Category Archives: my girl

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.

Patriotic Surprise

Posted in holidays, laughter, my girl by

Leesie: Mom, when is the 4th of July?

Me: Next week, why?

Leesie: Is it just one day a year?

Me: Yes. Why?

Leesie: Because I don’t want to miss it! But we’ll be on bacation!

Me: We won’t miss it. We’ll celebrate it while we’re on “bacation.”

Leesie: So when is it? What day?

Me: (Not remembering the actual day of the week, answered sarcastically…) It’s on July 4th.

Long pause. She looks at me in amazement…

Leesie: WHAT? Are you kidding me? The FOURTH of JULY is on JULY FOURTH????

Me: Yep.

Leesie: Woah. That’s crazy. I have got to tell Daddy this. (runs off to inform dad of the big news)

 

Ponderings

Posted in Food Stuff, friends, grief and loss, joy found, laughter, my boy, my girl by

It’s been a week. Lots on my mind. Most of my thoughts are still swirling around, not ready to form into words or be elaborated on, so this post is full of randomness… a list of just the beginnings of some of these thoughts – the serious, humorous, and disgusting. Consider yourself warned.

1. First and foremost: LIFE IS SHORT… Live slowly. Love deeply. Laugh often…  THIS is my new summer “to-do” list.

2. The more people you care about that enter Heaven, the further away and closer it can seem… all at the same time.

3. When Jacob says, “Mom, can you do me a favor?” don’t say ‘no’ immediately. The next words out of his mouth might be, “I need a hug.” Melt.

4. When Jacob says, “Mom, can you do me a favor?” don’t say ‘yes’ immediately. The next words out of his mouth might be, “I just went poopoo.”

5. It is not helpful, just very frustrating, to discuss problems if you do not also consider solutions.

6. It’s important to teach song lyrics carefully. Otherwise, you may end up with your daughter singing loudly, “Deck the halls of jowls of Holly…”

7. Don’t leave the song-lyric-correcting to the husband. He will only find the new words humorous and make it worse by saying, “It’s not ‘Deck the halls OF jowls of Holly,’ it’s ‘Deck the halls WITH jowls of Holly.'” Lovely. You are oh-so-helpful, my dear husband.

8. If you love someone enough to consider them family, tell them. Here are a few of mine:

  • Pete and Judy. Matt is beginning to think I would replace him with the both of you because every time I come home after seeing one of you, I say, “I know I’ve said it before, but I just love Pete and Judy.” And so I’ve decided to adopt you as aunt and uncle. This is also perfect because I adore your girls so much, and that would make them my cousins. I’ve always loved my cousins and could use a few more. The only problem is, since Judy wants to also adopt my dad as her uncle, our familial relationship has just gotten very complicated because my dad would now be my great uncle as well. And it will get even more confusing as the little ones grow up, because I’m fairly certain – based on their latest display of affection – that Jacob and Eisley are already in love, and I’ve got my eyes on Caleb for Annalise. This could get tricky.
  • Rachel. In the absence of my sisters nearby, you have been a very worthy replacement. I know I can speak my mind and can be myself, and the same goes for my kids. No judgement, no worries, no competition. I am so blessed by you and thankful we reconnected to experience mommy-hood together.
  • Renee. While you really are actually family of some kind (sister-in-law-in-law?) you have truly filled a void for our kids who miss their aunties so very much. Thank you for being an auntie to them and a sister to me, and for loving all of us as we are.

9. Last and least, but still on my mind ALL THE TIME, the disgusting…

I am obsessed. Witnessing a fly lay eggs in my recently cooked pork tenderloin fajitas has caused me to examine food ridiculously closely and Google things I never really wanted to know. Although I am relieved to learn that fly eggs can not hatch in your stomach, I am less than thrilled to know that the FDA allows eggs and maggots to exist in uncomfortable quantities of tomato products. And really, even just one little egg or maggot is an uncomfortable quantity in my food. Am I right? (If you didn’t already know the story, here is the summary: Made massive batch of fajitas while kids played outside with back door open. Left food on burner on “warm” while we sat down to eat. Got up from table to stir fajitas and scrape leftovers into container. Noticed slow moving fly. Noticed chunk of garlic. Remembered I didn’t chop garlic into fajitas. Realized garlic was actually fly eggs. Slow fly was not being cooked, but was just a little too busy to move. Decided to never again leave food uncovered, never again leave door open, and never again eat at a buffet or anywhere where food sits out. Except that all 3 have happened in the last week.

My girl

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

You may have noticed that in my recent posts, Jacob has been the star. Annalise sometimes appears, but she is generally a by-stander during the hilarious antics of her brother. In some posts, she has been completely absent. There is a reason for this. And that reason is NOT that Jacob is my favorite. It is also NOT that he is funnier or cuter. It is also NOT that she is naughtier or boring.

Ok, maybe Jacob is funnier right now. But mainly because he is two and it’s part of his job. It’s funny when the two-year-old escapes and runs to the back yard buck naked and says to you as you finally discover him outside going down the slide on a sunny day, “Ooooh… My BUNS are HOT, Mama!” If the 4 year old did that, it wouldn’t be quite as funny. It would be just be naughty. And also inappropriate. And it may be funny – although not in the moment – that he stuck his hands in his diaper at the dinner table and showed us the “dirt” he found inside that was now on his fingers, but I would not be laughing and posting it for all to read if his big sister had done so. So as a two-year-old, his opportunities for hilarious entertainment are really less restrictive than with the four year old. TWO is funny. It just is.

And that isn’t to say that FOUR isn’t funny. It’s just different. I did laugh when Annalise said to me, “Mommy, what’s that kind of poo-poo called when it comes out really smoove? (smooth) Because I think I have that.” I also laughed when she believed Grandpa Kitchen when he told her there was a little man inside the red Staples button on his desk, so that each time you push the button, the little man says, “That was easy.” She ran to show me the red button and told me all about the little man that lived inside, but then she dropped it and it landed upside-down. “Oh. Never mind. Grandpa was just teasin’. I see where the battery goes.”

So yes, she makes us laugh too. But the real reason I haven’t written much about Annalise is because, well…. I can’t. Not without crying. Lately, we have watched our little girl change so much. Mature, grow, and think deeply. She is still funny. She is still naughty. She is still 4.

But in some moments, she seems 12. Or even 16. Sometimes, she asks deep questions, and we have a conversation that I didn’t know I could even have with her.

Like the other day, when she asked Matt if the people that live on the bottom of the earth are upside-down since we’re “by the top” and we’re right-side-up. Too bad Mama wasn’t around when she asked that one, because I’m fairly certain she has some major misconceptions now about the world being “round but still sorta flat at the same time.” Thank you, Daddy. Annalise now thinks the world is a pancake.

Or yesterday when she asked me, “Mommy, what does ‘evicted’ mean?” I have no idea where she even heard the word. You could insert a thousand different words there that she has asked me about after overhearing strangers’ conversations, something on the radio, or in a song.

Or like the other day when she asked me how the message I type to daddy on my phone gets to him wherever he is. And how do they know where he is? And how do the words go up in the sky and land on his phone? And why – if we pray really hard, and if God loves us really much – do sometimes our prayers not get answered with a yes, “like when I pray about that I really want to see my cousin I miss so bad. Other people get to LIVE BY their cousins and see them EVERY DAY. I don’t even get to see mine AT ALL.“ And…

My girl is growing up. I love to watch it so much, and at the same time, I want it to stop now. This growing up thing, it’s so emotional. On the parents, I mean. I’m scared to blink.

This weekend, we watched her perform at her ballet recital. She was beautiful. She did amazing. She remembered all her steps. Then at one point, she lost her footing and stumbled – just for a moment. My heart jumped into my throat, my stomach fell. Matt gasped. She continued her dance and I waited for her to turn so I could see her face. It seemed like an eternity as I watched, expecting to see tears or a face I knew was holding them back. I was ready to run backstage to meet her and hold her while she cried and to tell her it was okay and that I was so so proud of her. Instead, she turned, and I saw my girl. On her feet, on her own. Beaming with a smile.

Part of me shouted inside, “ATTA GIRL! THAT’S MY GIRL!” Another part of me cried inside, knowing she was brave and strong… all on her own. She didn’t need me standing next to her or holding her hand or telling her to get back up. Because she was big enough and brave enough and confident enough to do it without me.

The show was over, and all the performers came out with their classes for the final bow. First the oldest girls, then the next oldest, on down to the youngest little darlings in their adorable tutus. Annalise’s class was third to last – third to youngest –  led out by their teacher, as all the little girls’ classes were. She curtsied and took her place on the stage. My heart swelled with pride.

There are two things we realized that night.

1) Our girl is growing up. She is really such a big girl.

2) Our girl is still very very little.

I am so so proud of my big-little girl.

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