Need to make an on-the-spot major decision on household conduct? Chug one of these first.
“I think we’re going to have a grease fire. Honey. Honey?! Are we? You’re a firefighter. Can you tell me? Do we need the extinguisher?!”
“Mommy, get me a snack. I’m hungry,” my three year old whined while following me around the kitchen as I frantically flung open the windows. “I’m hungry. A snack. Snack. Can I have a snack? Please?”
“Anna, in just a second! Mommy’s trying to prevent a fire. Dave, do we need an extinguisher?!” Meanwhile, the baby is running around with an obviously poo-filled diaper. Whee!
My husband casually looked up from the laptop, where he was surfing truck listings on Craig’s List. “Oh…there’s a lot of smoke. Maybe.”
Maybe? Maybe?! That’s it! I wasn’t going to risk losing our …
Don’t mess with this tough chick. (She’s practicing her wink, by the way.)
Today, while she was playing make-believe in the space between the open bathroom door and linen closet (Anna’s castle, of course) a spark I’d tried to ignite many times finally began to catch fire in her rapidly growing little brain.
Many times I’ve told her, “You’re brave. You’re strong. You can take care of things for yourself.” I’ve never outright told her, “You don’t need a man,” because frankly, I need my man. I want her to value her father, grandfathers and uncles. But I worry about the long-term effects of her princess obsession, and whether or not she’ll be hesitant to participate in sports or apply herself in class because she’s afraid of what some boy will think.
We’ve allowed her to …
She’s real. And she lives in West Wichita.
There she was, in real life, tall, bottle blonde, tan and wearing spandex as it was meant to be worn. She had pep in her step, pearls for teeth and a perkiness that indicated silicone (if you catch my drift). She emerged from the church carefree and unburdened as I was walking in with a baby slung up on one hip, and a toddler gripping my free hand. I was schlepping, she was practically bouncing. She had style, she had grace, I probably had graham cracker on my face. (No, seriously, Erica had been munching on them on the way in.)
So what was she doing here, at this mega-lo-church, where I was dropping off my kiddos for four hours of social interaction? I was already a bit …
I’d like to tell you about Erica. My second born. Her big sister gets all of the attention on momma’s blog, but little sister is a personality all her own. Anna is my squeaky wheel, mainly because she is three, and challenges and delights my mind in ways I never knew possible.
Just tonight, Anna told me, “Mom! I just saw an angel! In the sky! It was a girl. She had magic in her ears!” When asked the angel’s name, she replied, “Water bottle.” See? There she goes, stealing the spotlight from a post about how her little sister never gets the attention. Anyhoo…
Erica is a delight. A chubby, bubbly toddling bundle of energy and curiosity. How do I love Erica? Let me count the ways:
1. I love how she passionately …
His heart is strong.
His hands are rough.
When it comes to his girls,
he gives more than enough.
He can build with timber.
He can build with blocks.
When his girls need love,
his heart he unlocks.
If it’s broken, he fixes.
If it’s damaged, he mends.
His girls are his world.
His love knows no end.
Happy Father’s Day My Love!
I found these on my husband’s nightstand, just like this. Pictures really do speak a thousand words.
Around here, we don’t have many neighborhood disturbances. Things are calm. No domestic disputes (except ours), unsupervised children run amok (except ours) or overgrown lawns in desperate need of a weed-whacking (except ours). Then again, we don’t have any neighbors. Oh sure, we consider each other “neighbors,” but we never have to worry about whether or not anyone can see us sitting at the kitchen table in our underwear eating Apple Jacks (my daughter, not me).
If we had actual next-door neighbors, they would have been in for a treat last night. Right at dusk, a stark raving lunatic ran through our yard. And across our yard. And around our yard. Her face seemed eerily void of all emotion, almost as if she was trying to block out some trauma that had just occurred. She zigged, she …