Uh oh...
Until next time,
Angie
PS: In case it wasn't obvious by how Isabelle looks, these pictures were taken a few (and by a few I mean several) months ago.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Monday, September 16, 2013
How does that even happen?
This morning as we plowed through our normal morning race routine, I got Isabelle a bowl of cereal, poured her milk in it, gave it to her and as I left the room I asked Jarrett to put the milk away for me.
Walking into our bedroom to continue getting ready, I heard him say, "How did this happen?" Because I only respond to real emergencies in the morning, I didn't pay much attention until I heard his voice getting louder with a series follow up questions. Knowing that it was a situation I needed to provide support in, I went to the kitchen to see what "emergency" had really happened.
That's when I saw it. Isabelle's half empty gallon of milk (whole milk) sitting on the counter with Cheerios inside it. Yes inside the gallon of milk. I asked, "How did that happen?" and Jarrett responded, "that's what I said." After hearing Gabriel immediately demand that it wasn't him, we turned to Michael who knew the pressure was on him. He shouted, "I didn't do it! (pause, insert whisper) today!" Dad looked at me, I looked at him and in unison we replied, "When DID you do it Michael?"
He then went onto explain that it wasn't his fault, that he was just pouring milk into his cereal yesterday and some how the Cheerios ended up inside the milk gallon. Knowing he was feeding us a line of bologna, we continued the interrogation, "Michael, explain to me HOW the cereal got inside the milk?" "Mom, I don't know, it just jumped in there. "Really Michael, since when does cereal JUMP into things? "He continued his defense, "Mom, I was pouring my milk and when I put the lid of the gallon into the bowl to pour it, my cereal just went into the milk. I didn't do it though. The milk did it."
Realizing we were not going to make any headway on agreeing whose fault it really was, Dad took the gallon of milk, dumped it down the drain and I returned back to the bedroom. While they never cease to amaze me, never in my whole life did I think I'd have to start looking inside our gallons of milk to see if any foreign substance, object or other food has "jumped" inside.
until next time,
angie
Walking into our bedroom to continue getting ready, I heard him say, "How did this happen?" Because I only respond to real emergencies in the morning, I didn't pay much attention until I heard his voice getting louder with a series follow up questions. Knowing that it was a situation I needed to provide support in, I went to the kitchen to see what "emergency" had really happened.
That's when I saw it. Isabelle's half empty gallon of milk (whole milk) sitting on the counter with Cheerios inside it. Yes inside the gallon of milk. I asked, "How did that happen?" and Jarrett responded, "that's what I said." After hearing Gabriel immediately demand that it wasn't him, we turned to Michael who knew the pressure was on him. He shouted, "I didn't do it! (pause, insert whisper) today!" Dad looked at me, I looked at him and in unison we replied, "When DID you do it Michael?"
He then went onto explain that it wasn't his fault, that he was just pouring milk into his cereal yesterday and some how the Cheerios ended up inside the milk gallon. Knowing he was feeding us a line of bologna, we continued the interrogation, "Michael, explain to me HOW the cereal got inside the milk?" "Mom, I don't know, it just jumped in there. "Really Michael, since when does cereal JUMP into things? "He continued his defense, "Mom, I was pouring my milk and when I put the lid of the gallon into the bowl to pour it, my cereal just went into the milk. I didn't do it though. The milk did it."
Realizing we were not going to make any headway on agreeing whose fault it really was, Dad took the gallon of milk, dumped it down the drain and I returned back to the bedroom. While they never cease to amaze me, never in my whole life did I think I'd have to start looking inside our gallons of milk to see if any foreign substance, object or other food has "jumped" inside.
until next time,
angie
Thursday, September 12, 2013
The great debater...
I firmly believe my son will some day be a champion debater. Seriously he can come up with a counterargument to every statement I make. Take for instance, tonight's topic of discussion.
Arriving home way later than bedtime from Gabriel's baseball game, I told the boys in the car, please hurry and get ready for bed. It is past your bedtime and I want to get you in bed quickly. Michael's response, "No. No-mom it isn't past our bedtime." 'Yes. Yes it is Michael, I'm looking at the clock right now and it is past your bedtime." "Actually Mom, it isn't" and off he went into the house.
I got Isabelle from her car seat, walked into the house and found Michael playing with his Legos. "Michael I asked you to get ready for bed quickly, now go get ready for bed." I stated as I carried Isabelle, her diaper bag, the baseball bag of stuff and our dinner sack souvenir into the kitchen. Hoping Michael had listened to my repeated request, I returned to the bedroom area where I did see Michael had made his way from his room to our bedroom and was purposely taking the tiniest steps he could as he was trying to get undressed to put his PJ's on. He knows exactly what to do to push my buttons. "Michael, hurry up please" Meanwhile Gabriel had all his baseball gear off, was brushing his teeth and getting ready to jump in the shower. In the same time Michael had walked from his bedroom to ours (we don't have a very big house). He still hadn't started taking his clothes off.
After several repeated attempts to get him moving faster than a snail, I became frustrated, he became frustrated and we started a debate feistier than President Obama's first debate with Mitt Romney. I said, "Michael, you are moving so slow, I think snails can move faster." "No. No Mom, I am moving faster than snails do." Please then, show me how fast you can move?" I begged. "Mom snails can move fast if they want to. I just don't want to move fast now" he said showing his perceived power. "Michael, never mind about the snails, get to bed!" I stated, now pulling out the political hand jesters of pointing to his bedroom while I stated my firm response.
He finally did what he needed to, at least I hope he did. I decided to hit pause on our great debate and went to find Isabelle who was now also naked running around the house. Seriously I thought, how is it that Isabelle can get herself unclothed and running around the house in less time that it takes my 6 year old to take his shirt off. Ahhhh, I digress. Upon hearing Gabriel's shower go off, I knew it was a matter of 30 seconds before he'd be in his room, in his PJ's and climbing up to his bed. I walked with Isabelle into the boy's room and was greeted with "Mom- you said I was moving slow but I was moving faster than trees grow." "Why yes Michael you were probably moving faster than trees grow but I think we both know you could have moved faster than you were trying, don't we." "No. No mom, I was moving as fast as I wanted to. And I didn't want to go any faster."
Realizing there was no wining this debate and my desire to get them into bed was much stronger than continuing toargue discuss the movement of objects, I waived the white flag, and said, "Let's just say our prayers."
After getting Isabelle and Gabriel to bed, I pulled Michael out of his room and had a further discussion about his debating skills. I said, "Michael, you and I are alike in so many ways. And just one of the ways we are alike is that we both like to be right and we both like to state our point until the other person knows we are right too. But here's the thing, we are on the same team and that means we shouldn't debate each other. So let's agree to disagree on somethings and do our best to leave our debating skills out of our relationship. Of course I tried to explain it more at his level but I think he got my point. He said, "Mom, if I don't debate you, can I debate my girlfriend Mackenzie at school? Sure I said Michael you can debate with her all day long. But there is one thing honey if you do that.... she probably won't be your girlfriend for too much longer. See girls like to be right and that's one thing that's not up for debating.
Until next time,
Angie
Arriving home way later than bedtime from Gabriel's baseball game, I told the boys in the car, please hurry and get ready for bed. It is past your bedtime and I want to get you in bed quickly. Michael's response, "No. No-mom it isn't past our bedtime." 'Yes. Yes it is Michael, I'm looking at the clock right now and it is past your bedtime." "Actually Mom, it isn't" and off he went into the house.
I got Isabelle from her car seat, walked into the house and found Michael playing with his Legos. "Michael I asked you to get ready for bed quickly, now go get ready for bed." I stated as I carried Isabelle, her diaper bag, the baseball bag of stuff and our dinner sack souvenir into the kitchen. Hoping Michael had listened to my repeated request, I returned to the bedroom area where I did see Michael had made his way from his room to our bedroom and was purposely taking the tiniest steps he could as he was trying to get undressed to put his PJ's on. He knows exactly what to do to push my buttons. "Michael, hurry up please" Meanwhile Gabriel had all his baseball gear off, was brushing his teeth and getting ready to jump in the shower. In the same time Michael had walked from his bedroom to ours (we don't have a very big house). He still hadn't started taking his clothes off.
After several repeated attempts to get him moving faster than a snail, I became frustrated, he became frustrated and we started a debate feistier than President Obama's first debate with Mitt Romney. I said, "Michael, you are moving so slow, I think snails can move faster." "No. No Mom, I am moving faster than snails do." Please then, show me how fast you can move?" I begged. "Mom snails can move fast if they want to. I just don't want to move fast now" he said showing his perceived power. "Michael, never mind about the snails, get to bed!" I stated, now pulling out the political hand jesters of pointing to his bedroom while I stated my firm response.
He finally did what he needed to, at least I hope he did. I decided to hit pause on our great debate and went to find Isabelle who was now also naked running around the house. Seriously I thought, how is it that Isabelle can get herself unclothed and running around the house in less time that it takes my 6 year old to take his shirt off. Ahhhh, I digress. Upon hearing Gabriel's shower go off, I knew it was a matter of 30 seconds before he'd be in his room, in his PJ's and climbing up to his bed. I walked with Isabelle into the boy's room and was greeted with "Mom- you said I was moving slow but I was moving faster than trees grow." "Why yes Michael you were probably moving faster than trees grow but I think we both know you could have moved faster than you were trying, don't we." "No. No mom, I was moving as fast as I wanted to. And I didn't want to go any faster."
Realizing there was no wining this debate and my desire to get them into bed was much stronger than continuing to
After getting Isabelle and Gabriel to bed, I pulled Michael out of his room and had a further discussion about his debating skills. I said, "Michael, you and I are alike in so many ways. And just one of the ways we are alike is that we both like to be right and we both like to state our point until the other person knows we are right too. But here's the thing, we are on the same team and that means we shouldn't debate each other. So let's agree to disagree on somethings and do our best to leave our debating skills out of our relationship. Of course I tried to explain it more at his level but I think he got my point. He said, "Mom, if I don't debate you, can I debate my girlfriend Mackenzie at school? Sure I said Michael you can debate with her all day long. But there is one thing honey if you do that.... she probably won't be your girlfriend for too much longer. See girls like to be right and that's one thing that's not up for debating.
Until next time,
Angie
Monday, September 9, 2013
Some moments...
in the middle of all craziness, between the fighting, the struggles of getting homework done correctly and all within a timely manner, the yelling from one room to the next because the "exercise socks" are missing...between the races from tae kwon do and baseball, between the dinner thrown together while a screaming toddler begs for attention, I'm surprised.
It's the moments like this...
when a loving older brother, picks up baby sister, places her gently on the couch with her blankie and companion Pooh, gives her a book, picks up his own and simply says, "Let's read, together."
These are the moments that melt my heart. These are the moment I'll forever cherish and miss when they are all grown and the house is quiet.
These are some amazing moments.
Until next time,
angie
It's the moments like this...
when a loving older brother, picks up baby sister, places her gently on the couch with her blankie and companion Pooh, gives her a book, picks up his own and simply says, "Let's read, together."
These are the moments that melt my heart. These are the moment I'll forever cherish and miss when they are all grown and the house is quiet.
These are some amazing moments.
Until next time,
angie
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Pee Pee in the potty....
Isabelle is now 19 months old and we are entering uncharted waters as we begin to think about.... the dreaded potty training. If I had my druthers we'd be forever finished with diapers. Not only are they costly drains but Jarrett and I both agree, the smells and odors are horrible (especially with the #2s).
So for the last couple of months I've been brainstorming how this whole potty training business is going to go. I was nervous about getting rid of the whole pacifier and that went as easy as a cool fall breeze. And then I was nervous about how getting rid of the bottle was going to go, and that was even easier than I expected. So that leads me to going to the potty on a big girl potty.
My aunt gave Isabelle this beautiful wooden potty chair that has a book shelf and its own toilet paper dispenser. Seriously it is so nice, we are afraid to use it for its actual purpose. Instead it is Isabelle's chair for her favorite stuffed animals. Realizing that we couldn't come to terms with using something so nice as a potty chair we went and got a cheap chair that we hope will serve its function (and we won't worry about ruining it).
Although I'm ready to get rid of diapers, I'm definitely not in a rush. I think I'm going to just take things as they go and follow Isabelle's lead (of course while offering an encouraging push along the way). I started a few weeks ago talking to her about the potty and taking her along with me while I go. Although its been years since I've had privacy when I go to the bathroom (okay that's probably TMI) but it just seems that when ever I have to go pee, the boys have an URGENT, must be answered now question that requires speaking to me while I go. And I won't even bring up the fun that is taking all three children to the bathroom with me when I'm out in public or at a park, and since we are all there, we might as well all go. I'm sure other moms can relate right?
So back to my point.... I've been talking to Isabelle about going potty, allowing her to play with her potty, to take it apart, to assemble it, to step into it, what ever she wants to do to get acquainted, I'm okay. It hasn't been "used" yet so might as well enjoy the unit in its most clean element. Usually when we have "potty time" I'll take her, sit her on her potty, I'll sit on mine and I'll say, "Okay Isabelle let's go potty." Usually its all for not, but at least she's starting to get the point of what its used for (not a place to put her toothbrush, which I think for a few days she thought it was a good holder).
This past Friday night after dinner, I followed our normal routine and undressed her, sat her on her potty, I went pee, said my usual, "Let's go potty" cheer and then drew her bath water. As I went over to her, still sitting on her chair, I told her she could stand up and as she did I saw it!
I started screaming, which of course scared her because I was screaming for Jarrett to come from the other room. I then then turned to her, smiled a HUGE smile, clapped my hands and cheered, "Isabelle you went pee pee in the potty!" (Seriously we celebrate huge victories in our house). Upon seeing me cheer, clap and celebrate she smiled from ear to ear, started clapping and jumping up and down. I yelled again for dad to bring the M&M's which of course, signaled Gabriel and Michael that they too should respond immediately. Moments later, all 5 of us were in our bathroom celebrating Isabelle's latest accomplishment. We gave her two M&M's which she thought was AWESOME, followed by more clapping, smiling and bouncing up and down. This was then followed by Michael's complaint that he wished he got M&M's for every time he went pee too.
It was a wonderful moment. I've never been more excited to see pee in my whole life. I was so happy to see that Isabelle understood what her potty was for and that she was able to do it. Even if it doesn't happen again for another 6, 9, even 12 months (let's hope not that long), I'm just happy for the moment it did happen.
Who knows how this whole potty training thing will go. I'm doing my best to follow the approach of letting things happen as they do. And I figure we've got a lot of time. I remember my mom telling me she was afraid I was going to wear diapers to Kindergarten. I guess I didn't have any interest in using a potty. And if I'm using that timeline as a guide, I've got loads of time.
Until next time,
Angie
PS: Oh and to add to my excitement, the next morning Isabelle went pee again in the toilet. Talk about hitting the jackpot. What an exciting weekend! (We lead a pretty exciting life right?)
So for the last couple of months I've been brainstorming how this whole potty training business is going to go. I was nervous about getting rid of the whole pacifier and that went as easy as a cool fall breeze. And then I was nervous about how getting rid of the bottle was going to go, and that was even easier than I expected. So that leads me to going to the potty on a big girl potty.
My aunt gave Isabelle this beautiful wooden potty chair that has a book shelf and its own toilet paper dispenser. Seriously it is so nice, we are afraid to use it for its actual purpose. Instead it is Isabelle's chair for her favorite stuffed animals. Realizing that we couldn't come to terms with using something so nice as a potty chair we went and got a cheap chair that we hope will serve its function (and we won't worry about ruining it).
Although I'm ready to get rid of diapers, I'm definitely not in a rush. I think I'm going to just take things as they go and follow Isabelle's lead (of course while offering an encouraging push along the way). I started a few weeks ago talking to her about the potty and taking her along with me while I go. Although its been years since I've had privacy when I go to the bathroom (okay that's probably TMI) but it just seems that when ever I have to go pee, the boys have an URGENT, must be answered now question that requires speaking to me while I go. And I won't even bring up the fun that is taking all three children to the bathroom with me when I'm out in public or at a park, and since we are all there, we might as well all go. I'm sure other moms can relate right?
So back to my point.... I've been talking to Isabelle about going potty, allowing her to play with her potty, to take it apart, to assemble it, to step into it, what ever she wants to do to get acquainted, I'm okay. It hasn't been "used" yet so might as well enjoy the unit in its most clean element. Usually when we have "potty time" I'll take her, sit her on her potty, I'll sit on mine and I'll say, "Okay Isabelle let's go potty." Usually its all for not, but at least she's starting to get the point of what its used for (not a place to put her toothbrush, which I think for a few days she thought it was a good holder).
This past Friday night after dinner, I followed our normal routine and undressed her, sat her on her potty, I went pee, said my usual, "Let's go potty" cheer and then drew her bath water. As I went over to her, still sitting on her chair, I told her she could stand up and as she did I saw it!
I started screaming, which of course scared her because I was screaming for Jarrett to come from the other room. I then then turned to her, smiled a HUGE smile, clapped my hands and cheered, "Isabelle you went pee pee in the potty!" (Seriously we celebrate huge victories in our house). Upon seeing me cheer, clap and celebrate she smiled from ear to ear, started clapping and jumping up and down. I yelled again for dad to bring the M&M's which of course, signaled Gabriel and Michael that they too should respond immediately. Moments later, all 5 of us were in our bathroom celebrating Isabelle's latest accomplishment. We gave her two M&M's which she thought was AWESOME, followed by more clapping, smiling and bouncing up and down. This was then followed by Michael's complaint that he wished he got M&M's for every time he went pee too.
It was a wonderful moment. I've never been more excited to see pee in my whole life. I was so happy to see that Isabelle understood what her potty was for and that she was able to do it. Even if it doesn't happen again for another 6, 9, even 12 months (let's hope not that long), I'm just happy for the moment it did happen.
Who knows how this whole potty training thing will go. I'm doing my best to follow the approach of letting things happen as they do. And I figure we've got a lot of time. I remember my mom telling me she was afraid I was going to wear diapers to Kindergarten. I guess I didn't have any interest in using a potty. And if I'm using that timeline as a guide, I've got loads of time.
Until next time,
Angie
PS: Oh and to add to my excitement, the next morning Isabelle went pee again in the toilet. Talk about hitting the jackpot. What an exciting weekend! (We lead a pretty exciting life right?)
Friday, September 6, 2013
Take me out to the ballgame...
wait, on second hand, if it is 113 outside, take me home. To the air conditioning, to a cold icy glass of water and tell me when its October. I'll come out then.
Last night started fall baseball season for our family as Gabriel has his first game as a member of the Chandler National Little League "St. Louis Cardinals." He was so excited for his game that he got up at 5:00 a.m. so the day could past faster and the time for his game would arrive.
I knew it was going to be a hot one when it was 96 degrees at 6:15 a.m. And boy was I wrong. It wasn't only hot yesterday, it was plain out BLAZING hot, some may say miserable (insert grumpy, tired of sweating all summer mom). But since it was his first game and truthfully speaking as a mom, dad and siblings of a baseball little leaguer, there are no excuses to get out of going to the first game. Do not pass go, do not make excuses, no get out of "game" cards, baseball or bust.
So we loaded up the crew, shoved our faces full of our "dinner" as we raced to the ball park. In our family's true fashion, we were of course running late, so dinner consisted of torn in half sandwiches and a couple Doritos chips to share amongst us five. I knew the kids weren't impressed as Michael asked me more than 15 times when we were going to eat our real supper. But alas no time and we piled out of the van and raced to the field. Dad and Gabriel warmed up while I tried my best to occupy the littler ones. Thankfully the park has a play area with slides, and jungle gym features. What a great idea right? Except that the equipment has been sitting outside all day and even with the nicely created shade fixtures, they still are the temperature of my oven when I bake cookies. Trying to explain to a one year old why she can't go on the slide even though it is 5 yards from her, and wide open to play on, is simply impossible. Insert Isabelle melt down. After allowing her one attempt to go down the slide only to find the back of her legs bright red from the heat and her repeating hot hot hot over and over, I think she finally understood what I was trying to say. I love the desert in the summer.
So after our exciting "adventure" on the slides, I finally convinced Michael and Isabelle to come play in the grass closer to where Gabriel's game had now started. "Michael, will you play Ring Around the Rosie's with Isabelle?" He obliged and for a whole 3 minutes they were completely entertained. That is until Michael started screaming, "MOM THERE ARE FIRE ANTS ALL OVER ME AND ISABELLE!!! HELP!" For those fortunate not to have experienced fire ants, they are the equivalent of a bee sting and mosquito bite and usually there is no change of getting just one bit. If you have one, expect to have about 5 or 6 more. They are tiny, horrible insects that live all over in the grass here. You may have remembered a few years ago when I blogged about how when Michael was in preschool, we learned he is allergic to them. As you can imagine I responded immediately. And yes he unfortunately got several bites. As I inspected all of them Isabelle decided the slides were calling her and off she went high-tailing it across the park. Keep in mind it is now 5:45 p.m. and still 113 outside.
This cycle repeated itself, with actually no activity of actually watching the game until 6:00 p.m. By that point we had gone through the 4 bottles of water I had brought, Isabelle' looked like a complete tomato, and Michael (the consumer of most of the water) decided at the point furthest from the restrooms, he was going to pee his pants. Now we all hightailed it to the lovely park potties. Upon our return from the port-a-john, I was determined to see one minute of Gabriel's game. As we approached the fence, I saw Gabriel on first. A line drive came right at him and he raced after it.
We cheered and then Isabelle saw Daddy in the dugout. Her new favorite person in the whole world, she started shouting "DADDY DADDY DADDY!!!!" until every man within field 10 turned around to see if it was their daughter desperately pleading for them. Nope, just my daughter I smiled. Finally Dad turned around, looked at Isabelle, again looking like a very ripe tomato and said, "Mom, you better take her to the car, she is way over heated." Although I wanted to respond, "NO, you think?" I wiped the sweat from running down my nose into my mouth, picked her up, and called for Michael to follow." "Where are we going mom? Why are we going to the car?" Can I watch a movie?" "Did you bring me more drinks? I'm really hot and thirsty." Sadly, I didn't respond to any of the questions. Mom's fun limit had been met.
While the time in the car was just as fun, Michael complained and argued the fact that we didn't have a "real supper", Isabelle whined, screamed and shouted for Daddy over and over and over. Looking at the clock, I knew the game would only be lasting a few more minutes so out we piled again, I had to see, or attempt to see Gabriel at bat at least one time. Back to the field, back to the fire ants and back to Isabelle shouting for her Daddy. Jarrett saw that we had returned and could see I was desperate for his help. He asked another dad to "assistant coach" for him while he came outside the fence to quiet the huge "fan" cheering his name.
Dad held Isabelle and I got a chance to watch the game. Number 6 (don't know child's name) was up to bat, swung the bat and the ump said, "Strike 3". 3 outs. Game over. Although I didn't get to see Gabriel at bat, to him it was the best hour and a half of his life. Their team won and he was thrilled beyond belief. He didn't even realize it was hotter than the sun outside. He was in his glory.
As we loaded up the van, piled all the equipment in the car and buckled Isabelle into her seat, Gabriel announced, I can't wait for Saturday. My next game is going to be great! At least the expected temperate on Saturday is only suppose to be 100. I just can't wait!
When it it going to be October?
Until next time,
Angie
Last night started fall baseball season for our family as Gabriel has his first game as a member of the Chandler National Little League "St. Louis Cardinals." He was so excited for his game that he got up at 5:00 a.m. so the day could past faster and the time for his game would arrive.
I knew it was going to be a hot one when it was 96 degrees at 6:15 a.m. And boy was I wrong. It wasn't only hot yesterday, it was plain out BLAZING hot, some may say miserable (insert grumpy, tired of sweating all summer mom). But since it was his first game and truthfully speaking as a mom, dad and siblings of a baseball little leaguer, there are no excuses to get out of going to the first game. Do not pass go, do not make excuses, no get out of "game" cards, baseball or bust.
So we loaded up the crew, shoved our faces full of our "dinner" as we raced to the ball park. In our family's true fashion, we were of course running late, so dinner consisted of torn in half sandwiches and a couple Doritos chips to share amongst us five. I knew the kids weren't impressed as Michael asked me more than 15 times when we were going to eat our real supper. But alas no time and we piled out of the van and raced to the field. Dad and Gabriel warmed up while I tried my best to occupy the littler ones. Thankfully the park has a play area with slides, and jungle gym features. What a great idea right? Except that the equipment has been sitting outside all day and even with the nicely created shade fixtures, they still are the temperature of my oven when I bake cookies. Trying to explain to a one year old why she can't go on the slide even though it is 5 yards from her, and wide open to play on, is simply impossible. Insert Isabelle melt down. After allowing her one attempt to go down the slide only to find the back of her legs bright red from the heat and her repeating hot hot hot over and over, I think she finally understood what I was trying to say. I love the desert in the summer.
So after our exciting "adventure" on the slides, I finally convinced Michael and Isabelle to come play in the grass closer to where Gabriel's game had now started. "Michael, will you play Ring Around the Rosie's with Isabelle?" He obliged and for a whole 3 minutes they were completely entertained. That is until Michael started screaming, "MOM THERE ARE FIRE ANTS ALL OVER ME AND ISABELLE!!! HELP!" For those fortunate not to have experienced fire ants, they are the equivalent of a bee sting and mosquito bite and usually there is no change of getting just one bit. If you have one, expect to have about 5 or 6 more. They are tiny, horrible insects that live all over in the grass here. You may have remembered a few years ago when I blogged about how when Michael was in preschool, we learned he is allergic to them. As you can imagine I responded immediately. And yes he unfortunately got several bites. As I inspected all of them Isabelle decided the slides were calling her and off she went high-tailing it across the park. Keep in mind it is now 5:45 p.m. and still 113 outside.
This cycle repeated itself, with actually no activity of actually watching the game until 6:00 p.m. By that point we had gone through the 4 bottles of water I had brought, Isabelle' looked like a complete tomato, and Michael (the consumer of most of the water) decided at the point furthest from the restrooms, he was going to pee his pants. Now we all hightailed it to the lovely park potties. Upon our return from the port-a-john, I was determined to see one minute of Gabriel's game. As we approached the fence, I saw Gabriel on first. A line drive came right at him and he raced after it.
While the time in the car was just as fun, Michael complained and argued the fact that we didn't have a "real supper", Isabelle whined, screamed and shouted for Daddy over and over and over. Looking at the clock, I knew the game would only be lasting a few more minutes so out we piled again, I had to see, or attempt to see Gabriel at bat at least one time. Back to the field, back to the fire ants and back to Isabelle shouting for her Daddy. Jarrett saw that we had returned and could see I was desperate for his help. He asked another dad to "assistant coach" for him while he came outside the fence to quiet the huge "fan" cheering his name.
Dad held Isabelle and I got a chance to watch the game. Number 6 (don't know child's name) was up to bat, swung the bat and the ump said, "Strike 3". 3 outs. Game over. Although I didn't get to see Gabriel at bat, to him it was the best hour and a half of his life. Their team won and he was thrilled beyond belief. He didn't even realize it was hotter than the sun outside. He was in his glory.
As we loaded up the van, piled all the equipment in the car and buckled Isabelle into her seat, Gabriel announced, I can't wait for Saturday. My next game is going to be great! At least the expected temperate on Saturday is only suppose to be 100. I just can't wait!
When it it going to be October?
Until next time,
Angie
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Sleep...
Disclaimer: While I usually try to share heartwarming stories of fun times in our home, funny things the kids do or exciting adventures we take; today's story is more of me just complaining. There I said, it. Consider this your warning and if you're not interested in hearing another person's complaints, feel free to skip over this post. I don't blame you one bit!
While I know my "issue" is really minor compared to the many other challenges families are currently facing, today I just need to vent. I'm too exhausted to try to write about anything else...
I love sleep. I always have.
Man I've always cherished sleep. I remember in
college, when I felt I could never get enough rest, I’d dream about crawling
into my bed and relaxing into the deepest, refreshing slumber. And
I’d take naps. I’d be at the library studying and when I’d get so
tired, my eyes would not stay open, as I read chapter after chapter in some
boring text book, I’d place my book down in front of me, put my backpack in my
lap, cross my arms and lay down instantly falling sleep. For
eleven minutes. Yes, 11 minutes. Why 11 you
ask? I have no idea. For some reason my internal
body clock would give me 11 minutes of joyous rest and then I’d wake up as if
I’d slept for 11 hours. Seriously, no matter how hard I’d try to
sleep longer, my eyes would pop open and back to reading they’d go.
I’ve always been able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat,
once my feet became elevated and my head relaxed back, off I’d go.
Jarrett never likes watching a movie with me because most time we’d don’t
even get through the opening credits without me drifting off. And
when the boys came to be with us, I slept like a baby. When I’d
finally get to bed, I think from pure exhaustion, I’d be out like a light only
to have to pull myself from the bed the following morning as the alarm bellowed
from beside me.
And while I cherish each and every minute of sleep, the reality is I can no longer sleep. Oh what I’d give to sleep a full night. How I’d love to make it past 2:30 a.m. without staring at the ceiling fan or the seeping light from between the wooden blinds in our room. I've used all my “honey, wake up, I can’t sleep” cards for the next five years, so I’ve taken up a new habit of lying there awake thinking while everyone else rests peacefully. Yes even the dog Jack is peacefully sleeping while I count sheep, focus on relaxed breathing before finally giving up and either getting up to do go one of the chores on my list or turning on the TV to watch yesterday’s 4th hour of Today with Kathy Lee and Hoda or World News Today (the 3:00 a.m. news). It’s terrible. It’s a vicious cycle I’m not sure how to break it.
This has been going on since Isabelle decided to start sleeping through the night. I guess my body decided I might as
well still wake up even though I don’t need to. Seriously, I’m not
sure if in 12 months plus of not sleeping a full 6 or 7 or God
Bless 8 hours straight, I forgot how to sleep through the night, but something
has to change and soon. Even just a few weeks ago, it wasn’t so
bad. I’d had gotten use to every other night of not sleeping
through the night and staring at the wall running down the laundry list of
things I had to get done the following day. I could stand that because I knew
for every one night of me not sleeping, the following night would be restful
with me sleeping through, I think again from pure exhaustion. But
now we’ve reached a stage of full on sleep emergency. My
sleeplessness is an every night affair and its affects are not only leaving me
wearily but absentminded, short-tempered, caffeine craving and unable to
accomplish half of my to-do lists (thus causing another sleepless night as I
stress about not getting done what I need to). Simply put, I’m not
the person I want to be.
And while I think many times of what I need to do, most of
the time I think about, actually stress about the smallest, most ridiculously
tiny things. At night though, maybe others who experience insomnia
can relate, those issues seem to be the most serious, most pressing and urgent
manners anyone could have. Take in point my most recent issue,
yesterday the boys decided to take a pair of sunglasses to school.
Actually Gabriel took them to school and decided to wear them at recess
because he “wanted to be cool” and to “look like a high schooler” The rule is at school all those “things” need to stay
at home. The fact that he took sun glasses to school when a) he
purposely knew he wasn’t supposed to and then b) tried to hide them from me
so he wouldn’t get in trouble, really bothered me.
Seriously at 2:43 a.m. I ran through every scenario of why
he decided to do it, the fact that he’s actively doing things to
hide stuff from us (me actually) and it left me feeling uneasy with distrust.
And while every scenario lead back to the conclusion that his
actions must be my fault as a mother, my restlessness increased.
Why do I take personally their bad choices as a reflection of me
and my faults in mothering? (That’s a post for another day). Now
at face value, it really is only a pair of sunglasses that he took to school
and it isn’t a big deal. But not in my mind,
especially at 2:43 a.m.
You probably feel I’ve gone crazy. some days I
feel I am and if I can’t ever get a good night’s sleep, I’m not going to rule it
out.
I’m not sure what to do. Jarrett says I should
go to the doctor to ask for some sleeping pills. Although there is
a time and place for medicine, I tell myself I’d first like to look into other
things causing the problems. I’ve Googled lots of things. In fact I learned that insomnia is very common among mothers. I read a few articles about how the stress of supporting a family, a spouse, children can cause sleeping problems. And that doesn't even highlight the added stresses of throwing a job in there. Reading several medical articles, actually made me feel not as crazy nor alone while I look at the ceiling wall each and every night.
I’ve started exercising as often as I can and especially on the
days when I’m only up for 2 hours or less and night. On those days
when I stare at the clock from 1:23 to 4:30, getting up at 5:30 a.m. to go
running gets brushed aside as I tap the snooze button on the alarm.
And while my sleeplessness is not a really big problem,
actually very very minor compared to many challenges
other families are facing as I type this, I’d still like to change it.
I’m starting on a mission to turn this sleepless ship around and setting
a course for soothing, calming, relaxing waters of restfulness. In fact, in just typing that last sentence I
think I’ve found the answer to my problem, I need to go on a cruise.
I’m sure to get some sleep there. Maybe I'll awake-dream of cruising tonight as I stare into the darkness.
Until next time,
Angie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)