Wishing and Wishing

Apparently I'm not the only one wishing for the warm days of summer.

While it snowed outside, this is what Gabriella found to entertain us inside. She discovered our pool bag up in my closet. She quickly got into last years swimsuit and tried desperately to blow up her floaties. I was too amused to help. This girl had me laughing for a solid 20 minutes. But I just couldn't help her. Not when she was working so hard.

Maybe by summer, she will have them blown up...if summer ever comes! Sheesh!

Gwyneth

I love 18 month old children. It might be my favorite age. They're old enough to be communicating, learning, and talking, but young enough to still never be naughty. I can't help but to be totally in love with my 18 month old. Gwen's such a joy...until she broke her arm.

It's been three weeks since the jungle gym accident. I couldn't believe we walked out of the ER without a cast around her body. They said to keep the ace bandage on for awhile and in a week she'd be feeling better, and in two weeks we could go to Orthopedics for a follow up...if we wanted. It just blew me away that she would heal so easily without anything but a little, flimsy, ace bandage. Healed she was. Easy? Not so much.

We did survive the first week. Her arm stayed in the sling and ace bandage and she got pretty good at doing things one handed. Eating for example. Shoveling only one fist full of food from her left hand to her mouth was better than me feeding her, so she coped. I think she was pretty doped up on Tylenol to really realize the pain or discomfort. But by week two, we started to lay off the medicine and tried to let her use her arm. She was a wreck.

It took her about 30 seconds to figure out if she screamed the loudest, high pitched, blood curling scream she could, we would come charging into the room ready to rescue her from what we assumed would be Gabriella on top of her or pulling her. Only we would find her upset that she couldn't quite pull a book out of the drawer, or that her cup of milk was empty. She had us whipped. And we came running every time.

She screamed when she went to bed. She never screams. She doesn't even cry at nap or bed time. But she screamed. A lot.

She walked around with her hurt arm hanging limply at her side. Like it was truly detached from her body. She wanted to be held constantly. But not by anyone. Only me. She's been a daddy's girl from day one. But daddy just wasn't cutting it. I was the only one she wanted. She would walk around behind me with her left arm up in the air crying for me to pick her up. Her broken arm stayed glued to her side. She just wasn't happy unless I had her safely in my arms. But I can't blame her. I would be upset too if I fell and had to break my fall using my broken arm. She caught on pretty quickly and just stopped using her arm to break falls. Which resulted in an overwhelming number of bruises on her forehead and cheeks. How were we suppose to take her to a follow-up appointment with a broken arm and a battered face? Suspicious? It started to look that way.

But finally, finally something happened this week. Gwen's back. My loving 18 month old is back. She now waves "bye-bye" when she goes to bed. She can again lift her arm to reach for me with both hands. She runs to Joe when he walks in the door. She doesn't eat with her left hand anymore...but still, the yogurt ends up smeared everywhere. I was hoping that would leave with the broken arm Gwen. No such luck.

But I'm just so happy to see her laughing and playing again. She's smiles again and is not in pain. My little Gwen is healed.

And you want to know something crazy? Something really good came from these bad three weeks...not that I would ever want to relive them again, or wish them on anyone. But I'm trying to see the positive here and it is something definitely positive. She doesn't suck her thumb anymore! No more blanket intervention necessary. FYI-If you ever need to break a child from sucking their thumb, simply ace bandage that thumb sucking hand across their stomach for a week and presto. Mission accomplished.

But just so you know, we would have welcomed happy little Gwen Gwen back with or without the thumb sucking! She's just too darn fun!

You Love Them or Hate Them

I'm talking about dogs of course.

I don't know what happened to me as a child. But somewhere along the way, earlier than I can remember, I became petrified of dogs. For as long as I can recall I have been scared to death of them. I have never been bitten by one or attacked by one. Yet, all dogs are the enemy.

I can still see me as a little girl running for my life down the long street my friend Kirsten lived on. I ran wildly, screaming all the way. Behind me, drooling and barking at my heels, well, yapping really, was the littlest dog you can imagine. I was sure I was going to die right then and there if that dog caught up with me. After what seemed like an endless street and an eternity of running, I finally made it to another friends garage where I tearfully found refuge and my safety. It took getting that little tiny puppy put back in the backyard to get me to come out of whatever I was hiding behind.

I truly fear dogs. Friends put their dogs in the bathroom or the garage when I come over. I wander to the opposite side of Joe when I see a dog will pass us on my side. I have never owned a dog. I never want to own a dog. Joe would have us own a dog, but he doesn't help the situation by telling me about all the facial traumas he sees due to dog bites. It's never going to happen. Not a dog. No way.

Not only am I scared silly by these clearly deadly animals, but I have no idea what different dogs are called. Breeds? What's that? All I know are Dalmatians, those are obvious. And then of course Great Danes. As if dogs weren't frightening enough, looking into that horse like build, eye to eye, about puts me over the edge. Other than that, they are all simply the same...the enemy.

Surprisingly, my girls have not inherited my aversion to dogs. They seem to call them cute, and want to pet them all the time. Go figure. While we were in Hawaii, the girls spent a lot of time at my sisters Nicole's house. They have a dog. And, like any other dog, I'm also terrified of big-friendly-nice-yellow-whatever breed of dog it is, Michael. From what I was told, unlike me, Gwen, wasn't afraid of him. She loved "a Mike-all". Ever since her time in Arizona, every time she sees any kind of dog, she calls out "a Mike-all, a Mike-all."

The other day we were in the car in a parking lot. Gwen looked out her window and started calling and pointing to "a Mike-all". Michael in this case, was an itty bitty tiny black dog in the car next to us. I told her "That's not Michael." And then, almost immediately, Gabriella chimed in. She said, "I know what that is mom. That's a skunk!"

I could hardly get any words out through my laughter, but I had to say, "Yup, I think you're right Gabs." Because that about wraps up my feelings on them too.

Easter Sunday and Monday

Ok, so I have to admit that Easter didn't quite go as planned.

I had spent the better part of last week finishing Easter gifts (see here) and thinking about traditions. I was very excited for Easter. Gabriella was too. She had seen her dress and the baskets we made. She asked every morning if it was Easter. She literally broke down into tears when I told her she still had to go to sleep 6 more times before it was Easter.

On Wednesday of last week Joe's brother and wife came to town to help Joe lay tile in our kitchen. It was so fun having company...to bad our house was torn up! Our refrigerator was in our hallway, our oven was in the garage and our table was in the middle of the family room. Not very much room was left in here.

Because I wasn't so brilliant, that meant I couldn't boil eggs to dye, I couldn't bake sugar cookies to paint, or anything else Easter-y that involved the kitchen...including Easter dinner.

Our place was a disaster zone. But I had hope, because it was all going to be done Saturday night. Jenn and I went to see Mama Mia in Seattle that night (yes, seeing a show in Seattle was on my list of things to do while we were here, and I'm happy to report it was fantastic!) I couldn't wait to come home and see everything complete. The tile looked great and I love it! But the house was still a hot mess!

We went to bed and I begged for my oven to be put back first thing Easter morning. We woke up like every other morning and started to make brunch. Gabriella didn't even know it was Easter, which was okay by me since the Easter bunny hadn't even "come" yet. After the kitchen was put back together and we ate, I thought it was time for their baskets.

We hide a few eggs filled with notes around the house (thanks for the idea Bryn) and Gabs and Gwen went on a little scavenger hunt...to the book drawer, the bathtub, the computer, then to the pantry where the Easter bunny ate some crackers before he went home. That's where he left their baskets.

Both girls really enjoyed the spool people. Quickly after, we were off to church. When we got back in the car, Gabriella had a little purple plastic egg in her hand. She asked us, "Do you wanna know what the best thing about Easter is?" We said sure, kind of nonchalantly. She opened up her little egg and unfolded a small piece of paper. She turned it around to show us in the front seat and said "Jesus" while holding His picture.

She carried on by telling us the whole Easter story. My favorite part was when she said that He showed His friends his hands. It was so wonderful to hear her tell us the story. She made us so proud. Thanks to amazing Primary teachers, she really did understand what the best thing was about Easter. And she taught me a lesson. And now, we have our new Easter tradition that I was so desperate to have. I couldn't come home from a lesson like that from my 3 year old and immediately hide eggs to hunt. So we didn't, we enjoyed the rest of our Easter Sunday as a family.

Our new plan: Easter Sunday is to remain about what really is the best thing about Easter...our Savior. Today, the Monday after, can be about everything else. Today we had our Easter egg hunt, today we took pictures, and today we'll dye eggs for FHE.

I love my girls more than tongue can tell. They teach me something everyday. How blessed I am to be their mom and how grateful I am that we have a new, perfect Easter tradition.

Easter Traditions

As a girl, there was either one of two things at the foot of my bed Easter morning. Both were exciting, and both I loved. But which one was the Easter bunny leaving this year? I never knew. I would wake up in the middle of the night hoping that he'd come. Somehow I never saw what he brought until it was time to wake up. That sneaky Easter bunny!

The first possibility was a plastic egg. In the egg would be a clue as to where to find my Easter basket. I remember a clue about Mr McGregors garden and finding a basket outside by the tomatoes. I remember my sister not being able to find hers and crying...it was in the washing machine. Was that you Shanen? But the clues were always so clever. It was a fun morning to wait at the top of the stairs with clues in hand ready to dash down to search the house.

The second possibility was a new spring outfit. It always made me happy to see new shorts and a new tank top. That meant spring and summer were close. But what would make me more happy would be the string attached to the outfit. We would follow our string out of our room, to only find five other strings criss-crossing in the hallway. All five of us would try to follow our string until it lead us to our basket. It was a little tricky keeping track of your string. But after trips up and down the stairs and in and out of rooms, you'd find your very own special Easter basket in a closet or fireplace.

Our Easter bunny was definitely the best. It makes me feel so special and loved that my Easter bunny put that much thought, work and love into each childhood event. I think creating memories for our children is one of the most important things we can do as parents. With this being our first official Easter at home, I'm ready to carry on and start a few new Easter traditions. What does your family do? I love to hear others traditions!

I read a cute idea once about taking powdered sugar or flour and a sponge to make Bunny footprints throughout the house. Wouldn't it be cute to start from an outside window like the Easter bunny had crawled in and create a path to your child's room and back out, then around the house? I think Gabriella would think that was a riot. What if they woke up with a little bunny (powdered sugar) kiss on their foreheads. How fun they would think that was!

Whatever it is that we decide to do, I can't wait. It's exciting! It's what my family will remember about their Easter bunny. Just like the fond memories I have of my Easter bunny, I want our children to always remember and know just how much we love them through making each event special.

Life

This morning was another typical morning at our house. Early to wake up. Quick to eat breakfast. Gabs hurrying to get dressed in her "up sleeves" and skirt before I can actually pick out appropriately warm clothes for the cool spring morning. It was all too classic. It was a morning like each and every other morning. Then, when Gabriella was doing something funny a thought came to me that hardly ever does. I thought, "Write that down so you can remember to tell Joe when he gets home."

Then it hit me. I realized this is what I want to remember. This is what I want to have recorded. This is what I should be journaling about. This is real life. This is what is important. So, I did record it. And now I'm journaling about it. This is a day in the life of our Gabriella at 3 years old.

8:30 am- Gabs tells me that I am "the honey" and she is the mommy. She pushes her stroller to "play school" where she proceeds to stand at the podium (the wet wipes) and spotlights herself "...I love to play dress up and the color yellow..." She then grabs the hymn book and leads the class (aka Gwen) in song...scripture power obviously. Don't ask, I have no idea what's with the minnie ears.

10:00 am- We put Gwen down and the fun begins. Painting! We checked out an Eloise book at the library, so Gabriella informs me that she is painting herself and that she is "being a master painter." I tell her it's called a "self portrait." She misunderstands and says "yes, it's super important." Well, that too!

10:30 Watches today's show of choice, Dora, while I shower. Yes, it was 10:30, I should be embarrassed huh?

11:00 am- Tired of painting, she "helps" me make her Easter dress. Which translates into putting all her little animals on my rotary board and covers them in scrap fabric blankets. Very entertaining.11:30 am- As I continue to sew, she asks for me to print her coloring pages. We do this all the time. We love to print free coloring pages off the Internet, because she's so wishy-washy about what she's interested in. This way, she tells me what she wants, and I print it. Then, she colors. She loves to color on the piano bench pulled over to the couch or chair. It reminds me of when I was little and we would set up the ironing board and sit at it in bar stools and play "school". Coloring on the piano bench provides much longer entertainment then coloring at the silly old bar. 12:00 pm- Gabs loves to be the one to open the door when she hears Gwen. She told me while she was coloring, "I'm tired of waiting for Gwen to wake up." She really does get pretty bored without her playmate. Gwen loves seeing Gabriella when she wakes up.12:15 pm- Lunch. But when your three year old is on a food strike, lunch lasts about as long as it takes to push the food around the plate, eat one bite, then merrily skip away with the cup of milk, because that's the diet around here. The milk diet. 12:30 pm- I catch Gabriella making up a new song in the piano room for the random halloween, trick-or-treating witch bag she found in the closet with her crayons. It had been buried since October and now it had new life and was the "friend" of choice for the rest of the day.1:00 pm- While I was changing Gwen's diaper, Gabriella decided all her babies needed changing. Babies also include her witch, giraffe and elephant, or anything that looked like it could be "stinky". This was the best part of my day. For 30 minutes I listened to her say in her most "mom" like voice, "Oh no. My baby is stinky all the time. I always have to get my baby giraffe a new diaper." I later had to go around the house and collect a dozen "stinky" diapers to put back in the drawer to be used for real.
2:00 pm- Rice time! I read a suggestion one time that said if your kids get bored with the toys they have, simply move the toys to a new area in the house and they'll all of a sudden be magical. For example, a train track is suddenly transformed when moved from a child's room to the kitchen floor. So with this time of day always being our toughest, we took the rice into the girls room. Gabs emptied a storage bin and we filled it with the rice. They filled dishes and put them in the oven. We had many "picnics."

3:00 pm- Afterwards, Gabs crawled into her "secret cave" (in the corner under Gwen's crib) while I vacuumed the rice mess. Thanks for that!3:30 pm- Joe's home and is immediately put to work reading stories. Gotta love the Research months! The rest of the day revolves around which girl can climb on daddy the most. It's so nice when daddy's are home.Just to be fair, and so you don't think that every day runs this smoothly, I fully expected to have pictures of Gwen screaming because Gabriella took her toy, and Gabriella crying because Gwen messed something up. Surprisingly, today wasn't that kind of day. We were just busy.

I have this theory that if I am busy, the girls will be busy. Busy children are happy children. Happy children equals-I get a lot done. So, today I was busy. The girls were busy. I finished one Easter dress and the girls had fun. Life is good!

What Sisters Are For

This morning as I watched Gabriella skip into my room dressed up, I had to smile. She carried a leotard in her hand and wanted so badly for Gwen to play dress up with her. I looked at the small leotard and thought about how I would attempt to get that onto a broken arm. There was no chance of that happening. I tried to tell Gabs that Gwen probably shouldn't be "dressing up" with a broken arm. Not to mention the fact that the broken arm was in a sling, and ace bandaged up. Sorta hard to be changing clothes.

Gabriella wasn't taking no for an answer. She led Gwen by the hand to their room to dig through the dress up box. She found her Halloween costume from last year and decided that it would be perfect because it just fit around her waist.

She proceeded to sit Gwen down and put shoes on her feet, necklaces around her neck, and hat after hat on her head. She lead her by hand around the house, window to window to look for Joe mowing the lawn outside. They played with their babies and in their kitchen. All morning long this went on. Gabriella was genuinely interested in taking care of Gwen. It was beautiful.

It reminded me of a picture my mom has of Bryn and I when we were younger. Bryn had a horrible eye infection when we were 2 or 3. She couldn't open her eyes for days. In the picture Bryn is sitting under a blanket, and around her is sitting every possible stuffed animal, teddy bear, baby doll , or barbie known to man. And in a house full of girls, you know that was tons. My mom said I would do that everyday, all day long. Bring her everything and sit next to her and talk to her and play with her and just care for her.

Now I know why my mom has that picture. Because as a mom, nothing warms your heart quite like seeing your daughter be motherly. I really cherish that picture my mom has. Now I have a few of my own to cherish as well.

***Update on Gwen***

She's proving what a tough little cookie she really is. She has been sleeping perfectly. Well, except for last night when we didn't give her any Tylenol in the middle of the night, she woke up pretty unhappy. We promise not to make that mistake again. Besides that, she is keeping her arm in the sling and ace bandage. Last night we left it off her for a bit to let her arm breathe and stretch. When we went to put it back on her she sat right down and said "tank you" as soon as we were done. I think she prefers to have it strapped in, because otherwise she forgets and goes to use it and it doesn't feel too good. She's such a sweetheart. With or without a broken arm, she's just too sweet. I think she's already forgiven me and I think she's going to be just fine.

Yesterday, Good. Today...

Crappy.

I made a plan to have a picnic with a few other moms after Gabriella's preschool. It was suppose to be nice, and we hadn't been to a park in, well, close to a year. So I packed lunch, threw a blanket in the car and set off to a great little park for little ones near by.

It really wasn't as warm as they said it would be. Figures. Not really surprised by that Washington forecast. But we stayed anyway and had a nice time chatting while the girls played. I took a survey of the park and stood near by while Gwen tested the waters on the stairs and slides. She went right to work climbing those stairs, and the slides were slow enough that she didn't shoot off the bottom onto the ground after her slides. So all was good.

The girls played and played. I heard talk of princesses and princes. Birds and sticks. There was something about needing to find flowers for a wedding. There was two hours of this. All the while my friends and I sat near by on a blanket enjoying the free babysitting the jungle gym was providing us with. Then, someone fell.

My Gwen. She fell flat on her back. From where? Oh, from clear up by the tallest slide where the opening was for those stupid fire poles that no kids small enough to play at that park could ever slide down. I didn't even see it happen. No one did. Just the sad little thump from a four foot fall rang in our ears. I ran and scooped her up. I was careful because she was laying so still. No blood, just a very sad little girl. It didn't take long to see that she was like a poor little bird with a broken wing.

We paged Joe and were off to meet him at the hospital in minutes. I had a feeling her arm was broken. She just left it limp at her side the entire time and sobbed when I picked her up from under her arms. It was the longest drive to the hospital. I remember Gabriella telling me that Daddy has bandaids and can make her arm feel all better. I was hoping so.

Joe met us in the parking lot and we went straight down to the ER. They took us right back and sent us over to Radiology. Joe did the parent in the X-ray room thing, I couldn't handle seeing her so sad. But after waiting outside the room and hearing her so sad, I think that was worse.

Yup, definitely a break. On her upper arm, just below the shoulder on her right arm. Not good. Thankfully, and I mean that considering the circumstances, but thankfully, it is a break that can heal itself without a cast. They put her in a little tiny bear sling, but that quickly looked like a purse slung across her shoulder. The thing was useless. They gave us some ace bandages to wrap it at night. After a dose of morphine we were able to go. Once she got a hit of that stuff she was flirting with the nurses she had just been crying at if they even looked at her. She was laughing at the crazy slurred words coming from her mouth. She was feeling pretty good.

Once we got home there was a lot more whimpering and "oow-wee's" when she was eating or trying to push up from the ground to stand up. She's pretty miserable. She's trying to sleep now, but I can't imagine it's going to be a pretty night for her. I hope I'll be able to help comfort her. They said the first several days will be rough, but in a week or so, she'll be feeling close to herself again. It just breaks my heart.

Joe kept telling me it's okay. That I can't be under my girls with my arms out ready to catch them every second. He said you just can't do that to kids. They need freedom to play. I know he's right. But man, do I feel like a pretty crappy mom.

Today was pretty crappy. Apparently I said it was crappy in the ER, because Gabriella reminded me, "We don't say crab mom. We don't say crab."

You're right Gabs, we don't say "crab." But today was still crappy.

Spring! It Is You!

You're finally here...at least for today you were!

You know how sometimes you wake up and you know what kind of day it will be. You know before you even open your eyes if it's going to be a good day or a bad day. Today was one of those days. I heard Gabriella running into my room, I hadn't even opened my eyes, and it was a good day. A good day, because I could tell that it was light in my room. And not just morning light, but sun light! Today was definitely a good day.

We waited until the morning briskness faded and went outside for the rest of the day. We started out in short sleeves and bare feet, but I realized I was a little ambitious and over zealous in my thinking. It is only March, and we are in Washington. Of course it was 55 degrees. Silly me! But what a beautiful, sunny 55 it was!

I read. The girls played on their slide. I ate lunch on a blanket. The girls ate in the little "house" under the slide. I swept the patio. Gabriella played with sidewalk chalk (thanks Nic, we finally made use of her birthday present). And Gwen, well, Gwen tried to make a break for it by running freely every chance she got! Pure freedom on the sidewalk was all she wanted.

So thank you Spring for coming! We had a great day. We hope to see again real soon!

~Note the jeans that are too small...I refuse to buy bigger ones now. And note the sandals Gabs insisted on wearing...last years summer sandals. Notice the toes hanging clear off? Time for new sandals! Woo-hoo!

Our House

I think I am one of not too many people that can say growing up, I lived my whole life in the same house. I was brought home from the hospital to my house, and lived there until I went to college. A year later, my parents sold the house. I loved that house. If I could, I would go back in time and meet Joe before my house was no longer mine. So he could see where I was raised, where my memories are, where I became me.

I can still picture that house in my mind perfectly. I remember the pictures on the wall. Where my mom hung her apron. Where we kept our color books. What my parents bed spread looked like. What the house looked like on Christmas morning with the furniture rearranged for us all to sit in "our" spots and open presents. What the dead bolt sounded like when you locked it. Where the hollow tile in the kitchen was. Where my brand new bike with sesame street streamers was parked in the back yard for my birthday. I can still hear the sound my moms feet made on the tile when she walked down the hallway from the stairs. I can still see our waffle maker in the bottom cupboard. That house holds so so many memories.

It breaks my heart that my children won't have that same luxury. We could very well live in 5 or 6 homes before we are finally able to settle down. Gabs will only be 5 1/2 when we move from this house. Will she even remember any of it? Will she remember the sky light in the kitchen? Or the sound of our creaky garage door? Will she remember that we've marked her growth in our closet? And where she's marked Gwen's and then continued illustrating on the wall? I have this horrible, sinking feeling, that this house, the house they spent their toddlerhood, will be forgotten in their minds.

Today as we were sitting quietly eating lunch, I looked over and saw Gabriella doing one of my most favorite things. Looking out the window. Our table sits in a small little space. It's an irritatingly small space. Only big enough for the smallest table for four that was once Joe's great aunts table. There isn't any room to put the leaves out, and our place mats overlap when we eat dinner. It's this little space that I complain about the most in this house. But it's this space where so many memories lie. Because right next to our itty bitty table is a huge window that looks onto the street and side walk.

Everyday we sit at this table and look out the window. At breakfast we see kids walking to school and buses driving past. Gabriella learned to say "tree" and "bus" from looking out our window. We see car after car drive by. She's learned her colors by telling me what colors each car was. At lunch we see groups of ladies in their business casual attire and aerobic shoes walking their routine lap around the neighborhood. We watch moms pulling wagons with little ones to go pick up the half day kindergartners. We talk about the retired couples who walk their dogs rain or shine...but mostly rain. The girls always just stare out this window. At dinner time Joe and I are able to sit forever after a meal and talk while Gabriella scoots over to sit on the table while her feet rest on the ledge and watch skateboarders ride by and neighborhood kids riding bikes. It's this window that provides the most light in our house.

So, as we move from place to place I will try to not just take pictures of my children, but take pictures of my children in their environment, their surroundings, their home. So that maybe, just maybe one day they will look at those pictures and remember that old couch, or family picture on the wall. That they might remember the color their walls were painted and the spot where we dropped our shoes. Because, after all, it will be their house, and that is where memories are made.