So yesterday Georgie decided to tell me, “Mommy, you’re nasty. I don’t love you anymore. I want a new Mommy. I want you to go away and take Stella and I get a new Mommy.”
Talk about your not-sure-whether-to-burst-into-laughter-or-dissolve-into-tears moment.
This stemmed, of course, from a dose of discipline that George didn’t feel to be warranted, so he was sitting on The Step fuming. I asked him who would feed him and wash his clothes and read books and play Hi Ho Cherry-O and help him build bridges and tunnels for his Matchbox cars and rub Vicks on his back and his feet when he’s sick and bake cookies with him. And paints. And walks at the Nature Center. And play computer games.
He interrupted me to say, “I’m sorry, Mommy. I don’t want you to go away. Can we bake cookies now?”
Ah, butter and flour and sugar as currency.
An old picture, but it shows their lack of enthusiasm for discipline.
This afternoon Ethan decided to move a large floor lamp in the living room. I told him to stop, explained that if it fell it could hurt him or Georgie, and that it would break into tiny pieces.
Ethan solemnly looked into my eyes and said, “It’s OK Mommy. I fix it with tape.”
Yep. Has an answer for everything.
Miss Chickpea has a new talent; just tonight after George got home from work, she started making this “lalalalalalalala” sound. It’s her first vocalization; she’s been mouthing it for awhile but no sound. I have to write this down in her book.
Stella’s six month pediatrician appointment was today; she weighed 12.5 pounds, which is excellent. She’s in the 10th percentile and proportionate in head, height and weight, which is wonderful. I feel so relieved knowing that she’s doing well.
When she starts sitting up unassisted, we’ll start with vegetables. Yum.
This morning we finished digging out, and after breakfast George finished clearing the sidewalk and then went next door to snow blow our neighbors’ driveway.
The boys finished eating and were waiting to go outside with Daddy and play in the snow. A half hour turned into an hour turned into two, and I found myself getting really irritated about the whole thing. I mean, the baby was going to wake up and I was going to need to change and nurse her, then try to get the boys dressed in their snow pants and boots… it was just not working according to my plans.
Georgie asked, “Mommy, what’s Daddy doing?”
I caught myself before saying, “For some reason, he’s clearing the neighbors’ driveway instead of getting the snow off of our van.” In that instant, I realized how selfish I sounded. Things weren’t working according to my plans, my inflexible little ideas of how I expected the morning to be operating.
I bent down and looked Georgie in the face and said, “Daddy’s being a good neighbor.”
More often than not, it’s difficult to do the right thing. It can be inconvenient or irritating. But being ‘neighborly’ isn’t about doing what’s easy. We don’t do the right thing because we have to; we do the right thing because it’s right, and it’s our obligation to set a good example for our children by walking the walk.
Our neighbors got home tonight; they had to go out of town for a family emergency and it would have taken them several hours to clear the driveway after a long drive. I’m glad they have one less thing to worry about.
Six days ago it was 65 degrees outside, and we were doing this.
Yesterday, we were doing this.
So I baked some of this.
And today we’re doing this.
And when we’re all done, we’re going to sit by this.
Not bad for a blizzard.
Another father, brother, husband, son. A wife now a widow. Children now fatherless. I pray for the family and for the officers who must continue to do their jobs in spite of the loss of their brother.
It’s been dreary and snowy and I’m having some issues with the wool boot socks, so I finally busted out my self-striping Trekking XXL and cast on a sock using YH’s basic sock recipe.
I figured I’ll ‘practice’ before my Rabbitch’s Revenge shows up, I need a little work picking up the stitches for the heel gusset (this would be the issue with the wool
Wow. Can I just say?
This is the first time I’ve ever knit with self-striping yarn, and I see how addicting it can be. It’s like magic, how the colors start to change, then a bit of a pattern emerges, all without having to change yarns. No weaving in ends, nothing. Just a gorgeous stripey sock that makes me look forward to the heel. Seriously.
Oh, it’s supposed to be in the 50s, possibly 60s, today. I’m going to have to get the boys mud boots and get them outside. Who knows how long before we’ll see decent weather again?
Stella has this eardrum-piercing scream that she uses when she’s not getting enough attention. It’s like an ice pick in your head, and although I’ve gotten a little more used to it, Daddy has not. The boys never did this, I wonder if it’s just a girl thing?
I haven’t gotten any video of her doing the Mariah Carey version, but here are a couple of salty squeaks.