Category Archives: laughter

What gender is YOUR food?

Posted in family outings, Food Stuff, joy found, laughter, my boy, my girl by

Jacob has made it known – without actually saying it – that he is a vegetarian. There is not a single meat he will eat, except maybe McDonald’s chicken nuggets, which you can’t really count as meat… or even food. So we avoid those. Which means then that yeah, he eats ZERO meat. I can’t even sneak it into stuff, because he won’t eat something that resembles a casserole or has an ingredient he can’t see. (Neither will his dad, but that’s another story.)

There are very few things Jacob will eat. I’m going to list what I’ve tried so you all know and can give me suggestions, which are welcome. Encouraged, actually:

  • PB sandwiches, plain or with jam usually works. PB with honey? Nope. Unless he’s at Grandma’s.
  • Beans? Sometimes. Re-fried with cheese and sour cream is a success about 50% of the time. Which, let’s face it, 50% of the time is a success. Green beans no more. Whole beans (kidney, black, other) about 10% of the time.
  • Noodles? Never with a capital N.
  • Fruit? Usually – because it’s sweet and sugary.
  • Veggies? Only red, orange, or yellow bell peppers. Not green. The others are sweeter. (But technically, they’re a fruit, too. I won’t get into that, though, since it will likely result in my husband calling me a nerd.)
  • Cheese? If it’s string cheese or Havarti slices from Costco packs. Yes, he’s that picky. Or orange Tillamook cheese on a grilled cheese sandwich.
  • Bagels? Sometimes. With cream cheese usually, but then he sometimes just licks the cream cheese off.
  • Oatmeal? With brown sugar and blueberries. (a.k.a. “Bare-boobies.” For those of you that don’t know that special story, I’ll post it below.)
  • Yogurt? Usually. But not plain greek, which is about the only kind not full of sugary stuff or other junk. (Let me know if you know of a good idea there.)
  • Chips, crackers, fruit snacks and any other processed garbage full of sugar? OF COURSE! Only, we don’t like to buy that stuff, so…

That’s it! Other than that, I’m out of luck. Most of his meals include a PB sandwich and a cheese stick, with hopefully some fruit or bell peppers (not green.)

Today’s lunch menu was a grilled cheese sandwich, a banana, and a glass of milk. I need to go grocery shopping. It was either that or PB, which I get tired of watching him eat.

Annalise and I sat eating ours, while Jacob sat with a scowl. Something like this face he gave to my cousin after being asked to eat a hot dog. (I forgot to inform Andy that Jacob doesn’t eat meat… even hot dogs):a

Yep, that’s my strong-willed little boy. I have no idea where he gets it from.

“Jacob, you need to eat your grilled cheese sandwich, please.” I started gently.

“NOPE! I. NOT. GONNA.” He was a little more firm in his reply.

“But you like grilled-cheese sandwiches! Mommy made you something special that I know you like!”

“Nope, I DO NOT LIKE THEM!”

Annalise, observing the forming struggle turned to me and whispered, “Mommy, you’re calling it a girl–cheese sandwich! No wonder he doesn’t like it!” She turned to her brother, “Jacob! Silly mommy just forgot. MINE is a girl-cheese sandwich. YOURS is a boy-cheese sandwich. Will you eat it now?”

Jacob paused, looked at it for a bit, his furrowed brow softened. And then he laughed, “Silly mommy! I am not a gew-wohl. I will eat my boy-cheese sandwich.”

And he did. Silly me. Dogs eat dog food. Of course boys eat boy food and girls eat girl food. Duh.

 

And now, the blueberry story. In case you didn’t already know:

Jacob loves, loves, LOVES, blueberries. Last year, he asked for them all the time. Only he called them “bare-boobies.” I found it utterly hilarious and laughed every time (like an 8-year old boy… remember? My husband found me awfully immature,) until I found myself in the produce section of Costco with my 1 year old in the cart screaming with excitement while waving his arms, “BARE-BOOBIES!!!!!!!!!!!”  Then I just wanted to crawl under the bananas and die. The end.

Summery Summary

Posted in joy found, laughter, my boy, my girl, my husband, parenting (aint for sissies), the relatives by

I am a list girl.

I make ’em. I categorize ’em. I stick to ’em. I stress when they aren’t getting crossed off quickly enough. When I defer from them and accomplish something else, I add it to the list just so I can cross it off. When I begin tasks without a list and later make one, I always, always include everything I’ve already done so I can remind myself I haven’t wasted my time.

And just between you and me, sometimes, when I need a victory – a bit of motivation and feeling of accomplishment for having actually gotten something done other than referee pre-school fights – I add this to my list: Make to-do list. It’s an automatic win.

…I just had a thought. I should add that to my lists, too. Referee pre-school fights. Another guaranteed success. And while I’m at it, I may as well include change a thousand diapers and feed bottomless pit children…

So at the start of this summer, when I usually make my long list of things to accomplish before school starts back up, I had a thought. I need to stop. The lists, while they just feel so good to cross off, seriously make me crazy when they sit, staring at me void of lines. A list of 27 items not crossed off is a list of 27 ways I’ve failed. 27 reasons to stress out – no, to panic – and start acting like a crazy woman because nothing else matters but those 27 stupid things. So, at the start of THIS summer, I decided to not make a list.

I decided that, then I made one anyway. It was 2 pages, 2 columns per page, typed in 12 point font. C’mon, what did you think? Addicts don’t often quit cold-turkey.

So yes, I made the list, but then I folded it up and set it aside. Available, but not in my face.

And then I made a new summer to do list:

  1. Live slowly
  2. Love deeply
  3. Laugh often.

Aaaand I stuck to it! Yay, ME!

Ok, so maybe I didn’t exactly live slowly, but I did attempt to live in the moment. I did live fully, enjoying the right now. And I loved and laughed. A lot.

What I didn’t do is write about it all. (Because I was living fully in the moment, remember?) So now I will attempt to summarize. Our 2012 summer and first few weeks of September:

  • July: Play hard. Beach, berry-picking, VBS, play-dates, walks, bike rides, Edaleen Dairy, slip ‘n’ slide, campfires at Grandma & Grandpa’s, and lots more.
  • August: Family. Long lost sisters! Cousins, cousins, and more cousins.
  • September: Back to routine. School/work, ballet & tap, Kids’ Bible Class, new (and also awesome) babysitter.

Our family’s personal highlights:

  • Annalise: Definitely not when she sprained her finger. Definitely moments spent playing with her long lost cousin, Ellia.
  • Jacob: Definitely not riding the dragon roller coaster at the fair. (They let him off – sobbing – after one lap.) His summer favorite is a tie between: 1) Getting a new dog. (Dog loves him. He loves her. Best friends for life… which (hers) may not be long if Matt has something to say about it.) and 2) Playing at the park with the new love of his life, Julianne. Too bad she’s about 17 years older than him.
  • Matt: Not sure he really had a summer. It was more like 2 full time jobs. But his highs were when we were around and he had time to be with us. Lows were when we spent a week in Nevada without him. 😦
  • Me: Hmmm… How do I choose? What’s not to love about spending 8 weeks not working and enjoying every moment with people I love? I know, lame. But seriously the truth.

Summer/September notables:

  1. Annalise went from a size 11 1/2 shoe to a size 13. And she is officially wearing clothing sizes that I remember wearing. Ack!
  2. Jacob didn’t learn his lesson and stuck a raisin waaayyyy up his nose. 24 hours of forced nose-blowing, pepper-induced sneezes, and flashlight shining up nostrils later, the long lost raising was recovered out of his crib.
  3. Matt shot 15 weddings and about 5,000 other shoots and spent every spare second of summer editing. If he wasn’t drinking all the coffee around here, I mighta thought he had fallen off the planet.
  4. I lost some weight before summer started. Good thing, because what once was lost now has been found. UGH. While I could blame my poor summer diet or seriously lacking summer exercise “routine,” I’d rather just blame my mom and sisters. Because really, I pretty much gain weight any time I am with them or when I stay at my mom’s. Clearly, it’s their fault.
  5. Izzy. She’s the new dog. a.k.a. “Dizzy.” She’s cute (part Yorkie), but I am embarrassed to admit that she is also part chihuahua. Just call me Paris Hilton. Yes, I do own doggie sweaters for her, but they were inherited with the mutt. A package deal. You can really start worrying if you see me carrying her in a bag. (She’d fit nicely in my current purse.) As my older sister says when she looks at her, “Yo quiero Taco Bell.”
  6. Minnie. She’s the new van. A mini-van. Love her. More than the new dog who may or may not have just peed on my couch.
  7. We *might* have alerted the staff in the polar bear section of the Point Defiance Zoo that there was a reindeer walking past our car in the parking lot. And the zoo staff *might* have gotten on the walkie-talkie to the keepers at the reindeer/bison exhibit to warn them of a potential escape. And that reindeer *might* have just turned out to be a regular old deer with velvety antlers. Who knew? (Not us, clearly.)
  8. While Jacob is great at spotting chewed gum on the ground in public locations (must be his closer proximity), only TWICE did he pick it up and chew it. But no worries… he put it back right where he found it both times.
  9. If you’re ever going to get pulled over for a driving a stolen vehicle, make sure you have several adults, 4 kids, and a dog with you, not to mention a trunk full of suitcases. You’ll look less suspicious. Oh, and make sure the vehicle isn’t actually stolen.
  10. Every minute of August was a notable. Lots of memory making with family. I am so grateful.

And this:

Thanks, Ann Voskamp. I feel better about #4 now.

To all, LOVES.

A rose by any other name

Posted in joy found, laughter, my boy, my girl, parenting (aint for sissies) by

Last week, Annalise had a great time at a beach-themed VBS with her friend Payton. (Thanks for the invite, Rachel.) On the last day, she brought home a purple beach bucket full of all her crafts from the week, her name written neatly on the outside of the bucket in gel paint. She was quite proud.

Except she has apparently inherited some OCD/perfectionist qualities from, ahem, I have no idea where, because she was bugged by a slight smudge on the second letter “a” in her name, right along the stem of the letter. Now let me be clear when I say that whoever wrote her name – in gel paint, on a round bucket – did an amazing job. Perfect printing in a perfectly straight line on a curved surface, all done from a squeeze bottle. I was impressed at the obvious talent of one who most certainly was a fellow perfectionist.

But as flaws often do, the smudge on the a wore at my little 4-year-old idealist. First, she pointed it out to me. “Do you like my bucket, Mommy? There is just a little smudge right here though.” I told her I loved her bucket, and I didn’t even notice the smudge. But now that she pointed it out, I liked it. It gave the bucket character. (I’ve had practice with this sort of thing, you know. I may have had to use that line for myself once or twice before.)

Then she announced – more to herself than anyone – that the smudge was “no big deal” and did her very best to ignore it. But I could see as she played with her perfect purple bucket with her almost-perfect name, it was still bothering her. She’d stop every once in a while to rub the smudge, pinch it, trying to squish away the imperfection.

Finally, she had enough. “Mom, I don’t like that smudge. I’m taking it off!” Before I could stop her, she had the corner of the letter a and promptly ripped that smudge – and entire stem of the a – right off her bucket… Leaving a perfect letter c behind.

Now as any perfectionist knows, a misspelling is much much worse than a minor smudge.

She gasped. “OH NO! Now I have a c instead of an a!” Panic on her face, she stared at the torn letter. “A-N-N-C-L-I-S-E! Mom, what’s my name now????”

I didn’t hesitate. “Ank-leese,” I said matter-of-factly.

Another gasp. “But I don’t like the name Ank-leese! It’s not even pretty!”

“I don’t think it’s so bad,” I responded. “Here. Let me take a picture of you with your new name, Ank-leese.”

“Well, I’m not smiling if you do. Ank-leese is not a happy name.”

I took the picture anyway, laughing the entire time. “Say ‘cheese‘ Ank-leese!”a

It’s very clear to me now why Jacob gets such a kick out of tormenting his sister. She just makes it so fun.

“MOMMY! It’s NOT FUNNY. How would you like it if your name was Hol-key?”

Hol-key? This girl is too much. I laughed harder. “That wouldn’t be so bad, Ank-leese. I don’t think I’d mind.” Still laughing.

“Well, I’m gonna start calling you that! Stop laughing, Hol-key!”

“That’s mom-key to you, Ank-leese.”

Apparently sarcasm and teasing don’t go well with a perfectionist’s frustration. Poor girl. So I told her that no matter what her name is, I will always love her the same. Annalise by any other name… even if that name is Ank-leese. Either way, she is mine and she is God’s and she is perfect to me.

We talked a bit about the bucket, and how she let a little thing bother her, and by trying to make it perfect, she only made it worse. That it is sometimes really hard, but that we have to be okay when something isn’t exactly how we want it, or isn’t what we think is “just perfect.”

And since she sometimes struggles with negativity, we talked about how we need to be thankful for our many blessings, and focus on the so many good things and not focus so much on what we think are bad things. 

Then I asked her about the story they learned in VBS that day. Ank-leese told me they heard the story about Jesus washing the disciples’ feet. We talked about how Jesus was perfect, fully God and fully man, that he could have come as a rich king, or however he wanted, but that he came into a poor family as a baby. I said how amazing it was that he, God, would do that, that he would wash the feet of the disciples. “Do you know what that means, Annalise?”

She thought about it, scrunched up her face and responded. “Yeah. It means he had some really dirty water.”

Lesson over.

“It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect.” ~ Psalm 18:32

Oh, and I almost forgot… Jacob maybe learned his lesson about eating his boogers. No more floss needed. Yesterday he came to me and said, “Mommy, I picked my nose. But do not woo-wee. I did not eat it. I put it wight back in my nose.” Aaaand onto a new lesson…

And it’s Leesie, by a nose…

Posted in blogging, laughter, my boy, my girl, parenting (aint for sissies) by

After a fun-filled but very busy week, a jammed 4-year-old finger on Friday night followed by x-rays Saturday (it’s not broken, phew!), we were happy to have a low-key family day at home on Sunday. And what’s the best way to end a lovely autumn day in the middle of summer? Movie and popcorn. Can’t get much more low-key than that.

Unless of course, you have a curious 2-year old hanging around.

I was cleaning the kitchen while the kids watched their movie and munched away when Jacob came waddling into the kitchen, eyes watery, suddenly coughing and sneezing popcorn all over the place. I knew what he had done instantly and was actually surprised he hadn’t before. Or that I hadn’t predicted it.

“Jacob! Did you put popcorn in your nose?” He nodded, face scrunched and uncomfortable.”Is it gone? Did you get it all out?”

The watery eyes told me the answer. Something was still in there. I set him on the counter and shined a flashlight up his nose. Sure enough, I could see the kernel lodged waaaaayyy up in his nasal cavity, clearly unreachable by us.

At 9 o’clock on Sunday night, I really really didn’t want to have to head into the ER to retrieve said popcorn kernel. So I called my friend Jamie, who just happens to be a nurse for Bellingham Ear Nose and Throat. She suggested plugging one nostril and having him blow out the other side.

Problem: I’ve never actually taught Jacob to blow his nose yet. Most attempts result in him breathing heavily in rather than out, which result in further coughing and discomfort when already congested. I guess I have the same attitude towards nose-blowing as I do with potty training… He’ll figure it out eventually.

Except that now we needed him to blow his nose, and doing it incorrectly could result in an even greater problem. We worked on it for a bit with only a few scary deep inhales, and soon enough, he had the blowing down. But the kernel wasn’t budging.

While I was still on the phone with Jamie giving her the play-by-play and writing down the number for their office so I could reach the on-call doc, Annalise walked into the room looking a bit sheepish. Her face was red. She was awfully quiet. I knew something was up when I saw her lean against the wall and kick her foot back and forth like her knee was a hinge with a lazy porch swing below it. Nerves. That’s her sign.

Matt spoke first. “You did not. Tell me you didn’t.” She bit the corner of her lip. “Annalise, did you do it? Did you put popcorn in your nose, too?”

The look on her face was a dead giveaway. Popcorn jammed in nostril. Times two.

Let me tell you, you have not lived until you have two children in your kitchen covering one nostril and blowing with all their might to shoot popcorn kernels out the other side. Jamie assured me that while she’s had lots of kids come in with something stuck in their nose, never once did she have siblings come in at the same time.

We’re just special like that, I guess.

My mom says it must skip a generation, this genius-shoving-stuff-up-your-nose-and-getting-it-stuck thing, because my dad did it once, too. Only he was an adult. And it was a whopper. (Not the burger. The chocolate covered malt ball.) He got a little concerned (read panicky) when he could feel the chocolate melting. I think he’s learned his lesson, because I haven’t seen him shove anything in there recently.

So on our “low-key” Sunday night, we managed to avoid a trip to the ER because both kids did eventually shoot the popcorn out. Leesie’s fired out right to the floor, but Jacob made a direct hit with one snot-covered popcorn kernel onto his dad’s chest, where it stuck. It was then we realized that while he did actually shove a popcorn kernel in his nose, Annalise had shoved an actual popped corn. I guess she wanted to one-up her brother.

She does that sometimes. Like when Jacob says to me completely out of the blue and in his sweetest voice, “Mommy, you sooooo boooootiful.” And then Annalise says to me in her sweetest voice, “Mommy, you’re beautifuler than Jacob thinks.” Hmm.

And Leesie wins by a nose…

When all was said and done, I was slightly disappointed the ER visit didn’t occur, because, well, it honestly felt a bit adventuresome to go in with TWO kids needing harmless and rather humorous issues taken care of. We could have people-watched in the ER lobby into the wee hours on Sunday night as a family. And really, how fun is that with two kids under 5 that should be home in bed?

Ah well. Two kids home safe and sound, nostrils thoroughly cleaned out for deep-breathing during sleep. Crisis averted.

And then I ran across this cartoon a friend and colleague gave me about a month ago. It seemed so very fitting tonight:

From Baby Blues Cartoon by Jerry Scott and Rick Kirkman.

big boy or baby?

Posted in laughter, my boy, my girl, parenting (aint for sissies) by

It’s summer. He’s 2 and 2 months. I’m home. He’s home. So naturally, I’ve been working on potty training Jacob.

When I say working on potty training, what I really mean is, I’ve set him on the pot a total of 4 times in the last month hoping he’ll have success. Mostly, I’m working on it by talking to him about it.

And when I say talking to him about it, what I really mean is, every time I change an unusually nasty diaper, I mention to him that since he is such a big boy, he could really go potty in the toilet next time.

So really, the “potty training” has consisted of me telling Jacob – several times in the last few weeks – what a good idea it would be for him to go potty like a big boy and hoping he figures it out for himself.

No luck so far.
I know, shocking.

I’m holding out, though. For a little while at least. Because I’m not new to this parenting thing, you know. I was a master, a master, at training Annalise.

It pretty much went like this:

  • 5 months pregnant. Plan to potty train 2-year-old before baby boy arrives.
  • Take advantage of 2-week Christmas break. PERFECT! Because Christmas break is not busy at all, and anyone can potty train a 2 year old in 2 weeks time while starting and finishing Christmas shopping, baking, packing, traveling, and staying with family out of town. NO problem.
  • Use the first day of break to cover the carpet in hospital pads, set up the potty chair, play games and take “potty breaks” while reading books about potty training. On hand: stickers and star chart, treat rewards (m&ms), and big girl panties. Mine, I mean, because they’ll be needed later when I have to put ’em on and deal with it.
  • Begin the day calmly, but keep the “potty mood” exciting! This is BIG GIRL stuff going on here!
  • By afternoon, take a nap at nap time because, well, I’m worth it. And because seriously, I’m working a heck of a lot harder at this potty training thing than she is.
  • By bed time, finish off the m&m rewards and go to bed less than thrilled about the lack of success. No worries, though. There is always tomorrow.
  • Day 2: Begin the same as Day 1. Give up after the first accident because 5-month-pregnant-gag-reflexes are on overload and frankly, you don’t want to deal with bigger messes than this.
  • Sulk for weeks – then months – about having to change diapers still.
  • Accept the fact that even though you have a very bright and capable 2 and 1/2 year old, you will be changing TWO kids’ diapers soon, because you seriously suck at potty training.
  • Thank God for the miracle when, just weeks before her brother is born, Annalise says to you out of the blue, “Mommy, I think I’ll wear big girl panties today.” And she does. And never once has an accident even though you rarely remember to take her. She just asks to go on her own.
  • Consider your potty training a success. You have about 3 weeks of no diapers before the little man arrives. Job well done.

So like I said, I’m pretty much a pro at this and am really just holding out for Jacob to show his readiness. Yeah, that’s it.

But just to speed the process along, I decided to take the boy shopping and get him some big boy undies. You know, for motivation. He picked out the Disney Cars undies and was super excited. Right up until I told him what they were for. Because really, he has no intention of going potty in the toilet.

I told him big boys go potty in the toilet… He told me he is not a big boy! I told him that yes, he actually is.

It was at this point during our conversation that he told me why he is not a big boy. “But I not a big boy, Mommy. Because I stiwl sweep in my cwib. And because I way-oh (wear) die-pees (diapers). And because I’m dist a baby stiwl. I your wittle baby, Mommy. So I can’t go potty in da toe-let.”

Funny. “Babies” don’t usually reason like that. Hmmm.

“Jacob, Mommy thinks you’re a big boy. I know you’re a big boy. Will you just wear the big boy undies and see? It will be so fun! You’ll get to wear Lightning McQueen Undies!”

“No. I not wearing dem.”

“Jacob, will you please try…”

“NO! I NOT wearing dem!” This is beginning to remind me of a dinner conversation about not eating spaghetti.

“How about you just try them on. Will you put them on for mommy?”

“No. I WILL NOT! I will NOT. PUT. DEM. ON.”

It was at this point I had finished buckling him in his car seat. I opened the package from Target and handed him a pair of Lightning McQueen undies to hold while he thought it over. Because clearly, from that last statement, he indicated he would think about it.

I unloaded the rest of the cart in silence and fumbled through my purse for my phone, paying no attention to the strong-willed “baby” in my back seat.

But then, hope!  He showed signs of giving in… “Mommy, I will wear da undies. I will wear dem for you.”

Yes! My plan is working! Proud of myself for my convincing tactics, I move from the back of the van to his open door to look at my son to tell him what a big boy he is. And I see him. Grinning from ear to ear. Clearly proud of his own tactics. “See Mommy. I wear dem for you. Wight away!”

Not exactly what I had in mind.

Just the same, he is cute as can be and rather hilarious. So I set the package of undies on his lap and – phone now found – hold it up to take a pic. “CHEEEEEEEEEEESE!” He shouts.

And I laugh, seriously impressed he was able to pull them over his head. Not an easy task, actually.

Big boy. Big boy indeed.