Wise beyond her years

Skyla looking at a halloween comstume:

"It doesn't look like a washable fabric."

Random moments

S: Are we cute children?
K: The cutest.
S: I’m the cutest but Preston is cute, too.

Skyla trying to keep Preston from climbing a small bookshelf to get on another one, to get on the mantle-“Don’t climb on it! It will tip over like this...” and proceeds to tip it over knocking all the books onto the floor.
Good demonstration. At least he wasn’t on it, I guess.

When I picked Skyla up from Preschool on Thursday, Preston ran into her room as soon as he saw her and gave her a big hug.

I keep Preston’s piggy bank on a shelf I believe to be out of reach. When he finds money, I take it down and let him put it in. For months now, diaper changes have been very nearly impossible and involve me getting numerous kicks to the belly, and wrestling the squirming little stinker while he rolls and kicks for 10 minutes, or locks into positions which are impossible to take off/put on a diaper, all while trying to keep diaper contents from spreading all over. He had a quarter one day and I took it away every time he locked up so I couldn’t do the diaper change, and told him he could only put the quarter in his piggy bank if he cooperated. It worked well, and it only took once and he got the association. Now, whenever I need to change him, he asks for his money before he allows the diaper change to begin. It’s a good thing I cloth diaper, or diapering would get really expensive. I can’t decide who is manipulating who, but at least my life has gotten a lot easier with the new system.

S: Did you know everyone is getting older?

S: We are such silly children!

You might be a mother of small children if...

you realize that there is a line of snot/puke across your chest, and opt to wait until after lunch to change

your idea of privacy while using the bathroom is having kids cry/yell/or bang from the outside of a locked door

you have more than a couple dozen children’s books committed to memory, but only vaguely recall what your hobbies are

you consider a shower a luxury, not a necessity

you find yourself “rocking” back and forth in the line at the bank, even when not holding a child

you spend the majority of your day “wiping” various surfaces, including (but not limited to) counters, dishes, floors, noses, and bottoms

you wish you could have a time-out in the corner

you point out any animal (“ooh, look! A bird”) even when only in the company of adults

you ever find the color, consistency, frequency, or texture of poop to come up in small talk with a stranger

you realize you actually can predict the future with remarkable success (e.i. “It’s going to break” “You’re going to fall” “It will get lost” etc.)

you spend most of the afternoon looking forward to bedtime



Feel free to add any of your own...

Glad I asked

A couple days ago I fed the kids lunch and went upstairs. When I went back down, Skyla was pushing Preston in his high chair down the hall of the entry way. I asked her what she was doing.

"A mean Grinch is trying to get the birds! He has a map to where they are and he is chasing us becuase we were trying to stop him!"

Ah! But, of course.

Preston and a Ball...again.

Preston and a Ball...again., originally uploaded by KarmaJoy.

Preston and the ball love affair continues.

Out of the mouth of babes

Skyla woke up this morning, came into my room where Preston and I were playing and announced, “I didn’t sleep much during the night and I’m still tired.” Instead of telling her that I shared the sentiment and to get used to it, I told her she was welcome to go back to bed and sleep some more. Her immediate retort was “But I don’t want to miss the day!” Each day and the world is so interesting and fascinating for her. I am slightly envious that I don’t share her enthusiasm for each new day; in fact, one of my recurring fantasies is quite the opposite, pulling the blankets over my head and sleeping though the day (this fantasy comes in second to children who play together without fighting all day). I think I need to try to be more like Skyla, even if I am still tired.

Letter from my husband

I thought I would share a touching (roll eyes) letter I received yesterday from my husband as our 7 year anniversary approaches in just a couple weeks:

Karma,

The attached file is what will be discussed in the meeting with Kevin Chronister on Tuesday, July 28th. We need to discuss its contents prior to the meeting. In addition, there are some additional steps that are not included in the spreadsheet. I have written them down on a piece of paper along with the instructions. I'll give it to you when we discuss.

Love you,

MICAH WATTERS, CPA
FRANCHISE OWNER
H&R Block

Did I say from my husband or my boss? I think I am due for love letter.

A confession

I feel so behind that I don’t know where to begin blogging. We had a great trip to the Oregon Coast a few weeks ago and I kept meaning to blog about it but never did. Now it just seems too intimidating, too much forgotten, and too much time past.

So instead, a confession:

Today I gave my kids plain Cheerios to snack on, while I hid in my laundry room and ate Oreos. In my defense, I did get four loads of laundry done, too.

Hopefully, this will break the ice, so I can begin blogging about nothing again. Because, as it turns out, blogging about specific somethings is just too much work.

Here are some pictures from our trip though:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/karmajoy/

Overheard from the stairs:

In a conspiratorial whisper, “Ooooh, mama is going upstairs to pay bills! What do you want to do?”

Nothing is Preston-proof

We had a small tragedy in the middle of the night. Preston was waking up every 2 hours for some inexplicable reason (he’s been doing really well, lately, for the most part). Once he asked for a drink, another time for a diaper change (which is weird since he usually vehemently fights diapers changes). Anyway, I would go in, deal with drinks and diapers, and then tell him to go back to sleep and shut his door. We have one of those childproof doorknobs things on it so he can't get out of his room, theoretically. Anyway, after this little routine, he walked right out of his bedroom and into mine, hands me the doorknob thing in two pieces, and says, “owie!” which translated is, “I broke this.” I took him back and reassembled the thing on his doorknob and told him to go to sleep, which he did. Two hours later, he did it again. I don’t know how, I can’t even get those things off, but he can, very efficiently. *Sigh*