MmMmTasty

What I learned about myself today

I learned that I can handle spending a weekend treating the girls for lice with hard core toxic chemicals, when I know Lilly has a b-day sleepover a week later at her declared BFF's house.

I can also handle realizing two days after the slumber party that she really has head lice, despite the treatment, AND I have to spend my Sunday retreating hair, stripping and washing everything, and calling each mom to let them know.

I can even handle having my husband comb through my hair and finding bugs (barely).

What I can't handle is rechecking my hair, slick with oil, all alone upstairs AND trying to pretend like I'm not in the least bit phased.   I especially can't handle, in that moment, seeing that my four year old has found the scissors I use to trim her brother's hair, AND used them to cut open a squeeze yogurt, leaving them on my bathroom counter.  Because in that split second, I grab them and I grab a clump of hair, and I start cutting.

I CUT and I CUT, until I feel just the littlest bit of breathing room to handle the rest of the day.

Today, I learned once again that when it comes to motherhood, the only way to survive, is to surrender to the moment, look at your free hair cut, and realize you are capable of much more than you gave yourself credit for.

Well that, and head lice is a bitch and a half.

Please don't stand on Daddy's kidney

Somehow getting Porkchop ready for bed has drifted from the telling of a story, to sibling body surfing contestants at the expense of Brian.  When the squeals reach a fevered pitch I come in, wag my finger, and tell everyone to climb off Dada.  Not surprisingly, tonight there was a head-butt to someone's eye and the Strawberry Shortcake icepack had to come out.  

I have no doubt that Brian thinks it is a small price to pay, in order to drift off for a few minutes after a day of work, followed by entertaining of the troops, while I prepare dinner.

 Clearly, parenting is a full-contact sport.

Rewind - Porkchop's First Birthday

Let's pretend I haven't neglected to write about my youngest (and only) son's 1st birthday until today, shall we?  Excellent.

 

Let the record show, that I had no intention or interest in having a big shindig for Porkchop's first birthday.  In general, I am a big believer in a solid but simple celebration of birthdays (my firstborn's first birthday being the only exception).  We hang a birthday banner, we light a candle, we have some cake, and we open some presents.  Frankly, I was thinking that since our own little family is now made up of five people, that we had a party quorum already around the dinner table.

 

 The girls DISAGREED.  On the morning of their brother's birthday, they asked what time all the guests would be arriving for Porkchop's first birthday party.  I explained, that there would be no guests, just our own (not so) little family, and we would simply be having some special Key Lime Cupcakes for dessert.

Um, they started to cry.  Seriously, they started TO CRY that their poor baby brother was not going to have guests and lots of presents and a big party to celebrate his birthday.

 

So basically, I called everyone I could think of, and threw together an ambush birthday party.  The girls and I went to Target, and they picked out birthday plates, birthday napkins, and some birthday presents for Porkchop.  We got home and went to work at doubling my cupcake recipe, based on a recipe for Key Lime Poundcake from my grandmother's Easter Star cookbook. At 6pm, we had sixteen people show up at our house for our not-so-little, four-hour notice, ambush birthday party!   

Whew, crisis averted.

 

Pushing Three

Sticky-Butt is half-way into her third year now.  

Three is one of my favorite ages, but also I believe, one of the hardest ages to parent through.  

 

You are introduced to the edges of your child's personality.   The extremes of their will, their fragility, and their creativity.  

 

Three, brings stand-offs that for the most part, will fade away by six, and likely not resurface again until thirteen.  Another three.  

That is right where we live these days with Sticky-Butt, in the space between battles and cuddles.  She has search a good heart, this little one.  

 

I am grateful that it still shines through.
 

The number one thing

Getting out the door around here is nearly impossible.  It isn't really the baby, as much as it is his two sisters.  Those girls have figured out that if they wait long enough, I will get pulled in another direction before they have to complete a task that doesn't interest them.  So I am getting ignored a lot these days.  

This is particularly true on weekend mornings, when they would like nothing better than to stay in their Pjs until nighttime rolls back around.  This Saturday, I wanted us to all go on an outing together.  After about 20 straight minutes of repeatedly asking them to get themselves dressed, I vented to Brian, "This is why I never leave the house!  There are very few things worth this much aggravation!"

Pausing his soccer computer game for a moment (ahem).  He turned to me and said, "Nicole, why don't you just offer them some candy?" (And he wasn't joking)

Exasperated, I threw my hands in the air and shouted, "That is the number one thing you are NOT supposed to do to be a good parent!"

To which he responded, "NO.  The number one thing you have to do to be a good parent is to keep your SANITY, so that you don't BEAT your children."  

Then he hollered upstairs, "Girls, if you get dressed like Mommy asked, you can have a piece of your Halloween candy."

They were dressed and loaded in 15 minutes. (Sigh)

Now, I wonder if Brian will clean the gutters for a Snickers....