More Bodily FUN-ctions...


It's funny how fate takes the things you couldn't stand in your earlier days and repeatedly pummels you with them as you get older. You know. Like if you hated riding the bus as a kid you end up driving one as an adult? Or if you hated getting up in the morning you'll have children ( or a spouse ) who are morning people? Oh, yes. You know what I'm talking about. Especially if you're a parent. Remember how we used to dread those forced, awkward conversations with rarely seen older relatives? The ones who had no idea what to talk to you about so they inevitably asked about school? The conversation would grow increasingly strained as the uncomfortable silences stretched longer and longer between each question and answer until one of you finally got the courage to make a dash for it or you were rescued by someone else entering the conversation. Have you noticed how now we ARE those relatives that the younger ones avoid at family gatherings? I've actually heard myself ask, "So, how is school?" to my younger relations. You can almost see the wheels in their minds turning to form an escape plan. At the same moment, you're horrified by what you just heard come out of your own mouth and quickly excuse yourself to go hide in the bathroom and breathe into a paper sack.
One of my LEAST favorite things is vomit. Really?! You, too?! Imagine that! Seriously. When I was younger, I was hospitalized twice with the flu. I couldn't stand the smell or sound or any of it. Just being in close proximity to anyone else doing it would make me puke. I don't know if it was my "party girl" days or just becoming a mom, but something stregthened my stomach and thank goodness it did! I'm not sure what could be worse than a baby/toddler with the stomach flu. They're too young to give you much warning before it happens and a lot of them don't have any trouble falling asleep in it again if it happens in the middle of the night. This is where my co-sleeping habit comes into play. See, on the one hand, I'm risking being covered in puke as well. On the other hand, at least I'm right there to take care of the problem before it gets any worse. ( Can you guess what's been going on at our house lately? ) I can't say I LIKE getting up in the middle of the night to do laundry, wash the kids, find us all new clothes, make the bed, and try and get them back to sleep, but I'd probably feel a whole lot worse if I found out they'd been sleeping in their own vomit. Yuck.
It *seems* like the worst of it has passed ( knock on wood ) and we're all getting better. Perrin and I seemed to get off pretty easy, thankfully. Heath even seemed to get better overnight. Abby is the only one who's really having issues. She'll be fine for over 24 hours and then puke again. I don't get it. I've been keeping her on a pretty strict diet the last day or two and it looks like it's working except for all of the whining I hear about how she wants fruit snacks or yogurt. I WISH I could let her have them, but I know they're not going to stay in her tummy. I just wish I could make her understand that I'm only trying to do what's best for her. I'm not just doing it to be mean. I hope she really is better for both of our sakes. I'm out of carpet cleaner and my sanity isn't far behind.

Trick or Treat?

I don't know where to begin. Autumn is usually my favorite time of year, but for some reason, it seems to have had less than its usual appeal this year. I blame the weather. One day it's 90 degrees and sunny and the next day it's 40 degrees and raining. What happened to all of those gorgeous sweater-or-light-jacket days we're supposed to have in between Summer and Winter? The mums I took such care to maintain all Summer finally bloomed their fall blooms and they looked beautiful. Then it froze. Yes, I could have covered them, but we were out of town that weekend. It's going to be a nasty Winter this year. FAN-TASTIC.

On the bright side, we did have decent weather for our annual visit to the pumpkin farm. Abby really loves pumpkins. I can't explain it. She gets so excited when she sees them. She plays with her plastic jack-o-lantern bucket all year long. Yes, that's my toddler running through the wading pool in the middle of June with a pumpkin bucket. Although, she's quite attatched to the Grinch movie, too. It was at least May before I finally put it away. It may have something to do with the fact that she thinks she's IN the movie. I pointed out that Cindy Lou Who looks just like her ( I think it's the hair. ) and now she thinks it actually IS her. I could have tried to tell her the truth, but I chose to leave that discussion for another time. Maybe when she has a better grasp of reality instead of two-yearality. Right now, the world DOES revolve around her. At least, as far as she's concerned. So if she wants to believe Cindy Lou is really Abby, I'm okay with that for now.

Wasn't I talking about the pumpkin farm? I really think I'm losing it somedays. The pumpkin farm is one of my favorite places to visit. The one we go to has a big barn and horses that pull wagons out to the pumpkin patch. They also grow flowers and their fields are just gorgeous. The trees always have plenty of bright colored leaves left on them. It's a perfect setting for pictures. We have taken a picture of Abby next to the same sign each year so far and it's amazing to see how much she's grown! This year, we got to add Perrin. I think I need to learn to not try so hard for a "good" picture of both of them. It's darn near impossible to get both of them to sit still, look at me, and smile at the same time. We all had fun, though. Abby got to run Heath through the corn maze until he was ready to pass out. Perrin thought the ducks were pretty funny. The ducks weren't even doing anything. They were just sitting there, but Perrin thought it was funny enough to laugh at. Which, if you know Perrin, means something. It takes a lot to get him to laugh most of the time. Most of the time, even when you DO get him to laugh, he buries his face in my shoulder or hides behind his hands like he's embarassed to laugh. It's irresistible. He has a good heart and he's very sensitive. I hope that stays with him forever. Abby is strong and independent. She's sweet, but she's tough, too. Perrin is different. I worry that he'll be hurt emotionally very easily. He has the makings of a fantastic friend and I just hope he finds people who realize that and don't take him for granted. Maybe I'm worrying for nothing. Maybe Abby will toughen him up some. He's my son, so I have no doubt he's got a source of strength deep inside of him that he'll find when he needs it.

How do I keep getting off topic? I should just give up and call it a night. I've been feeling "off" all day today. As if I'm waiting for something bad to happen. Like something is just not right. Watch out world! I may have just predicted the end for us all! LOL. Yeah, right. The mind that can't remember where it was directing the body to go or why ends up having a premonition that ultimately predicts the end of the world. I guess if I'm right we'll never know, will we? Alright, alright... Now it's just getting ridiculous. Let's hope my next entry is better than this one!

Where Did She Learn THAT?

She looks so sweet doesn't she? I remember how I used to think that whenever I looked at her. Yet underneath that fetching smile and tousled bedhead is something that is less sugar and more spice. Heck, it borders on curdled sometimes! She's reminiscent of the infamous "Little Girl With the Curl". You know the one I'm talking about, right? "When she was good, she was very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid"? This being my first experience with raising a two year-old, I'm just going to take a wild guess and say that she's not the only one like this. I'm sure you more seasoned mothers will smile knowingly and think "Just wait until she hits ( insert age here )!". My neighbor, and friend, Kris, is one of these mothers. She has four children ranging in age from ten to two and they are all very well behaved, so I respect her opinions. We have very different parenting styles, but I know there's a lot I can learn from her. I'm one step away from being one of those "attachment" parents. I co-sleep with my kids, held them all the time when they were babies ( Perrin still fits this description ), watch preschool television programs with them, etc. Kris has never let any of her children sleep in her bed and believes that the time the kids spend watching television is her chance to get something done. I don't think either one of us loves her kids more or is a better mother, but I will say this... Her house is always in order and mine is usually not.

I digress. Abby has always been a quick study when it comes to learning new things. She knew the entire alphabet before she turned one. In fact, the first letter she learned was "W". Not because I tried to teach her that letter, but because she chose to learn it. She knows what shape an octagon is and what color chartreuse is. She uses words like "interesting" and "adagio". Heath doesn't even know what "adagio" means! She also knows all the words to what seems like a million songs. Maybe it's just because I'm her mom, but I'm pretty impressed.

Lately she's been picking up weird little things here and there that I'm not entirely sure of the source of. For instance, the other night, Heath was going to take her upstairs and she turned to look at him, held up her index finger and stated, " I want a vitamin.". I give her a vitamin every night, so the statement itself wasn't surprising. It was the way she made it look like a proclamation. She's done it several times since then. This holding up of the index finger like the world is supposed to cease it's rotation while she speaks. "I'll be RIGHT back, Mommy!" O-kay! I'll just sit here and await your glorious return, shall I?

And heaven forbid things don't go her way! Holy cow! Last night she had a total meltdown and cried hysterically through undressing, bathtime, dressing, bedtime and all. She ALWAYS loves taking a bath! Last night I had to physically put her into the tub kicking and screaming ( she REALLY needed a bath ) and she bawled the entire time. I had to wash her as quickly as I could while trying to keep her in the tub at the same time. This is no easy feat with a wet two year-old. I was done in no more than two minutes and reached down to let the water go. She screamed at me and said she didn't want to get out! By this point, my patience was starting to wear thin. I told her she could let the water go when she was ready to get out and left her a towel on the lid of the toilet. I left the door open and went across the hall to nurse Perrin to sleep as he was now in hysterics as well. She sat in the tub and cried for about ten more minutes before I went in and picked her up and put her out of the tub. More thrashing and wailing ensued. Oh, joy. Of course, all this noise kept Perrin awake and crying. I managed to get a diaper and the top of her pajamas on her when she started wailing for her "Tubby jammies". I thought, hey, this is progress! She's finally suggesting something she DOES want! I had offered several things to try and calm her down prior to this with no success. So we found the Teletubby jammies and got a drink. Things seemed to be looking up until I laid down facing Perrin and not her. I can't win! Urgh!

Long story short, she eventually rode out the tantrum and her breathing settled from it's ragged gasps. I finally got them both to sleep. This morning, she woke up in such a jolly mood it was like someone had switched her with an identical twin in the middle of the night. Which I KNOW is not possible since I distinctly remember giving birth to just one child at a time. I hope this is just part of growing up and not an indication of her mental health later in life. All I can say is, thank goodness for the sugar moments. They make the spice moments all but disappear.

It Just Hit Me...

I was in bed just watching Perrin sleep when I had one of those heart-wrenching moments that all mothers have every so often when they look at their children, especially their babies. Those moments that come flying up from behind you and just knock the wind out of you. They never come when you're expecting them. They come when you're watching your child on the swings at the park or spying from the doorway while they carry on conversations with stuffed animals or imaginary friends. That awareness that one day, all too soon, they are going to be "grown up" and not need you anymore. Oh, sure, they'll still need you for emotional support and a few things here and there, but you won't be the center of their universe any longer. Gone will be the days of seeing their faces light up with sheer joy when you walk into the room. They will be replaced with the days of melancholy teenagers who shrug and mumble "Fine." when you ask how their day was. Instead of running into your arms to be hugged no matter who was watching, they'll blush and try to escape your hugs quickly in case one of their friends is looking.

I know that it's possible to still have a great relationship with your kids the older they get, but I kind of like things the way they are. They love to be close to me as much as I love to be close to them. They haven't yet experienced broken hearts or tragedies. The hurts they feel can usually be healed by a kiss from mommy's lips and are forgotten within an hour at most. They have never been called hurtful names by someone who just wants to make themselves feel bigger and better. They don't care what color a person's skin is or how much stuff they have. Why can't they stay this way? Innocent to all the evil in the world? What could I possibly have done in my lifetime that was good enough to allow me to give birth to these two wonderful, amazing miracles? How do I know that I'm doing this parenting thing right? How do I learn to let them go one step at a time so they learn to stand on their own when the time comes without breaking my heart into a billion pieces? The more evil our world becomes, the more I dread them growing up. I dread having to answer questions like "Why do some mommies not want their babies even before they're born?" or "Why do people kill other people?".

Following right on the heels of these crushing feelings is the longing to stop time and live forever in this one moment. Those weekend mornings when all four of us are just lounging in Mommy and Daddy's bed or when Heath and Abby are playing hide-and-seek while Perrin snuggles with me. Those times when everything is so completely normal but for some reason you feel more satisfied than you ever have in your life and you sort of step outside yourself and watch, wishing desperately that this moment could last forever.

If time did stop though, how much would we miss? First steps? First days of school? First crushes? First cars? First dates? Would we still be satisfied with our "perfect" moments, or would we eventually realize that we might be missing something? I don't know. I just know we have to take the bad with the good. We have to figure out how to learn from the bad things and move on and celebrate and hold onto the good things, weaving them together into a blanket of memories that will keep our souls warm and banish the chill of the bad. I'm still trying to puzzle it all out. For now, I'm going to snuggle up between my little miracles and enjoy this golden time while I can.

Other People

Most times, I consider myself to be a nice person. Not as nice as, say... Alright. I'm having a real problem thinking of a good example here. I know a lot of people who are nicer than I am, but I was trying to think of a well-known example. What does that say for celebrities today? Ahh... I've got one now. Mr. Rogers. You can't get much nicer than that short of sainthood. So, I'm no Mr. Rogers, but I'm definitely much nicer than, oh, Paris Hilton? No, no... That's too easy. Just about ANYONE is nicer than Paris Hilton. I suppose I shouldn't make judgements because it's not like I know her personally, but with some people you really don't need to, you know? You just get that "feeling" about them one way or the other. Like, "Hey! That person looks like a really nice person. I wouldn't mind sitting next to them on a bus". Or the other way...

Anyway, I'm just your average girl/woman. I usually let people merge in front of me in traffic and I hold doors open for strangers at the store. Stuff any decent human being would do. So why is it that so many people seem to do things that are less than nice to me? Seriously. Is there a sign above my head that's only invisible to me? "Yeah, sure. Walk all over her. She'll take it." The other day, I was at Wal*Mart with Perrin, who was, of course, in his car seat in the seat of the shopping cart. After shopping, I go out to get into my car, which was parked one space up form the handicapped spaces ( for once we found a close spot ) near the door. The space between my car and the handicapped spaces was, at the moment, empty so I pulled the cart up next to my car in the empty space. As I started to unload the groceries into the front seat some guy in a new SUV pulls up and stops in the aisle behind the cart. Now, let me share something. There were SEVERAL empty spaces directly across the aisle, but he decides to sit there and wait on the ONE space that my cart is hanging into. I pretended to ignore him as I put the rest of the stuff in the car and turned to get Perrin in his car seat. Apparently, I was taking too long for Mr. A. Hole. He gives me a dirty look and pulls into the space anyway OVER the line into the handicap spot. Excuse me?! What was wrong with the other four or five spaces around us? I didn't even have the nerve to say anything to him as he got out and glared at me. I glared back. I DID, however, push the cart right up against the door of his SUV and leave it there. Childish, yes, but I hope it was still there when he came out.

I'm Getting Older...

How do I know this? Because I get excited over things that in my younger days I would have avoided like the plague. For example, today, we got our new washing machine. It's a fantastic washing machine, in my opinion, and I haven't even finished my first load of laundry yet. We bought it Monday, but because of the holiday and all, we couldn't pick it up until today. Let me tell you something strange... I could not sleep last night because I was so excited about getting a new washing machine. This would never have happened when I was, say, 20. At that age, a new washing machine would not have impressed me. Now that I have a husband and two kids, I am VERY impressed. Everyone I've talked to in the last few days has had to listen to me go on about the details as if I were talking about expecting another child. I may be a little on the nutty side, but even I know that's not normal. I'm going to have to stop myself before I start carrying pictures of it in my purse. I've been telling people all about our new blender, too. When did this happen? When did I stop caring about things like the latest movies, concerts, or clothes and start caring about appliances?

Another sign that I'm aging is the mail I get. A mailbox once full of Cosmo, Vogue, and Alloy catalogues has now given over to one stocked with Better Homes and Gardens, Parents Magazine, portrait studio coupons, and life insurance offers. I actually OPEN the Val-Pak envelope now instead of just tossing it into the trash. I find myself comparing deals on dry cleaning and wondering for the millionth time if those home dry cleaning kits really work or if I'll just damage my clothes beyond even professional help. And bills. Oh, yes. Let's not forget those. Somehow, whenever I'm having a bad day, it seems like all we get in the mail that day are bills and the local realty ad. ( Um, hello? We live in subsidized housing. Do you honestly think we can afford a house right now? )

I've also had to sort through my clothes and admit to myself that some of them have to be retired ( AKA: Goodwill ) because I am a MOM now and have to set an example for my children. The clothes I used to wear when I was a cocktail waitress in a nightclub are no longer appropriate. For some reason I kept holding onto them. I don't know why. It's not like I would actually WEAR them, but for some reason I wasn't ready to let go of them. I've finally gotten rid of them. Well...Almost. They're in a box waiting for someone to come pick them up. They'll be gone soon. Is this similar to what men call a "mid-life crisis"? I know I'm not middle-aged yet, but women DO mature faster than men. LOL. Whatever it is, I've finally come to terms with the fact that mini skirts and tube tops are just not for me anymore. Besides, if I can't stand the sight of my butt in a mini skirt, should anyone else have to? I do, however, like to flaunt my boobs on occasion. It's really impossible not to when you've been small breasted all your life and suddenly you have boobs that are two cup sizes bigger than you've ever worn. Thank goodness for breastfeeding. It's a shame they'll "deflate" once I stop nursing Perrin. I've seriously considered continuing to use the breast pump even after he's weaned. I could donate the milk to the local human milk bank. Help other people's babies. I'll tell you for SURE what I'm NOT going to do... Sell my milk on eBay. I don't know who's crazier, the people buying it or the people selling it.

At least I have a hot FedEx guy to install all my new appliances. I kind of enjoy watching Heath work in his uniform. He complains about all the climbing in and out of trucks he does at work, but let me tell you, it's paying off. That man has got a LOT of muscle. Sometimes, I pretend I can't open/reach stuff just so I can watch his muscles work while he does it for me. Heehee. And he likes it.

If I don't write for awhile, it's because I'm busy making margeritas in my new wave-action ( i.e. no stirring and chunk-free ) blender and washing all the clothes/bedding/towels in the house just because I want to play with my new washing machine.

The Joys of Potty-Training

Since having two kids in diapers can get pricey, we ( I ) have decided it's time to get Princess Abby potty-trained. She has been showing the usual signs of being ready, but I've been afraid to start. Why, you ask? Not because I LIKE buying diapers, let me assure you. I just knew it would be a messy process. Of course, so are diapers when you think about it.

Anyway, she's a very strong-willed child and, as our pediatrician says, a "great problem-solver". Which translated means, she lies. Not with malicious intent, mind you, but it's still not the truth she's telling you. For example, if she and I both have a snack, she will want some of mine. I will tell her she can have some of mine when she finishes her own. Her solution? She'll go dump hers out and come back telling me it's all gone. I ask if she ate it all and she happily says " Yes, Mommy!". Never trust a two year-old. I have to admit, she IS a great problem-solver and sometimes, it's really hard not to crack up laughing. She's using her brain and I love that. I just wish her using it didn't end in my having to vacuum the floor several times a day.

This "problem-solving" carries over into the potty-training, too. She's figured out that she can move her potty around the room. This, in itself, wouldn't be a problem. It's the way she does it. She grabs onto the sides and stands up while holding it on her bottom. This can get messy. I've lost count of the number of times I've cleaned spots on the carpet. Funny how it's always the carpet and never the tiled areas of the house. She also likes to disappear and come back with no diaper on. This signals the beginning of my least favorite kind of treasure hunt. Find the Poopy Diaper. Anyone who has potty-trained a child probably understands this game quite well. The child comes into the room no diaper and poo on their bottom ( if not on their legs and feet and several other places, too ) and the adult must, as quickly as possible, clean the child, put a fresh diaper on them and search for the discarded diaper. Usually, following the smell is good enough, but if the child has tracked poo all through the house, this can be a bit more challenging. You will find the diaper, but you never "win" this game.

At least Abby is making some progress. She likes to sit on the potty and she's even gone in it several times. I think she'd do better if I could give her more attention, but Perrin doesn't really allow for that. I know she'll get there someday. I just hope it's sooner rather than later.

It's Worth It...


Every middle of the night feeding. Every dirty diaper. Every crying spell. It's all so worth it when I look at their sweet little faces. I remember when I swore I would never have children. Now I can't imagine life without them. It seems like only yesterday that Abby was born and now she's two! I didn't even realize how much she'd grown until Perrin was born. It was like she grew up overnight. My baby wasn't my "baby" anymore. Her hands that had seemed so tiny in mine the day before, now looked huge next to her little brother's. It was hard for me to accept. I knew she would grow up someday, but I always thought someday was so far away. Days turn into weeks faster than I want to admit. I always hated it when older people would tell me how time goes by faster the older you get, but they were right. I try to hold my kids as much as possible while I can. I know that all too soon they won't want to be cuddled anymore.

Perrin laughed for the first time a couple of days ago. Not over me making silly faces or anything, but over me holding up different pairs of shorts to his belly to decide which ones to dress him in. He's already got a weird sense of humour. I wasn't too sure about how I was going to handle this whole "boy" thing, but I have fallen so absolutely in love with him. He's a needy little guy. There's no doubt about that. He loves his mum. His gorgeous blue eyes just melt my heart everytime he looks at me. Sometimes, he'll stare at me with the most serious expression on his face for several minutes. It's like the world stops turning and it's just the two of us, alone in the universe. I remember Abby used to do that, too.

I like to lie next to them when they sleep and just breathe them in. It's still a miracle to me that they grew in my body. I still feel like a part of me is missing when I leave them for any amount of time. I know it drives Heath a little crazy, but I just don't think men can really understand that bond. If they could be pregnant they would get it. They couldn't handle it, though. Men are great protectors, but pregnancy is too emotional for a man to deal with. They may have the physical strength, but we've got most of them beat when it comes to emotions. It's a good thing we aren't ALL emotional. The world would be such a mess. At least this way we balance each other out.

Poo-palooza

I never expected to get so much for Mother's Day this year. I got the usual cards and kisses, but along with my gifts my children gave me several "presents" of their own making. Let me start by saying that in the last few weeks, Perrin has stopped poo-ing on a daily basis and instead holds it all in for days at a time. The result is rather like a volcano erupting. It comes out fast, goes everywhere, the air is nearly un-breatheable, and NOBODY is happy about it. He seems to prefer Sundays for this. Last week he poo-ed and it went all the way up his back to his neck and through both layers of clothing and the blanket! Maybe it's because I like to do the laundry on Saturdays. I don't know. For whatever reason, he attempted to repeat this scenario on Mother's Day. All I can say is that at least it wasn't ALL the way up his back this time. This time I was sneaky and didn't wash the kids' laundry on Saturday so I had a whole load to put his poo-ed on clothes into. ( Score one for Queen Mommy! )

Abby also seemed eager to fill her diapers on Mother's Day. She poo-ed three times! ( Note to self: Potty train the princess. ) The last time was close to bedtime. She had been upstairs watching a movie while Heath and I watched part one of the season finale of "Grey's Anatomy" ( one of our only times together ). She came downstairs sans-diaper and smelling like poo. Heath was kind enough to take care of that one since Perrin was curled up asleep beside me on the couch. He had to go up there again a little later and said it still smelled up there, but he couldn't see any reason why. I discovered the reason at bedtime. Her diaper had leaked onto the sheet and one of the pillows. Of course, it was too late to wash and dry the sheets so I had to put the "good" sheets ( for OUR bed ) that I had just washed on her bed. I hate making the bed. I hate putting the fitted sheet on. I always put it on the wrong way first. It's one of those things I just can't ever remember.

On the bright side, Perrin has poo-ed everyday since then. Maybe he's back on track in that department. I hope so. I hate having to worry about going out of the house on day three or more of one of his poo stand-offs. That's all I need is for it to leak through to the carseat. I'm not even sure the cover comes off, but I AM sure the carseat won't fit in the washing machine. Maybe the dryer, but not the washing machine.

Speaking of washing machines...I don't hear ours running anymore. This means one of two things: ( well, three if you count theft, but that's not very likely ) One, the wash cycle is finished and it's time to put the clothes into the dryer; or two, the washer stopped functioning because we haven't replaced the hoses like we've been supposed to do. I'm really hoping it's one.

A few moments of silence creep slowly over the Hyder kingdom...King Daddy is asleep as are their royal highnesses Princess Abby and Prince Perrin. Alas, Queen Mommy realizes that she must resist her desire to nap with them if she is to get anything accomplished today. There is laundry to be washed, toys to be picked up, mail to be sent, floors to sweep/vacuum, diapers to be changed, children to be washed, food to be prepared, and the list goes on...

I remember when I used to have time to read. When I could spend an entire day devouring a really great novel and lose myself in someone else's imagination for awhile. I could read whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. My, how times have changed. If I'm lucky, I can read a few pages a day in "my" book. On a not-so-good day...well, at least it's not gathering dust just yet. Once Prince Perrin becomes mobile I may have to retire it to the shelf for an unspecified amount of time. In the meantime, I get to read a plethora of storybooks. Many of which become temporary favorites of Princess Abby's and I am required to read nightly for several weeks in a row. This might not pose a problem for the average person. However, I have them memorized by about the third time through and am ready to bang my head on the wall by the seventh or eight time. I've tried solving this problem by acquiring more books. It didn't help for long. I have those memorized now, too. I've tried hiding the ones I get REALLY sick of ( who knew the Teletubbies books were even more painful than the show? ) for awhile. I still remember every word though. How is that a woman who forgets what day of the week it is even though there's a calendar on the wall can have every one of her children's storybooks memorized? If only I could forget the stories and remember the important stuff like eating lunch.

That's not to say I don't enjoy reading to the kids. I do. I love it. I've purchased/found a lot of the books I loved as a child to share with my own children. Books like "The Poky Little Puppy" and "The Boy with a Drum" and "Curious George". It's funny how reading "Curious George" as a parent totally changes the book. The man in the big yellow hat is ridiculously irresponsible. What kind of person would leave a monkey alone after telling him "Be good"? That's like leaving a two year-old alone and telling them to be good. Ask any mother how well THAT would work. A toddler has to idea what that really means and even if they do have a rough idea, they haven't got the attention span to remember it. Neither does a monkey. The man never seems to learn though. The same thing happens in every book. Even if George DOES have the mentallity of a toddler, he's still a whole lot brighter than the man in the big yellow hat!

I'm glad Abby doesn't see things the way I do. She still sees it as just a good book. She sees George, not the man with the big yellow hat. I'll never ruin it for her by revealing how ridiculous this man really is. She'll learn that kind of stuff on her own all too soon. Her innocence will gradually fade and drift away like morning mist and I will cry. I will mourn the loss of her childhood in a way only a mother can understand. Until then, I will cherish it. Hold it closely, but gently. Cupped in my hand like the most delicate, beautiful butterfly. Someday, it will fly away...but not today.

I don't know what it the world made me think I could actually have a moment's peace to even BEGIN a task like this, much less keep up with it. Who needs showers anyway? Bathing is SO over-rated. Except for the children, of course. Princess Abigael and Prince Perrin have a much different view on the matter. Her royal highness, Princess Abigael insists on staying in the tub as long as I'll allow it. When I finally decide it's time to get her out before her entire two year-old body does, in fact, shrivel like a raisin, she ignores me. Having no fear whatsoever of being sucked down the drain ( I think she'd find it a great adventure if it COULD happen ) she wallows around until the absolute LAST drop of water slips away. Even then, I pretty much have to drag her wet, shivering self out of the tub before she really does catch pneumonia or die of hypothermia. She's always been a water bug. Prince Perrin seems to be following in her footsteps already. At almost three months old he already knows how to manipulate Queen Mommy. He's very particular about having clean hair. If it's not washed everyday he makes his displeasure widely known. And heaven forbid Queen Mommy tries to put him in the BABY bathtub! He will not suffer such indignity! Queen Mommy must draw a bath in the large tub and accompany him into the water ( hey, I guess I DO get to bathe after all! ) and entertain him whilst he bathes.

Speaking of cleanliness, why is the house always such a disaster area? Oh. Right. I have a two year-old. What is it about putting things away that grabs a toddler's attention and tells their brain to shift into overdrive as they follow behind you and undo everything you've done? And why can't it work in reverse? Why can't I start getting stuff OUT and inspire her to start putting stuff AWAY? Our house would be spotless! At least last night I managed to get all of the pencil and MOST of the red and orange crayon off the walls and doors. It took an entire Magic Eraser, but I think it will be undetectable to the leasing office when we move. I forgot about the printer tray, though. ( How did she do all this without my noticing? Oh. Right. The Baby. )

Methinks I hear a summons from his royal highness even as we speak. Which brings me to another question. What is it about the word "quiet" that makes a toddler get louder? And why does the phrase "Leave him ALONE" mean "Please, wake him up"? I love my children more than life itself, but sometimes, I'd just like a minute to breathe. Better go before he works up to total meltdown. Thanks again, Abby.