Leah doesn't really mean to be mean, it just comes out like that sometimes. She has always been REALLY good at giving dirty looks and if she isn't too fond of you, trust me, she lets you know.
When Bryce is at school I enjoy the girl time we get to spend together, which of course, includes shopping. LOTS and LOTS of shopping. She is a pro and I can say that makes me proud. She can spot princess things a mile away and always has a convincing argument on why we should buy it. She looks at clothes and says, "That's cute MOM...so CUTE!" She holds up the clothes and asks if I like it. It really is a trip to see how she has picked up my shopping habits.
There are also things she does while we are out shopping that are NOT fun. Almost everytime we are out she will spot a man and decide that he is a "mean guy." It is usually a tall dark type of guy that gets this reaction. She isn't really scared of these guys, but she wants to make sure I know that they are not nice. She screams and points, "Mom, there is a mean guy, a pirate...He is a MEAN guy MOM!"
It is always loud enough so the man can hear. He usually trys to smile or wave at Leah to reassure her that he is not mean, which only makes it worse. She will even say to the men, "Why are you looking at me? You are a mean guy."
It is kinda embarassing as I try to explain to these regular guys (unless Leah knows something I don't) that she just doesn't like men. This is not entirely true though, because she adores the men that she's familiar with in her life: her dad, grandpa, grand-dad, and uncles.
Anyway, we usually have this problem while we are out and she spots a "mean guy." A couple days ago, while at Costco, she moved across the gender lines to pick on a poor woman. This lady (who happens to have very short hair) walks by us. Leah points and says as loud and as clear as she could, "Mom, is that a boy or a girl?" The lady turned her head around, but kept walking. I mean, what was she going to say. "I only look like a dude, but I'm a woman." How do you explain this to a 2 year old.
I was so embarassed and just quietly said, "Leah, she's a girl like you and me."
Kids...always an adventure!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
I'm sleepy, roll over...so they all rolled over...
Here's the thing when you have kids...none of your time is ever really your own...EVER! Not even sleeping time. I am not opposed to letting the kids sleep in our bed, but I am not really for it either. I guess it is best just to do whatever you need to do to get some sleep. The problem is when (for the sake of sleep) you let them crawl up and stay in your bed...you sleep like crap!
When they're infants sometimes it is just easier (specially if you are the food source) to have them right next to you. When they are sick...for sure they can snuggle up. But when they are older and just want company and to kick my side...I don't really enjoy family time this way. Leah has been sneaking in more frequently. Last night she kicked me from 1am till morning. It's like, you kicked me for 9 months when I was pregnant, that's about all I can take! At times we have all four of us in bed and Dodger at the bottom. One time Bryce rolled over and off the bed and kept sleeping!
So this morning at breakfast I told Leah, no more sleeping in my bed. I explained she has her own pretty bed. I asked why she doesn't like sleeping in there. Her response:
"There's no other people in my bed."
Well, there you have it! Guess I'll only be kicked in my sleep for a couple more years anyway!
When they're infants sometimes it is just easier (specially if you are the food source) to have them right next to you. When they are sick...for sure they can snuggle up. But when they are older and just want company and to kick my side...I don't really enjoy family time this way. Leah has been sneaking in more frequently. Last night she kicked me from 1am till morning. It's like, you kicked me for 9 months when I was pregnant, that's about all I can take! At times we have all four of us in bed and Dodger at the bottom. One time Bryce rolled over and off the bed and kept sleeping!
So this morning at breakfast I told Leah, no more sleeping in my bed. I explained she has her own pretty bed. I asked why she doesn't like sleeping in there. Her response:
"There's no other people in my bed."
Well, there you have it! Guess I'll only be kicked in my sleep for a couple more years anyway!
Friday, January 23, 2009
R.I.P. Spidey
I'm not sure if hermit crabs are the best or worst pets. If you want a low maintenance animal...then a hermit crab is for you. The problem I have with them, is you never really know if they are happy and if you are taking proper care of them. They are nocturnal, for one thing, so you never really see them being active. At least a dog wags their tail and you know they are happy, and a fish will start to float when they aren't being cared for. I have a soft spot for animals so if I have a pet, I want them to be happy. But maybe a hermit isn't suppose to be happy, because of their name. If I was a hermit, I would be a little depressed too. Why do I mention this? Here is our sad hermit crab story:
It was Mother's Day 2008. We decide to take a family trip to the mall to spoil me! Awesome!! In the center of the mall there is a cart selling the cutest little crabs. Why are crabs cute? Well, actually they aren't, but someone paints their shells and it is all very amusing. Their shells are cute anyway. My kids REALLY like them so Bobby suggests we let them each pick out their own crab. I guess I was feeling the energy and agreed. Bryce picked out a spiderman painted crab and Leah picked out a bee painted crab. We call them lovingly: Spidey and Crabee!
We take a trip to Petsmart and hook our crabs up! We get them a little coconut hut and beach ball water sponges, so they can live. Now I think the crabs will really like living with us. They still continue to do nothing and I wonder if we should get them a hampster wheel or something. Time passes and we all grow fond of our little crabs. It's a big hit with the kids that come over. I learn that if you breath a little bit in their shell they will come out and play. Probably they don't appreciate it, but we want to see them...and not just at 2 o'clock am.
More time passes. I wonder if they are cold, hot, hungry, thirsty, but mostly I just wonder if they are happy little crabs. I also wonder about how we will know when they die, because they seem dead most of the time already.
About a month ago, Bryce's spidey crab up and died. I guess I didn't have to worry about whether or not they were alive in their shells, because when they do bite the burrito they climb out of their shells. So Bobby makes the gruesome discovery of Spidey outside his shell.
I'm not going to lie and say I didn't cry, because anyone who knows me already knows I shed some tears. I didn't even want to tell Bryce because I knew how he'd react. NOT GOOD! When our fish died he cried and wondered where it went. We had the whole heaven talk, and he asked if God had a big enough fish tank for all the fiish that died. He is really thoughtful!
I tell him I "think" Spidey died. He's like "Why do you think that?"
Well, because he climbed out of his shell and shriveled up!! I didn't say that...too sad. I tell him he went to heaven with our fish. He is sobbing crying and that makes me just want to never have pets again. You love them so much, but when they die it is devastating. I am holding him and we are both crying. I say we can burry him and say a prayer. He yells at me that he does NOT want his crab in the dirt.
OK...so now I'm not sure what to do with Spidey. Bobby puts the crab body in a ziplock and we put the shell by Crabee's tank. Everytime he sees the crab shell, he crys again. I don't want to just throw him in the trash but I don't know what the right thing to do is. Bryce asks me when God is going to give him back...that was seriously heart wrenching.
Finally, the other day he was ready to put Spidey to rest. He said, "Dad, I think we should burry Spidey." Thank God. Closure at last! Bobby dug a hole and we placed the poor little crab in there. We walk away and the next thing we know we hear a pounding sound. We go back outside to find Bryce hammering a stake in the ground. He makes him a headstone and we help him staple it on there. Then Bryce says a prayer that went like this:
"Dear God, please take good care of Spidey. He was a good crab and please bring me a new one tomorrow because I miss him. Amen."
Closure for Spidey. When this next one dies, I'm done with crabs.
It was Mother's Day 2008. We decide to take a family trip to the mall to spoil me! Awesome!! In the center of the mall there is a cart selling the cutest little crabs. Why are crabs cute? Well, actually they aren't, but someone paints their shells and it is all very amusing. Their shells are cute anyway. My kids REALLY like them so Bobby suggests we let them each pick out their own crab. I guess I was feeling the energy and agreed. Bryce picked out a spiderman painted crab and Leah picked out a bee painted crab. We call them lovingly: Spidey and Crabee!
We take a trip to Petsmart and hook our crabs up! We get them a little coconut hut and beach ball water sponges, so they can live. Now I think the crabs will really like living with us. They still continue to do nothing and I wonder if we should get them a hampster wheel or something. Time passes and we all grow fond of our little crabs. It's a big hit with the kids that come over. I learn that if you breath a little bit in their shell they will come out and play. Probably they don't appreciate it, but we want to see them...and not just at 2 o'clock am.
More time passes. I wonder if they are cold, hot, hungry, thirsty, but mostly I just wonder if they are happy little crabs. I also wonder about how we will know when they die, because they seem dead most of the time already.
About a month ago, Bryce's spidey crab up and died. I guess I didn't have to worry about whether or not they were alive in their shells, because when they do bite the burrito they climb out of their shells. So Bobby makes the gruesome discovery of Spidey outside his shell.
I'm not going to lie and say I didn't cry, because anyone who knows me already knows I shed some tears. I didn't even want to tell Bryce because I knew how he'd react. NOT GOOD! When our fish died he cried and wondered where it went. We had the whole heaven talk, and he asked if God had a big enough fish tank for all the fiish that died. He is really thoughtful!
I tell him I "think" Spidey died. He's like "Why do you think that?"
Well, because he climbed out of his shell and shriveled up!! I didn't say that...too sad. I tell him he went to heaven with our fish. He is sobbing crying and that makes me just want to never have pets again. You love them so much, but when they die it is devastating. I am holding him and we are both crying. I say we can burry him and say a prayer. He yells at me that he does NOT want his crab in the dirt.
OK...so now I'm not sure what to do with Spidey. Bobby puts the crab body in a ziplock and we put the shell by Crabee's tank. Everytime he sees the crab shell, he crys again. I don't want to just throw him in the trash but I don't know what the right thing to do is. Bryce asks me when God is going to give him back...that was seriously heart wrenching.
Finally, the other day he was ready to put Spidey to rest. He said, "Dad, I think we should burry Spidey." Thank God. Closure at last! Bobby dug a hole and we placed the poor little crab in there. We walk away and the next thing we know we hear a pounding sound. We go back outside to find Bryce hammering a stake in the ground. He makes him a headstone and we help him staple it on there. Then Bryce says a prayer that went like this:
"Dear God, please take good care of Spidey. He was a good crab and please bring me a new one tomorrow because I miss him. Amen."
Closure for Spidey. When this next one dies, I'm done with crabs.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Obama mama!
So I couldn't help but get wrapped up in all the buzz of the new president. I must say, I LOVE him! And not because he is a democrat, but because he stands for some of the same things I believe in. One of my favorite figures in history is Martin Luther King, and I feel the two are similair in regards to civil rights and both are great speakers. My favorite part his inauguration speech:
"For we know our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus- and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace."
I am not just jumping on the "Obama" bandwagon, I enjoy politics and have read Obama's book "Audacity of Hope." I love his thoughts on democrats and republicans because the thing I do NOT enjoy about politics is the division between parties and how we are either for or against each other. Although I affiliate myself with the winning party of this election, I hold some of the same beliefs that republicans have, or I can at least see where they are coming from even if I don't agree. He writes that nothing is getting done because of the unwillingness to compromise. "Our way is the ONLY way" mentality. This had been my thoughts on the subject and believe that although he is a democrat, he will try to reach out to the republicans and get things done. He writes:
"Maybe the critics are right. Maybe there's no escaping our political divide, an endless clash of armies, and any attempts to alter the rules of engagement are futile. Or maybe the trivialization of politics has reached a point of no return, so that most people see it as just one more diversion, a sport, with politicians our paunch-bellied gladiators and those who bother to pay attention just fans on the sidelines: We paint our faces red or blue and cheer our side and boo their side, and if it takes a late or cheap shot to beat the other team, so be it, for winning is all that matters.
But I don't think so. They are out there, I think to myself, those ordinary citizens who have grown up in the midst of all the political and cultural battles, but who have found a way- in their own lives, at least- to make peace with their neighbors, and themselves. I imagine the white Southerner who growing up heard his dad talk about niggers this and niggers that but who struck up a friendship with the black guys at the office and is trying to teach his son different, who thinks discrimination is wrong but doesn't see why the son of a black doctor should get admitted into law school ahead of his own son. Or the former Black Panther who decided to go into real estate, bought a few buildings in the neighborhood, and is just as tired of the drug dealers in front of those buildings as he is of the bankers who won't give him a loan to expand his business. There's the middle-aged feminist who still morns her abortion, and the Christian woman who paid for her teenager's abortion, and the millions of waitresses and temp secretaries and nurses's assistants and Wal-Mart associates who hold their breath every single month in the hope that they'll have enough money to support the children that they did bring into this world."
I do realize what politicans have said and promised to get elected, but if the choice is between being cynical or believing in what he says...I'm going to pick the more hopeful path EVERY time.
"For we know our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus- and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace."
I am not just jumping on the "Obama" bandwagon, I enjoy politics and have read Obama's book "Audacity of Hope." I love his thoughts on democrats and republicans because the thing I do NOT enjoy about politics is the division between parties and how we are either for or against each other. Although I affiliate myself with the winning party of this election, I hold some of the same beliefs that republicans have, or I can at least see where they are coming from even if I don't agree. He writes that nothing is getting done because of the unwillingness to compromise. "Our way is the ONLY way" mentality. This had been my thoughts on the subject and believe that although he is a democrat, he will try to reach out to the republicans and get things done. He writes:
"Maybe the critics are right. Maybe there's no escaping our political divide, an endless clash of armies, and any attempts to alter the rules of engagement are futile. Or maybe the trivialization of politics has reached a point of no return, so that most people see it as just one more diversion, a sport, with politicians our paunch-bellied gladiators and those who bother to pay attention just fans on the sidelines: We paint our faces red or blue and cheer our side and boo their side, and if it takes a late or cheap shot to beat the other team, so be it, for winning is all that matters.
But I don't think so. They are out there, I think to myself, those ordinary citizens who have grown up in the midst of all the political and cultural battles, but who have found a way- in their own lives, at least- to make peace with their neighbors, and themselves. I imagine the white Southerner who growing up heard his dad talk about niggers this and niggers that but who struck up a friendship with the black guys at the office and is trying to teach his son different, who thinks discrimination is wrong but doesn't see why the son of a black doctor should get admitted into law school ahead of his own son. Or the former Black Panther who decided to go into real estate, bought a few buildings in the neighborhood, and is just as tired of the drug dealers in front of those buildings as he is of the bankers who won't give him a loan to expand his business. There's the middle-aged feminist who still morns her abortion, and the Christian woman who paid for her teenager's abortion, and the millions of waitresses and temp secretaries and nurses's assistants and Wal-Mart associates who hold their breath every single month in the hope that they'll have enough money to support the children that they did bring into this world."
I do realize what politicans have said and promised to get elected, but if the choice is between being cynical or believing in what he says...I'm going to pick the more hopeful path EVERY time.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Happy Birthday to me...and my Dad!
This past weekend was the celebration of my Dad's 49th and my 27th birthday. His birthday is the 17th and mine the 18th. We are both capricorns and have an elite club for the two of us "capricorns." Whenever we get in an argument with my mom, or anyone else for that matter, it usually turns to the classic "well no one is perfect" ending. My Dad and me always share a high five or laugh and say, "Well, we are....but that's because we are capricorns!" It pretty much annoys everyone but us, as we get a kick out of ourselves. Lame, I know, but we think we are cool.
My mom hooked us up with some middle eastern food and invited some friends and family over on Saturday. It was pretty low-key, just the way we like it. Then on Saturday, I got to relax. I was served breakfast in bed (my favorite, french toast) from Bobby and the kids. They gave me some candy hearts (which they ate) and a gift card to my favorite place to eat. I hung out with my hubby, Katie and ALL the kids all day. My parents watched the kids over night and I got to sleep in on Monday (the best gift by far).
I realize I'm getting older, I mean, I do have a few wrinkles and some grey hair, but I'm feeling more secure with age. I think life is more challenging- but by far more rewarding too!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Who ever smelled it, dealt it!
We went for a car ride today to return some red box movies we rented (if you haven't seen or heard of this vending machine movie rental thing, it is pretty cool). Anyway, Bobby jumped out of the car to return the movies, while I waited in the car with the kids. I heard a noise from the back seat and asked, "Leah, did you fart?"
She says, "No Mom, did you fart?"
I, of course say, "NO!"
To the upset of my stomach, I just don't do this type of thing, even in extreme pain, I just can't. If I do, it is only because the circumstances are right, which means alone, in a bathroom, with no one home or because I am dying. It is so sad I'm this way and wish I wasn't because it hurts to not be able to do "it". It started when I was young. Growing up with three brothers meant I was in the middle of a nuclear gas war almost every night. I hated everything about farts...the fact my brothers were sooo amused by them and because I am scent sensitive and repulsed by the smell. My hatred for farts reached all new heights when I happened to pass the natural thing called gas, in front of my brothers. I must have been around six at the time. They made fun of me so bad and I was so embarrassed, I never wanted to do it again!
People ask me if I fart (even typing the word is hard for me) in front of Bobby, NO WAY! I have often thought about how funny it would be if I could just do it, because I know we would laugh so hard about it, but I can't even force this humor out! Bobby, on the other hand, has the same tolerance and amusement my brothers have. He has taught Bryce the whole, "Pull my finger" bit, and trust me, I rolled my eyes at that one!
Bobby is now done returning the movies and returns to the car.
"Daddy, Mom farted!" This is the first thing out of my daughter's mouth. Bobby is busting up and accusing ME of farting. Now, even though this was lie, it was well played by Leah, who I am positive was the real culprit. It doesn't really matter if I defend myself at this point, because the more you defend yourself the more guilty you look. Bobby I'm sure is thinking, "Haha, she said she never farts, but she does!"
Thank God for my little mama's boy. He came to my rescue and said, "No, Mom didn't fart you did, stop lying!" With all the laughing and debating, Leah gets the audience she needs to repeat, "Mom farted!"
I only hope she doesn't want to get this reaction in the grocery line or something. Can you imagine how embarassing it would be if she started saying that all the time? I wouldn't put it past her, she likes the response she got! Hopefully no more farting blogs after this one.
She says, "No Mom, did you fart?"
I, of course say, "NO!"
To the upset of my stomach, I just don't do this type of thing, even in extreme pain, I just can't. If I do, it is only because the circumstances are right, which means alone, in a bathroom, with no one home or because I am dying. It is so sad I'm this way and wish I wasn't because it hurts to not be able to do "it". It started when I was young. Growing up with three brothers meant I was in the middle of a nuclear gas war almost every night. I hated everything about farts...the fact my brothers were sooo amused by them and because I am scent sensitive and repulsed by the smell. My hatred for farts reached all new heights when I happened to pass the natural thing called gas, in front of my brothers. I must have been around six at the time. They made fun of me so bad and I was so embarrassed, I never wanted to do it again!
People ask me if I fart (even typing the word is hard for me) in front of Bobby, NO WAY! I have often thought about how funny it would be if I could just do it, because I know we would laugh so hard about it, but I can't even force this humor out! Bobby, on the other hand, has the same tolerance and amusement my brothers have. He has taught Bryce the whole, "Pull my finger" bit, and trust me, I rolled my eyes at that one!
Bobby is now done returning the movies and returns to the car.
"Daddy, Mom farted!" This is the first thing out of my daughter's mouth. Bobby is busting up and accusing ME of farting. Now, even though this was lie, it was well played by Leah, who I am positive was the real culprit. It doesn't really matter if I defend myself at this point, because the more you defend yourself the more guilty you look. Bobby I'm sure is thinking, "Haha, she said she never farts, but she does!"
Thank God for my little mama's boy. He came to my rescue and said, "No, Mom didn't fart you did, stop lying!" With all the laughing and debating, Leah gets the audience she needs to repeat, "Mom farted!"
I only hope she doesn't want to get this reaction in the grocery line or something. Can you imagine how embarassing it would be if she started saying that all the time? I wouldn't put it past her, she likes the response she got! Hopefully no more farting blogs after this one.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Chuck E Cheese...Where a kid can be a kid and a parent can have major anxiety!
I had promised Bryce that we would visit Chuck E Cheese while he was on winter break. First mistake! Shouldn't have said anything and suprised him because every day until we went, that's all I heard. "Mom, when are we going to go to Chuck E Cheese?"
The other day we made the plunge and went. My kids, as I'm sure all other kids, LOVE this place. They are so excited to get in there and play those one token games. Parents, on the other hand, and I think I speak for all parents, HATE this place. When you walk in all you smell is the horrific scent of their flat, gross pizza and what smells like kids sweat and urine mixed together. I seriously wonder if kids pee on the floor there. The smell alone sends me in an anxiety state of mind. My kids cheer, "Yay! Chuck E Cheese!!"
You come in to an unenthusiastic worker stamping your hand and your kids hand with the same number, so no one will walk up out of there with the wrong one! The pizza costs a million dollars and the token to dollar ratio is probably 10:1. The games seem like a cheap version of a cool arcade and yet the kids can't stop playing. The lousy games spit out tickets that allow you to "purchase" the lousiest toys. Fun, Fun, Fun!! It feels like a rip off of Disneyland. All the excitement going in and then...this is it!
In a way I understand the appeal. At some point, I too, become obsessed with getting the most tickets. I know all we are going to get is some stupid slap bracelet for our hard work, but you really get dragged in. You walk around proudly with your handful of tickets. It takes like 100 tickets to get a tootsie pop. Come on! I probably just spent five bucks for one lollipop. But it wouldn't be the same if I just ran to the store and bought a whole bag for two bucks.
It is finally time to leave, Thank God!! We walk up to the worker to match our numbers. He looks at mine and then my sons. Oh No!! He can't find Bryce's number. Is he going to have to live here forever now? The man asks me, "Did he wash his hands?" Are you kidding me?!? In this germ infested hell hole, I made him wash his hands after going to the bathroom, before eating and squirted some antibacterial gel, randomly! So the man lets him go home with us, even though he doesn't have a number. What an effective system!
On the way home I am complaining to Bobby about the smell and wonder why they can't have better air circulation in there, like the ones in the Vegas hotels that filter out the smoke. Bobby is laughing at me. I ask Bryce if he had fun and he smiles and says, "Yes, thank you! It's so fun there!" That is why we go! For that one moment in the car, after enduring hell, your kid smiles and says thank you.
Of course, Bryce catching my disgust for the place then asks, "Mom, do YOU love Chuck E Cheese?"
The only honest reply I can muster up without taking away from his joy is , "I love that you love it!"
Please let that last visit hold us over for months!
The other day we made the plunge and went. My kids, as I'm sure all other kids, LOVE this place. They are so excited to get in there and play those one token games. Parents, on the other hand, and I think I speak for all parents, HATE this place. When you walk in all you smell is the horrific scent of their flat, gross pizza and what smells like kids sweat and urine mixed together. I seriously wonder if kids pee on the floor there. The smell alone sends me in an anxiety state of mind. My kids cheer, "Yay! Chuck E Cheese!!"
You come in to an unenthusiastic worker stamping your hand and your kids hand with the same number, so no one will walk up out of there with the wrong one! The pizza costs a million dollars and the token to dollar ratio is probably 10:1. The games seem like a cheap version of a cool arcade and yet the kids can't stop playing. The lousy games spit out tickets that allow you to "purchase" the lousiest toys. Fun, Fun, Fun!! It feels like a rip off of Disneyland. All the excitement going in and then...this is it!
In a way I understand the appeal. At some point, I too, become obsessed with getting the most tickets. I know all we are going to get is some stupid slap bracelet for our hard work, but you really get dragged in. You walk around proudly with your handful of tickets. It takes like 100 tickets to get a tootsie pop. Come on! I probably just spent five bucks for one lollipop. But it wouldn't be the same if I just ran to the store and bought a whole bag for two bucks.
It is finally time to leave, Thank God!! We walk up to the worker to match our numbers. He looks at mine and then my sons. Oh No!! He can't find Bryce's number. Is he going to have to live here forever now? The man asks me, "Did he wash his hands?" Are you kidding me?!? In this germ infested hell hole, I made him wash his hands after going to the bathroom, before eating and squirted some antibacterial gel, randomly! So the man lets him go home with us, even though he doesn't have a number. What an effective system!
On the way home I am complaining to Bobby about the smell and wonder why they can't have better air circulation in there, like the ones in the Vegas hotels that filter out the smoke. Bobby is laughing at me. I ask Bryce if he had fun and he smiles and says, "Yes, thank you! It's so fun there!" That is why we go! For that one moment in the car, after enduring hell, your kid smiles and says thank you.
Of course, Bryce catching my disgust for the place then asks, "Mom, do YOU love Chuck E Cheese?"
The only honest reply I can muster up without taking away from his joy is , "I love that you love it!"
Please let that last visit hold us over for months!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Dodger Dog
Today I went and saw Marley & Me. I have to say I related to that movie so much and highly recommend it. After the movie I got to thinking about our family dog and what an important role he has played in our life. After we got married I remember having a conversation with Bobby about taking the next step in our marriage. He was like, "OK, what?" The story has been told serveral times, but just in case you are new to it, I will tell it again.I said, "Well, we can go with a house, a baby or a dog."
Bobby's reply, "Let's go with the dog since it seems like the least amount of responsibility."
Cool!! I was satisfied with our decision. But a month after getting Dodger we were pregnant and within four months of getting pregnant we bought our first home. Bobby had remebered the conversation we had and said, "How do you do that?"
I said,"What?"
"Get everything you wanted off your list! I agreed to the dog to hold us over and you got all three!"
Of course, I do get mostly what I want, but I have to admit I hadn't really planned on everything in one year. It was just in the cards. So back to Dodger...
We were on a hunt for a dog. Well, I was probably more enthusiastic than Bobby, so I was on a hunt for a dog. At the time we lived in a townhouse, so we were limited to little breeds. I had my eyes set on some sort of terrier. I visited the pet store and the sales person knew her stuff. She said "Why don't you play with the dog first, because they have different temperments and sometimes it isn't a fit." Best advice. I got the little terrier, that was cute enough, but I really wasn't feeling it. She started chewing a stand in the store and farted!! EEWWW! Not liking this one. The pet store lady recommend I play with this dog that was older than the other puppies, but really sweet. I asked what kind of dog it was and she said poodle. I didn't think my husband would be thrilled with owning a poodle but as soon as I saw him, I was sold.
I got him down to play and he did the cutest thing. He picked up my car keys with his mouth and headed for the door. My heart melted. Now I just had to convince Bobby. Luckily I live with the most easy going guy and he agreed to meet him. We bought him that night under the terms that we did not name him "Fifi." Bobby named him Dodger, after his favorite team and we had a dog!!
He was our little baby. We went through hell and back that first year with him. He was sick three times and got hit by a car and broke his hip! Hopefully this was not a precursor to what kind of parents we would be to children. We spoiled him, took him EVERYWHERE with us.
When it was time for our first baby to be born everyone warned us that he would be jealous and to watch him around the baby. Somehow I knew it would all be alright. He was too sweet of a dog to be mean. I felt a little sad for him because I knew the hierachy in our house was about to change. We brought Bryce home from the hospital and set him on the bed to introduce the two. It was so cute! Dodger just layed down next to him and put his head down by the baby's. The same thing happened when we brought our second baby home.
Over the years, Dodger has been such a great dog. Sure he has his annoying habits. He barks whenever someone comes to the door, he goes potty in the house whenever we leave him overnight because he is mad, and he snatches the kids' food any chance he gets, but he is the BEST dog we can ask for. He hears the kids wake up before we hear them and alerts us. He makes piles of my dirty clothes in his bed and cuddles them. He lays by my side every night on the couch long after the kids have gone to bed.
He is seriously part of our family, so I thought I'd dedicate a blog to him, since all the others are about our kids. Go see Marley & Me...it may just make you a dog lover (Katie)!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
A Prayer and a Confession...
Every night before bedtime, we say a prayer. Usually Bryce says it. It is often the highlight of my day to hear what he is thankful for and how he relates God to his everday life. We just say whatever comes to mind. Recently, Leah has wanted to add to the prayer. It is really cute! As usual, their styles differ greatly.
Bryce's goes something like this:
"Dear God, thank you for our friends and our family. Thank you for watching over us and keeping us safe. Thank you for our food and for giving us our own hearts that beat and keep us alive...Amen"
The heart part really cracks a smile on my face. This kid might be the next McDreamy. He's obsessed with hearts and how they work and why we have them. I think the obsession started when he watched the Pirates of the Carribean and Davy Jones' heart was beating. A lot of questions came up after that, and with my limited anatomy knowledge I would just finish by saying, "...because God made us that way!" Worked everytime until he started questioning God's reasoning for wanting us to be alive and so forth. Opened a whole new can of worms. Now he thanks God for making our hearts beat and keeping us alive. Very sweet! His style of praying is very appreciative.
Now, I can't help but laugh when I asked Leah if she wanted to say something and to my suprise she did! Leah can be a bit of a handfull throughout the day. I mean...she's adorable and gets a way with too much, and I often say her 'lil horns come out. For example, I was in the shower the other day and came out to her lying in a mound of clothes. She emptied out her entire dresser...and the girl has a few articles of clothing! The next day, also during my shower (you really can't take your eyes off for a second) she finds some vaseline and a paint brush and paints the wall with the most oily substance there is. I think you catch my drift when I say she's "busy."
So Leah's prayer goes like this:
"Dear God, I hit Bryce today and my mommy yelled at me cuz...I don't listen...Amen"
hahahaha. I just busted up laughing. Our prayers everynight consist of Bryce thanking God for everything and Leah confessing what she did wrong that day. I don't even know where she learned that she needs to pray for forgiveness, because I had not taught her that yet. I guess she's a lot more spiritual and I should stop talking about her 'lil horns. She can work it out with the Man, herself.
Bryce's goes something like this:
"Dear God, thank you for our friends and our family. Thank you for watching over us and keeping us safe. Thank you for our food and for giving us our own hearts that beat and keep us alive...Amen"
The heart part really cracks a smile on my face. This kid might be the next McDreamy. He's obsessed with hearts and how they work and why we have them. I think the obsession started when he watched the Pirates of the Carribean and Davy Jones' heart was beating. A lot of questions came up after that, and with my limited anatomy knowledge I would just finish by saying, "...because God made us that way!" Worked everytime until he started questioning God's reasoning for wanting us to be alive and so forth. Opened a whole new can of worms. Now he thanks God for making our hearts beat and keeping us alive. Very sweet! His style of praying is very appreciative.
Now, I can't help but laugh when I asked Leah if she wanted to say something and to my suprise she did! Leah can be a bit of a handfull throughout the day. I mean...she's adorable and gets a way with too much, and I often say her 'lil horns come out. For example, I was in the shower the other day and came out to her lying in a mound of clothes. She emptied out her entire dresser...and the girl has a few articles of clothing! The next day, also during my shower (you really can't take your eyes off for a second) she finds some vaseline and a paint brush and paints the wall with the most oily substance there is. I think you catch my drift when I say she's "busy."
So Leah's prayer goes like this:
"Dear God, I hit Bryce today and my mommy yelled at me cuz...I don't listen...Amen"
hahahaha. I just busted up laughing. Our prayers everynight consist of Bryce thanking God for everything and Leah confessing what she did wrong that day. I don't even know where she learned that she needs to pray for forgiveness, because I had not taught her that yet. I guess she's a lot more spiritual and I should stop talking about her 'lil horns. She can work it out with the Man, herself.
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