Obsessed

I am completely smitten.

Seriously. I can't get enough of this little guy. I could snuggle with him all day long, staring into his gorgeous eyes, smelling his yummy baby breath, listening to his content baby noises. That was the only good part of my sick day - I spent the day cuddled up with Sy. I look at him and think, "don't change, don't get bigger, don't grow up!"

Then he does this.

And this.

And it's okay if he gets a little bigger.

Then Izzy does this.

She likes baby smells too. Can't blame her.

Woops. Too far, Izzy, back off. Noooo lick-ey!

(She can't hold her licker.)

Random Shopping Notes

I try not to shop with Tyler. It's not that I don't like his company, obviously, but we are rarely on the same wavelength when it comes to spending money. I think my weekly grocery budget (yes, I'm still on my budget . . . most of the time - yay me. I'm so proud of myself.) is pretty impressive and rather important. He thinks we could skim a little off the top or just fore go the groceries if he wants to get something else we really need, like a travel cover for the boat. 'It protects our investment,' he says. 'It's January,' I answer. 'That's why we're doing it now - it's cheaper.' You know what I think is cheaper? Not doing it at all. I digress.

What I wanted to tell you is that we took a quick trip to the grocery store together last week with all the kids in tow. (During which he completely dismantled my budget by throwing in a bunch of things that weren't on the list because the prices were good. Amateur.) Watching the three walking children follow him down an aisle brought visions of ducklings following their mother to my head. It was so cute. I couldn't stop quacking to myself, and the boys, the rest of the time. Of course that means I usually look like the duck, which isn't quite as funny to me for some reason. Don't know why. Actually when I'm there without Tyler all three of the boys seem hover around me like little moons if there is a shopping cart involved. I don't know how we ever get past anyone coming the other way with all the bodies stuck to the sides of the cart.

Not many people used to comment about us having three boys and no girls, but now that it's four it seems to be all anyone sees. A woman stopped us on our way into a craft store tonight with a "FOUR BOYS! Oh my! Well, if they're as good looking as this. . ." blah, blah, blah. She grabbed each of their faces in turn oo-ing and ah-ing about them. They took it very well when she was there and decided the whole incident was 'creepy' afterwards. I think I agree a little. She was a complete stranger. It's funny how some people act like children aren't real people sometimes and talk about them instead of to them. At least she didn't mistake Max for a girl because of his hair (like Santa did, of all people. If Max still believed in Ole' St. Nick surely that would have killed the illusion).

The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

The Good:

*In the process of taking down the Christmas decorations I finally hung bells on the doors we want Izzy to use. AND she now rings the bell when she wants to go out. It's so adorable I can hardly stand it. I want you all to come over just so she can ask to go out and I can stand there beaming with pride.

*Sunday night I decided it was time to stop waiting for the baby weight to fall off on it's own and actually start exercising.It's almost been three months, after all, and horseback riding a few hours a week certainly won't do the trick. SO, I braved the scale a set a goal to be down five pounds in two weeks.


The Bad:

*Izzy is abusing her new-found power and asks to go out CONSTANTLY. Half the time she's like a cat and goes part-way out and stands in the doorway trying to decide if the wind chill is to her liking.

*We're having a bit of a melt-down (literally) in the pastures. I know it will freeze again before the real Spring thaw, but WHEW, is it ever stinky out there! I don't even want to wear my new insulated muck boots (can you say 'heaven', btw. Never ever thought I would be so excited about such a thing, but it happens more and more often lately.) in it because I don't want them to smell. If only I could float over the top, that would be perfect.

The Ugly:

*Usually Izzy sticks around the yard when she goes out unless she is following me to feed the horses. Yesterday she went out to 'play' in the muck three times. . . which means I bathed her three times. I didn't even bring her with me for the night feeding, the boys let her out when she rang the bell and she raced out to me before they could stop her. That's going to get old really fast.

*Apparently I was more determined to lose that baby weight than I realized. I was down six pounds by the same time Monday. Pretty amazing, I must say. (Toot-toot) I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I ended up hugging the porcelain most of Sunday night and the next morning. It's been a long time since I've been hit that hard with the flu. I could hardly walk because my whole body ached so bad all day Monday, not that it felt much better to sit or lay, or just exist. Luckily it was a twenty-four hour bug so today I'm weak, but functioning. . .slowly. Nick was the first one to get it and I'm hoping the rest of the family - especially the baby - can avoid it.

So many issues

I have this thing little thing that really bugs me. (Okay, so we all know there is a vast well from which to draw in the 'what bugs Wendy' category. But let's just pretend there is only one little thing. Thanks. You're too kind.) About a year ago I was surprised to hear a newscaster refer to a policeman as a 'cop'. Not that 'cop' is necessarily derogatory, as far as I know it's not. It just sounded really unprofessional, juvenile even. Don't get me wrong, I say 'cop', in conversation but then again I'm not broadcasting that conversation to millions of viewers either. Somehow it seems like a news source should be held to higher standard in their word choice. Shouldn't the type of forum dictate the formality of speech used? Now it seems like most news sources use the slang term more than they use 'police officer'. So much for decorum. I get an uncontrollable tick every time I hear it, but apparently 'cop' is acceptable enough 'cause all the cool kids (or newscasters at least) are using it. Slang is king.

Within the last couple of weeks my tick has gotten even worse. You might think I was having an epileptic fit if you didn't know better. I literally heard a news anchor say "The cops chased the bad guy . . .". Seriously, 'bad guy'. My mouth dropped, I swear it did. "ARE YOU FOUR?!" I asked the television. Tyler looked at me and smirked because he thinks I'm a language snob. (Yes, you can add that to list : music snob, food snob, book snob . . .to which I say 'Um, I did read the entire Twilight series, you know. How snobby could I be?) But, come on, could they NOT find a better word choice? Was it a 'bring your kids to work day' and the station let a kindergartner write their newscast? Did NO one in the office have access to a thesaurus when the writer hit a mental block looking for a synonym for 'BAD GUY'. How about 'Suspect'? 'Assailant'? 'Criminal'? Or, oh my, could it be so easy, how about 'man'? Yes, 'man' would be better. 'Man' would do nicely.

I'm not saying I think everyone should use the largest words possible, because honestly that's annoying too. Using a 'big word' when a simpler one will do the trick just sounds pompous. I'm completely for using the word that best fits what you're trying to say - as succinctly as possible. AND if you're having a casual conversation with someone, by all means, dumb it up as much as you want. If, however, you are a professional newscaster, and it's YOUR JOB to (at the very least) sound intelligent enough to be credible, perhaps using grade school vernacular is a bad choice. Got that, news chick?

Taking Down Christmas

The Worst

• No more warm twinkly lights
• Trying to fit everything back into the storage bins
• Locating all the Baby Jesus-es kidnapped from their Nativity scenes
• Re-filling the dog and cat water dishes more often since the tree is no longer an option

The Best

• Vacuuming up pine needles
• Feeling less cramped
• When it's finally over
• Replacing the Christmas Scentsy with Clean, fresh smells

What's Wrong With Perfect?

So, I've been thinking about making this the year of letting go. See, I might be just the teeny tiniest bit of a control freak - it's possible. Honestly I don't think it's a bad thing most of the time. Everyone likes things done a certain way, right? AND if someone, say your husband for instance, asks you how you want something done you should tell them how. . . exactly how. Right? And if that person is helping you fold laundry it should be okay that you want underwear to be folded just so, and each person's clothes grouped together to be put away, and clothes hung facing the same way and in their color groups. Right? Because if you have to go back and re-do all the 'help' then they're not really helping. Am I wrong here? I think not.

(Now here's the 'big but'. ) BUT, I'm a mother and part of my job as such is to teach my children to work. Last year I finally gave into that fact and handed over the chore of cleaning bathrooms to the two older boys. I still sneak in afterwards and finish the job because they can only do it over so many times before we want to poke each others eyes out and feelings get hurt. I've tried having them do the dishes. Unloading the dishwasher they can handle and it's actually pretty cute to watch. It always reminds me of the scene from Jumanji when monkeys are loose in the kitchen. (However, Tyler accused me of transferring my neurosis onto them because I like the flat-wear to be stacked neatly and facing the right way. I had to remind him of his obsession with pushing-in the dining room chairs.) Max is even pretty good at rinsing the dishes, but there's this part of me that can't just let them do it without re-checking everything afterward - re-stacking bowls, polishing glasses, re-washing pots. It feels like the first time I let each them pick out their own outfits - being torn between loving the fact that everything is mis-matched and topped off with a cape and actually feeling like we can leave the house. There's a balance I need to find between helping them grow and keeping my sanity - or is it pride - in tact. So, maybe we'll just keep working on dishes, vacuuming, and bathrooms for now. . . I'll let go of some other things later. Baby steps.

How Much is that Doggie. . .?

My boys are generally pretty well behaved. It's true, they really are, and not just compared to Tasmanian Devils and hurricanes but next to actual live children their own age. Put a teacher, an aunt, or uncle (or Tyler) in the room with them and their halos 'ping' over their cherubic little heads.
They are, HOWEVER, also smart little devils and it took them less than twenty-four hours to figure out I'm a fairly ineffectual disciplinary figure when I'm feeding the baby. "Settle Down!" means close to nothing when it's yelled from the couch downstairs and they're destroying the second floor. What am I going to do? Yell at them. . . later. Ooo, we're soooo scared, Mom. Now after a few ill-advised, and unplanned shopping trips over their Christmas Break, they've realized I am also helpless while toting Silas in the baby-carrier. (While the stroller sat idly by at home in the garage. 'Yay' for spontaneity.)
So, after a terrifying whirlwind of a visit to Bath and Body Works I decided to press my luck and hit Gymboree. Before we could leave B&B, we had to find Nick's annoying singing stuffed toy his Uncle Josh brought him from Russia. Luckily Max was just hiding it in his hood so once Nick had cried sufficiently enough to fill his big brother's teasing quota, the toy magically appeared. Then, all the coats had to be turned right-side out and be put back on the right boy. (Honestly, why do the clothes come off in the first place? I swear to you we were in the store for fifteen minutes - I loaded a bag full of soaps and candles, had no wait at the register, and we were done. If I would have actually browsed a bit the boys would have probably been stripped down to their underwear and cooling-off in the sink! That's always the excuse for shedding their coats the second we enter a store and swinging them around like they're flagging down a bull; "But, it's SO HOT!".)
Anyway, we hit the clothes store and all three boys stayed with me pretty well for a few minutes. We were making good progress until, elbow deep in a sale bin of adorable briefs, I realized Nick wasn't with me anymore.

Me- Where is your brother?
Grey - (Giggle) That's what I tried to tell you.
Me - What? When?
Grey - Now. I'm telling you now. Nick got behind those things (pointing to the entire wall).
Me - What things? The shelves?
Grey- Yeah, the shelves. He's inside.
Max - That's why you can hear his toy singing.
Me- How did he get back there? Did you see him?
Grey - It's easy. You just go back there.
Max - Yeah, it's easy. (Giggle)
Grey - We were all back there.
Me - That's grrreat. Go get him before he knocks the whole store down!
Grey - (walking away) I can still hear his toy! (Giggle)

Okay, so a.) How did I miss the fact that all three children disappeared long enough to be behind a wall?! and b.) Why would they do such a thing in the first place? Why, why, why!?

AND, even worse - as we're driving out of the mall:
Max - Mom, see where it says '60% off sale'?
Me - Where? At Gymboree?
Max - Yeah. That's where Nick was.

Um, yeah. He was in the display window of the store! Little faceless child mannequins. . . and Nick - all in a 60% off Winter Wonderland.

It is at times like these when having a poker face might come in handy, but no. Not me. I laughed - hard. Dangit! When I asked Nick if anyone walking by saw him he said, "Yeah, but dey didn't see me." Okay. "Really?" I asked. "Well, maybe dey saw me. But dey didn't care. I tink dey yiked me dere." FANtastic. As long as they liked him. There's something else I didn't think I had to teach them NOT to do. That list is certainly growing.