On the way home from Zachary's swim lessons last night, I stopped at QT for gas. I rolled down his window so that we could chat while I pumped. My phone rings and it is Chad telling me to get home now! Apparently the weather is really bad. I look around and sure it is cloudy but no rain and no bad wind. Granted there is an occasional clap of thunder but nothing that I imagine to be too dangerous. But I promise as soon as I am done filling up, we will head home.
So I turn to Z and starting asking about swim lessons and the Plano city tornado sirens go off and we must have been right next to one. Needless to say, my poor son is trying to remain calm but is freaking out on the inside. Hands over his ears saying over and over Mommy there is a siren! Mommy there is siren!
I get in the car and tell him not to worry that we will head home to be with Daddy and Rylee and the siren is only going off to tell us to get home because a storm is coming. He asks if the siren is from a police car (there was one in the QT parking lot) and I tell him that no it is a siren on top of a pole so that everyone can hear it.
He then says -- "Actually it is Chicken Lickin." Hmmmm.....WHAT?
"It is Chicken Lickin." He is very serious.
I still don't get it. I ask who/what is Chicken Lickin? He says the white chicken. So friends, the confusion you are feeling now - I was feeling then. DO WHAT???
He says the little white chicken with the movie. From some recess of my mind I pull out "Do you mean Chicken Little? The sky is falling Chicken Little?"
He said -- "OOOOHH YES! Chicken Little." So we have made some progress. Chicken Lickin is actually Chicken Little. Now to figure out what this has to do with a tornado siren.
Zachary explains that the noise we are hearing is the siren on top of Chicken Little's car. He is driving around blaring the siren to let people know the storm is coming.
I don't remember the movie but perhaps there is a scene with Chicken Little driving around warning people the sky is falling??? Doesn't really matter - point is the Chicken Lickin situation has been explained.
We get home and the weather has definitely gotten worse. My friend Kat calls and says there is a tornado in Hebron and wanted to make sure I knew. Hebron is getting close to Frisco so we hang up to head for a safe place and the power goes out. My son is on the edge again. He wants Chad and I to turn the lights on.
Ugh. No can do buddy. I hate that he is so worked up but trying so hard to stay calm. When did he grow up?
So Chad, Rylee, Z, and I are sitting in the laundry room with our battery operated lantern listening to the horrid wind shake our garage door. I am trying to distract the family and suggest we say a quick prayer to feel better.
We bow our heads and pray for God's protection for our family, Auntie C, Kendall, and Uncle Todd and for the protection of our friends, family, and loved ones and everyone impacted by the storm. We ask protection for our house too but more to keep us all safe. We say amen and then Zachary says -- God please keep Chicken Little safe too.
Chad has no clue and looks at me -- I give him the "later" look and we ride out the storm.
As I am tucking in Zachary for the night, we say our bedtime prayers. We say our "Now I lay me down" prayer and then I throw in something like: Thank you God for keeping us safe and protecting all of us and getting us through the storm. We are grateful for your blessings.
To which Zachary says "and thank you for Chicken Little and his siren. AMEN."
Thank you dear God indeed. AMEN.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The Sock Thief
Here is just a random tidbit:
We drift from room to room while doing housework. Rylee does her best to keep up, crawling and playing as she goes. Along the way, she has learned that many things can become a play toy.
Lately, she is been getting a little more daring. She really covets her brother's stuff.
Precisely- his footware.
Rylee will take Zachary's socks and use them as a chew toy.
During the latest heist, she grabbed a [clean] sock and bolted out of the room ("bolting" being a hyper-fast diaper-ripping crawl). She went into Zachary's room with the loot and tried to shut the door. Seeing that the law was on her, she immediately shoved it in her mouth to get a few good chews on the sock in before confiscation.
-CMM
We drift from room to room while doing housework. Rylee does her best to keep up, crawling and playing as she goes. Along the way, she has learned that many things can become a play toy.
Lately, she is been getting a little more daring. She really covets her brother's stuff.
Precisely- his footware.
Rylee will take Zachary's socks and use them as a chew toy.
During the latest heist, she grabbed a [clean] sock and bolted out of the room ("bolting" being a hyper-fast diaper-ripping crawl). She went into Zachary's room with the loot and tried to shut the door. Seeing that the law was on her, she immediately shoved it in her mouth to get a few good chews on the sock in before confiscation.
-CMM
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Streets are now Safe
Today TLC, Z and Rylee's school, is having Community Helper Day where Z's class is supposed to dress up as a Community Helper. Zachary got it into his head that he wanted to be a police officer. We didn't think it would stick but all the way up to last night he talked about being a police officer.
To assist with making him look like a police officer, I bought a very cheap hat and accessories. He wore the hat through out the entire store while I continued shopping. It was amusing to me and the rest of the shoppers as he would say "Officer Zachary here to stop the mean guys" or "Police Officer Zachary to chase cars to make the bad guys stop."
The best is though at home when Zachary got into his "costume" and put on the accessories. The package came with a police baton that looked a little like a shorter smaller version of:
Being the conservative uptight mom, I told him that he could not take that to school. I had visions of the teachers yelling at me that I sent an armed child to school and he was taking care of the bad guys aka classmates.
He didn't understand why I had a problem with him taking it to school. He thought it was a giant whistle or horn. He then stuck the short perpendicular piece in his mouth with the longer portion of the stick up in the air and blew into it trying to make a sound.
Chad and I laughed so hard at our son the police officer with his badge, hat, handcuffs, walkie talkie, and puffing on the baton like a crack pipe. God bless our law enforcement!
To assist with making him look like a police officer, I bought a very cheap hat and accessories. He wore the hat through out the entire store while I continued shopping. It was amusing to me and the rest of the shoppers as he would say "Officer Zachary here to stop the mean guys" or "Police Officer Zachary to chase cars to make the bad guys stop."
The best is though at home when Zachary got into his "costume" and put on the accessories. The package came with a police baton that looked a little like a shorter smaller version of:
Being the conservative uptight mom, I told him that he could not take that to school. I had visions of the teachers yelling at me that I sent an armed child to school and he was taking care of the bad guys aka classmates.
He didn't understand why I had a problem with him taking it to school. He thought it was a giant whistle or horn. He then stuck the short perpendicular piece in his mouth with the longer portion of the stick up in the air and blew into it trying to make a sound.
Chad and I laughed so hard at our son the police officer with his badge, hat, handcuffs, walkie talkie, and puffing on the baton like a crack pipe. God bless our law enforcement!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Live in the Moment
Over a month ago, I read a blog that sent me into a whirlwind blogging frenzy. Per his usual, my blogging guru Stuart posted an entry that inspired me to exam more closely than I wanted my horrid temper and lack of patience with my children. In Stu's Stand Up Comedy, he describes a situation between his son and himself and the actions of a bored tired boy. While I recognize that Stuart does "lose his stuff" on some things, overall his approach to raising his boys is nearly the polar opposite of mine. He lets his boys pee outside and watch the Simpsons while I go crazy if Z drips on the seat and I don't even let Z watch Sponge Bob let alone the Simpsons. I have a huge appreciation for Stu and his Lovely Bride's more laid back style despite my, as previous entry's have pointed out, up tight ways that just may suffocate my children .
ANYWAY, I wrote the temper/discipline blog as honest as I could and for that reason I suppose I am too chicken to post (Sorry Stu -- not there yet with putting it out there!) Boils down to - I ride Z too hard but in the moment I can't seem to remember that I need to chill. Only after time and I simmer down do I realize how I overreact. I am not a patient mother and again times like right now I am embarrassed and hurt that I would ever yell at Z for the things I do and I don't want him to remember me like that or far worse to become like that. Anyone have ideas on how to remove the cob that is shoved pretty far up my hind end? Kudos to Chad to try and balance my skitzo ways with some stable parenting!
So then my sister in law sends the following Mother's Day Post and provides me with another gentle reminder to take it easy, down a notch, and love my children for time is rushing by me as they grow and change every day. I pray that I will remember to Live in the Moment - not worry about pee dribbles or why Z can't sit still for dinner or gets out of bed for the 10th time to tell me he had MacNCheese for lunch at school. I want to enjoy that Rylee is crawling and cruising instead of groaning in frustration that I can't get anything done because she is getting into things. I truly do want to take time with my children like Stuart did to talk not yell about actions and consequences when the time calls for it and I want to just let it go when in the grand scheme of life it really isn't a big deal.
So the challenge to me and to anyone willing to try -- LIVE IN THE MOMENT!
By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author: All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there some thing wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, 'Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame.' The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, 'What did you get wrong?'. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
ANYWAY, I wrote the temper/discipline blog as honest as I could and for that reason I suppose I am too chicken to post (Sorry Stu -- not there yet with putting it out there!) Boils down to - I ride Z too hard but in the moment I can't seem to remember that I need to chill. Only after time and I simmer down do I realize how I overreact. I am not a patient mother and again times like right now I am embarrassed and hurt that I would ever yell at Z for the things I do and I don't want him to remember me like that or far worse to become like that. Anyone have ideas on how to remove the cob that is shoved pretty far up my hind end? Kudos to Chad to try and balance my skitzo ways with some stable parenting!
So then my sister in law sends the following Mother's Day Post and provides me with another gentle reminder to take it easy, down a notch, and love my children for time is rushing by me as they grow and change every day. I pray that I will remember to Live in the Moment - not worry about pee dribbles or why Z can't sit still for dinner or gets out of bed for the 10th time to tell me he had MacNCheese for lunch at school. I want to enjoy that Rylee is crawling and cruising instead of groaning in frustration that I can't get anything done because she is getting into things. I truly do want to take time with my children like Stuart did to talk not yell about actions and consequences when the time calls for it and I want to just let it go when in the grand scheme of life it really isn't a big deal.
So the challenge to me and to anyone willing to try -- LIVE IN THE MOMENT!
By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author: All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there some thing wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, 'Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame.' The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, 'What did you get wrong?'. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Ponderance of the Hour
I don't know the right answer to this question so I pose it to you:
If Chad did not notice my smiley behind until the store or say at a cocktail party -- does he mention it to me once we are out at the event and I die of embarrassment or does he not say a thing and let me live in ignorance???
POST SCRIPT ENTRY: OK the winner is STUART TINSLEY of Team Tinsley fame...once again having to point out the obvious to me. Must say a little embarrassing not to have figured it out on my own!!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Overdue Update
Since Rylee has her 9 month appointment on Monday -- I thought I should probably record her six months stats from her appointment in January and Z's 4 year appointment in Feb.
RYLEE
6 months:
26 1/2 inches long
16 1/2 pounds
- Got her first tooth Feb 7th and second March 7th.
- Finally started rolling on Feb 21st.
- Bumper Pad went away on March 8th...see the QPM entry from March and you'll understand
- She is WAY different than Zachary. She is not consistently sleeping through the night. Makes for grouchy parents.
- She can tell the difference between Chad and my parenting styles and adjusts her needs as such. This means she will cry relentlessly if she needs something from me because I am a wimp and will respond. With Chad she needs only giggle and blink because crying with him gets her no where.
- She loves to stand and last weekend did make crawling motions.
- She has a wonderful laugh and she likes to put her finger in your mouth and yank it right back out.
- Anything Zachary does entertains her.
She does not like having to eat her veggies first. If you bring out her fruit and put it on the table but don't plan on giving it to her until after veggies, there will be a battle. - Still nursing but this week only once a day and that will go away next week. Still drinking the frozen milk but I am not pumping (YAY!) --- TMI I know
ZACHARY
4 years old
41 inches tall
37 pounds
- His latest thing is to say "My Pleasure." when you thank him for something. Cracks me up.
- He can count to over 30 and can count backwards from 20.
- He is still working out the math situation - we asked him what one plus one is and he said "Eleven" - fair enough one and one can make 11.
- He did get glasses - he is 20/50 in one eye but both eyes have an astigmatism. Dr. hopes that wearing glasses now will help how much he needs them in the future.
- I think his entire diet includes dino chickens (chicken in the shape of dinosaurs), Spiderman Mac-N-Cheese (remember he has never seen the movie!), milk, and a strong desire for candy at every moment. He'll still eat broccoli, green beans, carrots, and corn but it takes some gentle nudging.
- His teacher always have such good things to say about him -- while I am sure they are on some level required to say that I do believe they are right about him being smart, friendly, and a good kid...said the unbiased mother.
- Still working on the staying dry through the night but definitley no accidents during the day. Couldn't tell you the last time we had an issue. However there is something about being in Target that triggers his "gotta go" reflex. I can ask him 15 times before we start shopping if we need to stop at the bathroom but only when the cart is half full is it time.
- Current obsessions include Bolt, Legos (building castles and playing with knights), and occasionally still WallE.
Chad and I are blessed with two very healthy kiddos. We are thankful to God for his blessings.
Happy Easter to all!
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Check Out the Intestines!
I know Chad and I have to get on the ball with some real posts but this is still cracking me up and instead of forwarding to all of you via email I am sharing on the blog -- my children will have proof of how geeky I am or actually how geeky their dad is since he sent it to me!!
Slumber in the Belly of the Beast
In the sub-zero wasteland of the planet Hoth, only the strong survive... and of course those lucky Jedi protected by the thick skin of a Tauntaun. Now after exhaustive movie viewing research and analysis ThinkGeek Labs has isolated the exact synthetic compounds needed to re-create Tauntaun fur. What have we done with this supreme knowledge? Created a Tauntaun sleeping bag of course.
This high-quality sleeping bag looks just like a Tauntaun, complete with saddle, internal intestines and glowing lightsaber zipper pull. Now when your kids tell you their favorite Star Wars movie is "Attack of the Clones" you can nestle the wee-ones snug in simulated Tauntaun fur while regaling them with the amazing tale of "Empire Strikes Back".
Use the glowing lightsaber zipper pull on the Tauntaun sleeping bag to illustrate how Han Solo saved Luke Skywalker from certain death in the freezing climate of Hoth by slitting open the belly of a dead Tauntaun and placing Luke inside the stinking (but warm) carcass. If your kids don't change their tune on which Star Wars film is the greatest ever, you can do your best Jar Jar impression until they repent.
Product Features
- Classic Star Wars sleeping bag simulates the warmth of a Tauntaun carcass
- Built-in embroidered Tauntaun head pillow
- Glowing Lightsaber zipper pull
- Great for playing pretend "Save Luke from the Wampa" games
- Teach your children about the best Star Wars movie ever
- Fully Licensed Lucasfilm™ Collectable
- Fits children (and small adults)
- 100% Polyester construction, Machine washable
- Exterior Dimensions - 32" x 60"
check out: http://www.thinkgeek.com/stuff/41/tauntaun.html for original post
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