Thursday, August 27, 2009
Suck It Up!
Earlier, I was having a bad day. Washer broke. Vacuum broke. Tired. But my bad attitude was refocused. I told the kids to clean up their toys and I was suddenly met with wailing that would rival a banshee. So, I told them, "Quit complaining! Suck it up!" And 6 year old Hayden dead serious and looking confused said, "I thought the vacuum broke?" I blurted out laughing.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Laundry Chute Chaos
The big kids were excited at lunch time today. Minutes earlier, their babysitter, Hayley, had come over to ask them if they wanted to go to the beach. As they scarfed down their peanut butter and jelly and wriggled around in their seats, I gleefully thought about showering (it's true, I haven't had one yet today), cleaning, and getting some work done. Addisyn and Audrey would be home with me but they would both take afternoon naps... yay for Hayley's surprise offer! She left promising to be back for the kids after lunch.
Following lunch, I surveyed the disaster zone also known as our kitchen following a meal. I walked through the kitchen picking up dish towels, wash cloths, burp cloths, bibs, and errant piggy pajama bottoms. I piled the items in Hayden's arms and asked him to go put everything down the chute. Since his arms were so full, Ray, home for lunch, asked Hayden to carry the items to the chute and Sydney to put the items down the chute.
Ahhh, the laundry chute. I have happily said many times that my favorite part of our house is the laundry chute. With laundry for a family of six, nothing is better than opening that little door on either the first or second floor and letting the laundry fall right down to the laundry room floor. Am I lazy for loving it? Perhaps. But I consider it a valuable convenience and the kids consider it great fun. Yelling up it (or down it) has made for many giggles amongst the kids.
Today, was no different. I heard the kids laughing in the bathroom. However, what I did not hear (as I was running around the house packing the beach bag) was Hayden running upstairs to the other chute so that he could look down on Sydney and so that Sydney could look up to her brother. What I did not hear was Hayden dropping a toothbrush down the chute. What I did hear was Sydney's cry as the toothbrush hit her upturned face. Ray, thinking the kids were in the bathroom picking on each other, went to investigate. All three of them emerged into the kitchen. There stood a bloody Sydney whose lip was split. Split wide.
I'm still sitting here marveling a toothbrush could make such a split. Sydney, on the other hand, is sitting with Ray at the ER waiting for stitches. How many times do you have to visit before they dedicate a wing to you? Or, a small tree near the lobby door?
UPDATE:
It occurred to me later that the toothbrush was actually Sydney's Dora The Explorer Spin Brush. Sydney returned from the ER with two stitches and was very brave. She exclaimed proudly, "I didn't even cry!" I looked at Ray and he nodded (maybe just as proudly). Apparently, while they were waiting Ray regaled Sydney with accident tales from his own childhood, which she found funny. Add in a stop on the way home for mini M&Ms and all is well that ends well.
Following lunch, I surveyed the disaster zone also known as our kitchen following a meal. I walked through the kitchen picking up dish towels, wash cloths, burp cloths, bibs, and errant piggy pajama bottoms. I piled the items in Hayden's arms and asked him to go put everything down the chute. Since his arms were so full, Ray, home for lunch, asked Hayden to carry the items to the chute and Sydney to put the items down the chute.
Ahhh, the laundry chute. I have happily said many times that my favorite part of our house is the laundry chute. With laundry for a family of six, nothing is better than opening that little door on either the first or second floor and letting the laundry fall right down to the laundry room floor. Am I lazy for loving it? Perhaps. But I consider it a valuable convenience and the kids consider it great fun. Yelling up it (or down it) has made for many giggles amongst the kids.
Today, was no different. I heard the kids laughing in the bathroom. However, what I did not hear (as I was running around the house packing the beach bag) was Hayden running upstairs to the other chute so that he could look down on Sydney and so that Sydney could look up to her brother. What I did not hear was Hayden dropping a toothbrush down the chute. What I did hear was Sydney's cry as the toothbrush hit her upturned face. Ray, thinking the kids were in the bathroom picking on each other, went to investigate. All three of them emerged into the kitchen. There stood a bloody Sydney whose lip was split. Split wide.
I'm still sitting here marveling a toothbrush could make such a split. Sydney, on the other hand, is sitting with Ray at the ER waiting for stitches. How many times do you have to visit before they dedicate a wing to you? Or, a small tree near the lobby door?
UPDATE:
It occurred to me later that the toothbrush was actually Sydney's Dora The Explorer Spin Brush. Sydney returned from the ER with two stitches and was very brave. She exclaimed proudly, "I didn't even cry!" I looked at Ray and he nodded (maybe just as proudly). Apparently, while they were waiting Ray regaled Sydney with accident tales from his own childhood, which she found funny. Add in a stop on the way home for mini M&Ms and all is well that ends well.
Highlighting Audrey
I put garlic bread in the oven. That's it. What? Like 3 minutes, tops? I come back into the family room to find Addisyn writing on Audrey's face with a yellow highlighter. August 24, 2009.
Handprints in Mud on Vinyl
August 17, 2009, was proving to be an eventful day for Sydney Jane. I had one of those mom moments when I was physically unable to be everywhere at once. Sydney had been riding her bike outside and I was inside feeding Audrey when it occurred to me that I hadn't heard from Syd in a few minutes. Typically, "bike riding" for her consists of up and down and around the driveway for 1.5 minutes and she's back inside taking her shoes off.
I became slightly anxious... we live in a fantastic neighborhood in a safe community but Syd is five and extremely curious, impulsive, and friendly. I pictured her riding her bike in the street, talking to friendly passerby... okay. Audrey was going to have her meal interrupted.
As I walked out of the garage and into the driveway, I saw her bike and helmet laying on the driveway. Before I had a chance to look up and down the street, I heard a wet, slap sound over to my right. It's then, when I looked over to the front door that I saw her. She was gleefully bent over one of my planters slapping muddy water. I must have made a sound because she looked up startled. Thinking back now, it could have been my shriek, "Sydney Jane! What are you doing?!" After I sized her up, my eyes drifted to the vinyl siding behind her that had been adorned with small, muddy hand prints. I sighed and motioned for her to come over to me.
As I marched her inside, she asked, "Why do you always get mad at me when I do bad things?!" I had to stifle a laugh. I was still shaking my head as I spot treated the 50+ little mud splatters on the cute little dress she had on! Seriously. What makes her think, "Hmm, I'm going to get off my bike, get a water bottle from the recycling bin, fill it with water from the bathroom, mix it up with the dirt from Mama's planters, and make hand prints on the house..."?
I became slightly anxious... we live in a fantastic neighborhood in a safe community but Syd is five and extremely curious, impulsive, and friendly. I pictured her riding her bike in the street, talking to friendly passerby... okay. Audrey was going to have her meal interrupted.
As I walked out of the garage and into the driveway, I saw her bike and helmet laying on the driveway. Before I had a chance to look up and down the street, I heard a wet, slap sound over to my right. It's then, when I looked over to the front door that I saw her. She was gleefully bent over one of my planters slapping muddy water. I must have made a sound because she looked up startled. Thinking back now, it could have been my shriek, "Sydney Jane! What are you doing?!" After I sized her up, my eyes drifted to the vinyl siding behind her that had been adorned with small, muddy hand prints. I sighed and motioned for her to come over to me.
As I marched her inside, she asked, "Why do you always get mad at me when I do bad things?!" I had to stifle a laugh. I was still shaking my head as I spot treated the 50+ little mud splatters on the cute little dress she had on! Seriously. What makes her think, "Hmm, I'm going to get off my bike, get a water bottle from the recycling bin, fill it with water from the bathroom, mix it up with the dirt from Mama's planters, and make hand prints on the house..."?
Check, Please!
It's not unusual for Ray to come home from work and check the mailbox before coming inside. So, on August 17, 2009, when he walked through the door with a pile of mail, I didn't give it a second thought.
It wasn't until he opened one particular envelope that I started paying attention. He looked up from the pile, "How come there is a payment envelope here with $4.50 in cash and change and one of my checks?" I stared at him not quite comprehending his question. After all, how was I supposed to know why he received something in the mail? He repeated his question a few more times but finally, after unsuccessfully understanding what he was asking me... he showed me.
I was looking at a payment envelope (the type that is sent to you in order for you to return payment), four dollar bills, two quarters, and one of Ray's personal checks... filled out by Sydney Jane.
Okay, the payment envelope made sense. I work part-time for my in-laws' family practice doing billing so there is a large stack of payment envelopes near my desk. Easily accessible. It took Ray and me a minute but we also figured out the cash and coins. We'd recently had a garage sale and the cash box was still sitting on the dining room table. Also, easily accessible. Okay. Ray's check... obviously, she'd gotten into his desk drawer and ripped it out of his checkbook. Now... how in the heck did she know how to fill it out? And when had she assembled it all in the envelope and put it in the mailbox? Ray and I looked at each other in astonishment.
Her attention had been carefully paid to each blank space. Specifically, she was able to fill in her name at the Pay to the Order of section and also indicated numeric values in the value box. Most startlingly, her signature could have easily passed as Ray's. Unfortunately for her, the only flaw in her fraud was the placement of the envelope neatly into the middle of Ray's stack of mail.
I have a feeling we're going to be good friends with our bank manager.
It wasn't until he opened one particular envelope that I started paying attention. He looked up from the pile, "How come there is a payment envelope here with $4.50 in cash and change and one of my checks?" I stared at him not quite comprehending his question. After all, how was I supposed to know why he received something in the mail? He repeated his question a few more times but finally, after unsuccessfully understanding what he was asking me... he showed me.
I was looking at a payment envelope (the type that is sent to you in order for you to return payment), four dollar bills, two quarters, and one of Ray's personal checks... filled out by Sydney Jane.
Okay, the payment envelope made sense. I work part-time for my in-laws' family practice doing billing so there is a large stack of payment envelopes near my desk. Easily accessible. It took Ray and me a minute but we also figured out the cash and coins. We'd recently had a garage sale and the cash box was still sitting on the dining room table. Also, easily accessible. Okay. Ray's check... obviously, she'd gotten into his desk drawer and ripped it out of his checkbook. Now... how in the heck did she know how to fill it out? And when had she assembled it all in the envelope and put it in the mailbox? Ray and I looked at each other in astonishment.
Her attention had been carefully paid to each blank space. Specifically, she was able to fill in her name at the Pay to the Order of section and also indicated numeric values in the value box. Most startlingly, her signature could have easily passed as Ray's. Unfortunately for her, the only flaw in her fraud was the placement of the envelope neatly into the middle of Ray's stack of mail.
I have a feeling we're going to be good friends with our bank manager.
Quit Bugging Me
The kids are always in a frenzy at meal times... swarming the kitchen and making food preparation a fine art in our narrow galley kitchen. The particular night of August 8, 2009, was no exception.
Hayden and Sydney were bouncing from counter to counter surveying the food and issuing complaints and accolades on the menu items. Audrey was in her bouncy seat on the dinner table starting to fuss because the music and accompanying water bubbles had stopped playing and Addisyn was making her usual protest at getting into her high chair. As I shielded my nose from her swinging appendages, she cried, "Iggy out. Iggy out!" When it finally clicked that her "iggy" meant "ear" (an odd but understandable morph of "ear" and "earring"), I took a quick peek at her ear. Not seeing anything and trying to prevent Sydney from squirting the entire ketchup bottle into her mouth, I moved on to distributing dinner plates.
Dinner progressed normally as Addisyn whipped her sippy cup across the table, Sydney serenaded us with renditions from High School Musical, and Hayden dramatically protested the consumption of baked beans. We had made it through dinner with few crocodile tears (they seem to appear while pleading a case against "gross" food), parental threats of consequence and repercussion (while ignoring said crocodile tears), and a semi-clean floor. Hands washed and shirts food stained (I'm not just talking about the kids here), we moved into the family room for some reading time.
Ray was two pages deep into Addisyn's most recent library book when she resumed her shrieks of "Iggy out! Iggy out!" Ray remembered we had been given an otoscope (device used to look in ears) by his father and I went running to retrieve it. Addisyn's screams had reached ear splitting levels. As I hovered over my husband and daughter impossibly trying to see what Ray was seeing, he finally removed the otoscope and uttered the nastiest thing I'd ever heard, "She has a beetle in there. I looked in and bug eyes were looking back at me." I stared at him for a moment. Then I had a full body shiver of disgust and kicked into a full freak out. "Take her to the ER! They have to get it out now!"
As I waited for news from the ER, I began cleaning the kitchen. I silently thanked my dad-in-law for the otoscope, started thinking of all the possibilities of how the beetle got into Addie's ear, stopped thinking of all the possibilities of how the beetle got into Addie's ear, and then started Internet surfing. How common was this? Was she going to be okay? How long was the extraction going to take?
After less than 30 minutes of being gone, Ray called. "It's out. The doctor gave it to her in a specimen cup to show you." Ahhhh... music to my iggies.
Hayden and Sydney were bouncing from counter to counter surveying the food and issuing complaints and accolades on the menu items. Audrey was in her bouncy seat on the dinner table starting to fuss because the music and accompanying water bubbles had stopped playing and Addisyn was making her usual protest at getting into her high chair. As I shielded my nose from her swinging appendages, she cried, "Iggy out. Iggy out!" When it finally clicked that her "iggy" meant "ear" (an odd but understandable morph of "ear" and "earring"), I took a quick peek at her ear. Not seeing anything and trying to prevent Sydney from squirting the entire ketchup bottle into her mouth, I moved on to distributing dinner plates.
Dinner progressed normally as Addisyn whipped her sippy cup across the table, Sydney serenaded us with renditions from High School Musical, and Hayden dramatically protested the consumption of baked beans. We had made it through dinner with few crocodile tears (they seem to appear while pleading a case against "gross" food), parental threats of consequence and repercussion (while ignoring said crocodile tears), and a semi-clean floor. Hands washed and shirts food stained (I'm not just talking about the kids here), we moved into the family room for some reading time.
Ray was two pages deep into Addisyn's most recent library book when she resumed her shrieks of "Iggy out! Iggy out!" Ray remembered we had been given an otoscope (device used to look in ears) by his father and I went running to retrieve it. Addisyn's screams had reached ear splitting levels. As I hovered over my husband and daughter impossibly trying to see what Ray was seeing, he finally removed the otoscope and uttered the nastiest thing I'd ever heard, "She has a beetle in there. I looked in and bug eyes were looking back at me." I stared at him for a moment. Then I had a full body shiver of disgust and kicked into a full freak out. "Take her to the ER! They have to get it out now!"
As I waited for news from the ER, I began cleaning the kitchen. I silently thanked my dad-in-law for the otoscope, started thinking of all the possibilities of how the beetle got into Addie's ear, stopped thinking of all the possibilities of how the beetle got into Addie's ear, and then started Internet surfing. How common was this? Was she going to be okay? How long was the extraction going to take?
After less than 30 minutes of being gone, Ray called. "It's out. The doctor gave it to her in a specimen cup to show you." Ahhhh... music to my iggies.
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