Away in a Manger

Last Sunday, the children's choirs performed at our church's Sunday night service. This was Libby's first time to sing in church. She was so excited about going into "big church."

In the days preceding the concert, she practiced her songs for me over and over again.

And then she sang some more.

To her sister.

Her stuffed animals.

The TV.

She was taking this seriously and wanted to have her part down perfectly.

I think she succeeded.

(Libby is in the back row with the white hair bow.)

Oh, and when Libby watched this video, she said, "Why is that girl just frowning and not singing?" She couldn't believe not everyone was as serious about the performance as she was!

Hosted by Cecily

Word Vomit

Also titled "Conversations with Libby"

I spend a lot of time talking to a preschooler. Actually, I spend a lot of time being talked at by a preschooler. Libby's daily word quota is very high.

Luckily, my bff has also been blessed with a talker so we are able to sympathize with (and laugh about) the sheer volume of word vomit chatter that is spewed directed at us daily.

Here is an example of some of Libby's most recent word vomit conversation with me:

Let me set the scene. We were sitting in the sunroom this morning. I was having my coffee and Emma Jane (who is still sick) was curled up in my lap and alternately coughing and moaning.

So Libby says to me, while wearing her very best sad face: "Mommy, why is Emma Jane just keep being sadder than me?"

Me (suppressing a huge eye roll): "Libby, Emma Jane is not sad. She is just very sick."

Brad pipes up and says, "Has she ever been this sick before?"

Me: "Not since the ski trip from hell she got the stomach flu at my sister's.

Libby: "No Mommy, that was ME that got sick at Aunt Catie's house!"

Me: "Actually Libby it was both of you."

Libby: "Remember when I was frowing up at Aunt Catie's and I had to frow up in a pot? That was silly!"

Me: Actually I remember you missing the pot..."

Libby: "Yeah, I just did a lot of frowing up. I wonder were Aunt Catie's house just is."

Me: "It's in New Hampshire." (Just like it always has been!)

Libby: "I just haven't gone to Aunt Catie's house in a thousand weeks. It snows there. And is really cold. Mommy, do you think Santa is going to bring me any princess stuff this Christmas? It is just almost Christmas time and I really want some princess things. Pleeease!"

Me: "I am sure Santa will bring you some princess things."

Libby: "I only have three Princess Aurora pull ups left. I need to get some more. Will you buy me some at the grocery store?"

Me: "yes, we are going to the store today."

Libby: "I wonder if there are any princesses besides just Princess Aurora. Are you going to get me some other princess pull ups? I did stay dry all night a couple of nights ago but then I tee teed in it so I still need to wear pull ups at night."

(At this point I have stopped responding because she is not so much talking to me as to the universe in general.)

Libby continues: "Emma Jane still wears diapers so she doesn't need any princess pull ups. Did Emma Jane pick out a present for me at the Disney store yesterday? Can I have it for Christmas? Don't tell me what it is! I told Emma Jane about her present, but she won't amember so it is okay."

And this monologue continued for at least another ten minutes. It ended with Libby saying "Mommy, why does your head hurt?"

I wonder...

There's a Plague upon my Household

It has been a rough week for us.

First John was sick with a cold.

Then he passed his cold to me, bless his little punkin head.

I thought we were going to get out of the woods without the others falling ill.

And then last night, Emma Jane brought the Black Death into our lives. She was up all night barking like a seal. Which of course, means Mommy was up all night with her. And since this circus act took place in my bed, which she had crawled into at midnight, now Daddy is feeling sickly as well.

EJ has been pitiful all day. She has done nothing but sleep and snuggle her hot little, fevered body on Mommy. Hopefully the worst is behind us, because I don't think she can take another day like this.

She certainly isn't going to put up with Mommy taking anymore pictures of her misery.

Law & Order: MVU

That's the Maternal Victims Unit.

Their most recent case involved an incident of domestic violence at the Snellings home.

The Perp:

The Weapon:

The Damage:

It may not look like much, but trust me, you do not want to be whacked with a tea spoon!

The outcome:

The motive for the attack seems to have stemmed from the victim's denial of the perp's request for yet another snack. The victim briefly considered retaliation, but possessing a healthy fear of incarceration, she refrained from throwing the perp across the room or locking her in a small, dark closet. She did count to 10 and then deposit perp into her bedroom before calling daddy the authorities for back up. The perp is currently serving a life sentence of no TV before bedtime. Attempts at an appeal have been thrown out.

Hosted by Cecily

Karma

We have always struggled to find babysitters for our children. We don't have family close by nor to we have friends with teenagers. And I have stopped short of stalking teenage girls at the bus stop for fear of being arrested.

This year, we hit the babysitting motherload. Through various circumstances we have been blessed to find not one, but three reliable babysitters! They range in age from 14 to mid-20s. Seeing as I have an infant, the one I am most comfortable with for all three children is the oldest and I tend to call on her the most. For the rest of this story, we are going to refer to her as Mandy*. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

Now Mandy is wonderful! She is very energetic and fun and the kids love her. Other than the very small issue of her being a Florida fan (Roll Tide!) I have found no flaws with her.

Earlier this week, Mandy was watching not only my 3 but also Libby's friend, Logan while Brad and I were at Logan's house for our weekly bible study. When we returned home, Mandy tells me that the kids were good as usual but that Libby was saying some unkind things earlier. She had tried to talk to Libby about it, but Libby got embarrassed and upset and wouldn't talk about it or apologize. I asked whether Libby was being unkind to Emma Jane or to Logan and Mandy tells me that Libby was actually being rude to her.

Oh crap!

I assured her that I would speak to Libby about it. Because I seriously don't want to lose a babysitter because my daughter is being a brat. So as I was helping Libby get ready for bed, I mentioned that I heard she was being unkind to our babysitter. Libby, in true girl fashion, immediately started to cry and said "I just can't talk about it!" Oh, well, we are going to talk about it, girlie!

I let her go to bed, because trying to talk to a tired, unreasonable 4 year old is fruitless. The next morning, I resumed the conversation with her.

Me: Libby, were you saying unkind things to Miss Mandy?

Libby: yes

Me: What did you say to her?

Libby: I don't know.

Me: Libby, did you know that what you were saying was hurtful?

Libby: yes. But I didn't mean to hurt her feelings.

Me: Sometimes even when we don't mean to, our words can hurt other people.

Libby: (her face screwed up in pre-outburst concentration) But Mom-my! She is fat!

Do you hear that sound? That is the ton of bricks falling on my head and burying me.

Oh, Libby.

Really?

You told her she was fat!!

The mortification I am feeling on behalf of my daughter is so great that I have actually broken out into a sweat.

And all I can think of is my own sister.

Because when I was only a little bit younger than Libby is now, I looked my sister's very large swim teacher in the face and said, "My but you are fat as a pig."

My sister has never quite forgiven me for that humiliation.

If only my three-year-old self had known how that comment would come back to bite me in the butt someday.

We made a special trip to visit Miss Mandy later that day and apologize to her.

Hey, Jealousy

When Emma Jane was born, Libby didn't really take the intrusion very well. Her friend Jack Powell said it best (in reference to his own little sister): "Mom, when are you going to take the baby back to that hospital where she lives?"

Her jealousy manifested itself in destructive behavior and tantrums. It was the worst when I was nursing and Libby knew I could not immediately jump up to get her. If she ran out of sight while I was feeding the baby, something was most likely being destroyed. I think Emma Jane was over a year old before Libby stopped viewing her as the usurper to the throne.

Or at least by that time, she didn't remember Emma Jane not being here anymore and she just got over.

I was prepared when John was born to deal with the jealousy from Emma Jane. But it never came. No (unusual) tantrums or destruction. In fact, she really seemed to adore John right from the start. I was thrilled by this unexpected turn of events and just assumed that the lack of jealousy was due to never having been an only child.

And then one evening while having dinner with friends, my friend Tammy says to me, "I don't know how you do that. Every time I see you nursing John, Emma Jane is sitting on your lap too." I thought about that statement for a minute and I realized that she was right. 9 times out of 10, when I sit down to nurse the baby Emma Jane is right there trying to crawl into my lap too.

Huh. Interesting.

"I guess you are right. I have never really thought about it."

And then my friend hits me this: "She is probably just jealous of the attention John is getting."

Um, duh!

Could it have been more obvious?

Of course she is jealous! I just didn't realize it, because it was manifested differently than with Libby. And the more I thought about it, the more examples I found.

Emma Jane never took a paci as a baby. Never! But shortly after John was born, she claimed own of his as her own. She doesn't suck on it, but she likes to carry it around in her mouth and sleep with it in her bed. She also climbs into the baby gear, such as the swing, exersaucer and bumbo. And even though she was never a snuggly baby before, she wants to snuggle all the time now.

She just wants to be the baby again.

Someday Mommy will have to teach her the benefits of the center spot. One middle child to another.

The Great Christmas Tree Debate

Brad and came into our marriage with very different ideas about how Christmas was to be celebrated. We came from very different families with very different traditions. One of our biggest debates over the years has been about the tree. I grew up with a fake tree. Brad considered that to be outright blasphemy.

So like a good, submissive wife, I gave in and we got a real tree for our second Christmas together. (The first Christmas is a whole other story for another time.) And I complained about pine needles and sap so much that I managed to convince Brad that real trees were the root of all evil (good and submissive, like I said) and we bought a prelit fake tree on sale that same year. Since he was giving up the pine fresh scent I compromised on another area of disagreement and let him buy a tree with colored lights. I prefer a white Christmas, but it was a small price to pay to not have to vacuum everyday!

So the fake tree worked out well for all of one year. The second year with our fake tree was a bust. We put it together and plugged in the lights and only half of the tree lit up. We never could find the burned out bulb that was the culprit. In a fit of disgust, we tossed it out with everyone else's real tree after Christmas that year.

So last night Brad and I are having a discussion about decorating for Christmas and I said, "Well I guess this year we should buy an un-lit fake tree."

Brad replied, "Why? We had a real tree last year. I thought we were done with fake."

Me: "No. The fake one was thrown away last year."

Brad: " I am pretty sure I remember you complaining about pine needles last year."

Me: "You are wrong! We only had that fake tree TWO years and we have been in this house TWO years!"

Brad: "Okay, crazy lady. I'm wrong."

So later I was on my computer working on a blog post about Christmas traditions and I came across this photo from my Christmas 2008 folder:

Interesting.

I'd say it is pretty clear which of us was wrong.

But I don't see any reason to tell my husband that...