Well, guys, we (I) decided we (I) couldn't wait until October to find out what this kiddo is gonna be so we'll find out tomorrow morning! I'm suuuuper excited! I keep asking the girls do they want a brother or sister and they keep saying "kitty,"so....I think they're gonna be disappointed either way. Because, unless David is a ThunderCat and never told me, this kid's coming out furless. I'll update on my Twitter feed on the right! Boy, girl, or ThunderCat! (My guess is girl!!)
So, y'all know about Melton/Melvin (still not sure which it is). The A/C was finally "fixed" and the never-ending phone calls telling us not to keep paint cans in the garage finally stopped. Then, two weeks ago...disaster. And by disaster, I just mean the A/C went out again. We assumed it was the same problem...a leak in an evaporator coil. (At the time, Melton used a product in it that would supposedly seal the leak and he refilled the freon and it worked great for awhile.) We talked about it for a good 30 minutes and decided to call Melton because, despite his Melton-ness, I felt he was an honest guy. Lo and behold, he was out of town, babysitting his grandkids in South Carolina. So, we called a local all-around contractor type of company in the area and they sent out a child. Seriously, he could not have been more than 12. And he was a teensy bit cocky, but whatever. Just fix my air. He climbed up in the attic and sure enough, a leak. All the freon was gone. He said the coil and air compressor unit or something would have to be replaced, but our unit was rare (??) and it would be really hard to find the parts. He "called around" to all the area suppliers and nobody had any, so they'd have to special order it. Overall, it would cost about $3800. Now, I don't know a lot about air conditioning, but that just seemed like a lot of money for a couple of parts. I mean, don't entire systems cost about that? I told him we'd talk about it and let him know. Ha, talk about it. Heck no, we called somebody else for a second opinion.
Second guy came and said the same thing, except he could get the parts no problem. Our system was one of the most common out there and he could get the part in the morning and fix it all for $1200. MUCH BETTER. He said the leak was small enough that he could refill us on freon and that would be all we'd need because he could fix it in two days and be done. We said suuuuure, do it. What did we know. Five gallons of freon and $500 later, we had cool air. For 36 hours. We called those folks again and they said, "There must be a clog. We'll have to purge the entire system, find the clog, clean it out, replace the coil and refill you on freon. But, if we can't find the clog, we'll have to replace the entire unit, which will cost about $4000 for the unit, not counting the purging and cleaning and labor." So...not cool.
Another guy came out, same thing. Another guy called to come out and said he was 30 minutes away and I said I had cancelled that service call and sorry he hadn't been notified. He said it was totally fine and he was happy to talk to me on the phone anyway because I had a nice voice. He "likes to talk to the ladies and hear their voices." WHAAAAAAT??
I was telling my Mom about all our troubles and she called a friend of theirs that lives in Birmingham. He and his wife suggested we call Jerry, a good friend of theirs that is an A/C repairman. I gave in and called Jerry. He came out yesterday. Very nice. Said the exact same thing as everybody else, but he added, "There's no clog. Your system looks brand new inside and out. I can get your part and fix it on Friday for $700. Will that work?" I almost cried, but instead I did what every emotional woman would do, I hugged him. Two weeks with no air and a possible future of paying $4000 all taken away on Friday for $700. I was a pretty happy gal. Jerry is our new best friend. I won't put his contact info on here, but if you need him, you let me know.
Okay, A/C story done. I just had to share because I'm so elated.
Girls, advice. Bangs or no bangs? I hate my forehead right now.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
Stories of Mom
Growing up, Mom and I didn't always get along. We butted heads pretty much on a regular...well, hourly...basis. I thought she was stifling my passions. I'm pretty sure she thought I was possessed. I wasn't a "bad" kid, per say. I was just sassy-mouthed and gave little 'tude. We're good friends now. I figured out we have the same personality so I can control her...mwahahahahaaaa ahem. Love you, Mom. Here's a few of my favorite Ruth & Mom: Clash of the Titans moments.
I was probably in the 8th or 9th grade and I felt like we were always writing reports. I had a 2-page book report assignment due that week and I hadn't picked a book yet. I was pretty good at winging stuff, so I thought, " I've got pleeeeenty of time." Mom didn't think so. She kept on and on and on about what book I was doing my report on. I kept saying things like, "I've got it narrowed down to two." But, after she decided I'd narrowed it down long enough, she picked the book for me. She came home from the library one day with a book about seeing eye dogs. She thought I would like it because she knew I loved animals. I secretly loved it, but I couldn't let her know that. I huffed and puffed and strolled past Sara, who was doing her schoolwork in the kitchen. I couldn't say anything out loud to Mom, but SOMEone had to know how much agony I was in. I muttered under my breath..."this sucks." I just needed some sympathy from her, but what I didn't take into account was that Sara was a TATTLETALE. So, of course, she says loud enough for Mom to hear, "Ruth, you shouldn't say that." Mom rushes back in and asks what I said. I glared the anger of 1,000 suns at Sara...traitor. I then had to write a 15-page report on seeing eye dogs. It actually turned out to be one of my favorite papers ever written, but I can't let them know that.
It was probably that same year (I was extra sassy around 14-15) and I was working on some math problems. They were stupid hard and I was getting frustrated. Mom walks into the room and innocently asks, "What are you working on?" I spouted, "What does it look like?!" Heh heh...maaan, I didn't see a computer or TV or the light of day for about a month.
Remember the age of Birkenstocks? I mean, they're still around, but people are a little shyer about wearing them. I still have mine. Hey, they're comfy. I remember BEGGING my parents to let me have a pair. Everybody else had them, so I needed them. Mom and Dad were never ones to buy us 1. whatever we wanted or 2. buy us something just because it was popular at the time. But, for some reason, they gave in and bought Sara and I our own pair of Birkenstocks. I wore them a fair amount, but the "new" wore off soon enough. We were heading to some kind of festival and it was hot outside. Mom suggested I wear my Birkenstocks. I felt like they weren't "cool" anymore and I'm guessing Mom was picking up on that. I said I was going to wear another pair of shoes. She said, "We bought you those sandals because you said you'd wear them all the time and with everything." I insisted I had been wearing them frequently, but wasn't in the mood today. An overly-long conversation ensued and I ended up going barefoot.
This actually happened maybe 3 years ago. We were at my parents' house visiting and they had a 13-layer chocolate cake, which is one of my favorites. Probably top two. If you know me, you know I would do anything for my loved ones. I'd give internal organs or bone marrow or anything. But, don't ask me to share dessert. JOEY DOESN'T SHARE FOOD!!! After supper, I had the most perfect piece of chocolate cake. I'm minding my own business, in my own little world with my cake and Mom walks by and pinches off a little. Ugh, whatever. She walks back by and pinches off a LOT. Then, she grabs my fork and eats a pretty generous chunk of it. I look at her like, "WOMAN," and all she responds with is, "What?" I growl and cut myself another piece...the same size as the first. Another thing about me is that my eyes are bigger than my stomach. I always get way too much thinking I can eat it. Mom said, "If you cut that big of a piece, you are going to eat every last bite." I responded with, "Uh, duh." About 40 minutes later, I struggling with that cake. I swear, it was expanding. It's like Chinese food...it just got bigger and bigger. I couldn't eat anymore. I look around to see if anybody is watching. Nobody. I head to the trash can. OUT OF NOWHERE pops my Dad. He grabs me and forces me back to the table. Mom apparates and grabs my fork. Dad holds me down while Mom shovels the rest of the cake in my mouth. I was crying laughing. I couldn't swallow anything. I'm pretty sure I wet myself a little. It was completely ridiculous, but I did it. That was less of a fight and more of a regular family event.
Mom and I didn't always fight. We had some good times, too.
In 3rd grade, my last year before we started homeschooling, one of the school projects was to make our own kite and bring to class to fly during recess that day. What other kind of kite does an 8-year old girl want on her kite but Batman. Mom stayed up for two nights straight making my kite. I helped a little, but my bedtime was 8pm, so what was I to do. And it was perfect. She did the logo exactly right. Everybody was so jealous of my kite. I got first prize. Best kite ever.
You know I love horses. I begged Mom to let me take lessons. She gave in and Sara and I took English for a few years. It was heaven. One day during our lesson, Sara did something stupid (I don't know what, but I'm assuming it was dumb because Sara did it) and freaked out the horse. She fell off and he stepped on her leg, leaving the most amazing horseshoe bruise ever. Mom decided no more horseback riding lessons. I was devastated. I knew she was doing it to protect us. But still, I was sad. Several months, maybe a year, passed and wonderful wonderful Mom found a guy in our hometown with a load of horses and he said he would take us riding any time we wanted. So, pretty much every weekend, we went riding. And it was Western riding this time. The best kind. No weird maneuvers that make Sara do lame stuff to get herself thrown. We rode bareback most days anyway. I'll always remember her doing that for us, even though I knew horses scared the livingness out of her.
Mom didn't (and doesn't) like animals very much, but we all did. Dad was neutral about it. But, Mom would always let us have cats. And every now and then, you would catch her sitting on the porch petting them. I know she's an animal lover deep down. Deeeeeeeeeeeeep down. WAY deep down. But, it's there.
Mom was always so encouraging about whatever we were interested in. When it came time to decide what we wanted to do with ourselves, she and Dad would gently steer us in directions that wouldn't leave us penniless and on the streets, but if we were serious about something, they were always supportive. I changed my mind a million times in high school...marine biology, veterinary medicine, theatre, art, marine biology again, finally settling on graphic design...and every time, she would help me research schools with the best programs.
She was the first one to take me seriously when I said, at 16, that I found the guy I was gonna marry. (I wouldn't have taken me seriously, so it meant a lot that she did.)
I've said it before, but I never would have made it the first year (at least) with twins without her.
I have an amazing mom. And I know how blessed I am.
Happy Mother's Day to the ones who carried life within their wombs, to the ones who opened their hearts and homes to those without homes and claimed them as their own, to the ones who are already Moms but are waiting on God's timing. You are treasured.
I was probably in the 8th or 9th grade and I felt like we were always writing reports. I had a 2-page book report assignment due that week and I hadn't picked a book yet. I was pretty good at winging stuff, so I thought, " I've got pleeeeenty of time." Mom didn't think so. She kept on and on and on about what book I was doing my report on. I kept saying things like, "I've got it narrowed down to two." But, after she decided I'd narrowed it down long enough, she picked the book for me. She came home from the library one day with a book about seeing eye dogs. She thought I would like it because she knew I loved animals. I secretly loved it, but I couldn't let her know that. I huffed and puffed and strolled past Sara, who was doing her schoolwork in the kitchen. I couldn't say anything out loud to Mom, but SOMEone had to know how much agony I was in. I muttered under my breath..."this sucks." I just needed some sympathy from her, but what I didn't take into account was that Sara was a TATTLETALE. So, of course, she says loud enough for Mom to hear, "Ruth, you shouldn't say that." Mom rushes back in and asks what I said. I glared the anger of 1,000 suns at Sara...traitor. I then had to write a 15-page report on seeing eye dogs. It actually turned out to be one of my favorite papers ever written, but I can't let them know that.
It was probably that same year (I was extra sassy around 14-15) and I was working on some math problems. They were stupid hard and I was getting frustrated. Mom walks into the room and innocently asks, "What are you working on?" I spouted, "What does it look like?!" Heh heh...maaan, I didn't see a computer or TV or the light of day for about a month.
Remember the age of Birkenstocks? I mean, they're still around, but people are a little shyer about wearing them. I still have mine. Hey, they're comfy. I remember BEGGING my parents to let me have a pair. Everybody else had them, so I needed them. Mom and Dad were never ones to buy us 1. whatever we wanted or 2. buy us something just because it was popular at the time. But, for some reason, they gave in and bought Sara and I our own pair of Birkenstocks. I wore them a fair amount, but the "new" wore off soon enough. We were heading to some kind of festival and it was hot outside. Mom suggested I wear my Birkenstocks. I felt like they weren't "cool" anymore and I'm guessing Mom was picking up on that. I said I was going to wear another pair of shoes. She said, "We bought you those sandals because you said you'd wear them all the time and with everything." I insisted I had been wearing them frequently, but wasn't in the mood today. An overly-long conversation ensued and I ended up going barefoot.
This actually happened maybe 3 years ago. We were at my parents' house visiting and they had a 13-layer chocolate cake, which is one of my favorites. Probably top two. If you know me, you know I would do anything for my loved ones. I'd give internal organs or bone marrow or anything. But, don't ask me to share dessert. JOEY DOESN'T SHARE FOOD!!! After supper, I had the most perfect piece of chocolate cake. I'm minding my own business, in my own little world with my cake and Mom walks by and pinches off a little. Ugh, whatever. She walks back by and pinches off a LOT. Then, she grabs my fork and eats a pretty generous chunk of it. I look at her like, "WOMAN," and all she responds with is, "What?" I growl and cut myself another piece...the same size as the first. Another thing about me is that my eyes are bigger than my stomach. I always get way too much thinking I can eat it. Mom said, "If you cut that big of a piece, you are going to eat every last bite." I responded with, "Uh, duh." About 40 minutes later, I struggling with that cake. I swear, it was expanding. It's like Chinese food...it just got bigger and bigger. I couldn't eat anymore. I look around to see if anybody is watching. Nobody. I head to the trash can. OUT OF NOWHERE pops my Dad. He grabs me and forces me back to the table. Mom apparates and grabs my fork. Dad holds me down while Mom shovels the rest of the cake in my mouth. I was crying laughing. I couldn't swallow anything. I'm pretty sure I wet myself a little. It was completely ridiculous, but I did it. That was less of a fight and more of a regular family event.
Mom and I didn't always fight. We had some good times, too.
In 3rd grade, my last year before we started homeschooling, one of the school projects was to make our own kite and bring to class to fly during recess that day. What other kind of kite does an 8-year old girl want on her kite but Batman. Mom stayed up for two nights straight making my kite. I helped a little, but my bedtime was 8pm, so what was I to do. And it was perfect. She did the logo exactly right. Everybody was so jealous of my kite. I got first prize. Best kite ever.
You know I love horses. I begged Mom to let me take lessons. She gave in and Sara and I took English for a few years. It was heaven. One day during our lesson, Sara did something stupid (I don't know what, but I'm assuming it was dumb because Sara did it) and freaked out the horse. She fell off and he stepped on her leg, leaving the most amazing horseshoe bruise ever. Mom decided no more horseback riding lessons. I was devastated. I knew she was doing it to protect us. But still, I was sad. Several months, maybe a year, passed and wonderful wonderful Mom found a guy in our hometown with a load of horses and he said he would take us riding any time we wanted. So, pretty much every weekend, we went riding. And it was Western riding this time. The best kind. No weird maneuvers that make Sara do lame stuff to get herself thrown. We rode bareback most days anyway. I'll always remember her doing that for us, even though I knew horses scared the livingness out of her.
Mom didn't (and doesn't) like animals very much, but we all did. Dad was neutral about it. But, Mom would always let us have cats. And every now and then, you would catch her sitting on the porch petting them. I know she's an animal lover deep down. Deeeeeeeeeeeeep down. WAY deep down. But, it's there.
Mom was always so encouraging about whatever we were interested in. When it came time to decide what we wanted to do with ourselves, she and Dad would gently steer us in directions that wouldn't leave us penniless and on the streets, but if we were serious about something, they were always supportive. I changed my mind a million times in high school...marine biology, veterinary medicine, theatre, art, marine biology again, finally settling on graphic design...and every time, she would help me research schools with the best programs.
She was the first one to take me seriously when I said, at 16, that I found the guy I was gonna marry. (I wouldn't have taken me seriously, so it meant a lot that she did.)
I've said it before, but I never would have made it the first year (at least) with twins without her.
I have an amazing mom. And I know how blessed I am.
Happy Mother's Day to the ones who carried life within their wombs, to the ones who opened their hearts and homes to those without homes and claimed them as their own, to the ones who are already Moms but are waiting on God's timing. You are treasured.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Faceybook
I really did intend to post videos of the girls. I swear I'll get around to it soon. And I'll explain why I've been MIA. But first, let's talk for a second about Facebook.
Do y'all remember when it was like, "Ruth is eating a bowl of cereal," or "Ruth is losing her mind"? It was so simple. And then they gave you more characters for your status and it became, "Ruth is eating a bowl of cereal AND losing her mind." And then they added the things where you could poke people or tickle them or throw a sheep at them. I dunno. And then they added the games. OH, the games. You lost your purple pig in the forest and need helping finding it? What?! And now we have info graphics and memes galore. And socialcam. I think socialcam is a spam type of thing. I don't think those people are really watching pervy videos on Facebook. And now we have way too much room to type a status. Actually, they're not really statuses anymore. They're super personal diary entries...
"It's been a really bad day. I mean, it's kind of okay, I guess. My foot fungus is back and it's really itchy and starting to ooze. My cat barfed on my sheets this morning. Here's a picture (barf picture). My eldest child pooped directly in my hand and I was running late for work so I wiped it on the door on the way out. It's probably still there, so I'll have to clean that up when I get home. At work, I got a run in my hose. But, I did buy a new iPad today and I'm super excited to try it out! (emoticon) I'm going to Face Face later on with someone. If I can find anyone. Nobody ever wants to Face Face with me. I'm sad about that (emoticon). I saw some roses today and it made me think of bees. Bees are funny. LOL! OMG! Bees. Well, I'm looking for a new job, too, so please be thinking about me. I probably shouldn't post that on a public place because I'm friends with my boss and co-workers, but they need to KNOW that SOME people don't like CHEETOS IN THE VENDING MACHINE and SOMEBODY needs to stop using my favorite MUG!!!! (passive aggressive emoticon) Also, I'm involved in some sort of scandal and I'll hint about it just enough to let everyone know what it is, but still act like I'm being vague. It's sunny outside. Get out and enjoy your day! And remember that patience and joy are the vessels of a happy life."
I mean...people of Earth, honestly...let's be cognizant of ourselves. Keep it classy.
In other, completely unrelated news, I got super sunburned at the beach the other weekend and I am peeling like CRAZY. I could make another human being out of what is sloughing off my body.
Do y'all remember when it was like, "Ruth is eating a bowl of cereal," or "Ruth is losing her mind"? It was so simple. And then they gave you more characters for your status and it became, "Ruth is eating a bowl of cereal AND losing her mind." And then they added the things where you could poke people or tickle them or throw a sheep at them. I dunno. And then they added the games. OH, the games. You lost your purple pig in the forest and need helping finding it? What?! And now we have info graphics and memes galore. And socialcam. I think socialcam is a spam type of thing. I don't think those people are really watching pervy videos on Facebook. And now we have way too much room to type a status. Actually, they're not really statuses anymore. They're super personal diary entries...
"It's been a really bad day. I mean, it's kind of okay, I guess. My foot fungus is back and it's really itchy and starting to ooze. My cat barfed on my sheets this morning. Here's a picture (barf picture). My eldest child pooped directly in my hand and I was running late for work so I wiped it on the door on the way out. It's probably still there, so I'll have to clean that up when I get home. At work, I got a run in my hose. But, I did buy a new iPad today and I'm super excited to try it out! (emoticon) I'm going to Face Face later on with someone. If I can find anyone. Nobody ever wants to Face Face with me. I'm sad about that (emoticon). I saw some roses today and it made me think of bees. Bees are funny. LOL! OMG! Bees. Well, I'm looking for a new job, too, so please be thinking about me. I probably shouldn't post that on a public place because I'm friends with my boss and co-workers, but they need to KNOW that SOME people don't like CHEETOS IN THE VENDING MACHINE and SOMEBODY needs to stop using my favorite MUG!!!! (passive aggressive emoticon) Also, I'm involved in some sort of scandal and I'll hint about it just enough to let everyone know what it is, but still act like I'm being vague. It's sunny outside. Get out and enjoy your day! And remember that patience and joy are the vessels of a happy life."
I mean...people of Earth, honestly...let's be cognizant of ourselves. Keep it classy.
In other, completely unrelated news, I got super sunburned at the beach the other weekend and I am peeling like CRAZY. I could make another human being out of what is sloughing off my body.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Twin Update
I haven't updated on the twins in the awhile, so I figured I'd do that today. I have some videos, but I'm going to post them tomorrow. Yay!
They can count to 5 on their fingers and 10 if they're just counting random stuff. I don't think they've realized there's another 5 fingers on the other hand they can count to 10 with. They love to count birds in the yard and flowers in the baskets. I like to throw curveballs in there sometimes like, "How many blades of grass are there?" They'll count to 10 about three times and then look at me like, "Heeeeey, you tricked us, lady." Harper can count backwards from 8. Piper Lee has found no purpose for it yet and prefers to count the regular way.
Our favorite song is the ABC song and it's only sung properly when sung at 100,000 decibels. Our neighbors should know the ABC song pretty well, too. They also like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. They also like to take the tune of both songs and just throw words in there...making up their own song. "Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy...bathtub fishies oatmeal rock."
Speaking of fishies, they are obsessed with fish and all things marine. Last weekend at the beach, we went to the bookstore in Seaside and I got them 10 beach/ocean-related books. They have DEVOURED them. I'm predicting at least one of them will be a marine biologist or work at SeaWorld. They especially like sea horses. Me, too, girls...me, too. You combine two of my favorite things.
They know the sign language to Jesus Loves Me. It's the sweetest thing. And they ask to sing it, which blesses my heart.
Harper loves all things accessories. When she first wakes up in the morning, she asks for her "pink ring" (a ponytail holder she puts on her index finger) and her "two hairbuhs" (two hair bows). She had been wearing a larger ponytail holder as a bracelet because I get nervous with them wearing their real silver bracelets that they have. They're outside 80% of the day, so I just foresee somebody striking it rich one day out there with a metal detector. But Aunt Moo (Sara) just got back from Africa and brought them some real bead bracelets and oh my gosh, you would have thought she gave them the world. Well, to Harper anyway. PL was like, "Hmm...nice." Harper has been wearing it for a week now and refuses to take it off.
Harper is the aggravator/instigator. Piper Lee is the peacemaker. She keeps to herself. Apparently, she's like my Uncle Brad (I've heard stories about their childhood). Totally calm and collected, but if you cross him one too many times, you wake the beast. Piper Lee is like that. She'll reach her limit with Harper and her limit is pretty generous. And she turns into this crazy rage monster and mows Harper down. Harps has had some pretty amazing bite marks. That's Piper's only weapon of choice. Harper never learns, though. She'll leave Pipes alone for a day or so and then she's back at it. A glutton for punishment. They have a system of checks and balances, I think, though.
We're working on the potty situation. They're favorite thing in the entire world is York Peppermint Patties. I say, "I'll give you TWO chocolate patties if you go tee tee on the potty." They'll ruuuun to their little potty, pull down their diapers, sit, and puuuuuuush. You can see the veins popping out of their neck. They know something is supposed to happen, but can't figure out how to make it work voluntarily. But, they're trying. Outside, when they're in their bathing suits, they know when they're going, so I think we're getting close. I'm not gonna push them. When they're ready. And I'm not above bribing them. It's not like I'll always have to give them chocolate when they go. I was trained with chocolate and most days, I'll go without a bribe.
Everything right now is "I do it!" They want to get up in their carseats by themselves. They want to wash their own hair. They want to put on their own clothes. They also want to help with everything. When I'm planting something, they'll lean over and say, "Piper/Harper help Mommy. Dirt." You see what they really want to do. But, they'll toss in a few handfuls of soil, pat it down, and then steal a few handfuls to make some mud with around the side of the house.
Piper Lee is so brave. She isn't afraid of anything. Harper is the biggest fraidy cat. She sticks right with Piper. But, they both love lizards, which is funny to me. They're really close to catching one. I don't know what they'll do when they actually do catch one, though. One jumped on Harper the other day and she hyperventilated and stood paralyzed for a few seconds until David got it off of her.
They're favorite hobby is coloring. They like to draw smiley faces, sunshines and fish, of course. And whales, which look like the fish, just bigger. They like for me to draw all the shapes for them, but all of the shapes need eyes, duh, so they add them later. Target's $1 section is perfect because it's filled with coloring books and we go through about 6 coloring books a week.
Speak of the devil(s), they want me to draw some shapes for them. Have a wonderful Monday!
They can count to 5 on their fingers and 10 if they're just counting random stuff. I don't think they've realized there's another 5 fingers on the other hand they can count to 10 with. They love to count birds in the yard and flowers in the baskets. I like to throw curveballs in there sometimes like, "How many blades of grass are there?" They'll count to 10 about three times and then look at me like, "Heeeeey, you tricked us, lady." Harper can count backwards from 8. Piper Lee has found no purpose for it yet and prefers to count the regular way.
Our favorite song is the ABC song and it's only sung properly when sung at 100,000 decibels. Our neighbors should know the ABC song pretty well, too. They also like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. They also like to take the tune of both songs and just throw words in there...making up their own song. "Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy...bathtub fishies oatmeal rock."
Speaking of fishies, they are obsessed with fish and all things marine. Last weekend at the beach, we went to the bookstore in Seaside and I got them 10 beach/ocean-related books. They have DEVOURED them. I'm predicting at least one of them will be a marine biologist or work at SeaWorld. They especially like sea horses. Me, too, girls...me, too. You combine two of my favorite things.
They know the sign language to Jesus Loves Me. It's the sweetest thing. And they ask to sing it, which blesses my heart.
Harper loves all things accessories. When she first wakes up in the morning, she asks for her "pink ring" (a ponytail holder she puts on her index finger) and her "two hairbuhs" (two hair bows). She had been wearing a larger ponytail holder as a bracelet because I get nervous with them wearing their real silver bracelets that they have. They're outside 80% of the day, so I just foresee somebody striking it rich one day out there with a metal detector. But Aunt Moo (Sara) just got back from Africa and brought them some real bead bracelets and oh my gosh, you would have thought she gave them the world. Well, to Harper anyway. PL was like, "Hmm...nice." Harper has been wearing it for a week now and refuses to take it off.
Harper is the aggravator/instigator. Piper Lee is the peacemaker. She keeps to herself. Apparently, she's like my Uncle Brad (I've heard stories about their childhood). Totally calm and collected, but if you cross him one too many times, you wake the beast. Piper Lee is like that. She'll reach her limit with Harper and her limit is pretty generous. And she turns into this crazy rage monster and mows Harper down. Harps has had some pretty amazing bite marks. That's Piper's only weapon of choice. Harper never learns, though. She'll leave Pipes alone for a day or so and then she's back at it. A glutton for punishment. They have a system of checks and balances, I think, though.
We're working on the potty situation. They're favorite thing in the entire world is York Peppermint Patties. I say, "I'll give you TWO chocolate patties if you go tee tee on the potty." They'll ruuuun to their little potty, pull down their diapers, sit, and puuuuuuush. You can see the veins popping out of their neck. They know something is supposed to happen, but can't figure out how to make it work voluntarily. But, they're trying. Outside, when they're in their bathing suits, they know when they're going, so I think we're getting close. I'm not gonna push them. When they're ready. And I'm not above bribing them. It's not like I'll always have to give them chocolate when they go. I was trained with chocolate and most days, I'll go without a bribe.
Everything right now is "I do it!" They want to get up in their carseats by themselves. They want to wash their own hair. They want to put on their own clothes. They also want to help with everything. When I'm planting something, they'll lean over and say, "Piper/Harper help Mommy. Dirt." You see what they really want to do. But, they'll toss in a few handfuls of soil, pat it down, and then steal a few handfuls to make some mud with around the side of the house.
Piper Lee is so brave. She isn't afraid of anything. Harper is the biggest fraidy cat. She sticks right with Piper. But, they both love lizards, which is funny to me. They're really close to catching one. I don't know what they'll do when they actually do catch one, though. One jumped on Harper the other day and she hyperventilated and stood paralyzed for a few seconds until David got it off of her.
They're favorite hobby is coloring. They like to draw smiley faces, sunshines and fish, of course. And whales, which look like the fish, just bigger. They like for me to draw all the shapes for them, but all of the shapes need eyes, duh, so they add them later. Target's $1 section is perfect because it's filled with coloring books and we go through about 6 coloring books a week.
Speak of the devil(s), they want me to draw some shapes for them. Have a wonderful Monday!
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Mother Knows Best
I'm writing this without telling my mom about it first, knowing she'll laugh, but also have one eyebrow raised, lips pursed into a smirk, and a continual "mmmmmm huh...I see how it is" demeanor whilst reading it.
I love my mom. She's incredibly generous. She gives so much of herself to others. She's fun to hang out with. But, y'all...sometimes she's crazy.
You know when you're a kid and your parents tell you, "Go get a jacket," and you're like, "What? Why?" because it's like 90 degrees outside. They say you're cold and you say you're not. But, see, THEY'RE cold so you MUST be cold, too. It's like parental ESP. Or at least, they think it is. Or like, you're eating lunch and they tell you to eat another sandwich and you insist you couldn't possibly fit another crumb into your body and they keep at it saying, "You're going to be hungry in an hour." In reality, you won't be because you're a child and ate two adult-sized portions of lunch, but "Mother knows best" and if you they say you're hungry, you're hungry. And you respond with things like, "It's my body. I know what's up!" They always throw out this line, "I knew you before you even knew what anything was. I know you better than you know yourself!" That may be true up until we're 2 or 3, but come on, parents, you can't use it anymore.
And you think it'll kind of fade away when you are an adult and have your own kids. NO. It's compounded by 1,000,000. Because now, not only do they "know" everything about you...they know everything about your kids, too.
You know how people say you never stop worrying about your kids. Our parents worry about us all throughout childhood and college and into adulthood. I mean, we're their kids. Then, we have kids and not only do they have to worry about us, but our mini-me's, too. And no one can take as good of care of our kids as the grandparents can. Because, we're just children ourselves...how could we possibly keep another one alive?
I still get an occasional phone call at 9 pm..."Ruth, go to bed. You're tired." But mainly, it's phone calls like this...(and I realize all of this comes from a place of a deep and abiding love for my children, her grandchildren.)
Mom: "Ruth, you know the girls can turn doorknobs. I just read an article about a little boy that drowned in the toilet. Keep the bathroom doors shut."
Ruth: "WHAT?! Kids can turn doorknobs?! They have opposable thumbs, too?! Well, golly, if I had known this, it would have changed my whole perspective on having kids. What to do what to do..."
(We've had childproof doorknob things on all the doors for over a year)
---------
Mom: "Ruth, make sure you put really high SPF on the girls when they're outside. Don't let them get blistered." (My grandfather calls and says the same thing)
Ruth: "Hey, a good sunburn gives a good tan. And my kids can't win Little Miss Prissy Pageant Pants without a good tan. No SPF in this house!"
---------
Mom: "Ruth, be careful when you let them play with water in the cups outside. They could drown."
Ruth: "Drown? In a cup? They can't even reach their hand inside the cup. I don't understand how they're going to end up face down in it. "
---------
Mom: "Awww, Ruth, don't tell those babies 'no'...they are so sweet. You give them what they want. Ruth, don't give those babies whatever they want or they'll end up spoiled. Aw, Ruth, let them have more chocolate. Look at those faces. Ruth, don't let them have too much chocolate or they'll end up with diabetes."
Ruth: "I'm sorry, what? All I heard was 'chocolate.'
I stopped responding all smarty pants to her and now I just smile and say, "You're cute, Mom." And Mom constantly tells me she knows how good of a mom I am to the girls and usually follows it up with a "but make sure they wear socks at night or their toesies will get so cold."
I hear the love for your children's children is multiplied for each generation and I wouldn't have it any other way. And I just can't imagine anybody else's mom doing the same thing to them.
I love my mom. She's incredibly generous. She gives so much of herself to others. She's fun to hang out with. But, y'all...sometimes she's crazy.
You know when you're a kid and your parents tell you, "Go get a jacket," and you're like, "What? Why?" because it's like 90 degrees outside. They say you're cold and you say you're not. But, see, THEY'RE cold so you MUST be cold, too. It's like parental ESP. Or at least, they think it is. Or like, you're eating lunch and they tell you to eat another sandwich and you insist you couldn't possibly fit another crumb into your body and they keep at it saying, "You're going to be hungry in an hour." In reality, you won't be because you're a child and ate two adult-sized portions of lunch, but "Mother knows best" and if you they say you're hungry, you're hungry. And you respond with things like, "It's my body. I know what's up!" They always throw out this line, "I knew you before you even knew what anything was. I know you better than you know yourself!" That may be true up until we're 2 or 3, but come on, parents, you can't use it anymore.
And you think it'll kind of fade away when you are an adult and have your own kids. NO. It's compounded by 1,000,000. Because now, not only do they "know" everything about you...they know everything about your kids, too.
You know how people say you never stop worrying about your kids. Our parents worry about us all throughout childhood and college and into adulthood. I mean, we're their kids. Then, we have kids and not only do they have to worry about us, but our mini-me's, too. And no one can take as good of care of our kids as the grandparents can. Because, we're just children ourselves...how could we possibly keep another one alive?
I still get an occasional phone call at 9 pm..."Ruth, go to bed. You're tired." But mainly, it's phone calls like this...(and I realize all of this comes from a place of a deep and abiding love for my children, her grandchildren.)
Mom: "Ruth, you know the girls can turn doorknobs. I just read an article about a little boy that drowned in the toilet. Keep the bathroom doors shut."
Ruth: "WHAT?! Kids can turn doorknobs?! They have opposable thumbs, too?! Well, golly, if I had known this, it would have changed my whole perspective on having kids. What to do what to do..."
(We've had childproof doorknob things on all the doors for over a year)
---------
Mom: "Ruth, make sure you put really high SPF on the girls when they're outside. Don't let them get blistered." (My grandfather calls and says the same thing)
Ruth: "Hey, a good sunburn gives a good tan. And my kids can't win Little Miss Prissy Pageant Pants without a good tan. No SPF in this house!"
---------
Mom: "Ruth, be careful when you let them play with water in the cups outside. They could drown."
Ruth: "Drown? In a cup? They can't even reach their hand inside the cup. I don't understand how they're going to end up face down in it. "
---------
Mom: "Awww, Ruth, don't tell those babies 'no'...they are so sweet. You give them what they want. Ruth, don't give those babies whatever they want or they'll end up spoiled. Aw, Ruth, let them have more chocolate. Look at those faces. Ruth, don't let them have too much chocolate or they'll end up with diabetes."
Ruth: "I'm sorry, what? All I heard was 'chocolate.'
I stopped responding all smarty pants to her and now I just smile and say, "You're cute, Mom." And Mom constantly tells me she knows how good of a mom I am to the girls and usually follows it up with a "but make sure they wear socks at night or their toesies will get so cold."
I hear the love for your children's children is multiplied for each generation and I wouldn't have it any other way. And I just can't imagine anybody else's mom doing the same thing to them.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
A Smattering, If You Will
This is another one of those posts where I haven't had time to formulate a real post, so here are several mini-ones...
I totally forgot to add something to Tuesday's posts. David and I have purple belts in Shotokan karate. No, I don't pronounce it "kah-rah-tay." I punch people who do. Well, I would, except Sensei told us not to. Purple belts...yes...and we are not afraid to use them. Seriously, those things can give you nasty polyester burns. During one of the katas, you have to yell something. It can be anything you want. Some people in our class yelled "ICE!" Stupid. Some yelled "HOROH!" Lame. I stepped out of the box and got in touch with my inner samurai. I yelled something no one doing karate has ever yelled..."HI-YAH!" It's pretty terrifying.
When I was pregnant with the girls, my hair grew SO fast. I had to get it cut every 8 hours. I was Rapunzel. That also meant shaving my legs was more dumb than ever. I had a 5 o'clock shadow before I even woke up. This time around, I think my hair is going in reverse. It's WONDERFUL. I shaved my legs 3 days ago and they're still smooth as noodles.
*Spoiler Alert - Don't read if you haven't seen this week's New Girl yet.
Okay, really, Hollywood...you would have us believe that somebody would ever break up with Dermot Mulroney? Really? I mean...REALLY. (Mom, he's a silver fox...just Google him.) I mean, the show is stills awesome as ever, but that was just silly to me.
The girls have started this new thing where they copy the way you're talking. Not the words, but the inflection and tone. Like, if PL falls down and you scoop her up to comfort her..."Aw, Piper Lee, are you okay? Did that hurt, sweet girl?" She'll look so deeply into your eyes and say, "Awww boo boo bee boo Momma awwwww." And I'm thinking, "Okay, are you mocking me or just mimicking me?" I don't know what to think about it.
Harper can sing the ABCs all the way through now and even the little ending. The ending is more like, "Now I ABC...tahl me whaaaat me!" She screams it at the top of her lungs while on the trampoline. But the second I get out a video camera or iPad, it's like, "Oh, what, little ole me? I'm not your performing monkey, Mom."
Also, they're terrified of dandelions.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Ruth Did What??
Whoa whoa whoa...they changed Blogger. Well, at least the look of where you write the posts. Weird. But, it looks nice. See?
Huh, I gotta get used to it. A little warning next time, Internet.
David and I were laughing the other day about stuff we've done in our lifetimes that seemed normal at the time, but now is like, "What?" I thought I'd share some of those things with you.
During our summer trips to Jamaica to work in the medical clinics, we saw a lot of things. A. LOT. OF. THINGS. I held a little girl's head still and talked to her while a doctor pulled out a 2" parasitic worm that had bored itself into her scalp. (Mom, don't read this.) Sara and I also cleaned up a vomit spill after a little boy got sick in the waiting room...he had had worms in her stomach that were still wiggling around on the floor. That may be why vomit doesn't bother me so much. That's not even half of it, but it only gets grosser and Mom's just gonna continue to read.
My dad pierced mine and Sara's ears. Why go to Claire's when your dad can numb you up with Xylocaine and then pop a sapphire stud through your lobe?
I was in the marching band my freshman year in college. Oh yes, I was. Never in a marching band before. Why was I in it? Because David was in it. And when you're 17 and in love, you do whatever you have to stay with him as much as you can...kind of like a crazy person. It came with a small scholarship. They wanted me to play the quads, but I tried them on and they were too heavy. So...I played the cymbals. What? Shut up! You don't know! THE CYMBALS ARE THE BEST PART! *craaaaaaaasssshhhhhh* It was actually a lot of fun.
I was also a music minor. I don't sing. So, why? Because, at the time, David was a music major and that way, I could have some classes with him in addition to the core classes. YES, I WAS INSANE BACK THEN. My plan backfired, because David changed his major and I was halfway through my minor, so it was either have wasted all that money and time or just finish it. And I never quit. I worked my fanny off. #1. Music theory and ear training is hard. #2. If you know me at all, you know that I DO NOT sing in front of people and I had to do a lot of that. So, this was quite a challenge for me, but I'm very glad I did it as it has helped shape me to become the rock star that I am today. And no, ear training is not where you train your ears to sit and stay, MOM. You have to hear two notes and determine what they are and their intervals. I had to play a lot of piano. I had to sing, BY MYSELF, in front of a group of professors twice a year. If you only knew how much my pits and lower back and knees and boobs were sweating during that torturous 30 minutes. I think they felt sorry for me because all A's, suckahs!
I never once skipped a class in college. Believe me, I wanted to. But, I couldn't do it. It may have been my parents' voices in the back of my head or because I'm OCD and the one time I missed class would be the day they gave the attendees some huge advantage on the final.
I used to cut my own hair all the time. Up until a few years ago, actually. I'm not talking about the occasional trim here and there. I'm talking about full-out shearings. In college, (man, I was a weirdo in college) my roommate helped me shave my head to 2 inches. Halle Berry short. It wasn't my favorite cut ever, but it grew out and I loved the in-between length, so it was worth it.
I bought a pair of multi-colored patchwork jeans a few years ago (okay fine, in college) after seeing a friend wearing some. She was one of those people that could pull off anything. I hated her. I thought, "Oooh, cute! I should get some!" I looked like a female scarecrow. $17 straight down the drain.
I had a ton more, but the girls are screaming, "Yellow fish! Yellow fish! Yellow fish!" and if I don't find that stupid yellow fish, the world is going to end, so... you guys behave today.
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