tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40741728678791304862024-03-13T18:10:49.710-04:00Weaver's Wobbles"The days are long but the years are short"Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comBlogger112125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-19748593965661670352013-11-24T16:36:00.000-05:002013-11-24T16:36:55.884-05:00Awkward!!<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Noah: Mom, how do babies get in your belly?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Me:</span> <i>{oh crap...think fast!!}</i><span style="font-size: large;"> That's the way God made it. </span><i>{Please let that be good enough!!}</i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Noah: So, Natalie has a baby in her belly, too?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Me:</span> <i>{oh crap...think fast!!}</i><span style="font-size: large;"> No, Natalie's not married. </span><i>{Please let that be good enough!!}</i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Noah: But how do the babies come out?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Me:</span> <i>{oh crap.... really? we're doing this?!?} </i><span style="font-size: large;">The doctors get the babies out.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Noah: But how?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Me:</span> <i>{REALLY!?! Seriously make it stop!}</i><span style="font-size: large;"> Not sure. I'm not a doctor.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Noah: </span><i>{either realizing he's not getting the answer he's looking for and is giving up or he's really okay with the answers I've given (I suspect the former)}</i><span style="font-size: large;"> Oh</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-12868679316807372032012-10-05T16:35:00.001-04:002012-10-05T16:35:35.802-04:00Girls don't sweat!<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Noah and Natalie are trading off all week on who will stay home sick from school. Natalie started it off with a cough on Tuesday. Not to be outdone, Noah had a 102 fever on Wednesday. One must outdo the other so Natalie's cough got worse on Thursday but Noah gave up the competition and went to school. Apparently he decided he wasn't really done after all and his temp spiked to nearly 103 on Thursday evening. Natalie seems to be giving up the race and went to school today. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I kept Noah home as a precaution but since his fever is gone and he seems to be bouncing back, I decided a little retail therapy would be good for me after the week I've had. So, he and I were off to The Limited after Natalie got on the bus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After about 30 minutes of trying on clothes, I said, "Whew! I'm working up a sweat! It's hot in here!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Noah was so absorbed in the game he was playing on my phone that I didn't think he was listening. I was really talking more to myself, anyway, until he laughed and said, "Why are you sweating? Are you a man?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Laughing, I said, "What?! What are you talking about?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"You said you were sweating. Girls don't sweat! Guys do! Unless a girl is running and you're not running! You're shopping!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Well, it's pretty close to the same thing!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He laughed and it seemed that he decided I didn't really know what I was talking about. </span>Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-12118044122049437032012-09-30T14:15:00.000-04:002012-09-30T14:15:11.790-04:00Time for a haircut<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The kids and I went for haircuts a few days ago. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Just as Noah sat down, she noticed a spot of hair at the front of his head that was shorter than the rest of his hair. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She asked, "Did you cut your own hair?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"No!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"It's shorter, right here, than the rest of your hair. Are you sure you didn't cut your own hair?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">gave her a sly look and said, "Well, you're the one holding the scissors!!" and grinned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He's so quick-witted and it's freaking hilarious!! Luckily it blends - sort of....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-62961998039423273862012-05-25T17:20:00.000-04:002012-05-25T17:20:28.404-04:00Random thoughts from Natalie<br />
Natalie: Mom - when I was little, I dressed up like a fly but I didn't bug myself!<br />
<br />Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-6329473052649364332012-03-22T19:05:00.003-04:002012-03-22T19:15:13.241-04:00Conversations with Natalie<div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">The kids need summer clothes so while driving down the highway on the way to the mall last night, Natalie randomly says, "I want hair in my nose!"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Me: What?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Natalie: I want hair in my nose. I want dad to give me hair for my nose.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>My mind scans back to a conversation with Noah 3 days ago when he asked where boogers some from and I assume this is where her line of random questioning comes from... (wrong!!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: Hair in your nose? Why?</div><div><br /></div><div>Natalie: Yes - hair in my nose. Like here (and put her finger just inside her nostril). I want dad to give me hair for my nose.</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: Okay? But why?</div><div><br /></div><div>Natalie: Because Grampa Dirt has hair in his nose and I want hair in my nose like grampa's. I wonder if dad will give me hair in my nose. I'm going to ask him when he calls if he'll bring me some hair for my nose.</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: Um - sure.... you can ask him (what else was I supposed to say?!)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-18836847350662222702011-11-21T16:33:00.008-05:002011-11-21T17:32:04.004-05:00A humbling perspective<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); ">On Friday, as the kids and I waited at the airport for Dave to get home from New York, a man approached me and if I was Mrs. -----. I said, "No, but I could be. Did I win something?" He proceeded to tell me that he was waiting for a soldier returning home from Afghanistan. He had never met the soldier's wife but knew they had 2 small children and, since Noah and Natalie kept asking "how long before dad gets home?", he thought maybe I was the soldier's wife. Well, now my "did I win something" didn't seem to funny anymore. He then told me that the soldier coming home had served with his son in Afghanistan and then pointed to a picture pinned to his jacket and said, "My Jesse didn't make it home! He was killed last November." I shook his hand and, with tears in my eyes, thanked him for his sacrifice and how grateful I was for his family and his son's sacrifice. He had such a positive attitude towards the experience. He explained to me, "How can I be sad? My son saved 3 men's lives before he died. The last man he saved had 3 kids at home - 5, 3, and 3 months. The soldier had never met his baby and because of my son, that soldier saw his child. How great is that and how can I be sad knowing that my son did that for them?" I was so awe struck by his positive outlook on the situation. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); ">As we were leaving the airport, I stopped to shake his hand and say "thank you" one last time. As I was walking away, he yelled for me and handed me a flag he was holding. He said, "I want you to have this. This is one of the flags that flew at my son's grave. I want you to have it - for your kids to have it so they'll know the story of my Jesse. His name is Jesse Snow. He's from Fairborne and he was given a silver star. Look for his story." I was so honored to be given that flag. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); ">I told Noah and Natalie "That man's son died while fighting that bad guys and he was helping to keep you safe. He saved 3 of his friends' lives before he died!" Now, when Natalie comes into my room, she will see the flag and sometimes yell, "THE AMERICAN FLAG!!!!" I hope someday my kids will have the full perspective of what that flag means and the sacrifices that go with our safety and freedom. It was instilled in me as a kid and I intend to instill that in my kids, too. I am so grateful for the opportunity to meet John Snow and hear Jesse's story.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); "><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><a href="http://youtu.be/ovx5YbKjE4M" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); font-size: small; "><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ovx5YbKjE4M" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></a></div></div>Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-5998258201608392222011-11-01T09:24:00.004-04:002011-11-01T09:34:39.004-04:00So proud - or not....Noah got hurt on Saturday while playing on his scooter. On the way to church on Sunday, he said, "Mom, you want to know why I didn't get hurt worse yesterday when I fell on my scooter?" <div><br /></div><div>"Sure!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"God took care of me so I only got hurt a little bit instead of a lot hurt."</div><div><br /></div><div>"That's right. God always takes care of us!" </div><div><br /></div><div><i>I was so proud - I must be doing something right!!</i></div><div><br /></div><div>"I know. A long a time ago at church we talked about how God makes us better when we get sick or hurt. The teachers asked us to tell a story about a time that God made us better or someone in our family better when we were sick."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh really?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, I told them that when I first born out of your belly, I was really sick and almost died but God made me better and I wasn't sick anymore."</div><div><br /></div><div>"NOAH!! Why would you tell them that? That's not true!! You weren't sick when you were born!!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"It's okay, mom. I just made it up!" </div><div><br /></div><div><i>So much for my proud moment!!</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div>Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-62667505320607378732011-08-02T23:22:00.008-04:002011-09-19T12:29:10.732-04:00You're getting your ass handed to you!!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8uR3cP_m0Cg/TndteGdgrHI/AAAAAAAAAow/7k86LW8d1gQ/s1600/photo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size:13.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:#666666">Dave has been traveling a lot lately. He was in Orlando for a week, home for a week and now he's gone again - day 2 of 8. Before he left, I told him about some trouble I'm having with the kids and he said, "You're getting your ass handed to you!" Well, that's putting it lightly!! So, now Dave is in the middle of "no cell service" Yosemite with his dad and I'm having my ass handed to me with no back up or reinforcements.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">Noah gets up by himself between 7-730 and is pretty self-sufficient. He can make himself a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk and watches tv until I get up between 830-9 when Natalie gets up.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">We had a breakfast issue yesterday so when he came in this morning to ask if he could go outside, I asked him what he ate for breakfast and he said "Nothing."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">Now, there are several things wrong with this response..... He doesn't know that I heard the cabinet doors slamming, he doesn't know that I'm pretty familiar with his eating habits and I know he eats as soon as he wakes up, <i>and</i>he doesn't realize <i>there is food stuck to the side of his face</i>!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">So, I said, "You didn't eat anything? I heard the cabinet doors slamming."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">"Well, I didn't eat anything."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">"Noah, don't lie to me! What did you eat this morning?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">"I didn't eat anything!"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">"Noah, there's chocolate on the side of your face!! What did you eat this morning and<i> DON'T</i> lie to me!!"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">Deer in a headlight look.... "I ate chocolate."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">My brain is now scanning the cabinet - where the hell did he find chocolate and why didn't I know about it ?!?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">"Chocolate? Where did you get chocolate?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">"I found it in the cabinet."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">"How much chocolate did you eat? <i>Don't lie to me!</i>"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">"I had like maybe 3. I don't know - I lost count!"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">"THREE?!?! YOU LOST COUNT?!?!"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">He nods his head and goes back downstairs.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; ">I came down to investigate this morning's breakfast issue (different from yesterday's issue) and I discovered that he has apparently helped himself to the smores stash that I keep on hand for fire pit nights <i>and</i> it was "like maybe 4" because, again, Noah doesn't realize I can see what is in the trash...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-size: 16px; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8uR3cP_m0Cg/TndteGdgrHI/AAAAAAAAAow/7k86LW8d1gQ/s400/photo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654108221084839026" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-size: 16px; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m2Ms-YcI4kY/Tm4g8HYbILI/AAAAAAAAAoo/2mvUg4eiYx8/s1600/photo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-17062517304674828642011-02-02T16:02:00.003-05:002011-02-02T16:12:59.633-05:00My heart just stopped!!!Noah gets out of school at 310. At 257 my phone rings... <br /><br />"Hello"<br /><br />"Hi, this is ..... from ........ elementary school." ((very long pause like her name was enough to tell me what she wanted. I've never heard the name before so there's an even longer pause))<br /><br />Her: "Is Noah out sick today?" <br /><br />Me: "No - I put Noah on the bus at 1230!" <br /><br />Her: "Well, he's not here." ((her tone implies that it's perfectly normal to put a kindergarten-er on the bus but never show up at school - my tone becomes panic because it's NOT normal!!))<br /><br />Me: "Well, I put him on the bus 2 1/2 hours ago. He should be at school."<br /><br />Her tone becomes annoyed - with a heavy sigh she says: "Hold on!" <br /><br />I wait - my heart has dropped to my stomach and stopped....<br /><br />Her: "Never mind. It was the child below him on the roster." (her tone is as if this happens everyday - as if it's perfectly normal to "lose" a child)<br /><br />Oh - okay - well thanks for the reassurance!!!!Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-15787180766934031892010-09-30T15:59:00.005-04:002010-09-30T16:04:48.082-04:00Are you crazy!?!?!?!?!Noah said he wants a little brother. I told him he had a little sister. He said he's okay with having a little sister but he wants a little brother, too, because all of his friends have little brothers. I told him he was out of luck on a brother but he's got a sister. About 5 minutes later, after Noah got on the school bus, Natalie asked if we could have a baby like her Baby Brynn so she could have a baby to play with. Um - no thanks but thanks for asking :)Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-77280791115580588982010-07-03T16:25:00.001-04:002010-07-03T16:25:36.092-04:00Noah saw a little black girl at the dr office this morning and he said, "Mom, does that girl with a tan work here?"Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-47990324902471193802010-06-10T22:04:00.001-04:002010-06-10T22:04:45.600-04:00I'm late - no more talking<div class="mobile_status"><span class="" style="" id="profile_status"><span id="status_text">Noah informed me earlier today...<br /><br />"Mom, I gotta go. I'm late for my super hero meeting with Spiderman, Batman, Iron Man, that viking guy (Thor) and Captain America so there's no more talking."</span><small><span id="status_time"><span id="status_time_inner"><br /></span></span></small></span></div>Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-76247886690783848572010-06-02T11:25:00.000-04:002010-06-02T11:26:27.691-04:00Things I Thought I'd Never Say (Part 5)"Natalie - don't lick the stairs!!"Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-46918587638846515842010-04-01T08:49:00.002-04:002010-04-01T09:08:11.232-04:00Easter BunnyI took the kids to the see the Easter Bunny yesterday. This is the best part about parenting. Is it bad that I enjoyed this so much? :) <span style="font-size:78%;">(there is a video below in case you can't see it depending on your web browser)</span><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy0TR4eanvXju23Di7WNRphC5ozRVqKV65ZFbTFVJ3oCy1y_ACQ8UwZf3Ge98qkdcdo39mOWP92uxSSwditsg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-64558259478047417972010-03-23T19:15:00.002-04:002010-03-23T19:22:19.964-04:00Straight for the heartDave is out tonight so I took the kids for a walk. When we got back to the house, Noah ran ahead of us and locked the door. (first mistake) I knocked on the door and he opened it (second mistake) - smiling (third mistake).<br /><br />I told him it wasn't funny and I don't know what part of him thought it was okay to lock us out of the house. I sent him to his room. A few minutes later I called him back downstairs. I had told Natalie earlier in the evening that if she finished her dinner that we'd all go out for ice cream. So, we loaded up and went for ice cream. Noah didn't get any and he told Natalie, "I can't have any because I locked you guys out of the house."<br /><br />When we got back from DQ, I asked him to clean up his toys. He asked if I would help him and I said "No. You guys can do it. They're your toys." He started crying and said, "Mom?"<br /><br />"What, Noah?"<br /><br />"You're always mean to me."<br /><br />Okay - crush me now but your still cleaning up the toys and I'm still not helping you.<br /><br />I hugged him big and explained to him that I wash his dishes, clean his clothes, cook him dinner, drive him to school and all I ask is that he clean up his toys. The explanation didn't really work because he said, "Well, you can help with the toys, too."Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-91124222562491977712010-03-17T09:46:00.002-04:002010-03-17T09:54:01.542-04:00Big and fatI was sitting down in the floor to change Natalie's diaper and Noah slid the lid to one of his toys under my butt without me realizing it. When I sat on it, he started laughing so I played along. I said, "Hey - what's that?!" It was all fun and games until he said:<br /><br />"Isn't it funny to put the lid under something big and fat?!" and he started laughing with all his childhood innocence.<br /><br />Yep - apparently he thinks my butt is big and fat and it's freakin' hilarious!!!Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-55308617036918920222010-03-06T12:29:00.001-05:002010-03-06T12:29:58.891-05:00Go get dressedNoah wants to watch TV. He's still in his pajamas so I told him he has to get dressed before he can turn the TV on. He said that he chooses to turn the TV on first and then get dressed. I told him "no" and he can choose whether to watch TV or not by whether he gets dressed or not. He replies, "When I get big, I'm gonna tell you that you can't watch TV until you get dressed!" My response, "Okay but I'm telling you now and you aren't big enough to tell me so go get dressed."Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-53168915489481930952010-02-09T20:33:00.002-05:002010-02-09T21:16:40.111-05:00Cheers to Stacy!!!I'll just disclaimer now and say that you might be offended by the language in this post and it should probably be rated "R". The only way to clean it up a bit is to abbreviate - believe me, though, I was thinking (or saying quietly to myself) nothing of abbreviations but full words. Sorry 'bout it!!<br /><br />The kids and I are trapped inside the house because of a snow storm. Dave is out of town until Friday so we are in for the long haul. Even though the kids didn't need a bath, I figured I'd let them play in the tub anyway. They <span style="font-style: italic;">sort of</span> get a break from me and I <span style="font-style: italic;">sort of</span> get a break from them so it works - except for tonight!!<br /><br />The kids are playing in the bathtub and I'm sitting on my bedroom floor on the phone to Stacy. She and I are talking about how it's nice to have a drink every once in a while to help you relax as long as it's not a way to escape reality. (oh the irony about to come)<br /><br />I hear Noah cry out - "Oh Natalie!!!! Did you poop!?!?!?!"<br /><br />I jump to my feet, run to the bathroom to see a single "floater" bobbing along in the tub. Noah is standing as far away from everything as possible in a tub filled with toys, water, Natalie and, apparently, her poop. He has such a disgusted look on his face and glances at me with desperation when I say, "Natalie!!! Did you poop in the tub?!?! You did poop in the tub!!!! Natalie!!! Oh - I can't believe this!!! Stacy, I have go!" I stumble for a moment on my new reality - (gag) WTF am I supposed to do now!?!?!<br /><br />I take a little toy cup from the pile of bathtub toys and scoop the floater (gag) into the toilet (gag). I toss the cup in the garbage (gag) and pull Noah (who is still very traumatized) from the tub. I wrap him a towel and tell him to go to the other bathroom because he has to be washed again.<br /><br />Natalie is still sitting there looking at me like "Why are you freaking out?! It's not a big deal!" Of course this isn't a big deal to her. I'm the one that had to scoop it out.<br /><br />I pick her up out of the tub and see that there isn't just a single floater but that a full "cow patty" is now stuck to the bottom of my bathtub! (gag) "WTF - I can't believe your dad isn't home!!"<br /><br />I wrap her in a towel and all the way down the hall to the other bathroom I am yelling about how naughty she is for pooping in the tub. She needs to learn to poop on the pot. She's never supposed to poop in the tub. She's very naughty. She replies (in her sing-song voice) "Okay!"<br /><br />Yes - because it's just that easy!!!<br /><br />I wash Noah and send him to the hallway to get dressed. I tell him "<span style="font-style: italic;">DO NOT</span> go in the other bathroom!" I wash Natalie and carry her to the hallway to get her pajamas on and see Noah coming out of the other bathroom. Now I start yelling all over again about how he didn't listen!!<br /><br />"OMG - this is such a disaster!!! I hate your dad!!"<br /><br />Now, my entire bedroom stinks like an outhouse - thanks Natalie!!!<br /><br />I send them downstairs and begin the task of cleaning up. My first thought is "Can I leave it until Friday when Dave gets home? How mad will he be? Will it be worth it?" I come to the conclusion that that decision would not be in the best interest of everyone so I decide I have to be the one to clean it up.<br /><br />I'm hoping I can just dump water on it to break it up (gag) and let it just run down the drain (gag). Um - nope... apparently the "cow patty" consistency doesn't break up (gag). Now I'm gagging so hard I can taste vomit in my mouth and pouring water on it is only succeeding in loosening it from the bottom of the tub. (gag) Now I have a floating cow patty. (gag)<br /><br />"WTF - I can't touch it! I'll vomit!" (gag)<br /><br />I find another toy thing that I can scoop (gag) the floating cow patty into the toilet with (gag). I toss the toy into the trash (gag) and finish letting the water drain. I begin to fill the bathtub up with water and pour bleach in the tub. I have to get to a point where I can actually wipe it down without throwing-up so I figure bleach will get it clean enough until I can get to it without vomiting. I think I did the bleach to water ratio all wrong because my entire upstairs reeks of bleach. Oh well - at least it's sanitary!<br /><br />The kids are sleeping and I'm drinking a cold Miller Lite in an effort to escape my reality.<br /><br />Cheers to you, Stacy!!!Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-74854028038470870642010-02-02T16:54:00.002-05:002010-02-02T16:57:06.247-05:00How many hands does it takeYesterday, in nearly one consecutive sentence, Noah asked me for waffles, a glass of milk, a vitamin, his goggles, and his stuff for swim lessons. Natalie needed a diaper and a glass of milk, too. Apparently I can't work fast enough for Noah. When I told him to make up his mind about what he wanted and to be patient, he stormed off into the dining room and said, "You have 2 hands - don't you know that?!?!?!" Because saying it once didn't get his point across, he said it 3 more times before I finally blew up, yelled at him and called Dave. <br /><br />By the look on Noah's face when I gave him the phone, he thought it was perfectly normal to say that to me and that I'm crazier than a loon for thinking a call to Dave was necessary. <br /><br />Yeah - Monday...looking forward to the rest of my week - thanks!!Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-85367717345451220572010-01-26T12:45:00.002-05:002010-01-26T12:58:18.279-05:00All I want to do is showerApparently the kids are at an age where if I want to shower, I either have to shower before Dave leaves for work or after he gets home.<br /><br />Sunday and Monday morning, when I got out of the shower, I found Natalie in the office, messing with the computer - bad!!<br /><br />This morning when I turned the water off in the shower I heard the noise of a chair being pushed across the kitchen floor. I released a heavy sigh, dried off slowly knowing that the next few minutes would be rough for everyone and then yelled downstairs, "What are you guys doing?" To which Noah and Natalie responded with silence. So, I yelled again, "I said - what are you guys doing?!" <br />Noah comes around the corner, stands at the bottom of the stairs and says, "We're playing in the cabinets."<br /><br />That makes no sense to me - all the cabinets they are allowed to play in don't require a chair so I ask, "Which cabinets?"<br /><br />He looks at me with no response. I think he was hoping I would forget that I asked that question in the 3 seconds I gave him to respond. Since there was no response, I asked again, "Which cabinets?!"<br /><br />He replied, "The one with the marshmallows in it."<br /><br />"WHAT?!?! You used the chair to climb on the counter to get in the top cabinet where the marshmallows are?!?!?!"<br /><br />"Yes." (Because apparently, based on how he responded, that's a perfectly normal thing to do.)<br /><br />Needless to say, they were both in big trouble. Natalie had marshmallow goop hanging from her chin and her hand closed tight around something. I told them both to come upstairs. Natalie, it seems, didn't want just a marshmallow but apparently a cracker, too. I mean, really, if you're going to go through the hassle of moving a chair to climb the counter to get in the top cabinet and be in trouble, why settle for just a marshmallow?<br /><br />I cleaned her up, washed the cracker crumbs out of her hands and sent them both to their respective beds.<br /><br />If they hadn't told me which cabinet, I would've figured it out... To their disadvantage, they don't know how to close a ziploc bag. When I opened the cabinet to get the peanut butter for sandwiches, I was showered with opened baggies of marshmallows and cracker crumbs.<br /><br />So much for my clean shower that caused this mess to begin with - ugh!!!Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-17981930712869807842010-01-19T17:33:00.004-05:002010-01-19T17:36:22.532-05:002 going on 12Natalie has been a little mouthy today. She's been talking back and has a bad attitude in general. About 430 I told her she needed to change her attitude. She said she was going to her room to play. I went to check on her about 20 minutes later and she was out cold on her bed. I tried to wake her but she grabbed her thumb and rolled over. She must be so tired! Maybe after a "to late in the day" nap, she'll have a better attitude and we'll have a better evening.Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-43745593171424427692010-01-18T23:47:00.003-05:002010-01-18T23:55:01.389-05:00Back to the hospitalWaiting in the drop-off line at school:<br /><br />"Mom, when will I be little again so we can go back to the hospital so I can be born?"<br /><br />"You won't be little like that again. You're already born and once you're born, that's it."<br /><br />"But I want to be little so we can go to the hospital so I can be born."<br /><br />He points the two boys getting out of the car in front of us and says, "Like them. They're twins."Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-56378526542191885652010-01-11T17:31:00.002-05:002010-01-11T17:34:04.470-05:00That's my babyNatalie's getting mad because she wants to hold the baby. I hand her the baby doll and she says, "Not that one." I hand her another one and receive the same response. We get through all 5 baby dolls and each time she gets more and more frustrated.<br /><br />I tell her that's all there is and she says, "That one" and points to the TV.<br /><br />She's mad because she wants to hold Olivia's baby doll. "The one in the TV".Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-10569725601540144222010-01-05T13:03:00.003-05:002010-01-05T13:06:14.220-05:00You drive me crazy!We were driving home from dropping Noah off at school and Natalie said she wanted some chicken nuggets. I told her she could have some when we got home. She asked if she could have mustard. I said yes. She asked again, "With mustard, mommy?" <br /><br />"Yes, Natalie."<br /><br />"With mustard, mommy?"<br /><br />A little aggravation in my tone since it's the same question - "Yes, Natalie"<br /><br />"You drive me crazy, mommy!"<br /><br />"I drive you crazy. You drive me crazy asking the same question 3 times in a row."<br /><br />To which she responded in her sing-song voice, "Noooo!"Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074172867879130486.post-20541227177297624932009-12-26T22:04:00.000-05:002009-12-26T22:06:46.660-05:00What do you want to drink?Stacy and I took Noah and Bella to Reds Fest downtown a few weeks ago. We decided to take advantage of the "free kids meal" coupon we got so we stopped at Bob Evans for dinner. The waitress asked what Noah wanted to drink. He looked at me and I asked him "Do you want milk?" He replied (in all his "Noah glory"), "I would love nothing more!"<br /><br />Okay, milk it is!Smiling at life...http://www.blogger.com/profile/13540889517511127256noreply@blogger.com