Request for Help

Can someone out there in the blogosphere tell me what a blog feed is? How does it work? Is it something I should be utilizing? And if so, how do I go about it? I'm lost on this one :(

My True Love

72%How Addicted to Blogging Are You?

Facebook is fun, but the novelty has worn a bit thin already. There are only so many virtual gifts you can send your friends, only so many interesting, clever things you can post in your "status" box before it all starts seeming a bit . . . silly. Blogging, though? That's my true love :)

I failed.

Mornings are a problem with Kevin. It's always been an ordeal to get him up out of bed and ready for school on time - it's been this way since he started school at 4 years old. He stalls. He dawdles. He takes forever to do the simplest things. I've gotten to the point that I set the kitchen timer every morning to motivate him to get his butt moving. Four out of five mornings end up with me and/or Michael (depending on who is taking him to school that day) yelling at him to get moving. It's stressful. I hate it.

This morning was no different. I got him up at 6, the usual time. Forty-five minutes later I go into his room and he's still not even dressed. I was pissed, so I yelled at him. He then takes it out on Joey and starts bickering with him, and next thing I know, they're taking turns coming at me and tattling on each other. Kevin ended up telling Joey to "shut up" this morning. Which is NOT acceptable, that language. So I let Kevin have it again, about his language. But he never takes responsibility, it's always someone else's fault (this is a trait I am convinced he inherited from his father - his actual, biological father - which makes it even more difficult for me to swallow, because, really? I can hardly bear the thought of Kevin being anything like him). An hour after I originally got him up out of bed, he finally saunters into the kitchen for breakfast, in a bad mood, with a big ol' attitude. He and I start going at it again, and finally he starts screaming at me and calls me "STUPID!" It was then that I lost it. I let my hand fly and smacked him (it landed on his arm I believe).

And right away visions of my own mother came to my head. This was NOT the kind of parent I set out to be. And granted, I don't let my hand fly like that very often, and I certainly don't beat the crap out of my kids like she did or verbally berate them. But this isn't about my mother. It's about me, and how big a failure I feel like now. For losing my temper like that. For losing perspective. For losing control. For alienating my kid, even just a little bit.

And he's only 12. I suspect it's only going to get worse, these episodes. He's got all these hormones churning through him. He's trying to figure out who he is and where he's going. He's stuck in some pergatory between child and adult and sometimes has a hard time figuring out how to deal with that. I know. I remember. My memories of being 12 . . . and beyond . . . are not pleasant ones.

He later came to me and apologized for calling me "stupid." I told him that not only is name-calling anyone unacceptable, but saying "stupid" is no better than saying "retarded." He started crying then. It's very, very unsettling to see your 12-year-old son cry.

Ach.

I need to do better with this kid.

Pics from the grocery store date

Michael wonders how I can get a whole week's worth of grocery shopping for 8 people done in 45 minutes. Yesterday he saw me in action and documented it on my phone:

I guess he was amused.

This babysitting thing is working out great!

Yesterday afternoon Michael and I had Kevin watch the younger kids (except for Finnian) and we . . . drumroll, please . . . went grocery shopping togther! I swear it almost felt like a date :) I can't remember the last time we went grocery shopping together . . . or if we ever have. Maybe when we were a wee family of three?

Questions on God and Christianity

Early last week, Finn had an appt. for an echocardiogram with the cardiologist. After his appt., I took Finn and ran to Starbucks before I went home and ran into a mom I know from school, and her little girl. We got the chatting and it came up that Finn had been at the cardio because he has a small hole in his heart that has to be monitored (this mom knows that Finn has Ds). Her little girl asked, "Why does he have a hole in his heart?" I told her that some babies are just born that way. Her mom told her, "We need to pray for God to heal it." I appreciated the sentiment, but really was kind of dumbfounded.

If there were a God, wasn't it Him who created the hole in the first place?

This woman is very nice, she really is. And although I don't share her religious views, I respect that she's very fervent in her beliefs (which I already knew, before this day). She insisted on buying my coffee, which was very kind and sweet and thoughtful. But I couldn't help wondering - and have been wondering ever since - would she still have wanted to buy my coffee if I were as open about my (non-)beliefs as she is about her beliefs? Would she still talk to me like an old friend every time we run into each other?

I guess I'm cynical, because I suspect the answer would be no. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I should have more faith in people.

Bursting

Kevin went camping this weekend with his cousin. Joey went to bed last night and found this note under his pillow:

"Goodnight Joey! I love you. See you Sunday - Love, Kevin"

They fight and drive each other crazy, but underneath it all, there's always the love.

Joey for President

Joey has been so intrigued by the inauguration of Barack Obama (his class got to watch the whole thing at school). He announced at dinner a couple nights ago that he has decided he is going to be President of the United States when he grows up (a couple months ago he was set on becoming an auto mechanic when he grew up - because he likes the uniforms they wear . . . seriously; then he moved on to wanting to be a scientist). That night after his shower, I found him practicing his inauguration speech, naked, in front of the full length mirror in his bathroom. I kid you not. He also began writing out his inauguration speech:

I, Joseph M., and now that I am president for the next 4 years, we shall make the Unidet States of Amairica a better country. Parents take good care of your children. Lawyers make fair laws. Teachers, teach good. Princiballs, be good school owners. We must also be healthy. Tonight you should try to dream that junk dosen't even exist. Also, never take drugs that are bad. Bad emergencys like fires, you need to know these rules.
1. never go outside when the air is bad.
2. never go near a fire.
3. never touch a real in danger fire.
If bad guys ever-

And that's as far as he got. I don't know about you, but I can't wait to see what comes next.

A Charmed Life

There is this feeling I carry around almost constantly that my life is too good. Too good to last. Yeah, I know I get on here and complain and bitch about things. But all in all, the honest truth is that the last few years have been the happiest and most fulfilling time of my life. I spent my whole life being unhappy, feeling unloved, feeling like happiness was a myth, until the last few years. I'm in such a good place now. I have the life I always dreamed of having . . . a strong, loving marriage, a houseful of kids, a nice place to live.

I'm scared, though, that it's too good. I'm scared that something really, really bad is going to happen to make it all go away.

Phobiamania

Let me start off by saying that I am in a very bad mood. I am running on empty after yet another night of very little sleep. Lilah was up SIX times last night, and Finn just no longer seems very interested in sleeping at night.

Some friends had organized a play date at the park and I decided to take the kids (as in, all six of them, as there is no school today) and head over. The morning did not go well. I was already in a foul mood from lack of sleep, and the kids seemed to have their whining in high gear. It was an ordeal just getting everyone out the door.

So we get to the park and right away, DOGS. Daisy starts screaming and crying hysterically, like she does. I am already thinking we should just turn right around and head back home because I just can't deal with this today. But the boys see their friends and run off, and I'm stuck there. I'll spare the play-by-play, but suffice to say that we were there for an hour, and Daisy was hysterical THE. ENTIRE. TIME. I mean, screaming, crying, snot and drool running down her face, trembling, on the verge of throwing up/passing out hysterical.

If one more well-meaning person says something to me along the lines of "This is what she needs, to see that the dog isn't going to hurt her," I swear to god I will start screaming hysterically myself. I know people mean well. I know people don't realize the extent of this issue. But let me set the record straight: Daisy encounters dogs ALL THE TIME. Like, daily. We walk to and from school to pick Joey up, and not a day goes by that we don't encounter dogs on the walk there, on the walk back, and on the school grounds (which is a whole other issue - people insisting on bringing their dogs to school even though there is a city ordinance prohibiting dogs on school grounds, and a totally wishy-washy, ineffective principal who can't seem to keep this ordinance enforced on his school grounds). We encounter dogs every single time we go to the park. This is NOT a matter of Daisy just not having enough exposure to dogs. This has been an issue for over TWO YEARS, and despite all the constant exposure she has to dogs, the problem has, if anything, gotten worse.

One friend actually said to me today, "Have you ever considered having her see a doctor about this?" Okay, first off, wow, I just can't imagine saying something like that to someone. Secondly, yes, we have. We've talked to our pediatrician. We've talked to the school psychologist. Both are of the opinion that we should just downplay it all when she gets like that and in time, as she matures, she will learn how to cope better, even if she never outgrows the actual fear. Honestly, I resent the hell out people assuming that we're just not dealing with this issue. We are dealing with it. I can do without the unsolicited advice. I know people mean well, but these comments only raise my stress level over the whole thing.

As for Daisy, I am having a really, really tough time being patient with her about her fears. I know that I should be able to reach deep inside myself and find some well of compassion, but I think with the hundreds of hysterical episodes like this that we've had to deal with with her, that well has run dry. So I find myself losing my temper with her instead of comforting her, which I'm sure doesn't help matters.

And honestly, I am sick to death of . . . people . . . stubbornly insisting that their dogs belong in any and every place that people belong. I know that dogs are allowed at parks, but holy shit, if you see a hysterical kid who is clearly terrified of your dog, yield to the child's right to be there. After all, the effing playground was built for kids - not dogs.

Virtual Life vs. Real Life

Okay, so I've figured out that between my laptop, my iPhone, my blogs, and now Facebook, there is just no reason at all for me to exist in the real world anymore ;)

So here's what I did today:

Took Annabelle to dance (Daisy is sick). Walked a couple of miles with Kevin. Got my nails done and a pedicure. Went to Target. Ate Chinese food. Fed children various meals. Did laundry. Tidied up the house.

Also:

Logged on to Facebook about 13 times (including from my iPhone while I was getting my nails done). Blogged.

And now I'm calling it a day.

Ridiculous

I wasn't gonna do it. But I did it. Facebook. Everyone's talking about it and I started feeling like I must be missing out on something big. So I did it. And I'm still not sure what the point of it is. But at least I don't feel left out now!

**sigh**

Just what I need - one more think to keep me hooked up to this computer.

Wow. Go Sesame Street!

I saw this on someone else's blog and had to post it here, being the breast feeding nazi that I am. This would never fly today, I'm sure. Sadly.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3DWRhfNm4c

If something happens to us, it's the milkman

Turns out our milkman might be a little psycho. He's been delivering our milk for 3 or 4 years. He suddenly switched brands on us a while back with no notice, no choice. Really it wasn't that big a deal, and I probably would have just stuck with him except that a rep from the initial brand we had been having delivered - which we preferred (as it's organic, no hormones, etc. which is better for the kids, better for everyone) - showed up at the door a couple weeks ago. So we decided to switch back. I was dreading quitting our milkman because I just don't enjoy that shit - having to justify myself, defend myself, etc. And I knew that's what would happen because I tried to quit this guy a couple years back and he called me up on the phone and laid the guilt on me (seriously), and I ended up caving and staying with him. But this time I planned to stick to my guns. I already told the other company to go ahead and start delivering our milk every week, so I had to quit the other guy, period.

So last week when Steve the psycho was supposed to deliver milk, I left a note out for him saying thanks for everything but we're cancelling service, please just leave a bill. Which he did. And I mailed the payment to him that day, because I didn't want that hanging over my head.

But as expected, he didn't take our leaving him laying down. He started calling. I was lucky enough to miss his first call. He left a voice mail message, which I didn't return. Really, why should I? I told him we were cancelling, what more discussion does there need to be? He called a couple more times, and seeing his name on the caller ID, I didn't answer. Then Kevin was on the phone with a friend, and this guy calls on the other line and Kevin answers. And hands the phone to me. When I realize who it is, I stare daggers at Kevin. Steve lays the guilt on thick. " . . . exceptional service for all these years. , ." blah blah blah. I tell him it's not personal, I'm sorry, but we've made our decision. He keeps talking. I finally have to cut him off and tell him I have someone waiting on the other line. He calls back later that evening. He talks to Michael, who tells him he's calling at a bad time. He calls again today. And again. I don't answer because I see his name on the caller ID. Then he gets tricky on us and figures out what we're doing. He calls from a number that just shows up as "Private Caller" on the caller ID. (Is that effing psycho or what??) Michael answers the phone and spends about 10 minutes explaining to this guy that we've made our decision, please stop calling. He called a total of EIGHT times.

All I know is that he knows where we live, he's pissed at us, and he seems a little . . . ummm . . . out there?

Wow.

Okay, so I've admitted that I'm a People magazine addict. It's one of my guilty pleasures, and I look forward to the mailman's (actually, mailwoman's) visit every Thursday because I know she will leave behind the latest issue. So I stole a half hour to myself this afternoon while the kids were otherwise occupied and thumbed through my People mag. In this week's issue is an article about a guy who blogs. It's a heartbreaking, amazing story. You must take a look at his blog: www.mattlogelin.com .

Seeing him in a whole new light

I was informed by the mother of one of Joey's classmates after school today that her daughter, who sits next to Joey in class, has a huge crush on him! The mom told me that her daughter gets all flustered around him and says "He's so little and cute and SMAAAART!"

I'm pretty sure Joey is oblivious to all this.

Huh.

I feel GOOD!

As planned, I went walking this morning with my new walking buddy, and my goodness, the endorphins! It's amazing how you don't even realize how bored and lonely and just generally crappy you feel spending all your time holed up in the house until you get out into the fresh air and work up a good sweat. I don't know how far we walked, but I know we walked at a good pace up and down hills for a good 45+ minutes, and then when we were done I decided to do the nature trail by myself which was another 30 minutes. Michael got me a double jogger the other night which was wonderful - Lilah and Finn were very comfy and content in it and it's maneuverable and easy to push on the different terrains.

So we plan to hit the pavement again on Friday. Woot!

Bitch, bitch, bitch

I'm feeling a little bitchy. It was a rough afternoon. One in an endless series of rough afternoons. Here's how it usually goes (and how it did, in fact, go this afternoon):

Kevin comes home from school. He's got a pretty heavy homework load this year, and I feel for him, I really do. But right away the game starts. He stalls. He finds any and every reason in the world to not get started on his homework. I have to get on his case over and over to get started on his homework. I hate it. I've never been one of those "helicopter moms" and I don't want to be one. I don't want to, nor do I think I should have to, babysit my kids through their homework. I am here to consult with if they need assistance (although, unfortunately, the type of homework help Kevin usually needs is along the lines of algebra which, come on folks, I took about 30 years ago and have never used since and don't remember at all), but I do not feel it is my job to hold their hands while they do their homework. So, as I said, Kevin stalls and stalls until I finally have to holler at him, so he finally gets started, but even then will break away from it every few minutes because he needs a snack, he wants to say hi to Finn, he has to go to the bathroom, yada yada yada. So it ends up taking him hours to get his homework done, and then he's in a crappy mood because his entire afternoon is shot and now it's too late to go ride his skateboard or hang out with his friend Daniel.

Around 4:00 usually I round the girls up for bath time (yes, I bathe them late in the afternoon before dinner; it just seems to be the best time to do it). By the time I get them out of the tub, the official Witching Hour has started. Kevin is likely still not done with his homework and copping a total attitude. The girls are whining for dinner, which they will continue to do for the next hour +, until I get dinner on the table. Finn is cranky. I'm tired and frazzled. Kevin takes his frustration out on Joey and the two of them start into arguing, so I'm breaking things up between them while simultaneously trying to deal with Finn while simultaneously trying to get dinner made while simultaneously listening to the girls whine and trying to keep my head from exploding. And there's inevitably some mishap thrown in for good measure: Lilah might pee on the floor, or someone else might suffer some minor but urgent injury and start howling and screaming "MMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!", or something gets spilled, or whatever. Always something though. And then Michael might call or text me saying he's going to be a little late! By this time I just want to cry - either that, or lock myself in the bathroom and start drinking . . . (I kid). I finally get dinner on the table and usually at least half of the kids announce that they don't like it and won't eat it. All that effort and that's what I get. I should just feed them freaking chicken nuggets and mac and cheese every single night of the week - that's all they really want anyway.

On Tuesdays the kids are required to do a good bedroom-straightening because the housekeeper comes on Wednesdays and can't very well vaccuum and dust their rooms with all their stuff laying around. It's always a huge battle to get the boys to clean up their room, and inevitably when they say they've finished the job I go in there and have to actually finish picking up myself because their idea of cleaning up and mine are two very different ideas. Tonight after all the other crap that went on this afternoon, I had had it and when I went in their room at bedtime and saw that Joey's idea of cleaning up his stuff meant piling it all on top of his dresser, I lost my temper and went and grabbed a grocery bag and dumped everything from the top of his dresser into the bag and walked out with him crying and howling over it.

**sigh**

I feel bad. I hate for any of us to go to bed unhappy. I'm sure I could have handled that better. Another less than stellar mom moment.

And tomorrow we get to do it all over again.

Just what I need

Let me start out by saying that I have been having serious body-image issues since Finn was born. I've been naturally thin my whole life and have never had to work very hard to get something resembling my old body back after having each of my babies. It's taken me a bit longer after each to get back into my old clothes, but I've managed it within a few months each time. Until Finnian, that is. I'm sure it's a combination of factors: my age, the fact that he was my SIXTH baby, the fact that I got nearly as big with him as I did with my full-term twin pregnancy, thanks to polyhydramnios. Whatever the reason, I haven't bounced back this time like I did with the others. I haven't stepped on a scale for a couple of months because it's just too damn depressing, but from the way my clothes fit, I can tell that I'm still at least 10 pounds over where I was when I got pregnant with Finn, and I'm still a good 2 sizes up from where I'd like to be. It doesn't help that I seem to have no willpower or self-control. I need to eat better, and I need to excersise. I think about it all the time, but my motivation is sadly lacking.

So today I ran into a neighbor with whom I'm friendly as I was on my way out the door. She had her little boy in a jogging stroller and was on her way home from what looked like a nice vigorous walk. We got to talking and have agreed to start meeting a couple times a week to power walk together. I think this is just what I need: a buddy for company and motivation. So we are going to start this coming Wednesday morning. Yayy!

Twelve

Then . . .

. . . and now.

Today Kevin, my oldest baby, turned 12 years old. Sometimes it seems as though an entire lifetime has passed since the night I held that tiny baby in my arms for the first time. It's hard to reconcile that little baby with the adolescent he is today.

Somtimes I feel like it's all passed us by too quickly . . . I had all these plans, things I was going to do for and with Kevin when he was a little boy, and suddenly I blinked and he wasn't a little boy anymore. It's bittersweet. He's a good kid, growing more and more independent all the time, which says we're doing our job as parents - preparing him for the world at large. But sometimes I really, really miss that sweet little boy who would show up at the side of my bed in the middle of the night and say "Mommy, I want to snuggle with you."

~~~

It was a fairly low-key affair, Kevin's birthday. We got him a cell phone - yes, a cell phone. I cringe at how that looks, like we are raising kids of privilege and excess, but the truth is that I've resisted getting him a cell phone for quite a while. However, given that he is being given more freedom these days - freedom to hang out with friends, ride his skateboard and bike around the neighborhood, etc., it's really become more of a safety thing. I want to be able to get in touch with him at all times when he's not at home, and vice versa. Thankfully, the phone has major restrictions on it which Michael and I get to control by way of the internet, so that's the kicker, and was the selling point of this particular phone. He also got a new bike, which he really needed, as he had outgrown his other one. Michael took him and a few of his friends to an arcade/fun zone for a couple hours this afternoon, and he got to choose what to have for dinner (nachos . . . can you say CRAP?) and he wanted a pie instead of a cake.

And there you go.

Back in Dance

After a hiatus of a couple of months, Daisy and Annabelle started back up in dance this morning. It's a ballet/tap combo class and they had a lot of fun! I am living vicariously, as I missed out on stuff like this when I was a little girl.

Now we have to make a decision in the next couple of weeks as to whether they should participate in the big June recital. From all the paperwork I got today, it appears that it's a pretty big deal. I'm honestly not sure if they are up for something like that, though. I don't want to invest all the time and money into costumes and rehearsals only to have them refuse to participate in front of what's sure to be a large audience. We shall see. In the meantime, they're taking the classes which seem to be plenty of fun for them :)

My Favorite "M" Things

Leigh Anne at It's Blissful Thinking got me into this game and assigned me the letter M, so I have to list 10 things I like which start with the letter M . . .

In no particular order:

1. Mochas from Starbucks

2. Martinis . . . the fancy kind: caramel apple, lemon drop, watermelon, etc.

3. Midwives!!

4. Mammaries - as in breast feeding ;)

5. Michael

6. Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream

7. Motherhood

8. Maui . . . paradise! I hope we get back there someday.

9. MONEY!! Who doesn't like some moolah?

10. Milk . . . mmmmmm, a nice cold glass of milk hits the spot.

Okay, so if you want to play, leave me a comment telling me one of your favorite M things and I'll assign you a letter :)

Friendship

There is this essay that has circulated the web for quite some time . . . have you seen it? It goes like this:

Reason, Season and Lifetime
..
People always come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.
When you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do.
..
When someone is in your life for a REASON,
it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly.
They have come to assist you through a difficulty,
or to provide you with guidance and support,
to aid you physically, emotionally, or even spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend to you, and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to be.
...
Then, without any wrong doing on your part or at an inconvenient time,
this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.
...
Sometimes they die. Sometimes they just walk away.
Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered and it is now time to move on.
...
When people come into your life for a SEASON,
it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn.
They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.
Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.
And like Spring turns to Summer and Summer to Fall,
the season eventually ends.
...
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons;
those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.
Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person/people (anyway);
and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas in your life.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
Thank you for being part of my life.

~~~

I think it's meant to be inspirational. I'm not sure I agree with all of it (if someone else comes into my life for a REASON, does that necessarily mean that, likewise, I came into their life for a REASON? Really, the essay makes it all seem to revolve around ME - or whomever is reading it . . . but I digress), but it's a good springboard for me to write about my observations about friendships/relationships that have been floating around in my head for a while.

One of the hardest things I have learned in life (so far) is that it is truely a very rare relationship that is a lifelong one. The vast majority of people who come into your life will exit it at some point down the road. A friendship that lasts a lifetime probably only happens once or twice in a lifetime. That's been my observation/experience, anyway.

For me, I guess I have friends of different levels. There are the acquaintances - people I generally like but really don't know all that well and don't have any intention of getting to know - or allowing them to get to know me - better than on a superficial level. There are friends - the ones who I do know pretty well, and who know me pretty well, who share at least some of the same views as I do, whose company I enjoy and whom I spend time with socially, and whom I know I could count on in a time of need. Then there are the best friends - the ones who know me to my core and accept me nonetheless, who are such a part of the fabric of my life that I can't imagine them not being there, those who I want to text/call/email for every silly little thing that happens throughout my day.

I have lots of acquaintances, and that's cool. I even have a pretty large circle of friends, and I'm happy with the level of friendship we share. As for best friends, though . . . Michael's probably it for me. This isn't meant to be a sappy-sweet-pukey tribute to my husband, it's just the way it is. At this point in my life, I don't have a girlfriend with whom I'm that close - someone who gets me, someone who invests as much in the relationship as I do, someone with whom I want to share every little thing. Michael's the only person in my life at this point who fits that bill, and the only one I know will be a positive force in my life until one of us dies. And really, I'm okay with that. I'm not lonely, I'm not being cynical - this is just a truth of life.

I've had best girlfriends - the ones you spend hours on the phone with, the ones with whom you share the deepest, darkest parts of yourself. And they're great, those relationships. But as I started out saying, I have found that the vast majority of relationships are not lifelong relationships. It's rare that what initially brings two people together in friendship is enough to sustain a lifelong relationship.

Friendships end for a variety of reasons, in a myriad of ways. Sometimes they just fade away quietly . . . one day you realize it's been months since you talked to that person . . . and you don't even really miss them. Sometimes they end very dramatically, with harsh words and tears and hurting. Those endings you grieve. Some sputter and start and stop until you finally realize it's just not going where you had hoped it would go, and you either accept it for what it is, or say goodbye without a word.

~~~

Anyway, it's interesting, because I've experienced all three of these scenarios just in the past 6 months. And, of course, many times over my life.

~~~

This really wasn't meant to be a downer post, just my observations.

Lilah Potty Update (skip if you don't enjoy reading about poop and pee)

I realized that I hadn't updated on the potty issue for quite a while. We had that one perfect day , and really, every day since then has been near-perfect. I don't set the timer anymore, and she rarely has a pee accident. However, she does poop in her pants pretty much every day. I don't believe it's an issue of obstinance, I think she's just not to the point yet of being in tune to her body's signals in that department. The main thing is that she's out of diapers, during the day anyway. Nighttime dryness is hit or miss, so I still put a diaper on her at night, and a Pull-up for naps (but she always wakes up from her naps dry).

I am so pleased with this! I never dreamed that a 2-year-old - at least one of mine! - could be potty trained!

Ho Hum

Dinner our last night was good. I love that after all these years, I can still laugh my butt off with Michael. Honestly, I was cracking up so hard in the restaurant that I was thinking that the other diners probably thought I was drunk - and I hadn't even ordered a drink yet.

Today, I never even got dressed. I kept meaning to, and it just never happened. I think I realized around 3:30 that I was still wearing what I wore to bed last night and by then I thought, "Screw it, what's the point?" So it was a jammie day. The most exciting thing I did today? I found a grocery list application for my iPhone. Wowza.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Winter break is officially over and the kids go back to school tomorrow - at least the four older ones do. Phew. Actually winter break went pretty well. The wet, muddy days were hardest because the kids couldn't go outside to play, but we found things to do inside and it wasn't until the last couple of days that we were all really getting on each other's nerves. Still, everyone except Kevin is excited about going back to school.

Never Again

I thought it would be nice to take Annabelle and Daisy out for some lunch and shopping today. Lunch was fine. Then we hit the dance supply store to buy them new leotards and tights, as they will be starting back up with ballet/tap next weekend. That went fine as well (except for the part where I had to keep saying "Stop touching that. Stop touching that. Stop touching that."). Then we hit the mall because I had a couple of things to return/exchange, plus I wanted to look for raincoats and umbrellas for them (can you believe Target doesn't carry any children's raincoats or umbrellas? At least my Target doesn't).

One word: freaking nightmare. Okay, that's two words. Remember how I thought Daisy might be starting to get over some of her phobias? Ha! Apparently all elevators are not created equal, because she FREAKED every time we had to get on an elevator at the mall today (which was no less than five times). Hysterical screaming, shaking, crying, the whole bit. And of course we never got onto an empty elevator, it was always with witnesses. Plus, Daisy's hysteria rubbed off on Annabelle, and she was crying too. Then we got to a point where it was clear that if we didn't find a restroom, Annabelle was going to let loose in Macy's. Well, don't forget that public restrooms is another item on Daisy's list of Things I'm Terrified Of. But no matter, it had to be done. So we find a restroom and I have to physically force the two of them into the largest stall I could find (along with Finn who was in the stroller). Both girls are crying and screaming. I'm surprised that nobody called security, because I'm sure it looked/sounded like I was dragging them into the stall to beat the crap out of them (which by that time, believe me, seemed very tempting). Even though Annabelle was dancing around and hopping from foot to foot to keep from wetting her pants, I had to force her onto the toilet where she screamed and cried the entire time. I didn't even try to make Daisy sit on the toilet - I'm sure she would have passed out from terror.

After the bathroom ordeal, I marched them all out to the truck and headed home. I am still in a foul mood over that nightmare. Michael and I are supposed to go out to dinner tonight, and I don't think he even wants to be around me.

Oh, and Macy's didn't have children's raincoats or umbrellas either. It's freaking January and we've already had plenty of rain. WTF?

Short Conversation With a Six-Year-Old

Joey is going through an obnoxious phase. At least I hope it's a phase. Just sassy, not listening when he's told to do something, not always being nice to his sisters, stuff like that.

At dinner tonight he started in with the obnoxiousness and I finally looked at him very sternly, after having told him to stop a number of times, and said, "You're getting a little too big for your britches."

Pause.

He looked at me in all seriousness and said, "What's a britch?"

It was hard to keep a straight face with that one ;)

Conversation With a Four-Year-Old

I'm a purger. Not that kind of purger. I like to clean out closets and drawers and cabinets on a pretty regular basis. Especially around the holidays. Out with the old, in with the new.

Santa brought the girls a brand new, big, beautiful doll house for Christmas. So I put the word out to my mommy friends that their old, much smaller doll house was up for grabs. I got a taker right away, and she came over this afternoon to take it off our hands. Daisy wanted to know why I was giving her old doll house away, and I told her that another little girl was going to take it since Daisy and her sisters got a new one for Christmas. She wasn't too happy with my unilateral decision to purge one of HER possessions.

A little while after my friend picked up the old doll house, I was holding Finn and Daisy said to me, "Are you going to give him away?"

Me: "What?!"

Daisy: "Are you going to give him away?"

Me: "Who, Finn? No, of course not!"

Daisy: "Why not?"

Me: "Because he's my baby, that's why not."

Daisy: "Well, you gave away MY doll house!" (Picture her standing with hands on hips in a decidedly snotty manner.)

**sigh**