Upright At Last

So THIS is what if feels like to finally stand up! There is so much to do and see when you're not lying flat on your back...

You Know You're The Parent Of A Six-Year-Old When...

...You go on a job interview, and the Director Of Nursing asks you about a previous place of employment. With pen poised, she queries, "How do you spell it"? And you are soooo tempted to reply, "How do you spell it? 'I-T'. Ha, ha, ha". But you somehow manage to suppress this overwhelming urge, and give the proper, professional reply.

A Quick Tip

If you have three daughters, and they ask you to play "hair salon" with them, it's best to examine their hair brushes closely before joining in the game. Otherwise, you might turn around mid hair-do and realize that your two-year-old just spent the last 10 minutes brushing your hair with the dirty dust-pan broom from the kitchen...

Terrible Two's

Erin has always been our "easy child". Such a label may be unfair to attach to her, but from the day we brought her home from the hospital, she happily merged into the family routine. She rarely cried, slept through the night after only a few weeks, and never seemed to mind being dragged to gymnastics, preschool and story-hours at the most inopportune times. She has grown into a remarkably agreeable toddler, easy to redirect and quite adaptable to all the chaos in her household. She hardly even seemed to care when her "baby" status was replaced by the arrival of a new brother.

But yesterday, the terrible two's reared their ugly head. In public. At the corner drugstore, to be exact.

Poor Erin's life has been in upheaval since she moved into Beth and Amy's room on Saturday. Prince Brian moved out of our room, and now has the only single room in the house, while the three girls are now sleeping together. For Beth and Amy, it has been one long-lasting slumber party, but little Erin has never had to share a room before. Her noisy roommates are waking her up an hour earlier than she would prefer, and the sleep deprivation is beginning to wear her down. Combine this with a nagging cold that she has been fighting for weeks, and we created the "perfect storm".

So yesterday, as I handed over my purchases to the cashier at the drugstore, Erin suddenly became frantic.

"My dolly's hat fell off! My dolly's hat fell off!", she screeched.

I calmly asked her to wait two minutes for my assistance, but this seemed to be the last straw for my toddler. I watched in shock as she threw herself to the ground and began screaming and kicking.

"No!! Now!! Now!!! She's head is cold. SHE'S HEAD IS COLD!!!", she yelled. (We are working on pronouns...)

Curious shoppers paused to watch the show, some with looks of horror (whether these looks were due to her behavior or her terrible grammar, I'm not quite sure). Meanwhile, I attempted to remain calm while finishing my transaction with the cashier. Erin refused to stand up to walk to the car, so I was forced to heave the writhing, kicking, screaming, thirty-pound toddler onto my hip. I then attempted to push Brian's stroller with my free hand, and herd Beth and Amy safely along, all the while trying to avoid being kicked by Erin's flailing limbs.

One kind, elderly woman stopped to yell over Erin's tantrum. "I had five children. I remember these days. You will get through this. Believe me. You will survive".

I thanked her, and continued my slow and noisy trek toward the car. After Erin was buckled into her seat (with much difficulty), her screams turned to slow slobs, and eventually even quieter hiccups.

I suppose Erin was long overdue for an emotional breakdown, although I would have much preferred it to happen in the privacy of our home. But, my mother always said that having children is very good for your humility.

She was right. Tonight, I feel quite humble. Very, very humble. Sleep well, baby Erin. Please...

A Short Conversation...

...that so clearly reflects the personalities of my children.

ME: Wow, it's so warm today! Spring must be right around the corner.

BETH: Yeah!! Then we can splash in the mud and puddles with our boots on. Oh, and I can get that bug-catcher that Grandma and Pop gave me, and go out and catch some cool bugs. Like caterpillars or something.

AMY: I can't wait for Spring. I have this really pretty dress in my closet, with pink and purple flowers on it. It has short sleeves, so I have to wait for Spring to wear it. Can I get shiny white party shoes that click when I walk? Please? For Spring?

ERIN: (Yelling in the background, but no one is answering). What's Spring? What's Spring? Hey! What's Spring?

BRIAN: (Spits up all over my shoulder).

My Funny Valentine

Sorry, Brian, but when you have three sisters, someone is bound to share a dolly with you. Don't look so sad, though. There are plenty of trucks and dinosaurs around here somewhere.

(By the way, Brian really was wearing a Valentine's Day outfit this morning. But, about six outfit changes later, we're all out of red clothes...)

Yum, Yum

This afternoon Amy was watching a Madeline movie, and it ended with the usual rhyme...

"We love our bread, We love our butter. But most of all, we love each other".

I overheard Amy mutter under her breath, "That's just so weird. Nobody Loves their butter."

Snip, Snip

Amy cut her hair yesterday.

Note that I did not say, "Amy HAD her hair cut yesterday". I said "AMY cut her hair yesterday".

I know many young children take scissors to their hair (I did so myself, as a youngster), but I somehow thought that my children were immune to this behavior. I always assumed that my children were far too intelligent to actually CUT THEIR OWN HAIR. Whenever I heard stories about children's "hair-cuts", I thanked the Lord that my kids would never attempt such a thing. I have also often wondered about the lack of supervision in such instances...where in the world were the PARENTS while the child was hacking away with the scissors?!

Yesterday, I discovered that quite a bit of hair can be removed from a small child's head in just a few minutes time. As I sat in the family room feeding Brian yesterday afternoon, Amy watched a movie in the living room. Suddenly, I heard a funny noise. (In hindsight, it was a "snipping" noise). I called out and asked her what she was doing.

"Nothing!" came the reply.

Again I heard the noise. Again I asked for an explanation, and received the same answer.

After a few more "snips", I finally ventured into the living room to uncover the cause of the noises. I stopped in shock when I saw the ENTIRE rug around Amy covered in long, blond curls.

And there sat Amy, the scissors frozen mid-snip, staring at me with a terribly guilty expression on her face.

I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, so I wordlessly removed the scissors from Amy's hand and walked quietly out of the room. This apparently frightened Amy much more than screams of horror would have, and she burst into hysterical sobs.

"I didn't know that would happen! I didn't know all that hair would come off!!", she screamed. (I wonder just what she DID think would happen?!) I remained quiet, and headed upstairs to change Brian's diaper. Amy ran behind me, as behind her fell clumps of hair large enough to make an entire wig.

After Brian's diaper change, I sat down with Amy to survey the damage. She cut the entire front portion of her hair right up to her scalp. At this point, if I pull it into a ponytail, it's hard to notice too much, but once it starts to grow in it will make a giant, puffy brillo-pad on her forehead. The back of her head is a disaster, with bald patches throughout. Fortunately for her, she had a huge head of curls, so when it's pulled into a ponytail, we can cover the open patches.

I continued to fume throughout the afternoon, but while I was making dinner, Amy came to me with a fistful of hair that she had just found next to the couch.

"Mommy", she said in a quavering voice. "I thought that maybe you could keep this hair, and then whenever you start to miss my blond curls, you can look at this and remember how I used to look".

Her lip was trembling, and her eyes were swollen and red. I took the handful of hair, thanked her, and gathered her up into a big hug. Worse things can happen than an amateur haircut, and I don't think Amy will ever attempt such a thing again. After she went to bed, I put the curls into a plastic bag, and put them into my memory box.

She's right about one thing. Someday I will look at those curls and remember just how she used to look.

I love that little girl. Bald patches and all.

Over He Goes

I don't mean to brag. Really, I don't.

But my wonderful, clever, amazingly precocious two-month-old son can now roll over.

It's incredible how such a seemingly simple act can cause so much excitement. I've seen three other little ones reach their baby milestones, but yesterday was just as much fun as the first "roll over" experience with Beth, 6 years ago.

Brian does "tummy time" each day, and he's been getting stronger and stronger. He can now lift his entire trunk up when he pushes on his elbows. But I was completely unprepared for him to push...push...push onto his side, and then...PLOP! right onto his back. The shocked look on his face was very funny to see, and we all cheered loudly for Brian's accomplishment. I turned him back over onto his tummy to see if he could repeat the feat, and he did it easily. He's now rolling like a champ, and Daddy was quite proud of his big strong boy when we displayed his talent last night.

Unfortunately, today he had to go to the pediatrician's for his two-month shots (a little late because of the RSV). He had to get 4 shots, and is now a bit cranky and tired. A warm bath seems to have eased his discomfort, but I'm not sure that he's in the mood to do much exercise today.

But by tomorrow, he will probably be crawling.

Say It Ain't So...

Did it really happen? Did the Patriots really LOSE?? We're a bit in shock, but since I'm not a huge football fan, I got over it pretty quickly. Brian, on the other hand, cried for hours. (It could have just been a tummy-ache, but we're pretty sure it was sorrow about his team's loss).

However, the day was saved by the birth of Brian's new baby cousin, Maeve. Congratulations to Brendan, Katie and big brother Greydon. Now, THAT'S something to cheer about!

The Truth Hurts

Yesterday, while Beth was playing with Brian, she made this observation: "Mommy, babies really only smell good right after a bath. The rest of the time, they just smell like spit."