“You’re a genius!”  — I’ve heard it more than occasionally, and really, who am I to argue?  If enough people say it, it must be true, right?  Sure, sure.  We’re just gonna run with it.

Anyhow, do you ever get those AH-HA moments?  -Not the kind where you’re about to sneeze but then end up coughing or laughing.  No, I mean the AH-HA, a light bulb just went off in my head and ohmygosh it didn’t even short out!! kind of moments.

Yeh, well I don’t get those very often.  Probably because I’m a genius.  It’s hard being a genius, you know?  Sometimes you forget you know stuff and then you remember and suddenly it’s gone again because really, your head is just not big enough to hold all of this massive knowledge.   (Which might have to do with my constant headaches.  Note to self:  Google “genius headaches” because real geniuses don’t go to the doctor,  they’re supposed to make their medicine.  In their lab.  In their basement.  I don’t have a basement.  Crap.)

Anyways, stop distracting me.  I’m trying to tell you something.

Oh yes, it’s dangerous to be a genius.  Everybody wants your help.  And, sometimes, they just want you dead.  Like, for instance, the wasps under my porch steps.  I’m pretty sure they could be recruited by the military and earn some major ribbons for their ferociousness.  Seriously, these are some really pissed off wasps.  I bet they are part of the uncool group of wasps and probably weren’t allowed to hang out with the cool wasps, so now they hate the world.  And, they decided to hang out under my porch steps to see if they could assassinate us.  Because my whole family is made up of geniuses…it runs in the family or something.

Anyhow, I know all of this because Lorelei came up the steps and a huge SWARM of wasps pummeled her.  I saw 4, but it was probably because I was distracted with solving algorithms in my head, so I missed seeing the rest of the swarm.  I pulled her and the baby to safety but it was too late.  They had gotten Lorelei.  And, these things must be freaks.  Freak wasps because their stingers are HUGE and left a gaping hole in her leg.  That might be why they’re so mad.  I’d be mad if I was a freak wasp, too.

I pulled her up onto the couch and she was all “I’m DYYYINNNGGG, they’re trying to KIIILLLL MEEEEEEE!” in her little toddler wail as she held on to her leg.  I didn’t really know what to say, because she’s probably right.  Not about the dying part, but it probably was an assassination attempt.  I called my mom because DUDE, doesn’t everyone call their mother after someone tries to kill them and their family?  I mean, I would’ve called my body guard, but nobody seems to want that job.  Probably because my life is so dangerous, you know…being a GENIUS stay at home mom and all.

Mom said I should put a baking soda paste on it and I was all like “PBBTTT  They’re expecting that!  And…I have a black couch!!”  So, I looked in my arsenal of things and brought out the activated charcoal.  Everybody has activated charcoal in their medicine cabinets, right?  I mean, you never know when someone might try to gas or poison you.  Come on people, be smart!  Gosh, there I go again, forgetting I’m a GENIUS and not everybody is as smart as me.  Sorry bout that.

Then, in an effort to make Lorelei feel better, mom came over and brought an assortment of goodies.  I tried convincing her that a parfait from McDonalds would make us ALL feel better, but she clearly disagreed (that, and apparently the cars in line at McD’s didn’t understand that it was an emergency, so they wouldn’t just move the heck out of the way.)  At the bottom of the bag, there were 2 cans of spray.   YEH!  Protection!  Retaliation!  LET’S KILL THEM and AVENGE MY BABY’S LEG!  YEAH! Wait, why does this say ant spray on it?  I looked at her through squinty eyes, trying to figure out if she thought this was funny or if perhaps, she’d lost it.  “All I had was ant spray and it worked for me!”  She said.  So, most likely, I have ant wasps…no wonder they’re ticked off.

Anyhow, I made a black charcoal paste and it took the swelling down.  But it was only temporary.  A day later and half her leg was swollen and icky.  Tricky poison!!  So, I put more paste on it and today…it looked like this:

The swelling and redness had gone down, but what’s that?  TWO sting entrances?  Awesome.  (Poor kid.)

In other news, Aurora is cutting her two top first molars.  TWO.  One on each side.  I was going to share a picture for her, but I really didn’t think you all would appreciate seeing the diarrhea diapers this produces.

You know you’re in trouble when your toddler runs into the bathroom while you’re trying to take a shower in peace and yells “MOMMY!  Aurora is getting poop all over her blankets!!!” – and then the flashbacks of a baby smeared in poop pop through your brain.

*Sigh*  Being a genius sucks.  I quit.

Welcome back!

You know how when your plate is full and hard enough to carry as it is and then little things keep getting added and you feel like abandoning the entire plate (which is your entire life) all-together?  But, you can’t actually because …it’s your life.  And, you know how it makes you just sob nonstop and you start feeling all stabby (mostly in your thoughts) when you have to deal with fake people and their syrupy smiles and rude obnoxious people…so you stop going out in public?  You’re angry with yourself because really, it’s time to get over this…even YOU are getting tired of hearing and seeing yourself all blue and sad and pathetic.  And you know how you start avoiding people because you know they’ll ask how you’ve been (without really wanting the full answer) and you know that as soon as you do, it’s very likely that you’ll just break down into a heap on the floor?  And, although you normally wouldn’t tell them, you will because you feel so darn broken and…they asked?  And then there’s the friends you thought were your friends, thought knew you, but they don’t even notice?  And you feel dumb for expecting people to have ESP but then again, you’re trapped in your own head?  You hate the idea of antidepressants but you also know if someone put them in front of you, you’d eat em like candy, just hoping it would chase away some of the darkness?  And, you’re all angry at God but you love HIm too?  You feel lost and you see all of these “happy” people and you wonder what the hell you did so wrong to keep getting the short end of the straw?  –And then you start wondering if maybe this was all His plan?  And that makes you … well…I don’t know.

I feel like a 15 year old EMO kid – except I’m on my own and my happily ever after turned out to be one of my worst nightmares.  So, I’m locking myself in my proverbial “room” and functioning on autopilot.

I’m trying to find “happy” but keep finding the dead-end detours, instead.

*Yes, I am aware that my child looks a little homeless.  I assure you her hair was brushed right AFTER this picture.

What?  You don’t put up photos of your children with wet, un-brushed hair and bubba teeth?

I used to be one of those moms who was all “Oh yeh, I’ll never lie to my kids.  I’ll just only tell them what they specifically ask when things get sticky.”

*snort*  Yeh, that didn’t last long.

You know, we thought we were just SO friggin’ smart when we took away her pacifier and let her “find her thumb” – as if it was lost.  We figured, “Oh hey, now she can’t lose it!”  -And, well, at least that part was true, but after she turned 3, it wasn’t something we were so excited about.

Like any good parents, we did the bribery thing.  “Lorelei, let’s not suck your thumb and then we can get you a baby mermaid, okay?”  Being the master negotiator that she is (she IS my daughter, after all), she eyed me suspiciously.  “You’re going to get me the whale?”

“No, honey.  Mommy will get you the Ariel princess baby mermaid.  Won’t that be FUN?!”  (said a little too excitedly that even the baby knew I was exaggerating)

“Yeh.  The Princess whale.”

(I tried not to grin.  Oh, she is my daughter! – And, I could completely see her point.  Ariel IS almost a whale.)  “Yeh, her.  But, only if you stop sucking your thumb!  Okay?”

“Okay!” She declared, “Look!  I no suck my thumb!  Where’s my whale?”

I quickly clarified that she had to stop sucking her thumb PERIOD.  Then, it became a no-deal.  Not even princess whales were worth that.

Then, like any good parent, I upped my tactics and went with the bittertastingthumb.  She just frowned and sucked more vigorously.  FAIL.

We tried making it a rule, where thumb sucking was no longer allowed.

We tried to reason with the kid, telling her that if she kept sucking her thumb, her teeth would look funny and her finger would be all yucky.  She wasn’t too concerned.  Oh, she talked about it nonstop with questions, but she did it between sucking.

Our pediatrician even told us that if we were worried enough, we could do the hand cover that she’d wear for several months CONTINUOUSLY that would keep her from physically putting her thumb into her mouth.  That seemed a little barbaric to me, so we decided to wait.

I’d finally given up, figuring I’d have a 17 year old thumb-sucker when she asked,

“What’s this?”  Pointing to the nasty callous on her thumb.  I think my head may have dropped into my hands at that point, not ready for ANOTHER thumb-sucking conversation that would end with… thumb sucking.  My husband, without missing a beat, picked up the conversation.

“It’s where you’re sucking your thumb off.”

“I am not!”  She said, horrified at the accusation she’d just been charged with.

“Yep, if you suck your thumb too much, it’ll just fall off!”

Eying him suspiciously, she turned to me, “Mommy, is my thumb going to fall off?”

“Um, just listen to your father!”  I said too brightly, hightailing it out of the room to fill up my already full glass of water.

She placed her thumb in her mouth, eyes on us, then took it back out.  “Can I suck my thumb?  Is it going to fall off?”

“That’s up to you!  You can suck it if you want to, but it might fall off if you do!”

The seed was planted.

And so it was:  If you suck your thumb, it might fall off.

A few days later, in the van:

“Mommy?  What’s that?”  She said, pointing to a series of ambulances zooming past with their sirens blaring.

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Probably someone’s finger fell off….  Lorelei!  Check your thumbs!  Are they still there?”

She pulled out her thumbs (which were attached).

“Phew.  That was close.”  I said, as my mother gave me a sideways glance from the driver’s seat and mouthed “Whattheheck?”

Yep.  Parenting at it’s finest.

In related news:  Lorelei no longer sucks her thumb!

2 minutes. 

That’s the amount of time I let the baby and toddler out of my sight so I could start a new load of laundry.

2 minutes.

That’s the amount of time it took for Lorelei to use the big girl potty and for Aurora to follow her into the bathroom.

2 minutes.

That’s all it took.

And, that’s about when I walked in to find my 3 year old looking on, horrified, as her one year old sister fished her hand into the potty, apparently trying to catch her sister’s…

poop.

Yeh, I said it.

That’s definitely NOT what I expected to find.

(The good news is, I walked in just as it happened…so, she didn’t have time to take her paci out of her mouth.  And no, she didn’t catch anything.)

Dear Rora,

Happy First Birthday!

You are one!  And, like typical you, yesterday was a very dramatic one.  We celebrated your birthday (actual day) with a trip to the doctor and then promptly canceling all of our plans for the day (that involved people):  You have Roseola.

It’s a virus that reminds me a bit of chicken pox in how it acts – most kids get it between 3 months and 4 years old (although some are mis diagnosed because it can kind of resemble hives or a couple of other things), it’s contagious, and once you have had it, you’re immune.  But, unlike chicken pox, you get a fever for a few days and then it goes away, leaving you a nasty looking rash that doesn’t itch and an irritable mood.

I’m so glad we were able to celebrate this past weekend!

Anyways, you are one of the tiniest one year olds I know, despite your willingness to eat anything in sight.  You are standing and walking when you have things to hold onto, but don’t seem too concerned to walk on your own just yet (like your sister was).  You love to dance, play with water, and still have the prettiest blue eyes.

And, you’re the best cuddler!

This note, however, is going to be short – because you need me and I’d rather tell you over and over in person how much you mean to me.

Love

Mommy

Dear “Rora,”

I can’t believe 10 months has passed since we first welcomed you into our lives.  You have grown so much — and time has passed too quickly!

Your favorite toys are NOT baby toys.  You love Little People and baby dolls and some of the most random toys like Lala’s “robot” – a McDonald’s type toy that’s actually an astronaut and does nothing spectacular.  I have a feeling you love it because Lorelei loves it.

Your smile and laugh is infectious.

Your eyes are a deep blue and are so expressive.  You use them well to sense other people’s feelings.  I’m so curious to see if you’ll keep your blue eyes – your paternal grandfather has them and so does your maternal grandmother.  By this age, Lala’s eyes had turned a dark steely gray.

You nuzzle with your head as your way of showing love.  You enjoy uncovering our faces from under your blankie as we play “peek a boo.”  Lorelei is still your best friend, and watching you two play brings a smile to my face.  Just looking at her makes you smile (and her, you).

However, you’ve also begun asserting your own…(what shall we call it…) independence.  Today, as you and your sister were both upset (you because of teething, her because of allergies), you both wanted in my lap.  So, I set you both on my legs and as she leaned her head against my chest, you reached over, trying to move her face away from me.  Your little face crumpled when it was made clear that Lorelei would have to share my lap.  You also refuse to sit somewhere (as opposed to being held) that you don’t want to by arching your little back and throwing your head backwards.

Unlike your big sister, you are definitely a mouth explorer at this age.  –As in, you pick everything up and it goes straight to your mouth.  It’s funny to walk into a room to see you with a doll sticking out of your face.

You’ve also begun teething and now have FIVE teeth.  The two bottom center teeth came in first and then one beside those and very recently, you got the top two in.  (Those last two were NOT FUN.  You sprung a 102.5 fever for a few hours and had me really worried, I wasn’t sure what was going on!)

You crawl and get around well but are showing no interest in pulling up.  -Pulling things down from a table, sure.  Pulling yourself up?  Why bother?

You are doing well with mushed up foods, but you always want a follow up with breastfeeding.  Your father and I left for a weekend and we had formula as a standby but you HATED it.  So, you chose to only eat your food and drink water and juice from a bottle.  Although, when we got back, you were DEFINITELY happy to see me again

You sleep all night, now, in your room.  Every once in a while you’ll wake up and have a night feeding but it’s RARE.  I welcome those rarities though.  I need my sleep, but your cuddles are so special.

Funny girl, you hijack your baby doll’s pacifiers and bottles and take them as your own.

You are so special and we can’t wait to see your personality develop.

Love always,

Mommy

It must be a funny (pitiful) sight to see me “running.”  Really, it’s almost amusing at how quickly I become out of breath as I try for the first time in my life to really start running.  I was told running would be hard, that it’d take months – if not years – for it to really integrate itself so well into my life that I could actually relax as I run.  That’d be nice.

But, for now, I’ll feel like I’m about to die as the breath is sucked straight out of my lungs and the cold air burns them instead.

The funny thing is that I’ve been CRAVING running.  It sucks while I do it, but then I can’t wait to do it again.  Maybe I’ve just developed a masochistic personality.

Regardless, I’m trying to drag Steven into my new lifestyle.  It’s something we’ve talked about for …since we’ve been married, but we never seem to keep up the whole “active lifestyle” for more than a couple of weeks.  This time, I bought a board game (called The Fitness Challenge) and it seems pretty cool.  The main idea for the game is to try to get in 3 workouts a week and there are points and prizes (real ones) and all that jazz…

I’m feeling particularly pumped that so far this week, I’m winning.  The bad news is that that’s because Steven hasn’t done a workout this week yet (which is okay, he still has 5 days).  The good news is that I’ve gone from working out 3 days a week, to trying to cram more in.  Like 4 days a week.  I’ve started dabbling in p90x.  Dabbling, because most of the system depends on a pull up bar, which requires a sturdy door frame.  I don’t really trust these door frames and am not committed to losing our security deposit over a freakin pull up bar.  My walls are made of some really sturdy cardboard (not wood), so I really doubt the doors and frames were splurged on.  In fact, I have a sneaky suspicion half of this place was super-glued together (which I may or may not have done some of the repairs myself).

I was feeling rather confident after I finished my p90x Ab Ripper with no pain or soreness.  I felt like a superstar (that had been jipped of a workout) when I felt nothing the next day.  But 2 days later, I feel it.  It may have something to do with the extra pushups I did and the run…but, when Steven asked me to scoot underneath the baby bed in order to reassemble it, I suddenly realized that most of my muscles were on fire.  Except my feet.  My feet seemed fine.  That was it.

In other news, you really can RUN through a bank drive through to deposit money.  And yes, that was me.  I like to multi-task (and they’d already locked the front doors).

In more news, the baby’s bed has been moved to the girls’ room.  Lorelei is ecstatic and at 7:30am, they both woke up and were giggling and having fun.  I’m excited, yet…not…why can’t they sleep til noon?

In even more news, Lorelei is nonstop hungry.  I’m happy she’s eating but am now wondering if this is a developmental stage or one really large tapeworm.

Lorelei,

You are 2 years and 9 months old.  You’ve mastered the fine art of dressing yourself (except for shirts, they’re pretty confusing).  You adore watching shows and have somehow developed a little smarty pants attitude.  And then, there’s the whining.  Somehow, you instinctively know that if you repeat the same word in the same whiny voice, it’ll drive anyone near you CRAZY.  You adore playing dress up and shopping and girly things like: new clothes, lip balm, fingernail polish, and shoes.  You still like taking showers and baths and look forward to bedtime stories (even if you do try to get out of the bedtime part of it).  You have a new obsession with gum and have started eating normally again.  You went from eating very little to continuously saying, “Mom, I hungry!”  Things you’ll eat right now are:  yogurt, fresh fruits (pineapple and blueberries and mandarin oranges are your favorites), pasta, pizza, and the like.  We’re trying to keep things healthy for you – little or no chips, soda and candy.  You don’t seem to mind too much, except for when you see someone else eating them.  Potty training is kind of…not really happening.  Which, has more to do with me than you, I think.  We did the big kid panties one day and you peed 6 times in 2 hours, and I realized I’d have to attach a potty to you to keep up with you.  You love playing outside in your little cars and love playing inside with your barnyard uno and candyland games.  And, then…there’s your sister, whom you adore.

Aurora,

You are 8 months old now.  You eat “solids” (2nd stage) and have started to crawl.  I started feeding you solids later than I could have because I ‘m a little reluctant for some reason.  Your favorite thing EVER is your sister.  You now hate the bumbo or anything else that keeps you from roaming around.  You throw major tantrums when we lay you down for a diaper change, and sometimes holding you is all that makes you happy.  With that said, you’re still a happy baby.  You are now sleeping the majority of the night in a swing.  You wake up to eat and we let the batteries run down so it only swings you at first.  Soon, you’ll be practicing spending the night in your crib, after we move it to your sister’s room.

Girls,   I love being your mommy and feel so blessed day in and day out…even through the tantrums (yours and mine) and meltdowns.  I love listening to you, Lorelei, as you try to express your thoughts with words, and how you try to incorporate things you’ve heard us say (even when it’s not the best word usage on our part).  As I watch the changes in each of you, as you morph into two distinct personalities, I wonder what’s in store for us.  And, I hope you always remember this feeling…

Of sisterly love…