The Weekend and Mystery Solved!

What a weekend. In the best sense, of course.

Friday began it all with a fabulous shin dig at our place (if I do say so myself). I love having friends over who have already seen my house at its most pristine, who have already seen my hair in it's most beatific coif, and who when arrive for said event don't care what it or I look like. These are those types of friends who are, simply put, the best of company and conversationalists.

So, we had this pasta buffet (which, while making you use all four burners to get all the pasta done at approximately the same time, is actually quite easy to put together) and while I was trying to avoid preparing enough to feed an army, we so still have leftovers. Oh well. There are worse things. :)

On the other hand, throughout the evening and cooking, whenever we'd open the door, J and I were plagued by this incredibly onion smell from our fridge. As this meant a thorough inspection of the vegetable rotter...er...the vegetable crisper bin, I figured I'd handle it on Saturday.

Saturday came and went! I got to go to my book club, which was great fun being around oodles and oodles of empathetic estrogen, more great conversationalists, and a killer brunch prepared by this month's hostess. Holy cow, it was yummmmmy (and talk about setting a high standard). Truly, I felt like a renewed woman when I dashed off to get home to put Miss O down for a nap whilst J took the older girls to a birthday party, empowered by consensus and knowledge that I was not alone in the world (and we actually discussed the book for about 10 minutes).

I was later joined by more good company and then later that afternoon...shock of shock...went and talked to several of our neighbors.

Anyone who knows me, especially in my current condition, knows that I am a HERMIT whilst carrying a bambino. Seriously. I need and love my existing circle of friends (see above comments about book club!), but have NO desire to enlarge it. So, poor J, who became our little neighborhood's H.O.A. President for the simple reason that he wanted to get to know these people is, alas, burdened right now with someone who...well...doesn't.

But, Miss A is all about riding her bike and Miss E enjoys trolling about on the tricycle and Miss O...for crying out loud, likes to take to the side walk at a streaking run before biffing it (inevitably) because her tiny legs get going so fast. It was such a nice day, we had neighbors out to meet and greet, and let's not forget the other little 5 year olds girls who were also outside. Suffice to say, Miss A was in HOG heaven. We eventually had two other neighborhood little friends over and Miss A promptly took them up to her bathroom and gave them a make-up make-over. And...well...

Yegads.

I hope their parents will still allow me to be part of the carpool this fall. The rouge was sooooo thick and applied in such a square-like unblended fashion, it really was a sight to behold. They were so proud of themselves, too! It reminded me of my first time using a curling iron, which I used backwards and ended up with an unnatural strange crimp in my hair. But I didn't care. I looked H.O.T. Oh uh-huh. Anyway, I was able to gently put a kabosh on dressing up in all of A's Sunday dresses so they could be princesses, because seriously, I'd have had to wash all of them because of the imprints from their newly adorned faces. Ohhhhh, to be five. Sigh. Oh well.

Meanwhile, after all those festivities, I decided to examine the fride. The onion smell became even more intense, so I went through the Rot...er...Crisper and found some green onions that didn't look terrible but must have been giving off the offensive odor (right???) and chucked them. I also put in a new box of baking soda. Quite the Domestic Queen, eh?

Sunday brought about it's own little bit of craziness as we attended the first hour of our church services (it was Ward Conference and, of course, went over by AT LEAST 15 minutes. It was also a surprise to attend our ward because I thought we weren't but J was like, sure, we should go. Oh. Okay.), and then dashed off to the First Baptist Church where the girls attend preschool because they were singing at this service. Miss Rene, the girl's preschool director, told me that Pastor Dewayne starts PROMPTLY at 10:45 every Sunday, and she wasn't kidding. When I got there, luckily friends had saved us a seat (albeit the in the second row, which turned out to be great because of the view of the kiddos), and I was still standing, trying to skooch the girls over when this booming voice began to welcome us. STARTLING!

The girls sang their songs within the first 10 minutes and they were sooooo cute! I love watching little people sing. They sang this song called, "Oh What a Miracle Am I," and "Zaccheaus" (from Luke 19), and each of these songs had a bit of groove to them and you should have seen these 3-5 yr olds shaking and shimmying. SOOOOOOO FUNNY! In fact, Miss E called me on it and said she saw me laughing. I told her I wasn't laughing AT them, but my heart was so full of joy I couldn't contain it. And that was true. I also had tears coming out of my eyes, I was trying so hard NOT to laugh, but I was sooooo proud of them for being up there, singing and moving their little bodies as best they could. I had several good congregates tell me that my girls did a great job and had good rhythm.

We had a lovely lunch with some other preschool parents who go to church with Abigail and school with her, too, (well, they don't but their children do) and I got to have a fun visiting teaching visit (As a note: I'm so sorry Madelyn! I'm the worst V.T. companion right now!!!! Again and again, I'm so sorry!!!!!!), and then we took the kids down to J's sister's house to get Miss O acclimated for when J and I have our Great Adventure (a post for another time). It was a busy day.

But that's not all! After grabbing a quick nap on Sunday, when I emerged, Superman J asked me to smell the fridge. It smelled about 1000% better! He'd found a smallish bag of what had been cut onions. The culprits of the stinky stench, apprehended at last!! Now, our kitchen just stunk. So I put it the mess into another Ziploc bag and chucked it into the garbage. Alas, by this morning, though, I had to escort the whole thing OUT SIDE to the official garbage, it had gotten so strong. Whooowee! There is nothing like overwhelming onion to put you off of that particular food item for a while.

So you see, Gentle Reader. It was a happy weekend, overall. Hope yours was just a great. :)

In Which I Can Do No Right

Time: 12:55 pm. Since we last parted company, Gentle Reader, I have gotten my living room, dining area and hallway dusted, mopped, vacuumed and, in an unseen move: re-arranged all three areas (not the rooms, mind you...just the stuff in them). Indeed, I'm almost finished dusting my entire first floor and being at a stopping point (dishes, not withstanding). I'm working on mac and cheese for lunch and I'm trying to keep it together because...well...I'm discovering that I'm not the only female in our house for whom change is hard.

Miss A has announced that she H.A.T.E.S. the new arrangement of all furniture with a passion that is so white hot that she can almost melt rock into molten lava. Well, okay...maybe those aren't her exact words. But do you see the hyperbole? She is very upset about the rearrangement of all this furniture, especially in the dining nook because her view of the television has been obscured and "her chair" are not in the normal place.

How upset is she? Well, in all seriousness and honesty, she was coloring while I was making the mac and cheese and simultaneously throws down her crayon and announces, in tones of pure frustration and weepiness, "I feel like a FAILURE!"

"What?" (keep in mind that I am currently thinking, WHAT?????????? YOU ARE FIVE! HOW CAN YOU BE A FAILURE YET????? WHERE DID YOU HEAR THIS FROM??????? Gentle Reader, she might as well be swearing, for crying out loud.)

"I feel like a failure!" she is practically choking back sobs. "I don't like this! Will it have to be like this forever? I don't feel like coloring."

"Okay, so don't color," I respond. "And, honey, when do we ever keep things in the living room in their place 'forever'?"

Immediately, the proverbial light bulb goes off. I see her remember the fact that I kind of rearranged the living room about 3 weeks ago, just not as drastically and didn't touch any of the other rooms/areas. For the moment, she is appeased, but later, when asked to say the lunch prayer is requested to pray for a softened heart to accept this change, which she does. After ending the prayer, she says, "I don't like sitting here! I want you to put the table back the way it was!"

Moving on.

So, Miss E comes home from preschool and is nonplussed by the change, but accepting. Until she discovers that I've thrown her leftover breakfast of Malt-O-Meal's Marshmallow Mateys away (she is a dry cereal eater, and so one just puts her cereal into a bowl, gives her a cup of milk, and she eats the cereal/picks out all the "marshmallows" and takes a swig of beverage to suit her needs). She is currently fighting over a breakfast bowl of remnant M.M.'s with Miss O. Envision the ensuing tug-of-war replete with all the shrieking of a 3 year old and her 21 month old sister. And in that moment, I am done.

True confessions, Gentle Reader? I do not act, but react and I fib. Yes, I fib to my 3 year old because I want her to stop fighting with Miss O, who also has a claim to the bowl. In all brightness of honesty, I didn't throw away Miss E's M.M.'s (as told to her) but in fact, gave the remainder of them to Miss O for breakfast. This is how slow I was moving this morning. O! The Shame, the Shame of it all.

Miss E bursts into tears which, even if faced with the startling truth, she would have done anyway. Feeling a wee bit guilty, I tell her that she can have some for snack if she still wants them after lunch. The crying continues for a few minutes and Miss E throws herself on the floor and curls into the fetal position (for crying out loud!). Meanwhile, Miss A's bemoaning of the changes to the dining area/chair situation continues. My personal frustration level is on the rise...can you see it? I bet you can!

I tell Miss E that she better pull it together and stop crying unless she wants me to give her something to cry about. Ohhhhh yeah, Gentle Reader. Yeppers. There goes the "Mother of the Week" award, yet again.

And what of Miss O, you ask? Well, she's been the big trooper in all of this, I must say, though not without her moments. Beyond the tug of war/shrieking moment mentioned above, for some reason she thought I was attacking her with the vacuum and every time I got near her would start yelling at me, "No, Mamma! No!" while trying to work her way backwards, away from me and the approaching Dyson. In a sick way, it was kind of funny.

I can see that I will have to continue this little Record of History as my children are finished with lunch and nap time will have to be attended to. After cleaning Miss O (thank heavens for BIBS!) and the surrounding floor, I am wiping up Miss E and she says to me, "I want my marshmallow cereal. Now."

Could be a long afternoon.

No use cryin' over (fill in the blank)

Setting the scene: Ugh. I don't know whether to grouse about allergies or a sinus flair up, but for whatever reason, my nose is in direct opposition to the rest of me and my sinus' have also begun to wage a war. (afternoon update: I now have a horrific cough to go with the runaway nose...grrrrrr). They say when you are pregnant, you are more susceptible to this. Whatever. I don't like it. I feel weary and GRUMPY (and we all know I do dumb things when GRUMPY).

So, you can only imagine how happy I was when my sweet E came up to my room this morning where I'm trying to catch the last remaining moments of sleep and says, "Mom, A has spilled some orange juice. But it's okay," she says, putting her hand up to me as if giving me the sign for "Stop right now before your emotions spiral out of control. "It was an accident."


It turns out that A was trying to get her sisters and herself some orange juice. A very nice idea. Alas, she spilled the entire contents of the pitcher on the counter, herself, and the floor. HEAVY SIGH on my part; plus, who doesn't like a 3 year old reassuring them several times that it's all okay because it's just an accident. After assessing the situation (with a pounding sinus headache, let me just add), I asked if A had permission to do this from Dad (who, as President, left earlier to help out with the HOA's neighborhood beautification day, but to give him credit, he did give the girls breakfast before he left). Of course, the answer is no. She says they were just thirsty. And by the way, she also informs me that her pajama's are sopping wet.

Meanwhile, it takes me a second to see that O is kind of whining and pulling on the footie of her sleepers. Yes. She has walked through the creek of juice and has now meandered all around our main floor, both on the wood part and on the carpet. The happiness of the moment is, as you can imagine, SEEPING through me.

Long story short: I clean up lots of juice off lots of floors, with a very minimum on yelling, so I was pretty happy (in fact, I only screeched once when O started to cross the orange creek) even though I am not feeling my finest and am grumping about cleaning things up...does that make sense? Anyway, during the whole process, I'm talking to A, trying to explain why I am so frustrated: next time, you need permission to have o.j. and, of course, my most recent explanation of things: I'm not mad that you spilled the juice. I'm upset because of what I now have to clean up.

It's at this point that E pipes up and explains to A that the many times she's wet her pants over the last two days (I have no idea why, but she makes it into the bathroom and then can't get those dang pants down in time! But it's okay, because it's just an accident), that I'm not upset with her peeing her pants, I'm upset at having to clean the pee up on the floor. And it's so true.

The other day, I even spilled some leftovers on the floor and I found myself calling me by name and for saying, "for crying out loud!" So, see, my girls are in good company...because there are indeed accidents. I'm just upset about the extra work of having to clean up said accidents.

Seriously...

Today, J came home for lunch while I was putting O down for her nap and when I saw him, he informed me that A told him that her uterus was hurting.

Ooooohkay.

I asked her if her stomach was hurting...no, she explained. Just her uterus. You'll be relieved to know that an hour later, her uterus felt just fine.

I believe, Gentle Reader, a bit of explanation is in order. We've been fairly frank with the girls about where the new baby is in my body because we didn't want them worrying that they might have a baby in their stomachs (which, trust me, one of my older girls would have fretted about), so they know that the new baby is growing in my uterus. They know that they, also, have a uterus because it's part of all girls bodies, and when they are older and married, they can have a baby grow in their uterus, too. We've described where it is in my body and that it's kind of a balloon-like room that gets bigger as the baby grows, but keeps the baby very safe and comfortable, etc., and helps to let the baby know when it's time to come out. They've taken it in stride, and I highly doubt anyone but A really has a clue about it, but like I said, at least E isn't worrying about eating something and getting a baby in her tummy (...oh yes...this is an issue. Remember, this is the 4th time we're doing this so we've learned something along the way).

I have to admit, though, I didn't see this possibility coming. I'll, uh, post further developments, should they arise (but let's all hope they don't). In the meantime, if you have the need for some ...um...unique jewlery, celebrating this little expanding balloon-like room, feel free to head on over to Luna Parc's creations. Seriously. How interesting a concept are these? And, yes, they are what you think they are.

My Kids Language of Love

Have you ever heard of that book, The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman and Ross Campbell? I've heard and, very recently, requested it through my library (which I highly recommend...not necessarily the books--I'll let you know about it after I get it done, but the method of getting them: THROUGH YOUR LOCAL LIBRARY). I've also requested The Five Love Languages of Children. Supposedly, these books talk about how people express their love in different ways, and it might not be how YOU need love expressed (and vice versa).

So, that got me thinking: how do my kids show their love to me? These are a few things that I've noticed just today:

1) "Flowers": My children pick me random wild "flowers" (aka: dandelions) that begin wilting almost the moment they are given to me. I try to be effusive every time they give them to me because I know the intent, whilst hiding the fact that I actually get a bit grossed out by them being in my hand. But it's true...it's a sign they love me and that they know I love flowers that daddy gives me (aka: roses, hot house flowers), so they are doing what they can to mimic that.

2) "Hugs/Wipe Nose": My children have all gone through this phase, and I'm not sure if I should count this as a true expression of love or a true expression of convenience. It's where my kids come up to me, arms raised because they want to be picked up and then give me a huge, loving hug...right before they wipe their nose across my shoulder. You can see my dilemma. But still, the hug is nice and happily, once they pass the toddler stage, the snot part tapers off dramatically so all I get are normal hugs which are drastically more enjoyable.

3) "The random kisses": My kids still do this, regardless of age, and I've notice the more randomness of it while I'm pregnant. What they do is kiss me at the most convenient-to-them spot: my arm, my hand, my thigh...you get the picture. When I'm pregnant, though, they like to send greetings to New Baby as well, so they kiss whatever bump on me they feel might contain new baby. When I'm sitting, this often means my bosom is fair game (I'm not sure how they miss the growing stomach, but still). This brings up the subject for another (somewhat humiliating) post: Appropriate Touching of Children to Adults, especially in public. I'm sure I'll be getting to that soon.

Regardless, isn't it interesting? How do you show love to your family and vice versa, and do they know it's a sign of YOUR love for them? Hmmmmm. Let's take a moment to think about it, shall we?

Girl names...

Since we found out we're having a girl, people have started asking if we have a name. The truth is, I do. I've had one since *before* we knew for sure it was a girl, and the first and middle name came to me while driving home from a temple trip in St Louis MONTHS ago, so I feel pretty good about it. J likes it. I like it. A, E, and O are still processing but I'm sure they'll come around.

One of the nice things about it, though, is that for the first time it's not a name that is on ANY top ten names list (that I know of) anywhere...good or bad name lists. This is new for me. When we came up with our three older girls' names, we thought we were being so clever because we named them scripturally...little did we know that other people were loving these names, too. Consequently, when A, E, and O (especially O) go to school, they'll be in classes where there will be SEVERAL girls with the same name to be sure. Ugh. So, I wanted to avoid that. It's also probably why when the name came to me, I was so dang tickled.

Anyhoo, armed with the fact that this name was fairly unique, when people used to ask if we had a name, I'd proudly say, "Yes! It's..." and freely tell them and enjoy basking in the "that's so cute!" that they normally reply (and thanks to those of you who thought the name was gross but humored me anyway). However, that being said, I was reading on a friend's blog the other day and their friends just had a baby and had named the baby MY name...well, a variation of it, but still! Now, truth be told: I have NO idea who these other people are and this particular friend doesn't know that that is my baby's name (and in fact, may not even know I found her blog!), so they did NOT steal the name, but still. How weird is that???? So I've decided to reveal my name on a Need to Know basis only, so forgive me if I'm a little coy about it.

In the meantime, I thought I'd have a little experiment and list some of the names that my girls have come up with for their new sister (or past imaginary friends) and have subsequently named some of their dolls. Do tell if you hear of anyone naming their girls these names.

Names From A: Angel Princess OR Angel Valentine (ugh. Seriously, can you imagine? And of course, A is very fond of both of these potential names) ; Acicia (A-see-see-ya) who is now the name of a doll; Creesha (this was the imaginary friend I was referring to. Seriously, she was part of the family for a while. One day, we were driving home from church and were several blocks away when A started screaming that we'd left Creesha at church and she was running behind the car, frantically trying to catch up with us. No lies, we had to pull the car over, open the door and let Creesha "in" before we could drive on home. I've always admired and had quite the mental image of Creesha pumping her little imaginary legs to get to our car from the church building, because we were probably driving 40 mph...that story still makes me laugh when J and I talk about it).

Names From E: Baby Ondica (On-de-kah) also now a doll's name; Tina Maki (Tina Mah-kee...which sounds like a sushi to me, but still, this was an offering)

Names From O: Ado and Odo (these are the names she calls A and E, so they may not count, but think they are a hoot and had to share).

Tantrums

Good morning!!!! On such a rainy day, I'm trying to say that bright and shiny and all-cheerful like because I have come to the sad truth that my sweet 21-month old baby, O, has in fact, entered her "Terrible Two's" (which, in all honesty, runs right through the 3's) and has done so to such an extent to which we have never before experienced.

Like everything else she does, O is an all out, throw herself to the ground, kick and scream kinda girl when she is M.A.D. And lately, it seems that just about anything can set her off. She's also entered the phase that if I touch something wrong, I have DESECRATED it and it cannot be accepted in any good natured way. NO! It. Is. Ruined!!!!!!!! Oh, and she also likes to bellow "NO NO NO NO NO" to me, whilst in the midst of her tantrums (to which I like to reply, "I know! That's what *I'm* saying." This always causes me to chuckle...a blessing in the middle of a tantrum because I think that answer is hoot. O, kicking and screaming...not so much).

Ah, yes. When one gets a sweet angel like this, one often reflects on how the other children didn't seem quite so terrible after all. Who KNEW that A was, truly, the model child???? Who knew that E, while utterly blissful to ignore you even if it meant a time out while you pulled your hair out in a corner, was a slice of ease and sanity? I mean, granted, O sleeps better through the night (and sooner) than the other two...but at what price?

This, I'm sure, will be Karma coming back to visit me. I, Miss L, am a 3 of 4 child. O, Miss Tantrum, will be 3 of 4 child. She is headstrong and determined and wicked smart. She is also so dang cute when she wants to be...holy cow is she cute. But. Not always. I think the Lord sends a 3 of 4 to you only AFTER you've had the experience of parenting two others because seriously, sometimes during one of her tantrums, I just want to set her out at the curb and go back into the house alone, but because of prior experience, I know that feeling is fleeting and I just have to hang on for a few more minutes. Never-the-less.

I bring this up because this morning has been CHUCK full of these *ahem* delicious tantrums. I've checked her for fever. Nope. She did get up a few times during the night...so she could be grumpy because she is tired (heaven knows I'm feeling that way), but other than that, there's no discernible reason for this attitude. It is just "one of those days."

Ahhhhhh, joy. I think this means another edition of "Things that help me be a better mom" because I'll be looking to remind myself of all the good things about being a mom that are out there.

For now, though, I must go and reclaim some crayons that A has assured me have rolled into the vents and under a vacuum cleaner. And who, pray tell, has dumped the bucket o' crayons? Yes. Miss Tantrum '08, O!!!!

Stranger Danger for the Psycho Mom

So, Gentle Reader, you should know that being pregnant makes me even more of a freak than I normally perceive myself. And here's why:

I am not a violent person. I genuinely try to follow the golden rule and adhere to a "Kindness begins with me" mentality. But in this day and age, as a mother, I am a protectoress. What I am willing to endure is nothing compared to what I am willing to do if someone threatens my children. Add to that when I am pregnant, I seriously start thinking of people doing all sorts of nefarious things to my family and I, without a moment of hesitation, am very willing to literally gouge their eyes out and try to break their neck (or in any other way, inflict painful physical harm to them) in retribution for invading my children's space. Ugh.

Further, I will often wake up at night/early morning and be up for the rest of the night while my mind plays the cruel game of "Worst Case Scenario." For example, J and I are going on a getaway before the new baby comes, and the other night, I woke up around 4 a.m. and could not get back to bed because I started fretting that while I am gone, E would accept candy from a stranger and vanish. This is NOT what I want to happen nor do I expect it to happen, but this highly unlikely scenario kept me up for the rest of the morning and upset me so much that I went in and laid down by E in her bed. Later that morning, I went to Amazon.com to look for some good books to buy about Stranger Danger and safety and such.

And then I thought, but I am a LIBRARIAN! What am I doing spending money on books that may or may not be what I want? So, instead I requested the books I wanted from my local library (thus saving a ton of money) and I got the first two today, just in time for tonight's F.H.E. I will let you know how they are received.

The moral of the story is this: even though this started out as a completely irrational fear of my hormonal mind, knowledge is power regardless of how old you are. It's a good way for me to get my kids to realize that in today's world, you just have to be careful.

It's Another Girl!

So, I had my ultrasound yesterday and the doctor said we are having another girl. We are very happy with it, and when I figure out how to scan the pictures, I'll put the ultrasounds up.

I must confess that the doctor who performed it wasn't my favorite ultrasound specialist, that's for sure. You can tell he does lots of them, though, and he was very focused on making sure all the insides were where they needed to be and working (which they were). The three pictures he took of the baby weren't that great, either, if I do say so myself. Oh well. It's nice to know what to expect. :)

So, now we can finally use pronouns when referring to the baby.

AND speaking of baby, I must now go and get O. She has a spoon (????) and A just told me she's eating syrup. Oh for the love of Pancakes, how does this happen????

Aldi's and the Inevitable Accident?

This is pretty long, so feel free to hit the bathroom and then grab a snack/beverage from the kitchen before you settle in....

Sooooooo, A has been invited to a birthday party this weekend. It sounds so fun...it's a pajama party with other 5 year old friends from church/school and it's during the glorious hours of 5:30-8:00 p.m. and all invitees are supposed to wear pajama's and have hot dogs and other fun treats and then, close to 8:00 they get a bedtime story and a snack. How great is that??? I must remember this fun themed idea, especially since we have put the Big Nix on any sleepovers (but that's for another blog entry).

Happily, this also means that we got to go gift shopping today.

Now, for those of you who don't know, I'm on the Aldi's Plan. That is, I shop every week at Aldi's for groceries and then I have either one trip to Wal-mart or one trip to Costco (every other month) to get stuff that they don't carry at Aldi's but that we use on a normal basis (read: diapers and wipes and stuff like that). This sadly is a necessity for us as we are saving for our crazy high deductible insurance plan/baby. While I'd love to claim that I am naturally thrifty and have overcome my financial indiscretions of my youth, I must confess: I love shopping (I have written that phrase at least 5 times and deleted it like it's some dirty little secret. But there, I have left it!), and I love to shop at stores like Target and Wal-mart where they have almost EVERYTHING I want (notice the word) and/or need.

ANYWAY! The Aldi's plan has really helped curb my random spending (for example, I used to go into Wal-mart with the kids and while there, I'd be like, Oh, I/we need this and this and this and chuck it into the cart before the baby pitched a fit and before you know it, I'd gone over the budget by 50%). With the Aldi's plan, I've actually really been able to save and learn that this is a wonderful feeling in and of itself. So, I've been doing this since January and it is, indeed, very satisfying actually coming in UNDER budget. Yay me!

That said, Aldi's is somewhat limited in their toy selection, so I was hoping for the best as far as gift giving and boy howdy! For whatever reason, they had Princess Barbies and Mariposa Barbies for a SMOKIN' deal. A and O were with me (E was at preschool) and we scored three Barbies...two for friends who are having birthdays this very week, and one for O. We also got these cute pajama sets for A and for E (though the latter will later reveal through wet crocodile tears she'd rather have had a doll...ugh. Will I ever get this right????). All this at Aldi's!!!! I was very pleased.

Of course, A could not keep her hands off the Barbies and she asked if she could hold the various boxes at the store, which I was fine with. Once home, though, the holding of the boxes continued for a while until I decided we were getting a little overzealous with the packaging and told her she could only hold O's Princess Box. After I got the baby down for a nap, I went downstairs to the basement to walk the treadmill for my 12 minutes and when I came up, A was sitting on the floor with the Mariposa Barbie's box and the tape. Yes. She'd broken off a piece of the box (a butterfly thing that stuck out) and was trying to figure out how to tape it back. Keep in mind, Mariposa Barbie is one of the GIFT Barbies. You see where this is going...

Now, Gentle Readers, I'd love to say that I saw her panic and calmed her down, telling her in soft dulcet tones that it was going to be all right. But you realize I'm pregnant, right, and excessively hormonal right now (another blog entry for another time: Loathing and the pregnant woman...coming soon)? You realize that I have about 23 seconds worth of patience. And with that frame of reference:

As I had yet to really assess the situation and, honestly, I was miffed that she hadn't listen to me, I instead growl at her, "What are you doing? Were you playing with that? Did you have permission to play with that? Get up to your room--and don't wake up the baby!!!!!"

With tears starting to flow, A streaks up the stairs to her room. E steps up the plate for her, as always, "Mom, don't be mad at A."

"Honey, I'm not mad. I'm just super disappointed," I say as I'm trying to simultaneously figure out how to repair the packaging with the least amount of unsightliness, decide if I need to go buy a different doll, decide what to do about A, decide what to do about my reaction to the situation. So, I place a call to J at work. He can't talk at that moment but says will call me ASAP (which he has yet been able to do). I'm on my parenting own.

A deep breath later, I call my red-eyed girl down from her room and with tears in eyes, we talk about the importance of not touching/playing with someone else's present, as well as the distinction of buying something for our friends verses ourselves. We revisit, amidst E's own fresh tears, the sadness of the pajama's and no doll, as well as E's desire to also attend the party she wasn't invited to. We talk about what we can do to make it better, and decide the tape will probably do just fine, because it is, after all, just the box that is somewhat damaged and will inevitably be discarded anyway, and that E and J can probably go on a Daddy/Daughter date during the party hours and will have a great time.

In the end, it all worked out. But this is assessment time, Gentle Reader, when I go back and try to figure out what the heck I could have done differently to have avoided this whole mess. Ugh. I am emotionally spent and tired now. So, here's the thing: the dolls were such a good deal at Aldi's, I could have just gotten everyone one, but then I would not have felt great getting the cute pajamas...which quite frankly will be a big hit come Saturday when they can wear them AND use the wand that comes with 'em. And all of this was sort of a splurge anyway...I mean, we went for the gift after all (see what I mean about liking to buy things?). I could have put the dolls up sooner and not allowed any more touching. I could have not freaked out when I saw A on the ground.

Oh well. It is what it is. I'm sure I will have a pearl of wisdom later about this...I just don't know what it will be. :)

I've got you now my Pretties!

At long last, a picture of my beauties (and as an added bonus, a visiting friend!).

From Left to Right:

(the friend), A, E and O,

each showing off a new Barbie that some friends donated when they outgrew them.

Things NOT to do when you are G.R.U.M.P.Y.

I am in a MOOD this morning. I've been trying to shake it, but to no avail. So, I'm embracing it in an effort to, if accepted, allow it to dissipate into the universe where all grumpiness belongs (because it definitely doesn't need to live in MY house, though it does tend to like to come visit, but that's a bit more esoteric than I, a grumpy woman, wants to think about).

So here are things NOT to do when grumpy:

1. Do NOT try to ponder going to beautiful and wonderful and holy places when you husband asks you at the last minute if you, perhaps, would care to make a 4 hour trip to said place the next day with kids in tow. An answer, which perhaps isn't the one even you want and is definitely not WWJD, will immediately spring to mind and you will feel more guilt and grumpiness and that is not the trend we are going for. Instead, try to release your grumpiness to the universe and THEN ponder this question verses dwelling on it and getting your knickers more in a twist than they should be at such a simple question.

2. Do NOT cut your own hair in an attempt to give yourself bangs and a jaunty spring/Easter attitude and hairdo. You know you always cut above the scissors, thus giving yourself a British Sci-fi Heroine look that you, yourself, find personally abhorrent. You also know that you cannot stop with bangs, and instead will give yourself the new definition of "layers." Comfort yourself in knowing that, once you have taken yourself to "Ze Bathroom Zalon," that you have naturally curly hair that is very forgiving. Also know that in 3 weeks, your bangs will look fabulous and you can wear them outside the headband with pride.

3. Do NOT even ponder for more than a few seconds threatening your children with throwing all their toys in the garbage if they do not get them cleaned up because you are tired of no one listening to you and if they want any of their friends to visit on the first day of spring and play on the swing set they had better darn well get it cleaned up. Instead, feel proud of yourself for threatening to put your children's toys In TIMEOUT for two weeks if they don't get them cleaned up because you are tired of no one listening to you and if they want any of their friends....

4. Do NOT personally throw children's toys away when disgusted with the cute but useless little cubby thing that is supposed to contain appropriately small percentage of all the toys that emerge into your living room from the basement wonderland of toys (the basement being homebase where all toys technically belong). Instead, really be proud of yourself when you haul said useless cubby thing down to the basement and bring up a much bigger, much more realistic storage bin container because, seriously, this is how your children clean...by throwing all toys, papers, sippies, Barbies, babies, dinosaurs, dress-up clothes, necklaces, Happy Meal Toys and play dough remnants into one big plastic container.

5. Do NOT feed your children their snack of Easter cookies that your Visiting Teacher/Neighbor truly thoughtfully dropped off the evening before and you carelessly promised to your children during the grumpy morning hours that they could have for a snack after they'd finished breakfast and got dressed. Because by the time you finally emerge from "Ze Bathroom Zalon," it will be 11:50 when you are serving these frosted gigantic beauties and lunch will be postponed for...heck, who knows how long. Instead, comfort yourself by serving large glasses of milk and think that somehow the protein of the bovine liquid will balance out the sugar content and maybe you could just claim this as lunch.

I'm sure there are more things NOT to do when grumpy, but I myself did not have an Easter cookie and I realize that if I don't eat something soon, I will get grumpy again and have to start this whole process over.

Oh. By the way: Happy First Day of Spring.

A bite for you, a bite for me, two bites for you...

Soooooo, we are dog sitting this weekend. J's sister's family has two schnauzers who are very sweet and very good dogs, so they are no problem. In fact, my dining room floor never looks better than when they are visiting. I often have to remind myself that it is not my mad cleaning skills that have suddenly rocketed to new efficiency and thus I am now able to maintain that level of tidiness (because, let's face it, underneath the table is always a sight after ANY meal), but I have two little elves helping. So it's always a little sad to see them go...sigh...but I digress.

Yes, the dogs...very sweet, very well behaved, but we've done this enough to know that there is a wee bit of transition time so everyone feels comfortable. Each time it is less and less, especially for O, who initially is freaked out when she sees them. I can happily report, however, that this has been the quickest turn-around yet. O made friends with Abby-dog over breakfast.

A note of explanation: Abby-dog is 6 years old and is so super mild mannered with kids, it's not even funny. If I could guarantee that a dog would be as good with kids and as low maintenance as Abby, we'd have one tomorrow. Her comrade, Bo...we have high hopes for. As of now, he's just 6-ish months old and is still in puppy mode, but I think he's remarkably well behaved all things considered. If he starts taking off after one of the kids, I just hiss at him (literally) and call his name and he comes bounding back to me. It makes me feel like the "Dog Whisperer." Sigh. Delusions of Grandeur strike again.

So, back to reality. O and Abby-dog. Yeah, so I caught O feeding Abby some of her Fruit Loops this morning. Ack!

"Stop feeding the dog that. You'll make her sick. They go in YOUR mouth."

I'm sure she still snuck Abby a few, but O did pretty well finishing her cereal, and soon breakfast for O is done and she gets down from her chair and starts playing. I leave her and her sisters watching Sesame Street to go check my email until I hear the faint strains, "Chinkie, chinkie" which I immediately recognize as dog food being swished around in the little ceramic dog food bowl that belong to Abby.

"Get out of the dog food, O!" I yell helpfully. OHHHHHH the laziness on my part! I listen and I don't hear anything for a moment, so I figure, what a good baby I have. So obedient. Then, "Chinkie, chinkie." Time for observation.

I head back into the dining room and see O digging for more dog food. She is taking over a couple pieces at a time and hand feeding them to Abby. Please keep in mind that Abby is a typical dog that when she is separated from her "pack," she doesn't immediately eat. In fact, she will often go days with only a little bit of kibble. So, this is actually quite a sight for me to see O feeding and Abby accepting the food. This goes on for a bit and I'm just about thinking, okay, this is too cute when I see...yes...O snag a kibble or two and pop it in her mouth.

Blech. And since I'm grossed out by it, surely O needs to be. "Spit it out!!!!" I'm not sure how much we got out, but enough that I'm happier. I go to throw the offending pieces of kibble in the trash when "Chinkie, chinkie." And turn to see the same pattern repeat...some kibble for Abby, some kibble for O. Yummo.

Allllllrighty then. Breakfast time for both O AND Abby is officially over. But a friendship has been renewed, and sometimes, isn't that what it's all about?

Discoveries

So, this morning we've had a few exciting discoveries around the house.

• Elisabeth discovered an open Triaminic Thin Dissolve Strip for cough and cold (Nighttime) that she should have been given last night and explains, frankly, quite a bit about why she was up so much last night. Let's say it together: SCARY!!!! So glad the almost 4 year old discovered it and brought it to me verses the 20 month old who would have just downed it because it smells so "grape-y."


• Olivia has discovered our rather large dinosaur collection and we have been busy making the dinosaurs dance and kiss each other (did you ever see that Laurie Berkner version? That's what I'm talking about)


• I discovered a very interesting fact about a Christmas gift from my mother in law.

So, here's the quick of it: the mil gave me some dishes for Christmas. I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep them because we have plenty, so they've been sitting out in the garage with other potential donation things, but because I've been sick, I decided I wanted a better mug in which to make tea, and I remembered these mugs being better than what I have now (also a set from the mil that was given to me at my bridal shower, of all places). Yesterday, I found them and got two out and decided I really liked them. I also really like how the bowls are shaped, so this morning I hauled in the whole box full of the dishes. Here's my discovery. I have 12 dinner plates. 7 bowls. And 5 mugs. Mmmmmm'kay. I can guarantee that she found them "On Sale" somewhere. And if not, a little research has led me to discover they are distributed by "Royal Norfolk" which, further investigation reveal can often be found at your local Dollar General Store. She very easily could have gotten them from a garage sale.

Here's where I sound like an ungrateful wretch because I don't necessarily care WHERE they came from, but why on earth not just give me 4 of each? Or 5? It's so random to receive 12, 7, and 5 of each. This, I must confess with a lot of love, is basically the gift giver in a nutshell. ANYWAY! Now I need to figure out what to do about this, because I'm not so crazy about the plates but I LURVE the bowls and the mugs, regardless of where they were initially purchased. Go figure. Maybe I'll make my own 5 piece set and give the rest of the plates away.

Hey! This is what the cups and plates are shaped like, except they are more a cranberry color and have no writing on them. Jason says I like them because I love a big cup. These mugs look to hold 12 to 13 oz AND you can fit all 4 of your fingers through the handle. Love 'em.

Outnumbered

Just a few minutes ago, Abigail got in trouble and was sent to "The Step." She has, shall we say, a tendency towards the dramatic, and thus the weeping and wailing began. Well, out of sympathy I suppose, Olivia began to "cry." Oh, uh huh. Sad, pathetic little whimpers with her head cocked to one side, she hovered near her sister, showing empathy. Then Elisabeth came over and with big crocodile tears falling said, "Mom, you scared me when you got mad at Abigail." I explained to her that I was not mad at Abigail but that there are consequences to our actions and I wasn't going to have her yelling at Olivia (that, as we all know, is MY job).

I have to, in my defense, say that I really did NOT get mad at Abigail. She had been coloring and was loudly yelling at Olivia because Olivia was starting to color on/wrinkle/RUIN her art work. She had been warned twice and was then sent to "The Step" with much boo-hooing which immediately makes me want to send her to her room, because honestly by that point, my patience has been stretched pretty thin.

After all got calmed down, I tried to get them to go outside. I am desperate for warm true Spring. I need it to be warm at 5:30. Instead, it is maybe 40 degrees outside. I get lighter jackets out of the coat closet. I also then get the Dramas of the Coats:

"This coat is too warm!"
"It won't be once you are out there."
"I don't want this coat! You need to roll up the sleeves!"
"Please leave that sleeve alone. You don't need it rolled up. It's fine and will keep you hands warmer."
"I don't want this coat! Why does Elisabeth get that coat?" (listen carefully and you'll hear my patience snap. Wait for it. **SNAP!!!** )
"For crying out loud!! Go to 'The Step.'"

Abigail joins us about 3 minutes after we venture outside. She pouts the entire time, claiming she just wants to be alone but everyone is following her **sniff, sniff**. Considering that I've been video taping the entire episode (this is for another post, but I've finally FINALLY figured out who/what Olivia reminds me of when she runs, which is the most hilarious sight to behold), I know for a fact that this is not true. We are outside about 3 more minutes before Elisabeth is cold. Abigail is cold. I've had it. And, of course, Olivia doesn't want to come inside, and who can blame her really, until she gets something in her shoe. "Ow!" And she grudgingly comes up to the deck, but still won't come inside until I carry her in, with much protest (on her part, not mine).

We come in and I put on "Yo Gabba Gabba", episode, "Love." I hope it inspires me.

Ahhhhh, yes. I'm sure this episode will cinch the "Mother of the Week" award for me, yet again.