All tuckered out from running through puddles

 

 

Been a while

Sadly, although I often skip posting to blog because I write things down in my journal and like to avoid redundancy, I have lost my journal! My 5-year journal that I was 2-1/4 years into!

I am guessing I lost it somewhere in my house, but that doesn't take away the fact that it is missing and A) may be actually be lost forever (it wouldn't be the first thing to completely disappear, yet magically never leave my house), and B) leaves me with no journal to write in until I find the lost journal, or break down and buy a new one. I don't like either of those options, they require either a full-scale cleaning and decluttering of my home, or else that I purchase a new one when I have very recently repurposed (and thus used up) TWO journals thinking I would not need them since hey! I have my handy-dandy 5-year journal!

So if you see a small blue pocket-book sized 5-year journal laying in a gutter near you, check the inside cover. If it is mine, I have handily written my name and address and it is on your conscience if you don't give it back.

Meanwhile, here are some kid tidbits:

Caroline was listening to music in the car while we were running errands and as an 80's classic that she has never heard came on she sank into her seat, sighed contentedly, and pronounced, "I LOVE this song!"

Ethan enjoys pickles, which is great, but he often asks for them at odd hours and is stubborn about it. Like wanting a pickle before breakfast. But anyway, I was going to serve cucumber slices with dinner so I brought the cucumber to the table and Ethan declared, "Oh no! It's a BIG pickle!"

After long baths, when fingers and toes have turned into prunes, Ethan does not enjoy the sensation of the wrinkles (gotta say I'm with him on that one). He calls it "shrinky" and shows anyone and everyone that "my hands are shrinky!" One day, for no apparent reason, he started getting upset, saying "my hands are shrinky! my hands are shrinky!" After a minute he stopped running around, held out his hands for inspection and sighed, "no. My hands not shrinky." Phew! Dodged THAT bullet, Ethan!

Pull your dang pants down

Ethan has been potty trained for almost 9 months now and he will still not pull his pants down or up for himself! It really is obnoxious, because that simple skill would mean he didn't have to interrupt meals, he could play cars continuously downstairs without traipsing upstairs for my aid, and he could do his business by himself in the middle of the night rather than screaming me out of my REM cycle for my help. But no! Any time his pants (even sweatpants, for crying in a bucket!) need taken down or pulled up, it's mom to the rescue.

So this morning when I was dragged out of bed to his shrill demand, "needa go peepee!" I found he had already wet himself a touch while waiting for me. I pulled out some new underpants for him, but he refused to step into them! Wouldn't take his foot off the floor. I was so confused! Finally he let me in on a little subtlety of his own: "maybe I don't like them."

Oh, MAYBE, is it?

Broken No More!

Caroline got her cast of today and the results are in - she's fixed! Her perfectly-snapped-in-two arm is now mostly-perfectly growing back together. It's only mostly perfect because the bones didn't mend in a straight line - they healed at an oblique angle. You can't tell from the outside, but the x-ray gave me a start; I thought, "oh no! They'll have to re-break it and re-set it!" but the orthopedist assured me it was just fine, and as she grows the bones will straighten back out. So I relaxed and took her home to jump on the trampoline. Maybe she can re-break it herself ;)

On Sunday Caroline was sitting with her Primary class, as usual, and I was in the front of the Primary room, as usual. USUALLY I'll let her sit with me for a minute or two at some point, but this particular day I was conducting the meeting AND teaching sharing time, so she needed to stay with her teacher. She called something to me from her seat, but I couldn't hear. She called again, and again I couldn't hear. I walked over to her seat; "what did you say, sweetheart?" Caroline replied, "I said you're a bad mom."

Caroline, and all my kids for that matter, have a habit (probably inherited from their mother) of beating around the bush to ask for something. I distinctly remember as a kid watching my mom mix up a pitcher of Kool-Aid; I hovered near and said, "that Kool-Aid looks REALLY good." At that moment my brother walked by and said something sweet and gentle, like, "just ask her if you can have a drink, you idiot!" It was an eye-opener! I knew what I had been trying to ask for, and of course my mom had amazing telepathic mom-powers and SHE knew, too, but that other people could read into my oh-so-secret language of subtlety?!? Shocker! And now I see my kids doing it all the time (like the Seagull I mentioned). Patrick will see a brownie at Kari's house and say, "I really wish my mom would make brownies at our house." OI (Obvious Interpretation): May I have a brownie? Eli will see leftover pizza rolls and say, "Caroline asked to be excused..." OI: can I finish her dang pizza rolls? Kari and I have great chuckles over the myriad ways they come up with for asking a simple question. Perhaps they think they, too, possess incredible powers of subtlety and we, as moms, have incredible telepathic powers.

Hidden messages

Ethan's toddler talk is still sometimes difficult for me to understand (though Joe does a great job translating for me) but that's to be expected when they're 2. What throws me for a loop is when Caroline speaks in riddles... you need a translation of a whole different sort.

Caroline: I have a seagull.

Translation: I want some gum.

Here's how I came to that (correct) conclusion: She had a quarter. Quarter have Eagles on them (a seagull). A quarter can buy gum at the store. She wanted to go to the store to buy gum because she wanted gum right then. I handed her a stick of gum from my purse and the whole interaction was finished.
Translation: What a weirdo.