Sweaty hairlines,
red cheeks,
and last but certainly not least, naked bird chases.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
My favorite things about summer
Sweaty hairlines,
red cheeks,
and last but certainly not least, naked bird chases. 
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
"Dude, you scream you're dead."
"Now put the blanket over him and look innocent."
"Done."Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Lord, help me to love loud
I failed as a parent. I miserably failed and I have repented over and over to God. I have cried, I have hated myself, I have gone over the scene in my head ten million times so as to punish myself. And today I am forgiving myself. I am praising God for his protection and mercy and grace, and I am letting it go.
Bode escaped Friday morning. He got himself up and about and walked right out the door, perhaps never to return if not for divine intervention. I bathed both of my babies, dressed them, set Bode down in the playroom, and ushered Mia in to the bathroom to begin the blow drying "process" that is her sort-of curly but mostly just frizzy hair. As I was blowing and straightening and yanking and combing I hear a woman yelling "Hello" and I hear the Bodester screaming his head off. I look up to find this strange woman in my bedroom holding my youngest child.
She found him down the street, she said.
Humiliation and shock and relief and grief and fear and more relief and udder shame is all I could feel.
In a blink of an eye my kid was gone and I never even missed him.
So, I am now a changed woman. I have been humbled. I am so thankful that God sent that lady home early on her lunch hour because it was going to take me at least another 5 minutes to finish that crazy hair of hers and then who knows....
I hugged him a little tighter, held him a little longer, and stared in amazement at his precious face all weekend long.
And then this thought occured to me: What if I had been naked when that complete stranger walked into my bedroom? Once again, I thanked God.
Bode escaped Friday morning. He got himself up and about and walked right out the door, perhaps never to return if not for divine intervention. I bathed both of my babies, dressed them, set Bode down in the playroom, and ushered Mia in to the bathroom to begin the blow drying "process" that is her sort-of curly but mostly just frizzy hair. As I was blowing and straightening and yanking and combing I hear a woman yelling "Hello" and I hear the Bodester screaming his head off. I look up to find this strange woman in my bedroom holding my youngest child.
She found him down the street, she said.
Humiliation and shock and relief and grief and fear and more relief and udder shame is all I could feel.
In a blink of an eye my kid was gone and I never even missed him.
So, I am now a changed woman. I have been humbled. I am so thankful that God sent that lady home early on her lunch hour because it was going to take me at least another 5 minutes to finish that crazy hair of hers and then who knows....
I hugged him a little tighter, held him a little longer, and stared in amazement at his precious face all weekend long.
And then this thought occured to me: What if I had been naked when that complete stranger walked into my bedroom? Once again, I thanked God.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Nothing Much Really
This is how Bode looks until he gets his YouTube fix each morning:
Please someone, anyone, tell me this truck obsession eventually subsides.
And by the way, my children are no longer screaming in horror at the sight of me. My self-inflicted vanity burns are healing up quite nicely.
And by the way, my children are no longer screaming in horror at the sight of me. My self-inflicted vanity burns are healing up quite nicely.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Proof Positive: I am a moron
Mia got to go to Oakdale (aka big school) on Friday with her Grammie to watch their production of Aladdin. In an attempt to show off how perfectly adorable my child, and future Oakdale scholar, is I dolled her up in this new outfit my Mom made. After Mom saw the pictures of our little modeling session she ever-so-sweetly informed me that I sent her to "big school" with her shirt on backwards. 
Mia, sometimes I wish you had one of those perfect mothers who has it all together all the time. I tried being her once and frankly, she was no fun at all. She would never let you go to Target in your Ariel costume and tap shoes or put glue all over your hands and then peal it off. I tell you what, I won't expect you to be perfect if you won't expect me to. Deal? Deal.
Mia, sometimes I wish you had one of those perfect mothers who has it all together all the time. I tried being her once and frankly, she was no fun at all. She would never let you go to Target in your Ariel costume and tap shoes or put glue all over your hands and then peal it off. I tell you what, I won't expect you to be perfect if you won't expect me to. Deal? Deal.Saturday, May 16, 2009
The wheels in his head go round and round
Bode's head almost exploded off of his body today at Edmond Touch-A-Truck. Two years ago I would have mocked such a ridiculous sounding activity. Today I would have taken out anyone that tried to get in the way of my boy "touching" the only two nouns in his sweet little vocabulary: trucks and cars.
Now the "accidental" 9-1-1 call and his little fire alarm stunt in the elementary school are starting to make sense. "Yah, that was me Officer."
I told Andy to make sure the EMT's had oxygen available in case Bode started hyperventilating.
Today was a little boy's dream come true.
Now the "accidental" 9-1-1 call and his little fire alarm stunt in the elementary school are starting to make sense. "Yah, that was me Officer."
I told Andy to make sure the EMT's had oxygen available in case Bode started hyperventilating.
Today was a little boy's dream come true.Thursday, May 14, 2009
Sonshine School Teacher = Saint
Getting some love from YaYa.
Thanks, Teachers. I don't know who Mia would pretend to be for hours at a time if it weren't for you. 
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Reason number 472 to stop aimlessly browsing the aisles at Target
So I found my self, yet again, browsing the aisles of Target with a grande Americano in one hand and pushing a cart full of rowdy kids with the other. As I casually made my way to the beauty products I noticed a shiny case full of face creams that claimed to cure all of my insecurities in just three short weeks. After about 10 seconds of contemplation I tackled the first red polo, khaki clad 19-year-old boy I saw and asked him to go get the secret key. Five minutes and 35 dollars later I was on my way home and ready for my face to drink from the fountain of youth.
That was Monday afternoon. Forty-eight hours later my face still feels like it is on fire and I had to pry my eyelids open this morning. Two hours of ice packs did little to lessen the horror on my childrens' faces. Mia's response: Mommy, why do you look like that?
Apparently the joke's on me.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
A public apology to my daughter
Dear Mia,
I am so sorry that I became "that mother" today in front of all your friends. You know, the mother that doesn't read every word of the 6,000 pages of instructions about your dance recital and as a result commits a mortal sin that almost gets her kicked out of said recital. I never, ever, ever should have fed you and all your friends packages of fruit snacks in the holy dressing room. Had I known this would cause the very important dance recital people to completely come unglued I promise I wouldn't have done it (or would I have?). Even though your Mom is a complete loser, you were still the most precious girl out there tonight. Even though your little class slightly resembled a herd of buffalo, and even though your entire family (that took up two rows) snuck out in the middle of the show so we could get a good seat at Chili's, and even though your idiot Mom opened the auditorium doors in the middle of a performance allowing a slight ray of light into the huge expanse of a room, which is another mortal sin that I would probably have known about had I read Chapter 5, page 266, paragraph four of the instructions, and even though your Dad was visibly uncomfortable when the male ballerina took the stage as "Jesus," if this is really your thing, your passion in life, then we will support you wholeheartedly. I will make every effort to know what I am doing next time. And by all means, I will never bring fruit snacks to a 4-year-old dance performance again. What was I thinking?
Please try and find it in your heart to firgive me, I beg you.
Love,
Mom
I am so sorry that I became "that mother" today in front of all your friends. You know, the mother that doesn't read every word of the 6,000 pages of instructions about your dance recital and as a result commits a mortal sin that almost gets her kicked out of said recital. I never, ever, ever should have fed you and all your friends packages of fruit snacks in the holy dressing room. Had I known this would cause the very important dance recital people to completely come unglued I promise I wouldn't have done it (or would I have?). Even though your Mom is a complete loser, you were still the most precious girl out there tonight. Even though your little class slightly resembled a herd of buffalo, and even though your entire family (that took up two rows) snuck out in the middle of the show so we could get a good seat at Chili's, and even though your idiot Mom opened the auditorium doors in the middle of a performance allowing a slight ray of light into the huge expanse of a room, which is another mortal sin that I would probably have known about had I read Chapter 5, page 266, paragraph four of the instructions, and even though your Dad was visibly uncomfortable when the male ballerina took the stage as "Jesus," if this is really your thing, your passion in life, then we will support you wholeheartedly. I will make every effort to know what I am doing next time. And by all means, I will never bring fruit snacks to a 4-year-old dance performance again. What was I thinking?
Please try and find it in your heart to firgive me, I beg you.
Love,
Mom
Aunt Sesa:
Andrea, who did not humiliate her daughter backstage:
"Moth-ther, I am going to kill you. Why can't you just be normal?"
Seeing herself in make-up for the first time:
Who Mia? In front of a mirror? Never.
Andrea, who did not humiliate her daughter backstage:
"Moth-ther, I am going to kill you. Why can't you just be normal?"
Seeing herself in make-up for the first time:
Who Mia? In front of a mirror? Never.
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