Tuesday, May 25, 2010

A best friend is...

someone you can be silly with!

Libby with her friend, Bekah, at church Wednesday night.

I just love these little girls! They are constantly making me laugh! (And while that might be bad for the crow's feet, it is great for the abs...just sayin'!)

I feel so blessed that my daughter has such a wonderful friend!

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Poopy Pants

We are a pretty modest family.
Okay, I am having a hard time typing that with a straight face. Because if you have ever knocked on my front door, there is a 4 out of five chance that you have been greeted by someone in varying degrees of nakedness.

Although, at least with me the nudity is unintentional...that stupid glass front door makes streaking from the bedroom to the laundry room in search of a clean shirt risky!

A more honest statement is that we have a pretty modest daddy. The rule is our house is that while mommy gets no privacy at any time, daddy gets absolute privacy all the time.

Libby hasn't seen daddy au natural since she was about 15 months old. She got herself banished from our bathroom after trying to make a grab for the goods as daddy dried off after his shower one morning. (And totally freaked daddy out in the process! haha!) Emma Jane has never seen daddy naked, so up until the arrival of John my girls were totally clueless that there were any differences between boys and girls.
I was fully expecting all kinds of curious questions about what was under John's diaper, but for the longest time...nothing. Then one day when John was about 8 months old, Libby walked into the bathroom while I was bathing him and, after sitting quietly for a few minutes, she finally asked a question that probably been bothering her for a while:
"Mommy, what is...what's that thing...right there on John's leg?"
"That is his penis." I replied.
Thankfully, that was enough of an answer for a 4-year-old.
But I should have known that while she didn't ask any more questions, my introspective daughter had not forgotten about the...thing!
So a few days ago, Brad comes into the kitchen while I am fixing dinner and says, "So the girls and I just had an interesting conversation."
When Brad came home from work, he went to change out of his work clothes like always. And like always, Shadow 1 and Shadow 2 followed him. As he was changing Libby says, very serious like, "Daddy, you know that bumpy thing in your underwear? (except that I think she said panties) It makes it look like you pooped in your pants."
I, of course, burst out laughing. But Brad interrupts and says, "Oh no. That is not the best part."
Apparently, when Emma Jane heard that comment, she started dancing around the room, chanting "Daddy pooped his pa-ants. Daddy pooped his pa-ants!"
So is it just me, or is anyone else afraid that Emma Jane is going to grow up to be a school yard bully?


Monday, May 24, 2010

What Exactly is it about Me?

I think I have mentioned before that Brad and I had sort of a whirlwind courtship. We had only known each other for a year when we got married, and looking back from my current vantage point I can clearly see that we really didn't know each other at all when we tied the knot!

Like any newlyweds, we had expectations. Most of them unrealistic. And many of them dashed rather quickly.

I still vividly remember the day that Brad came to me, pants in hand, and said, "Hey babe, this button popped off...Will you sew it back on for me?"

I replied, "Sure. I am going to the dry cleaners today anyways. Just put them on top of the pile."

Brad looked at me as if I had sprouted horns and said, "Um...they aren't dirty."

Me: "I know. Dry cleaners can do minor alterations. They will sew the button back on."

Brad: "I want you to sew it back on. Come on, I want to wear these pants today!"

At this point in the conversation, I am returning Brad's "you just sprouted horns" look.

I took a deep breath and said the words have since become a standing joke between us: "Honey. (pause for another deep breath.) Based on our relationship thus far, what exactly is it about me that has given you the impression that I have any idea how to do that?"

And then he said it.

The biggest, most cliche misconception that men can possibly have.

And he was dead serious:

"Well. You're a girl!"

I just rolled my eyes and walked out of the room.

So you can imagine my husband's surprise when I said to him the other morning, "Look what I made for the kids last night."

And then showed him this.


"You made donuts?"

Me: "Yeah. I found this really easy tutorial for making felt donuts online, so I thought I would give it a shot!" FYI, I am feeling very proud of myself!

Brad: "You...made these? As in, you sewed them!?" He clearly has not forgotten the button incident!

Me: "Yes! I sewed!!"

Brad: "With a needle?!"

Maybe in another six years we will be able to have this conversation without me walking out of them room!


I found the donut tutorial at Confessions of a Homeschooler. This is one of my new favorite blogs!! You must check her out! She has tons of great homeschooling ideas and some really good real food recipes in addition to the felt ones! I made her stuffed pasta shells tonight and even Libby ate it up!



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Thursday, May 13, 2010

How Not to Drown

Libby has recently started swimming lessons. She was super excited about learning how to swim until she discovered that meant putting her face in the water.

She tried to quit after one lesson, but I told her that it was important to learn to swim so that she didn't accidentally drown. (Fear mongering, motivation. Potato, potahto.)

Since then Libby has devised a sure fire method of not drowning that requires no swimming skill whatsoever.

Step 1: Start crying before your lesson starts. Sympathy works wonders!


Step 2: Tearfully explain to your swim teacher why you think going under is unnecessary. Point out that it is really in his best interest to listen to you because the other kid's parents are starting to whisper that Mr. Keith must be pinching that sweet girl who is always crying!
Step 3: When step 2 fails, attempt to do things your own way anyways by swimming to Mr. Keith with your head above water.

Step 4: Cry hysterically when he makes you put your head under despite all of your attempts to keep your hair dry. Choking on some pool water at this point is a nice touch too.


Step 5: Pitch such an unholy fit, that another instructor (who has also heard the pinching rumors) takes pity on you (or on Mr. Keith, you don't care at this point) and comes over to lend a helping hand. This step is crucial, because having the extra certified swim teacher close at hand doubles your chances of not drowning.
Step 6: Throw Mr. Keith a bone and swim just a little bit. (Because you do still want to get that lollipop mommy promised you when your swim lesson is over!)




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Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Hooba-loobing

We are studying the letter H this week, so for fun I bought the girls each a hula hoop.

They have been "hooba-loobing" maniacs all week! Libby is actually getting pretty good!

Emma Jane tries, but after a few attempts like this one she usually just holds the hula hoop with both hands and does the spinning herself!

John couldn't wait for his sisters to abandon their hula hoops!

But he discovered that it is not as easy as like looks! Lying down beside it and giving it a good, swift kick was John's preferred method of "hooba-loobing!"


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Thursday, May 6, 2010

PSF and What Yours is Mine (And Not Really Yours)

If you are one year old and it's your first birthday,
chances are that your grandparents are going to spoil you buy you a really cool present and wrap it in a bag that is almost is big as you are.

And chances are even greater that the really cool present won't be nearly as interesting as the tissue paper it's wrapped in.

Which is just as well, because chances are greatest that as soon as you show the slightest interest in that really cool toy...

your big sister is going to claim it as her own and take off running!

Better luck next year, dude!
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Tuesday, May 4, 2010

I guess he doesn't have a sweet tooth

While I understand the tears

when a cupcake is held just out of reach...



only he knows why



the tantrum continued


once the goods



were in his hands.



Have I really given birth to a third little drama queen prince?




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