We Wish It Was Spring

We spent some time at the park on Saturday.

When the Easter Egg Hunt was planned, we assumed it would be warm.

After all, it is Spring.

It was not warm.

There were complaints of, "I can't feel my fingers!"

And, "Brrr, me freeze!"

I think we've successfully established that there has been no global warming.

At all.

Nevertheless, the kids toughed it out, and came home bearing Easter candy.

And facepaint that they wanted to wear to church on Sunday.

Ahem.

Didn't happen.

Happy start to "Spring!"

On Toddlers, Tiaras, and Honey Boo Boo.

 I get a lot of questions about the fact that Savannah does pageants.

"Is it like Toddlers and Tiaras?"

"Oh, she does those like Honey Boo Boo?"

Nope.  Not like any of those things.

Praise Jesus.

There are no dances.  No removal of clothing.  No spray tans for children.  

No fake teeth, no fake hair, and no crazy moms teaching routines.

We don't spend an obscene amount of money on gowns.

She won her first pageant in a dress from Ross.

 In our experience with the girls that do pageants, they are confident, beautiful, smart, and powerful.

They are composed and well-spoken under pressure.

They change the world.

They are creative and kind.

They make dreams come true for sick kids.

They raise money for great causes.

 

I admire them.

 

Savannah has known queens who support the Special Olympics.

Queens who visit her sick sister in the hospital.

Queens who shave their heads to support children with cancer.

 They go to college on scholarships.

 They pursue careers in politics, medicine, and social sciences.

And you know what I've noticed about confident girls?

They don't need to impress others or give in to peer pressure.

They don't need a boy.

They are comfortable in their skin.

They are less likely to be victimized or bullied.

They aren't insecure.

So, after knowing many pageant queens, I laugh when people ask me why I would let my daughter do a pageant.  Because to me, the answer is simple.

I don't mind if she turns into one of those girls.

There are certainly worse things to be than a pretty girl who can change the world.

Wee Miss Botetourt Sweetheart 2013

Miss America 2027?

Perspective in the Trenches

We all have heard it said.   

They're only little for a little while.  Enjoy it while you can.  They grow up too fast.

An important fact often overlooked, however, is that these phrases are said by those who aren't in the trenches.  They're said by older people who sleep through the night, have clean houses, and no piles of laundry staring them in the face on Monday morning.  There are no dirty hand prints, no lunches to pack, and no quiet toddlers up to no good to hunt down and clean up after.  They have perspective.

It is hard to have perspective in the trenches.

You hear someone say that they grow up too fast and lets just be honest.

You think... whatever, well-rested-non-spitup-stained lady.

Because its hard to find perspective when you've heard "Mommy!" screamed more than you've heard an adult talk in the past 24 hours...or when you swear you just vacuumed, but nobody would ever know it.

And sometimes you're just too daggone tired to have perspective.

You don't really care that your toddler will soon be a teenager and that those early Saturday mornings will soon be a thing of the past... that day can't come soon enough.  And you can't wait for the day when you won't get awoken in the middle of the night to hear something like, "Mom, I went to the bathroom.  Just thought I'd tell you in case you wondered what the noise was."  The toilet flushing at 3 am?  I knew what it was.  But thanks for waking me to tell me anyway.

Last night, I was in bed watching a movie.  I heard the turn of a doorknob, and little feet patter down the hall.  Around the corner came my little Linus, dragging her blankie and rubbing her eyes while squinting against the light coming from my room.  "What are you doing?"  I asked her.

She silently crossed the room and crawled up into my bed, snuggling up against me.  Then she grinned up at me and said, "Me seep you bed now."  I weighed my options for a minute and then decided that I guess it wouldn't hurt.  So I told her that she had to be quiet and go right back to sleep.  "Otay." she replied.  She then wrapped her arms around my neck, nuzzled her face right up against me, and was snoring within minutes, happy as could be.

I'm sure as I get older that I will have more perspective.  I'll wish I allowed things like that more often, that I played more and cleaned less, and that I wasn't too tired to enjoy the moments.  But it is hard to have perspective in the trenches.  However, even in my exhaustion-induced state of delirium, I know there are things I will miss.  Little chubby toddler hands in mine, "hold me Momma!", excitement over the little things, a little girl running to me with her arms out after getting off of the school bus each day, and the cheerful way that children wake up, no matter what happened the day before.  

So I will endeavor, in these little days, to have perspective in the trenches.

Just so long as nobody talks to me while I drink my coffee.

Happy Birthday, Brooklyn!

 

Happy Third Birthday, sweet girl!

Thanks for surprising us three years ago.

We can't wait to see what surprises your future has in store!

And we just couldn't love you any more than we already do.

Things about the Third.

Alas, I have survived almost a trimester.  I wish that was actually one-third of pregnancy but as it goes, it really isn't.  And pregnancy is a little more than nine months.  Apparently someone wasn't very good at math.  But I digress.

Here are some things I have learned about carrying a third little.
1.  Morning sickness might get worse with each child.  At least, mine does.  So I will very shortly be signing my husband up for a procedure because quite frankly... I cannot do this a fourth time with more barfing.
2.  Your tummy "pops" pretty instantly.  I remember with the first one thinking that oh, when will I get the baby pop...won't that be great?!  and being disappointed when nobody knew I was pregnant until nearly the halfway point.  Not so with the third child.  You find out you are expecting, and hello, there it is.
3.  You shouldn't jump on trampolines.  Or sneeze.  Or throw up with a full bladder.  Just trust me.
4.  TV shows, books, movies, holidays, and random events make you cry thanks to your raging hormones.
5.  All that "rest while you can" crap is so out the window when you have two little ones running around.  You might fall asleep anytime you sit still and wake up to find crayon on the wall.  Hypothetically. 
6.  You do not want to change diapers while pregnant. 
7.  Your patience for kids getting up in the middle of the night is diminished exponentially.  You find yourself thinking... If you do not get back in bed, I will die.  Go to sleep.  NOW.
8.  You forget trying to cook through the sickness and order a lot of pizza. 
9.  You have to try to figure out how to answer the question, "So mom, how will the baby get out of there?"
10.  No matter how many times you've already experienced it, there's something magical about hearing a little tiny heartbeat.

Now, come on September.

Not Me.

Not me.

My child did not swipe a pink sharpie from her sister the night before her surgery.  She didn't then take the sharpie and color her face.  Her nose, specifically. 

Less than 12 hours before having surgery on said nose.

Not me!

Oops, I Did It Again.

 I got a little behind on blogging.  There's been some happenings in this house.

Or outside of this house.  On the ground.  Like 7 inches of snow.

The girls enjoyed it, even though it had been 70 degrees two days before that.

We had bigger news going on that they didn't know about.

And we didn't know about until... Mommy started puking.  Daily.

Surprise!

Savannah claims that she is having a baby brother, that his name will be Hokie, and that she will now clean the house for me every day and I can just rest because having a baby in your belly is probably worse than having to poop.  She periodically walks up to me, pats me on the back, and says, I'm so sorry you are sick.  Hopefully she'll stay that sweet all her life.

 Brooklyn continues to be our little trooper.  She's had a PICC line in for three weeks now and has done very well with it.  The first dressing change was awful, but we've come a long way now and today all she said was, "hey! ow!"  She leaves it alone and fortunately it has functioned wonderfully with no clots.

 

 Some people have wondered what exactly a PICC line is.  So here you go.  It is a catheter that goes into your upper arm and goes through into your chest.  Brooklyn's antibiotics "juice" just take 30 minutes per day and the rest of the day she tucks it into a newborn legwarmer, which she calls her "sleeve".  And that's that.

She'll have surgery next month to remove the remainder of her infections.

And that is what's been going on in our house!