the crumbs into her mouth.

Ice skating. Kyra listened and practiced her skills in a 15 minute private with her favorite coach in the whole wide world and proceeds on with her Tot class. Lydia donned ice skates 2 sizes too big and, for the first time, she took to the ice and impressed everyone with her ability to fall down and stand herself back up, and then fall down again while laughing hysterically. (She also Jekyll and Hyde'd it moving between tantruming in frustration and giggling though the pain)

Kyra asks to quit skating with 20 minutes left in class, her feet are cold and hurt. An unheard of request by a true blue ice princess. Out into the waiting room she lays on the bench looking sad and pitiful. Upon having her favorite coach in the whole wide world coming to check on her, she falls into a puddle of mush and tears. Inconsolable.

Car ride home.... both children fall asleep. I park my car outside the garage in the warmth of the sun and let the girls sleep. I went inside to grab my laptop so I could pitter on it in the car.

Kyra sniffles and snuffs herself into consciousness and I carry her in to her bed where she promptly falls back to sleep.

An hour and a half later, Lydia wakes up as I try to escape the car for a bathroom break. Carry her screaming and crying to my bed where I quickly tuck her in and turn on Oprah with hopes to quiet her down and not wake Kyra. It works.

Jeremy comes home. We discuss the fact that BLT's won't work for tonight because I don't have enough bread made and possibly eating out so I can also stop by WalMart and get some anti-snot medicine for Kyra.

Wake Kyra up from her 3 hour nap only to find her cheeks flushed red and her body scorching to the touch. Temperature: 103. Dope her up with ibuprofen, call the doctor to ask if we should fill the prescription for Amoxicillian they wrote yesterday with the orders of, Fill this only if she still has a sore throat, come Friday.

More phone calls made. Cancel tomorrow's already rescheduled piano practice and an already rescheduled play date, again.

Place both children in the bath (because you can't run a bath in the house without Lydia inviting herself to the party). Lydia remains possessed by ~~a bipolar demon~~ Jekyll and Hyde and is hell bent on torturing her sister, laughing about it and then lashing out at Daddy when sternly corrected. Children out of the tub and dressed.

Lydia's temperature taken, 100. Post bath, hair still damp. Guessing temp is presenting less then it should, under the circumstances. Tylenol administered. Daddy is off to fill prescriptions.

A supper of left over bean soup that was, luckily, stashed in the freezer for just such a day, is presented and dismissed by both children claiming lack of hunger. Night of the Iguana Chocolate Chai, a Rooibus tea, is accepted. Clearly the girls are not on their death beds.

Movie night ensues. Surfs Up and TinkerBell: The Lost Treasure.

Hoping for a restful night, but not counting on one.

Plans for tomorrow: day at home of rest, relaxation and lots of movies. Wonder how that's going to pan out?

CrockPots and Carbs

2011-02-12T15:54:00.005-05:00

On the menu this week:
Saturday: Creamy Chicken a la King*
Sunday: Pancakes
Monday: Ratatouille*
Tuesday: One Dish Sausage Supper*
Wednesday: Mediterranean Eggplant*
Thursday: Red Beans and Rice*
Friday: French Toast

*indicates crockpot meals.

I'm slightly addicted to my crockpot. I own 2 crockpots, actually. The 4 quart my mom used when I was growing up and a 7 quart that Jeremy bought me for Valentines Day two years ago to go along with this Fix It and Forget It cookbook.

Clearly he knows how to win my heart.

***********************************************
I spent most of Thursday brushing up on my bread making abilities.

I made both these cinnamon rolls, which I think I've learned the hard way need to cook 20 minutes, not 25.

And these pretzels, that I ended up salting with a heavy hand. (Oops! Who wants a little pretzel with their salt?)

Neither one of which Lydia has ever had, both of which Lydia had second and third helpings.

And since both girls really, really enjoyed their new homemade treats, I'd call that a success.

Next week starts the real bread making again. I'm kind of really, really, excited. Homemade bread tastes far better then store bought. Or, at least the recipes I steal from this genius of a lady, Erin, over at Savory Seasonings sure do!

Fair Warning: Do Not Try To Out Love Your Children In A School Zone. You'll Lose.

2011-02-11T20:11:00.009-05:00

Today I got my first speeding ticket in, like, NINE YEARS. Had you known me 10 years ago, you'd have known I had a very sweet and very fast Mustang and managed to accumulate enough tickets that the state REVOKED MY LICENSE. Needless to say, I have since learned to slow my ass down.

I've slowed down so much so that Jeremy says I may be the only person in the world whose GPS says they'd get somewhere in 7 hours and it takes me 8.

I'm just sayin'.... I'm not one of those 10mph over kind of drivers.

I swear, children have seriously taken the rebellion streak right out of me.

(OK... that and I will swear to you to this day that the Mustang's speedometer was OFF. And I was a dumb 20 year old who knew the speedometer was OFF but listen to my parents when they said nothing wrong with the car, just the driver and her lead foot, and I continued to drive "slightly" over the speed limit and routinely receive tickets for 15 and 20 mph over.)

I am totally and completely bummed because I thought the speed limit was 35, which it kinda-sorta was... except for that thousand feet of 25mph school zone I apparently missed. And I probably missed it because ~~it's the size of a postage stamp and~~ I was busy having this conversation with the kids:

Me: I love you!
Kyra: I LOVE YOU MORE!
Lydia: I wa yooou Mommy!
Me: I love you, too, Lydia!
Kyra: I LOVE YOU BUNCHES AND BUNCHES!
Lydia: I was yoooou bun'shees bun'shees!
Me: I love you all the way to the moon and starts and the cop that's now pulling me over.....

I was clocked at 41. Because I was playing the I LOVE YOU! game with my kids.

Seriously, Universe? Seriously? I was just trying to out love my children!

I get it. School zone. Children pay no attention to the world around them. I rightfully earned my ticket. Still. It sucks.

Super Bowl... Something

2011-02-06T18:46:00.000-05:00

I couldn't tell you a damned thing about what's happening in the Super Bowl. What I can tell you is the girls and I are camped out in my dark bedroom watching Ghost Hunters for the second year in a row.

God bless the internet and HD cables.

Jeremy was so very gracious and informed me yesterday that he could hook my laptop up to the TV. I think that's his way of keeping us women out of his hair while he watches his ONE AND ONLY football game of the year.

I'm just wondering why he hasn't told me in the last YEAR that we haven't had cable, and thus Ghost Hunters, that this was a possibility. Something about watching it on a 32 inch screen versus a 17 inch screen makes it so much better!

Hodge Podge

2011-02-05T16:51:00.006-05:00

A couple weeks ago Jeremy bought some honey from our local farmer's market. I don't know if it's just this seller's honey, or if it's because it's local and fresh, but it is FUCKING DELICIOUS. It's so good, in fact, that I've stopped using sugar in some of my hot tea flavors, which for a southern girl, is a miracle in and of itself. It's just.... sweeter..... and, more flavorful.

I don't know how to accurately describe it except to say we had to buy another jar today. A larger jar. To last us more than two weeks.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Mary has inspired me to start making bread again. I made it all last spring and summer for Lydia until I found one style of one brand she seemed to tolerate and then I just stopped.

The thing is, Lydia has been back on Zantac for three weeks now. She'd been off of it since December 1st. All of her symptoms (distended stomach, not sleeping through the night, overall cranky disposition) had slowly come back to haunt us within a 6 week time period.

Our new approach is to not feed her anything we haven't made ourselves (except her coconut milk) and no meat that doesn't come directly from a grass fed/grass finished cow or pasture raised pig. We think and kind of hope, if only to find the source, that even with the hotdogs, lunch meats and bread we thought were "safe" for her to eat, we are still slowly poisoning her little system.

She has one week left of Zantac and I pulled the last loaf of store bought bread out of the freezer this morning. Lydia seems to be back to happy, again, and I'd like to keep it that way. Even if I have to kneed 2 loaves a bread a week and cook like it's 1811.

Except with a propane cook top and oven because my land lord says wood burning stoves are dirty.

Clearly he's a man's man who likes to chop wood with his manicured nails and haul it over to the woodpile in his little Corvette sports car.

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On the menu this week:
Saturday: Ham* and Potatoes
Sunday: Classic Beef Chili*
Monday: Bean Soup* (using Saturday's leftover ham & hock)
Tuesday: Chicken Fingers and Salad
Wednesday: Veggie Soup (cleaning out the fridge, style)
Thursday: Left Overs
Friday: Shepherd's Pie*

*crockpot suppers

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We've decided to use our State Tax return to buy ourselves an exercise bike. We originally wanted a treadmill or elliptical but they are so big and bulky we didn't know if our next house would accommodate such a thing.

(The treadmill we have is just a borrow. And a crappy borrow at that. It's old. Cumbersome. It skips. And it's dying and trying to kill us.)

(We've found that neither one of us has any motivation to fast walk or jog on something that is going to kill you with it's skipity nature.)

So. Project Take Better Care of Ourselves is going rather smoothly. Or, it will be after the bike arrives next Friday.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Kyra, working on her school work at the kitchen table.

You'd think she was blind, judging by how close she gets to her paper to write.

But, no. This is the same kid who likes to play I Spy in the car and has you trying to guess something a million miles away and you'd never see it, anyway, without the aid of binoculars.

It's at this point of pondering her blindness, or lack there of, when she says, Mom... you're trying to distract me!

I'm sorry, Love. I'll leave you alone, now.

Where Southern (and slightly redneck) Thinking Invades the Arctic Tundra

2011-02-03T23:42:00.017-05:00

This is definitely a first in my house. Neither one of my children have ever taken a bath IN the sink.

Lydia thought it was great because there were crumbs still on the counter from the fresh baked banana bread we had after supper, for dessert, and she could still eat while being washed.

This all happened because Lydia went in to the doctor Monday with what I was sure was some weird third world disease on her butt. It looked exactly like we sat her down in an ant bed and let them eat her heiny alive.

Turns out it wasn't a third world disease, it was Folliculitis. Otherwise known as Staph Bacteria, invading her derriere.

I should say, though, I only advise you to click on the link if you enjoy being grossed out. Did you click? Of course you did. Now, imagine all that... on Lydia ass. Awesome, huh?

Well, they sent her home with an antibiotic and instructions to wipe down the toilet seat every time she uses the potty, bathe by herself every night in baking soda and to clean the tub when she gets out.

She'd already had a bath earlier in the day because she soaked the bed, her clothes and her hair during her nap. (she doesn't often need a pull-up anymore) (yea for potty training!)

Knowing we were going to have spaghetti and meatballs for supper, and that ALWAYS requires a bath to follow, we let her eat naked.

And then washed her in the much smaller and easier to clean, and sterilize, sink.

Hey, we thought it was a great idea.

Dear Jillian Michaels,

2011-02-01T21:35:00.002-05:00

I hate you. I hate you and your 30 Day Shred.

You make my legs hurt. No, wait, you don't just make my legs hurt, you make me WISH FOR DEATH as a way to alleviate the pain.

I would like very much to take my foot and shove it up your ass, but I don't think I can lift it that high.

I also love you. I love you very much for proving to me how out of shape I was. But mostly I love you for proving to The Huz how out of shape HE was.

He's sticking to the system. Granted, we're only on day 3, but he's making plans to start working out with some of the guys at work. This is nothing short of a miracle. He claims he used to work out on the boat, when they were out to sea. But then again, what the hell else is there to do on a submarine when you're not working? Sleep? Read a book? Watch another movie? He did all those too. And he does them at home. But he does not workout at home.

Thank you, Jillian Michaels. As much as I hate you for making my day a living hell every time I have to walk up and down my stairs, I thank you for helping to make me and Jeremy healthier people.

Though, if I ever meet you, don't be surprised if I first try to kick your ass before I hug you. I'm sure, for you and your job, that kind of gratitude is par for the course.

Yours in great pain and wishing for death,

Or a shot of morphine,

Slave to the Mommy Trade

Got Luck?

2011-01-30T21:40:00.000-05:00

Today was IT.

Today was THE DAY.

THE STRAW THAT BROKE THE CAMEL'S BACK, kind of day.

I tried to put on a pair of pants jeans today. Jeans I've been wearing for FOREVER. And they didn't fit. Because I am a fat ass.

I've been hounding Jeremy that he needs to loose weight and get on board the Take Better Care of Yourself train, but he learned a long time ago how to ignore me.

But, like I said, today was IT. No longer do I want to be have an ever growing fat ass, nor do I want to have my husband fall into the same pit of unhealthy hell his parents are in.

Today I bought a scale and a set of 3 and 5 pound weights to go along with our new 30 Day Shred DVD and told Jeremy that for the next two months, our asses were going to be in the hands of Jillian Michaels.

We set some guidelines:

Every Sunday we would mark our weight on the calendar to keep track of our progress. This is new to me. I've never kept track of my weight.
No eating food prepared outside of our home, except our Sunday lunch at our local tea house that we bribe the girls with to be good in church. This is going to be a much harder task for Jeremy then it will be for me. His office often sends someone out to "pick up lunch" from fast food eateries.
We'll take turns each night doing the 30 Day Shred workout. The one not doing the work out will take post upstairs taking Lydia to the potty eighty bajillion times when she's supposed to be going to sleep. This is usually my job while Jeremy piddles around on his computer down stairs. I kinda welcome the break even though Jillian is going to be busting my ass into shape.
Each morning we'll wake up early. He'll walk on our dust collecting treadmill for a half an hour and then shower, then it's my turn. He heads to work, I get ready for my morning. Normal routines are drag our asses out of bed at the slowest, sleepiest rate possible to either go to work (him) or tend to children (me).
After 8 weeks, we celebrate! We don't have this one fully worked out yet, but oh will there be celebrations!

Hopefully, in 8 weeks I'll be fitting back into my normal, everyday pants once again and Jeremy won't look quite so pregnant anymore. Pregnant looking men just don't have that same glow as pregnant women.... and women wearing unbuttoned pants in public are generally frowned upon.

So!

Wish us luck. We'll need it. I'll need it.

Life. It's What's for Dinner.

2011-01-28T17:14:00.005-05:00

Remember when I said last week that Kyra was 2-3 weeks from being finished with her kindergarten curriculum for reading? Well, I lied. She finished it last night, the little Smarty Pants.

I'm not quite ready to move on to 1st grade, yet, so I think I'll have her continue to practice her helper words and rereading her kindergarten books until I have my end of the teaching stuff in order. Besides, making sure she has everything down pat couldn't hurt, right?

********************

Each payday I plan 14 meals for my menu. I take $300 out of the ATM and budget for two weeks worth of food, about $100 a week at the grocer and $50 dollars a week at the farmer's market. Sometimes I go over, sometimes I go under. Usually, and I'm not sure how, I managed to come within dollars or even mere cents to my by-weekly allotment. It's not that I even walk around with a calculator or keep a running tab in my head. It just happens. I'm pretty sure it's magic, or something.

This week on the menu:
Saturday: Sweet and sour ribs
Sunday: French Toast
Monday: Fruity Vegetable Beef Stew
Tuesday: Ham Steak
Wednesday: Spaghetti and Meatballs
Thursday: Pork Chop Casserole
Friday: left overs

*********************

I'm in the planning stages of another great big, month long road trip with just the girls and I. With any luck we'll stay and visit with relatives in 3 different states, drive more then 4,000 miles and all come home without any visits to the hospital or looney bin.

My biggest fear, surprisingly enough, is not that Jeremy's going to have to check me into the hospital for crazy people when we return, but trying to figure out how to successfully feed little miss I Can't Eat Normal People Food But Must Have Grass Fed Grass Finished, Organic, Don't Give Me No Bull Shit, Lydia food without either (1) going broke, (2) having to watch her bottom break out in a dreadful rash, (3) witness her stomach distend and explode or (4) listen to her scream and cry all night, every night from some reaction to her giant list of Non Allergies.

This fear has kept me up at night for this entire last week and the trip is still MONTHS away.

You see, I've finally become very comfortable in feeding Lydia without too much fear of poisoning her little system. Sure, I might have to visit three grocery stores and a farmer's market on a weekly basis just to find Lydia appropriate foods, but still, I know what I'm doing and where I need to go here in the Arctic Tundra to feed my child. This is not so easy in other cities and states, as I found out last year when we visited the Land of the CornHuskers and I don't have the luxury of returning her to a month long, formula fed diet once again.

So, no, it's not checking into the looney bin at the end of all this, that I fear. That should be a welcomed relief.

Homeschooling Update

2011-01-20T23:00:00.003-05:00

-- Because I clearly haven't posted enough updates this month.

We are in such a good place with our homeschooling efforts. My confidence level has shot through the roof this week with all of Kyra's progress suddenly dawning on me.

Kyra's reading skills are excellent! And I guess I always knew they would be. She's been a book worm since she could first pick up a book. Always had her nose between the pages, studying the pictures, telling me what she thinks is going on.

At the beginning of the summer, I tried using Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons-- which came recommended to me by several different homeschooling moms, but Kyra was bored to pieces with it. A great coupon/discount deal and a little research later, last fall we're started using two different programs, Hooked on Phonics along with Explode the Code.

Kyra has excelled so much faster then I ever expected. She is a mere 2, maybe 3, weeks from being finished with the kindergarten curriculum, which I fully intended to last us through the spring season. She can read all her short vowels sounds in simple words with one section left on adding a -ck sound into the mix. (sick, back, duck, neck)

I peeked at the first grade curriculum already and it seems that it starts out teaching them all the combination sounds (is that what you would call them?) like sh-, ch- and th-. She should do absolutely great with the next step. She's just a whiz when it comes to this stuff! And best of all, she's in love with the whole reading to others, thing! Lydia won't sit still for her, yet, but the dogs don't seem to mind being read to. Neither do Jeremy or myself!

When it comes to Kyra's math, another homeschool friend of mine sent me an A Beka speed and drill book. That got me looking into the actual workbook, which is what I decided to go with. The reviews were good. A lot of them said the curriculum was a bit on the slower side, kinda dumbed down from what I understood. Perfect for me as a beginning tool, I thought, since I'm not sure how either Kyra or I would do as we started out.

Kyra uses Arithmetic 1, which is supposed to be a 1st grade curriculum, but after talking to my friend earlier this week, it seems that Kyra is right on target with the same work her best friend, Rachel, is doing in her kindergarten class out in Nebraska.

She's mastered adding and subtracting numbers 1-9, she can count to 100 and beyond by both ones, tens and we're currently working on fives. She's learning coins by sight and worth and learning to count them, too (3 dimes, 1 nickel and 4 pennies equals 39 cents).

While I remember learning my numbers in kindergarten, the rest of it I remember learning in 1st grade. No wonder I was confused when some of the reviews for the curriculum said they were dumbing it down! If it were 20+ years ago it was right on target but, apparently, with the school system's method of pushing kids earlier and earlier it's now spot on for 5 year olds to be learning this stuff today.

We usually do "school" 3-4 mornings a week, an hour or two a day. Though we did take almost all of November and half of December off due to passing around illnesses and holiday whatnots. Oh, and last week when The Grandparents! were in. While we had time for school, there is no way I could get Kyra to focus as she was JUST! SO! EXCITED! that there were new people to entertain.

I'm so happy that Kyra wants to learn! Most days, when I tell her it's time for nap/quiet time (Lydia lays down to nap, Kyra quietly lays down to "rest her body"-- and usually falls asleep) she asks if she can do school work rather then go to bed, even if we've already done some that morning. Sometimes I let her, sometimes she's had a busy or rough morning and needs her quiet time. But the fact that she WANTS to do school work instead of taking a break blows my mind.

If someone had told me a few years ago that I would be a homeschooling mom and actually succeed, I would have laughed in their face. Who knew? It boggles my mind. But we are just so very happy with the turns life has given us and the way life has treated us. I would have never guessed my little family would be this blessed.

Diary of A 2 Year Old Snow Bunny

2011-01-20T01:43:00.000-05:00

First things first, gotta look the part.

All suited up. Strike a pose. Vogue vogue vogue...

Got my bucket and sifter. Now, to make a snow castle for the driveway.

Well, shit, I fell down.

Can you believe that, Mom?

Aww, MAN!

Look, it's sticking to me! What a mess!

Come on, Horsie, you can be my snow plow.

We'll just push the snow out of the way like that truck does....

Hey, Kyra! What'cha doing in the deep snow?

Oh, yes, yes. Very interesting. Well, you see, if you come over here...

Oh no! I broke through the ice layer, I'm sinking! Hellllp!

Fuck this snow. I'm getting rid of it. All of it.

Clearly this shit's useless.

Hey, come on. Get off there, now.

This is going to take all day.

I swear, Mom, put down that camera. You're so useless.

Easy Entertainment

2011-01-19T10:29:00.000-05:00

Some of the coolest parts of a snow day for my kids...

Watching the snowplow clean out our driveway.

Fancy, Schmancy

2011-01-18T23:57:00.005-05:00

Look. I'm not a food person by any means. I grew up poor. We ate whatever it was my mother threw on the table without much fuss or otherwise we'd have the option to go hungry. Simple as that.

It should, then, come to no surprise to anyone that one of my very favorite gifts to receive for any occasion would be food related.

So when my friend Jillian passed along some of her fancy blueberry-basil jam like stuff to me for Christmas, I was thrilled.

I must say, though, I've never once thought to put basil in with any of my blueberry concoctions. I was very happy to see that on her fancy, schmancy label she had printed, she made sure to inform the morons like me that this Blueberry-Basil Delight is best served with cheese or on toast.

I tell ya, give me a set of directions and I'm an A+ when it comes to following them!

I did like any ignorant, non foodie kind of person would do and tromped on down to my local farmer's market this weekend and stood over top the cheese case looking utterly confused until the lovely lady manning the table took pity on me. I told her my dilemma, she gave her suggestion and off I went.

Tonight, I took my fancy cheese and my fancy spread and put them on some fancy all natural wheat crackers and HOLY SHIT was I in fancy love. It was absolutely delish, I tell ya. So delish, in fact, that I cramed a cracker down Jeremy's throat and told him to enjoy it while it lasted because I'M NOT SHARING, ANYMORE!

The only problem was, it was all way too fancy looking for my taste. I felt like I should break out the bottle of blueberry wine I have opened in the fridge and pour myself a spash except it's been open (corked, but open) since Kyra's birthday in September and I'm too scared to drink it now because I usually toss things after a week but I'm not sure if that means wine should follow the same logic or if I'm way out of my element trying to be all suave when really I'm a big poser (**pant, pant, sigh**) .

So after devouring half the batch I made, I topped rest of the things with another cracker.

Voila. It tastes mighty fancy and delish, but it's no longer intimidating. Makes me feel like I'm back to my measly up bringing of buttered saltine crackers sprinkled with sugar.... except a little more grown up.

Update: Lydia's Non-Allergy, Allergy

2011-01-11T22:12:00.000-05:00

Poor Lydia suffered through another set of allergy testing. Nine needles shoved into her back while Jeremy held her hair out of the way and I pinned her arms under mine as I pressed her screaming, writhing head into my chest.

Nothing.

Nada.

Lydia is still not allergic to a damned thing. While I'm not all that surprised, all her presenting symptoms are gastricly related, I was really hoping that SOMETHING would answer a few questions for us. the allergist suggests we go back to a pediatric GI specialists. Just a different one then who we were seen by last time.

(Apparently the GI people have now given the cold shoulder to and pissed off the Allergy people. Lovely.)

So. Hello, Square One! Nice to see you, again.

Update: Kyra's Cool Party Trick

2011-01-10T20:33:00.001-05:00

Good news all around!

Kyra had her orthopedic appointment today. Doc says she is freakishly flexible and freakishly skinny and that combination is what makes the "wing" affect with Kyra's shoulder blades. When she goes even a little bit past the point of squaring off her shoulders, it makes her shoulder blade stick out farther then what is considered normal.

As for the popping of the socket, its some kind of weird anomaly that, while not common, is okay to live with as long as (1) it doesn't become irritated, sore or otherwise put her in any kind of pain and (2) she quits doing it on such a regular basis which will thus, eventually, cause irritation, soreness and pain.

Also, her cool party trick has nothing to do with her back aches.

Kyra has decided this makes her a Super Hero! and that it is part of her super powers. Upon asking her what she's going to do as a Super Hero!, she states that she's going to "Knock on doors and ask people if they have food and if they don't have any food she's going to give them some."

I don't know about you, but I think the world could use a few more of those weird shoulder anomaly, hunger fighting Super Heroes!

A True Sign That God Loves Me, After All

2011-01-08T21:16:00.001-05:00

As I read back through the archives of Lydia's first year of life, I can't help but remember how completely and totally overwhelmed I was with all of her neediness.

It took me a good 8 months before I would even begin to refer to her as a colic infested baby. To the best of my knowledge, colicky babies cried every day, for a certain number of hours, and at about the same time every day.

Lydia screamed. A lot. But there wasn't any sort of pattern or routine to it. She seemed mostly to pick the time of day that I had both my hands and arms full to start her screaming. And, like any good mother, I'd drop what I was doing and try my best to figure out what was wrong with her. Sometimes I could fix it. Most of the time I was completely and totally clueless. Carrying her around in my beloved Beco carrier was the best chance I had to get her to shut the fuck up. And even then, sometimes that didn't help.

As it turned out, I was doing everything right, to the best of my ability, and my poor, sweet child had one raging case of colic that would stick with us for more then 15 months.

Oh, the joys!

When the colic started to taper off, the clingy Only Mommy Will Do stage came into its own. I couldn't be out of her sight. Every time I changed rooms, Lydia would change rooms with me. I didn't really mind, for the most part, because at least she wasn't screaming anymore.

Now it seems like we've taken a whole 'nother turn for the better. I wrote the other day about how well she did with a friend baby sitting her. She didn't engage this friend very much, but she didn't scream that terrible scream, either. So, shocked as I was-- I took it and ran with it.

Today Jeremy's parents flew into the Arctic Tundra for a visit. Last time we saw them was 20 months ago. Lydia was 4 months old and well into her colic phase. She screamed the entire time. I don't even have pictures of Lydia with her grandparents for the first visit because I was too busy apologizing for the ghastly screaming and trying my best to make it stop.

As my girls stood at the airport, signs in hand, waiting for their grandparents to come out of the terminal, I hoped this visit would far beat out the last.

I didn't have to wait long.

If that isn't a sign that God loves me, then I don't know what is.

Yes. This is going to be a great week, indeed. Thank you, God.

Kyra's Cool Party Trick

2011-01-06T15:01:00.004-05:00

I took Kyra in for a doctor's appointment yesterday because she's going on 8 months of complaining off and on that her back hurts.

The issue was addressed at her 5 year check up last fall with nothing found physically wrong. Shortly after that visit she stopped complaining, but the whines, cries and tears have been back for a few weeks now. So in she went.

The doctor started off by doing all the normal pushes, prods, finger feels and eyeballing you'd expect. Upon finding nothing physically wrong, he started discussing x-rays to see if we can find something amiss that way. Then, as a last ditch effort he asked her to stand up strait and square her shoulders off so he could get another look.

And that's when we both saw it.

Kyra's right shoulder blade points out. Directly at you, person standing behind her. Clearly not matching her left side. Different, to say the least.

He came around to her front and started talking about possibilities of a loose tendon or this medical jargon or that medical jargon. And then Kyra, standing there, listening intently to all of this, started to POP HER SHOULDER IN AND OUT OF SOCKET.

I know. Creepy.

It's like a weird trick you show your friends during a night of drinking. Hey! Look at this really cool and gross thing I can do with my shoulder!

Kyra's standing there, left arm wrapped across her stomach, right elbow resting easily on the left hand, right hand tucked up under her chin, POPPING HER SHOULDER IN AND OUT OF SOCKET. Like it's nothing.

It's just another Wednesday, people, why are your faces contouring like that?

While the doc stands there, dumbfounded, I start asking Kyra questions.

Can you do that with the other shoulder? No
Does that happen all the time? I do it when I'm trying to go to sleep and get comfortable.
How long have you been doing that? **shrugs**
Does it hurt? No.

The doctor regains his composure and asks her to swing her left arm around in a big circle. She does, with no unusual consequences. He asks her to do the same with her right. She puts her arm strait up in the air, swings it forward, down and on the way back up her shoulder makes this weird movement while her arm, instead of going behind her, takes a right turn to the side as her elbow bends to bring her arm back strait, above her head.

We're still not sure why she's complaining about her back. Doc says it's not growing pains and children this young should not have any reason to complain about back aches. So he's concerned. But this shoulder trick apparently trumps a back ache.

Kyra's been referred to see an orthopedic doctor to find out if this is something that needs fixing or if its something she'll grow out of. Whatever it is, its weird. I wish you all could have been with me to see the doctor's face. Clearly he was not expecting what he saw.

On our way out of the office, he shouts to us, "When you see the orthopedic about her shoulder, mention her back. Maybe the two will correlate."

I wonder if that's wishful thinking on his part or a last minute Ah-ha! moment.

The Strangest Thing Happened Today

2011-01-04T22:15:00.009-05:00

You all should be very proud of me, I did something I really, really didn't want to do and dreaded doing with every fiber of my being...

I dropped the girls off at a friends house today while I went to my appointment.

I'm happy to report, Lydia didn't SCREAM BLOODY FUCKING MURDER while I was away. In fact, she didn't even cry. Not even a little bit. Didn't even seem to miss me. I was completely enthralled and also a little bit sad.

I'm not sure what happened, but apparently since turning 2 she's lost her devilish, I HATE THE WORLD, charm.

It's almost like she's becoming a sweet child. I don't know what to make of her.

Not that this softer side of Lydia is a bad thing.... just completely unexpected and out of nowhere.

Strange. Very strange. But I like it. 2 is going to be a good year. The phrase Terrible 2's is going to be replaced with Good bye Terrible, hello 2! What took you so long?

When She's Right, She's Right.

2011-01-02T20:16:00.003-05:00

Lisa is right. I'm getting way too domesticated. This was just way too easy to finish in two days time.

All Domesticated and Whatnot

2011-01-01T22:57:00.002-05:00

Lisa tells me I'm getting too domesticated to be her long distance BFF.

My enjoyment of doing the laundry and vacuuming seems to bother her. My love to cook and bake are more up her husband's ally (okay, so she does do the cooking, too). Homeschooling, na-ah. No way. Not for her. Sewing the children's clothes? Isn't it cheaper and easier to find a good deal and just buy them something?

And now, I'm making their bedding.

No, really--

It's a quilt for Lydia's toddler bed.

I've been picking up flannel out of the remenants bin at Wal-Mart over the past 6 months intending to make some long sleeve peasant top for Kyra (I'd already made 3) but then I decided I hated the way this fabric wrinkles so easily in the wash and the dryer doesn't do a whole lot to take the wrinkles out. Instead of sewing beautiful garmants of clothing for my kids, I've been hoarding these reminants away, much to Jeremy's annoyance.

Today I decided, completely out of the blue, that I was going to make Lydia a quilt. And VOILA! I have a quilt.

Well, kinda. I still have to buy some batting and figure out what I want to back it and bind it with... but other than that...!

It's my very first quilt (if you couldn't already tell from the simple, large square design) and I'm completely and totally winging it. And already, Kyra wants me to make one for her bed.

A princess blanket that is pink, purple and blue.

Mmm hmmm..... We'll see how this one goes before I think about starting a princess blanket. Lisa really might drop me as a long distance BFF, then.

2011 Resolutions

2010-12-31T23:56:00.006-05:00

I'm not much for resolutions. In fact, I can't recall ever making one but this year I have some definite plans I hope to keep.

I think I'm gonna start by taking better care of myself. Somehow, in a year, I've managed to gain 2 pant sizes and I'm determined to loose them.

I don't know where the weight came from, but I know how it got here. I spend so much time worrying about the kids and Jeremy and do they have everything they need, want, desire. Is there anything I can do for them, for a friend, for someone I don't even know? What are the plans for tomorrow, the week, the month? How do I keep everything in order when the only list I have going is IN MY HEAD THAT IS ABOUT TO EXPLODE?

The only time I seem to devote to myself are the girls' naps.... for which I frequently lay down and take a nap, myself. I find myself plum exhausted all. the. time.

2011, I'm determined to fit a few minutes into each day to take better care of myself. Eat an apple in peace. Pop a few vitamins into my pie hole. Take a walk, alone. Clear my head from time to time. Remember to brush my teeth TWICE a day and floss EVERYDAY.

Somehow I remember to keep the kid's teeth spick and span clean, but my own.... at least I brush them every morning, right? Counts for something?

That's my major plan for the new year. Find a few minutes each day just to do something to take better care of myself.

I have a minor plan, too. I'd like another baby, please. Does the new year deliver babies to overweight women who can't seem to find 10 minutes out of the day to make themselves a little saner?

Yes, yes, I know. I'll have to get Jeremy to jump on that same bandwagon with me. Believe me, I'm working on it. And it helps that MAH BAY-BEE just turned 2. He's been going through the last week with me strolling down Memory Lane and stopping to pause at the intersection of Remember Cute Baby Stage Drive.

Now, I'm not sure how I'm going to take better care of myself and loose 2 pant sizes while having a baby, but, you know, clearly I was being honest when I said I never make resolutions because this one doesn't seem to be very well thought out.

There you have it, my 2011 Resolutions:
1) Take better care of myself and hope the weight falls off the same way it jumped on.
2) Have a baby. Or borrow one. Indefinitely. We'll see. Jury's still out on that one.

Wish me luck. I'm sure I'll need it.

Two

2010-12-30T23:33:00.004-05:00

One Last Picture

2010-12-29T23:08:00.006-05:00

One last picture, I thought, before you turn 2.

A few hours is all I have left, of my baby, of you.

How quickly you've grown. Much faster then your sister.

Scared that I'll lose one more moment, I take one last picture.

And then freeze...

Because crap, now you're awake. And smiling. And as cheerful as can be.

Clearly not marred by the interruption in sleep.

I wonder if not going to sleep the night before your birthday is like not going to sleep on Christmas Eve and Santa doesn't come? If I keep her awake, will she never turn 2?

Maybe I've found that pause button after all.

Who Wants My Screaming Banshee?

2010-12-28T16:24:00.004-05:00

Here's my dilemma.

Next Tuesday, as in one week from today, I scheduled an appointment to have my lady bits checked out. Make sure everything is hunky dory and still in the same places they're supposed to be, if you get my drift.

Being a woman is downright glamorous, if nothing else.

The thing is, I scheduled it at a point in the day where Jeremy could get off a little early from work, come home and make sure the house doesn't burn down while the girls take their naps. Easy enough, right?

Except that when Jeremy comes home today and says he can't get off early next Tuesday because of training and how shoving one's thumb up one's own ass is SO IMPORTANT to the Navy's way of life.

So, my options are as follows
1) I can take the girls with me to the appointment and give Kyra a quick homeschool lesson on why being a woman can sometimes SUCK. ASS.
2) I can reschedule the appointment and hope for better luck in having the Navy cooperate next time.
3) say FUCK IT! and place trust in the good Lord and know my body will be just fine.
or, 4) ask a friend to watch the girls while I'm being violated.

Jeremy says I should go with #4. The thing is, if I go with #4, then I wouldn't really be a very good friend knowing that Lydia may or may not (but probably, totally will) SCREAM BLOODY FUCKING MURDER the entire time I'm away. Because that's what she does, that sweet little child of mine.

My first inclination is to go with #3 because I hate doctors and I'm not currently dying so I don't see the point in being tormented by someone who wants me to just relax in a situation that is so. not. relaxing.

#2 is as simple as a coin toss, I may or may not get the desired effect of my choosing.

And #1, well, I think that's just cruel and unusual punishment. For me. Can you imagine it? My always inquisitive older child?

What are they doing, Mommy? Why are they doing that? What is that, Doctor? Can I help? Can I see? Ooh, I can hold that for you!

So, essentially what I need to decide is do I want to skip the appointment entirely, attempt to reschedule, or ask one of my local friends if they'd like to host Kyra and her little sister, Holy Terror, for an afternoon of jovial fun.

Decisions, decisions...

A Lydia Kate How To

2010-12-27T22:06:00.002-05:00

How to go from calm, cool and collected:

To happy, sweet and cheerful:

To gleefully screaming psycho:

And back to calm, cool and collected.

All in one quick photo session.

Visually brought to you by our very own Little Lydie Kate.

Christmas Eve, 2010 Style

2010-12-24T23:40:00.001-05:00

Walnuts were smashed:

Coconut walnut fudge was made:

Little sisters were mauled:

Notes were written:

In case Santa got confused:

Pictures were had:

Santa arrived:

Merry Christmas to all and to all--- good night!

Perfectly Sweet

2010-12-22T23:37:00.002-05:00

And so it begins, again.

The wondering why in the world I let Jeremy talk me into moving her to the toddler bed.

The falling out of said toddler bed two and three times a night.

The "Mommy is here to rescue you while Daddy lays in bed. Snoring."

I guess, then, that's it really isn't much of a change from having her sleeping in the crib and getting her legs stuck in the slats.

The one difference is the way in which she sleeps, the new reason why she wakes up.

The other difference would be the new sweet, sweet, pictures I get to take of her tiny little feet tip toeing the floor.

And her precious little hand, barely poking through a new set of slats.

And while savoring all that sweetness in picture format, she stirs as yet another flash goes off. And there she is.

My baby. Who, at 23 months and 22 days, continues to wake me up through out the night. This time, though, she's fallen out of bed. Again.

At least now I know they grow out of that stage.

The sweetness, though. That incredible sweetness remains.

I wonder if they'll both still look this perfect when the teenage years hit and their lives suck and Mom and Dad are just so uncool.

I'd be willing to bet they'll always be sweet and perfect. Though, I might still have to sneak in their rooms and snap a few more photos to prove just what perfectly sweet teenagers they still are.

Accepting the Inevitable

2010-12-18T22:34:00.000-05:00

She's growing up way too fast.

My baby is no longer a baby.

And I'm not quite sure how I feel about that.

When A Sticker is Better Than A Hug

2010-12-17T21:37:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I had a rough day. Kyra, always trying to make sure those around her have a smile, picked out a sticker just for me. She stuck it to my arm and said "This is so you don't forget I love you." She rubbed my back for a second then started to hop up and down while singing Jingle Bells.

It never ceases to amaze me that the same child who can frustrate me to no end is the same child I wouldn't trade for the most precious jewel in the world.

And that, is really cool.

The Fairy Is Egging Her On. I'm Certain of It.

2010-12-13T23:22:00.024-05:00

Of all the positions to sleep in... she never seem to sleep the long way in bed. Always to the side. Half the time she wakes up crying because her feet are stuck though the slats. And still, she hasn't learned.

Favorite Ornaments

2010-12-12T15:07:00.003-05:00

Some of my very favorite Christmas ornaments:

We each have a moose on the tree with our names on them. My dear friend Joelle made them for her family and mine when were were both a family of 3. I was hoping she would make a new one for Lydia but I was too afraid to ask. Don't want to sound too pushy, ya know. Low and behold, Joelle came through. She always does. And that's why she's so awesome.

Last year another friend of mine, Lindsey, sent this to me as a Christmas card. She made this. WITH HER HANDS. Slightly impressive, no? And that's why, year 2, it is again decorating our tree.

There's a lot to complain about life when living with a military spouse. The long hours. Unexpected work days. Unforeseen good bye's for unspecified amounts of time. It's not all bad. After all, it supplied me with a chance opportunity to jump the pond and see my husband in Scotland for 5 days a few years back. Now, every year I pull out this Santa wearing a skirt and remember that this was the only man I saw wearing a skirt that trip. Isn't that supposed to be what the Scottish are known for?

The first time we lived in the Artic Tundra, I made friends with a girl named Jennifer. She used to invite me every so often to her church and I'd accept. At a particular luncheon I attended, somehow I received this angel as a present. Can I tell you, this picture doesn't allow it's true, simple beauty to shine through. Each year, this angel reminds me of you, Jennifer. Thanks for including me.

There's a lot more than just these four. The Bible Belt pine cones Heather sent to me years ago, when I complained to her that the Artic Tundra's pine cones were so puny they didn't even compare. And the styrofoam balls my mother made for the girl's last year. She pinned sequins all over them and included each girl's name in the design to give them their own ornaments.

I hope when I'm old and grey, my Christmas tree will symbolize one great big pot of fond memories.

'Tis the Season of Giving. And remembering.

Christmas Tree Prayers

2010-12-07T23:30:00.001-05:00

Kyra got to stay up late this evening just because she had a great day today. She watched Charlie Brown's Christmas and some little elf cartoon, enjoyed a bowl of grape jello for dessert and then waited patiently for Jeremy to come home from the neighbor's house next door to read her bedtime story.

While waiting, I watched her several times stop by the Christmas tree, kneel in front and put her hands together and pray:

Dear Jesus and God,
I hope you have a wonderful Christmas. I love you.
Amen

I know, I was thinking the same thing. She's destined for the convent.

Or the nut house.

Back Off Ladies--- This Stud Muffin is ALL MINE

2010-12-06T20:23:00.000-05:00

Jer's been on edge for days now. DAYS. The thick air that has followed him around the house has made it difficult for both girls and myself to so much as breathe without him snarling off nasty words or dirty looks and glares in our direction.

I swear I've seen this before. My mother was notorious for it when we were growing up. I'm having flashbacks and frankly.... I'm not a fan.

Maybe it's male PMS. I swear they get it once a month just like we do. And this month must be set to be a very NASTY week for Jer's wee delicate body.

Back to my point.

Jer's been trying to pick in a fight with me for two days now. And I just gave in. Which, I know, stupid me. I should have known better.

During this fight he blamed me for all his sour mood. I pointed out to him in an equally nice manner that he's been pissy with the girls the same way he's been pissy with me. So, if it is ALL MY FAULT that he's been a peach to the children, then please, let me know so I can fix myself and let the children OFF THE HOOK. He claims innocence.

I didn't do it! Its not my fault! He says.

We part ways.

Cut to 10 minutes later, he wants to know what's wrong with me. Holy. Shit. I married Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. But I'm beyond angry at this point, so I tell him in the nicest way I could (no, seriously, I was talking very calmly) that he's the one who wanted to pick a fight, and boy does he have one, now.

It's at this point where I walk away. And he starts to call me names and taunt me like we're school children on a playground.

I have yet to say another word to him. Nor he to me. But, on the up side, he's behaving absolutely delightful to the girls again. So, mission somewhat accomplished...?

I can't help but wonder, is my husband the only one who acts like a 12 year old having a school yard fight complete with taunting and name calling-- or do I have a real winner on my hands? I'd just like know so I can anticipate how many women out there are going to start knocking down my door th steel my man from me. Most weeks I might object. Though, this week it wouldn't be hard to take him.

If I knew he'd sit still long enough, I'd put him out in the front yard with a FREE sign.

Squirrels in the Attic

2010-12-01T23:37:00.000-05:00

We have squirrels in our attic. And our walls, and the floor between the two floors, and... well... where ever else they've decided to tunnel though in the house. They used to keep me up at night as they hauled in their acorns through a hole in the attic above my bedroom or scampering about playing tag in the middle of the night.

We've since closed the hole under the roof eve that they came in through and set out cereal baited live traps in two of the storage rooms we've heard them in.

We thought the cereal was a better solution then the poisoning option our landlord would like to go for. I'm sure he's thought that through and knows that when the damned things die IN THE WALLS we'll be calling him back in to remove the rotting bodies via random holes IN THE WALLS. Because, that's sure to be where the critters will be when they finally kick the bucket.

However, after this morning, I'm beginning to rethink the whole poison solution...

Mainly because I think the little shits are taunting us.

Yes, that right there is an acorn. In the storage room. Containing the baited trap.

Bastards.

Movin' On Up to Dressing Down

2010-11-29T15:07:00.002-05:00

Kyra's being moved up in her swimming lessons to the next level. She is thisclose to being able to swim without the aid of any floatation devices. She can do it for quick 20 yard laps, maybe even further if pushed harder.

Her swim teacher says the jump to the next level will give her that extra kick in the ass she needs to get going. Which makes total sense.

The thing is, the next level swim class is on another day... same time, just another day. Like, the same time and day as her art class. Convenient, huh?

I didn't think so, either.

Except that, I wouldn't mind if she ended up missing art class. Lets face it, Kyra is no Picasso. Or, wait, she kinda sorta is if you like that weird, misshapen face kind of thing.

But I like that art teacher and she's actually a pretty good friend of mine and Kyra absolutely adores having play dates with her two boys and art class is just an excuse to plan another playdate. So I kinda, sorta don't want to hurt her feelings (or miss out on anymore playdates) by saying things like, I know art is great for kids and all, but, uh, Kyra's gonna learn how to swim whether she likes it or not (good thing she does!) and if that means not bringing home another abstract piece of art that is supposed to resemble a Mardi Gras mask, then, well.... sacrifices.

So, anyway. Kyra's swim and piano classes, which are all but right next door to each other so I schedule them back to back, are now being moved from one day to the next. All times remain the same. Which is really nice, because now that free's up another day of the week for me to do nothing and go nowhere.

Woo-hoo!

I think I should celebrate by buying another set of pajamas to lounge around the house in.

What? I can homeschool in pajamas...