Senor Detonde

I may not have the spelling of the name exactly right, but this is the name of my son's alter ego. Senor Detonde first made his grande appearance when Layne was about four years old. Layne would run around the house, fighting invisible evil people like a superhero, shouting "Senor Detonde never gives up!". Every now and then, Senor Detonde would turn on one of us for a "fight to the death". I loved it. I have no idea how he came up with the character nor the name. He dressed a little like Zorro but there was no Tonto. Layne spoke often of Senor Detonde and his adventures in Layne's dreams at night. It was truly amazing what trouble this character could get into! It was not until Layne was studying the solar system in pre-K that a drawing on Senor Detonde surfaced. I stared at it in amazement- I finally knew what this character looked like. Not only that, I saw his home planet and his sidekick!

Recently, Senor Detonde has not been around much- I guess this is part of him growing up. However, his name does come up when Blair is misbehaving. Layne is never slow to tell Blair that he can call Senor Detonde to arrange for a flight to take her to another planet and leave her there- it's nice to know people in higher places. :-) 

He's got moves...

Seven years old is Layne's magic age and I love it. I love seeing him uninhibited, confident, and learning to speak his mind. He asks questions, keeps me laughing, is affectionate and not embarrassed by me (yet), and still loves his sisters. I learn something new every time we talk and it has been great seeing the world through his eyes. What a joy my little man is and what a blessing! 

Now, back to the uninhibited comment. Layne has taken an interest in dancing and apparently the endless hours of watching "So You Think You Can Dance" have made quite an impression. I have witnessed moves that I cannot even begin to explain. Have no fear, if there is no music playing, he will simply sing while he is dancing. He dances in the car, at the dinner table, in our front yard, in the shower, I am positive that he dances at school- no surface is too big or small. He has dancing fever! While on vacation with my parents in April, my mother was able to video these incredible moves of Layne. I watch this video every day and every day it brings a smile to my face (and several laughs as well). I am sure that one day I will be accused of humiliating him and he will require extensive therapy to get over it, but I want to share my little dancing fool with you all. Enjoy!     http://youtu.be/sxaKvvdtB0s

With age comes.....

Easter 2012 (minus Layne & Blair)

This morning, as I was staring myself down in the mirror, I kept thinking of the saying, "With age comes wisdom.". There is some truth in this but I do not feel much wiser now than I did when I was turning 18. I know that I have experienced a lot since that time, but have I grown any wiser- really? Considering there are many days that I cannot recall what I had for breakfast, or even if I ate breakfast, maybe I have just forgotten how to be stupid. Maybe that is what really happens to us as we age, with memory loss (I blame mine of sleep deprivation and children) we just forget how to execute the stupid things that we did when we were younger. Great theory, huh? I guess my wisdom comes mainly from my parents and my spouse, both of which I turn to frequently to figure out answers, and from others that act as sounding blocks- something we all need. Some may come from knowing how to appreciate the gift of life and the gift of love- from truly loving and appreciating my children and their contributions to this world (they may be small but they are mighty). Also, from being able to share stories of my past without feeling embarrassed or stupid and to be able to shed a little light on right/wrong (or just to laugh at the craziness). I still have trouble not getting the last word in - something my husband is determined to break me of. I still have trouble being "idle"- but learning to knit has helped a lot in that department. I am still bossy, can come across as bitchy, teeter on the moody side, and my "filter" sometimes malfunctions. I love my family fiercely, enjoy tapping into my creative side (which is squelched far too often), and have a soft spot for non-profits. I am southern, I am baptist, and I am a card toting, registered Republican. I am not denying that I have "imperfections" but they make me the person that I am, so I am embracing them. Maybe I have gained a little more wisdom than I thought but I think that I am just becoming more comfortable with the true me.

I have received many birthday wishes today and with each one, I have paused to think about when the "wisher" came into my life and the impact they have had on me. I am 34 years old today, or as my Granny used to say, I am celebrating the 5th anniversary of my 29th birthday. In my 34 years, I have moved away from my "roots", survived college (with a diploma to prove it), gotten married- twice, gotten divorced, had four children, buried one child, and crossed a few things off of my bucket list. I know what love feels like, how your heart swells with pride when your children accomplish things, and what true heartbreak feels like. I love my life- the good, bad, and ugly and thank God for surrounding me with incredible things and people. Thank you all for thinking of me today, you have been a part of my life during a special time and helped shape me (in some way) into who I am today. I am blessed to have so many good people in my life (my Mimi told me that is key to living a long, happy life- she's on to something).

So, with age comes wrinkles and gray hair (and the wisdom to find ways to cover them up), another day to enjoy this thing called life, and friends and family to share the adventures with. You have to love it- I know I do!

Beach baggage

My parents have decided to embark upon a journey with Layne and Blair during Spring Break. They are headed to Florida for a little fun in the sun and the kids are bubbling over with excitement. As I am frantically trying to pull together their clothes for this trip and assemble Easter baskets, their main concern is the extras. Well, now that I have written that, it isn't exactly true. Layne has packed a football, Legos, and a few other odds and ends. Blair has packed a HUGE purse (complete with makeup, 10 tissues (because she doesn't want to have to stop if her nose starts running), and her jewelry), the other bag has books, Ella and all of Ella's clothes, more jewelry, playing cards, two box puzzles, red sun glasses, a purple hat, and another smaller bag. This is just what she is carrying in the car with her. This is just what they deem necessary to travel with them in the car.

This weekend, Blair and I had to go shopping. The child had outgrown most all of her clothes and swimsuits from last year and her wardrobe needed to be replenished. Saturday morning, Kennedy, Blair and I hit the stores for shoes, suits, and shorts. I had a plan of action (you have to with an 8 month old) and I was determined that we would be in and out of these places in record time, worst case scenario, I could just buy and make her try on when we got home. My plans quickly fell by the wayside, when the first place we went to, I was informed that she wasn't looking at clothes until she found a new beach bag for her beach toys she was taking. When I asked what toys, Blair informed me that she was taking all of the toys that we were going to be buying that day. I am still trying to figure out how clothing translated into toys. Then, she had to try on beach hats (big floppy ones), flip flops, and huge (cover half your face) sun glasses. Three stores later, she was still determined to purchase a new bag, sun glasses, and a hat (the toys had momentarily been forgotten). As Blair was busy trying on her beach accessories, and Kennedy was busy waving at every person that smiled at her, I hit the racks and snagged a few items. I had a lot of fun shopping with the girls but by 2:30, I was more than relieved to hear Blair asking to go home to rest. 

So, the laundry loads have started, the clothes have started being put into piles, and Blair has started issuing her orders. The first being, that Layne that he is only allowed to carry one small bag but she gets two suitcases because she has a lot more stuff to take. In the midst of all of this, I have started praying- hard. Praying for safe travels, a fun trip, but mostly for my parents' sanity and that they survive a week of Blair on the road. They are embarking upon a long road trip with a chatty little girl, couple that with the excitement of both of the kids, and it is a recipe for extreme overload. It's bad enough at the house right now, I imagine that car will be more than lively. I look forward to the calls and texts from the kids and my parents while they are away, I am sure that they will have a blast. In the meantime, Dean and I will be plugging away at work, and Kennedy will be enjoying being the only child (and the quiet of the house). 

When ROYGBIV just won't cut it.

As I was on the phone with our pediatrician last week, my boss walked into my office, only to hear "Well, there have been several of them, which is my concern. They are red- about the color of red velvet cake batter, and no they are not watery but they definitely aren't clumping like they are supposed to...", he erupted into laughter and said, "Omnicef? In our house, we were huge fans of the bubble gum medicine.". At that, he left and walked up to his office and I finished my discussion about poop with the nurse. 

I was thinking about this and I appreciate the fact that I am working with a man that has children and has been down this road before (and that he can laugh about it). What amazed me even more was the fact that I wasn't remotely embarrassed about it. I would like to know why they withhold this pertinent bit of information from you during those parenting/child birth classes you take in preparation for your first child (we took a refresher for the third child and it still wasn't discussed). They talk about mucus and using a the bulb syringe to suck it out (we fondly refer to it as the booger sucker in our house). They tell you how to wipe rear-end, change diapers, clip nails, but at no point does anyone ever say, "This is your warning. At some point in this child's life you will have to put your dignity aside and openly discuss poop with one or more people at your doctor's office. Please familiarize yourself with all of the colors in the big box of Crayola crayons because you will need to throw out one or more of those color names. Better yet, if you have time prior to your child's birth, we highly suggest you take an art class and a culinary (baking) class so you can become more descriptive in consistency and color." I am considering asking the hospitals or pediatrician offices to print off a color wheel to help new parents. 

In the meantime, for those of you who are just beginning down this road of child rearing or for those that lack knowledge of colors beyond ROYGBIV or Crayola's basis eight colors, I am attaching a link to aid you in your quest to find that perfect word/adjective. Please visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Crayola_crayon_colors, it seems to be the most comprehensive list that I have found short of going to the paint store. I wish you the best of luck because I know the first few times will be rough, your cheeks will become a little flushed, but you eventually get over it and it becomes as second nature as brushing your teeth. 

For those of you who do not have children, I apologize for subjecting you to this but hope that you find humor in it.

Bed bugs

I love snuggling with my children. It doesn't matter if it is at night before bed time or early in the mornings, when you want those few extra minutes of rest and they are standing beside your bed, with puppy dog eyes, begging to crawl in bed with you. I just love those times- probably because I know my days are numbered before they get too old to even consider it. It is hard to resist the opportunity to watch those sweet little faces when they finally do doze off. 

The one thing that I have noticed is how quickly the bed shrinks when one of them climbs in. Last night, Layne and Blair were soundly snoring away in their beds (every now and then I heard "boo" coming from Blair's room- no idea what she was scaring away) and Kennedy was in bed with Dean and I "winding down" (using us as her personal jungle gym and squealing as loudly as possible). She finally decided to grab her bunny and lay down, whack us a few times with it, and snuggle up. Shortly after this sudden stop in her activity, I looked over and Dean was asleep, Kennedy promptly followed his lead and was out and curled up in a ball. Then the sprawl began. First it was the legs, then the arms, then the torso twisted a little and before I knew what had happened, she had managed to secure her spot in over half of the bed. Two adults and one 7 month old- you would think that the proportions would be dramatically different with the adults taking up the bulk of the space but noooooo..... Dean was on the edge, I was on the edge, and Kennedy was sleeping soundly in the middle. She looked like an overgrown starfish with her arms spread open wide, legs propped up on me, and her head on his chest. Twenty-nine inches of baby, taking up the equivalent of an entire queen size bed. 

From seven months to seven years, it does not matter. If a child is in my bed (with or without Dean), I find myself going from comfortably situated to dangling over the edge, dodging flailing arms and kicking legs, and praying that they do not move another inch of I will surely end up on the floor. They are little and they are so sweet (especially when they are asleep), yet they move in and take over the bed each time- inch by inch.  

Lords and Love

Layne, age 3

Layne is going through a medieval phase (long with Star Wars and pirates). He is hungrily reading anything he can get his hands on regarding knights, lords, castles, moats, etc. As I am reading these volumes of information with him, I am learning a lot myself. Last night, while sitting in my bed reading, we stumbled upon information regarding Lords and Ladies getting married. I told him that Lords and Ladies usually were married by age 14 and they were arranged marriages. This totally blew his mind and it furthered baffled him that often they didn't meet who they were marrying until the wedding day. I could see his little mind working and knew from his the look on his face that he really needed to tell me something. He took my hand and said, "Mommy, I love you. If you want to make me marry someone I understand. I just want you to know that I don't want her to wear glasses. So, pick any girl you think is cute, but just no glasses.". Well.... do I laugh or not? He was so serious when he was telling me this. There was great relief on his face when I told him there were laws in place that would keep him from marrying anyone at age 14. Then there was more.... 

"Mommy, when we go to lunch at school we can't talk the first five minutes. This is because we need those five minutes to eat." (I am amazed that he can eat in five minutes- it takes him a lot longer during dinner.) "Today we were at lunch and B (I will not use her name) signed to me that she loves me. Then someone told her that she couldn't sign to anyone because that was talking even though you aren't saying anything. I tried to sign back "ok" but I forgot how to and just ignored her." I just smiled, nodded, and asked him if anything else happened at school that was interesting. He then informed me that if I am choosing how he marries, then maybe I need to see if her parents would want her to marry him because she loves him, doesn't wear glasses, and likes Legos too but maybe we could wait until they could drive. 

So, as Sir Layne and I continue down this path of discovery, I am going to cherish these moments with my little boy because it is becoming more and more obvious, children today grow up far too quickly. 

Look into my eyes....

"Hey Mommy, look into my eyes and I will tell you your future because I am a sidekick." Yes, you read that correctly, she is a sidekick and not a psychic- I verified the pronunciation twelve times just to make sure I was hearing her correctly. I do not know what spurred this latest craze with Blair, but I find her "talents" very entertaining. She has looked into Kennedy's eyes and predicted a future bottle, Cheerios, or fresh diaper (her nose may have helped her a little on that one). Layne's prediction involved going to school, reading a book, and playing with Legos. She looked into my eyes, commented on how bloodshot they were, asked why I had dark circles under them, and then informed me that I was going to have a cup of coffee and a kiss from her. Well, Blair's accuracy is amazing- every single thing happened for all of us. I am guessing that Madame Blair's "sidekick" skills have nothing to do with her attention to detail and sheer observation of our daily routines. 

Her predictions can only be made if she is wearing the correct attire - everything revolves around her wardrobe. An accurate "sidekick" reading requires numerous bangle bracelets, a tiara, boa, and several applications of flavored lip balm. If any one of these items are missing- her predictions are off by at least five minutes. So if you are in need of the winning lottery numbers don't bother asking Madame Blair- she's still fine tuning things. However, if you are uncertain about your daily routine or simply need to be told that you are sleep deprived and showing it, then she's the "sidekick" to see.

I can't imagine....

Carter Bucciero, age 2 1/2

Sarah,

I can't imagine the strength that it must take to keep fighting to find a cure, to sit beside your child and watch him be so sick and not be able to fix it right away, or to be separated from your husband and son for such long periods of time- facing what you face every single day. As a mother, it breaks my heart to know that you are dealing with all of this. I hope that you find comfort and more strength in knowing that fellow Vixens, young and old, are rallying behind you and sharing your story with others in hopes of recruiting more prayer warriors for Carter. We send you all love and encouragement from all corners of the world. - Your SBC Family

For those of you who may not know, please read about Carter and please pray for this little boy and his family. Prayer is a powerful tool. He is being medically flown back to St. Jude's hospital today after becoming very ill while on a family vacation to Walt Disney World. Carter had just finished his second full treatment of chemotherapy and they learned yesterday that his brain tumor has grown.  Sara is a fellow SBC alum and an amazing woman. Please take a moment to remember her family today (and every day) as they continue to fight the fight of Carter's life.

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/carterbucciero1?ref=nl

7 year old politics

In the spirit of the upcoming election, we have been talking to the children about our political system and the issues that go hand-in-hand with it. This has sparked some serious debate, questioning, and conversation and I am loving every second of it. I dabbled with this when Layne was 4 years old and at that point in time, he was in strong support of John McCain and most of his policies. I was informed by another adult, that there were some serious lunch table discussions going on between pro-Obama and pro-McCain 4 year olds..... which I love to hear but would have loved even more to hear the debating that was going on. 

Layne participates in Kids Vote at school and it has been interesting to hear his thoughts on local candidates. He informed me that no matter how strong your beliefs and platform are, kids are not going to vote for you if you are missing hair and look old and ugly. Sadly, I am sure that there are numerous adults that vote the same way- by appearance only.

Which brings me to Layne's presidential campaign. Layne has been working on his "platform" for some time. He has discussed in great detail the need for everyone to pay taxes if they are living here (legally or not) and fully supports the idea of placing the tax on goods and services instead of using an income tax. He also believes that there needs to be more money given to our military so they are able to get better equipment to use to protect them and also to help them live and get help when they come home or get a "normal boring job". He believes that things need to be manufactured in the good ole' USA to give more people jobs and make things safer. Most recently he even started discussing the need for the "rule makers" to start taking turns and giving new people a chance to vote on rules (term limits). He cited that in school, the children take turns being the leader and doing work, so why can't the adults who run the country. How sad is it that a 7 year old gets it and yet so many adults do not? He was asked to write in school about and this is what came home (in his own words):

"If I were president I would kick Obama out of the state and he could never come back. I would be a jeneral of the army and lead wars. I would be called Sir Layne. I would protect people more. Bie installing cameras with lazers in them. And they would shock thieves or harmful people. I believe in God and I believe in my country and say the pledge. I think that is very important when you are the boss."

He is very passionate about this career goal and maybe one day it will happen- if he can keep his charm and good looks. He has several years to change his mind and perfect things unless he succeeds in getting the minimum age requirement changed to 13 years old (which is what he'd love to have happen).  

Once Upon a Trip....

Blair, age 2

Bedtime is always fun. Layne likes to be read to and Blair likes to have stories told to her. Some nights my "mommy brain" isn't working too well and I just can't muster up a creative enough story to satisfy Blair. She asks that they all be originals and I can't remember what story lines I have already used. If my listener is not satisfied I am told to tell another story. So, the other night I was having one of those moments and I was struggling to think of anything. So I told her a story about going to Paris but I did not follow the normal story format. Here is the what I tried:

Me: Imagine that one day I wake you up and I tell you to pack a small bag. We are stopping by to see Crystal before we leave to have your hair dyed a new color. 

Blair: I only want to have pink and purple streaks instead of all over color.

Me: After we leave there, we head to the airport to get on a plane. Do you have your passport Blair? 

Blair: Yes, I do and I really like my picture in it. Did you remember to pack snacks Mommy? Sometimes the snacks on the plane are not yummy enough. 

Me: I packed you some Skittles, is that ok?

Blair: Yes, that sounds great. Why am I packing a small bag of clothes? I need plenty of things to wear. Where are we going?

Me: You packed a small bag because we are going to shop for new clothes when we get there. We are flying to Paris.

Blair: Wow! That is where Fancy Nancy always wants to go! Do you know how to speak Paris?

Me: French

Blair: Huh?

Me: People in Paris speak French.

Blair: We are in North Carolina so we should be United States and not English. 

Me: No, we speak English because that is the language of our country. 

Blair: That makes no sense..... All we need to do there is say Ohh La La and Merci a lot and everyone will know what we are saying. That is what Fancy Nancy does. I also know pirate too. Shiver me tremble, arrrr, and the flag is called a Jolly Rancher. 

Me: Back to our trip. We fly for a long time and you get to watch a movie (or two). When we get there you get to see the Eiffel Tower (just like Fancy Nancy's picture) and we got shopping. 

Blair: You messed up Mommy. 

Me: How so?

Blair: This is a girls only trip. So we need to make sure that Kennedy is in a suitcase, we need to pick BeBe up on the way to the airport, and she needs to get all of Aupples' money so we can have a lot of fun shopping. I remembered to pack my piggy bank.

Me: Ok, so we do all of that except pack Kennedy in a suitcase because she can sit in a seat on the plane. We get to Paris...

Blair: I am sleepy, so I am going to dream about this now and get all of the details figured out. Good night Mommy. I love you!

It must have been some dream that she had that night because she woke up the next morning determined that we were heading to Paris that day on the way to preschool and she had it all figured out. She even told our sitter that we would be gone for a while because of this trip and told her about all of the plans that were made the evening before. To say she was disappointed when I told her we weren't going is a major understatement. Eventually the trip suffered a major downgrade and turned into a trip to New York to knit (the plans she shared with my mom). Regardless, she still pours over her Fancy Nancy books, looking for "Paris words" so she will be fluent when she does make this long journey. I am sticking to the "Once upon a time" format from here on out since the "Imagine one day" seemed to evolve into a planned mission. 

Au revoir 

Tiaras and Bows

Blair did not have school yesterday so she and my mother spent a little time together. Anytime the two of them get together, it is trouble. The two elder Leos in the family (Kennedy is the youngest Leo in the family and she stayed home to nap and play) seemed to have a good time from the calls and pictures that I received.

Lunch @ PF Chang's

I am not sure if the chain of events is correct, but here is what happened (and the results of those actions). There was a trip to the jewelry store (for a repair) which prompted a lot of "wishing" from Blair. Mom did not tell her that she could make a wish list at this store- smart thinking Mom because I doubt that I would be able to afford anything she would have put on it. There was a great deal of time spent selecting new wardrobe items. Blair informed me again this morning that the swimsuit, cover up, and flip flops that she just fell in love with and would look so cute in will be on sale soon. (Ahhh..... the things she remembers). A trip to the accessory store resulted in a few new hair bows, which I was shown this morning. As she presented each one for Kennedy and I to look at, she did her Vanna White pose and added her little hip wiggle. She just loves those bows- I can't wait to see how much she loves them when they actually go in her hair (another battle I had to fight this morning). Which brings me to the reason why I had to fight the "bow battle" with Blair this morning. 

Trouble

Mom bought her a real tiara yesterday. I heard all about it when she called to tell me yesterday afternoon and I heard all about it again when I got home from work. Excited does not even begin to describe Blair yesterday. I walked in the door to see Blair dressed in her heels and wearing her new sparkly tiara. I learned that "if it stays in the light for 80 hours it will look yucky". She ate dinner with it on, changed into her pajamas and it was still on, and when I tucked her into bed- it was still on. I started to wonder if she had super glued it to her head while I wasn't looking. There was a laundry list of serious threats issued last night to get the tiara off of her head, but the one that finally did the trick was threatening to return it to the store. It finally came off (after a lot of tears) and was placed beside her bed so she could dream about it. The minute her eyes opened this morning, she placed that tiara back on her head. I fought hard this morning to get her hair fixed and was informed that a bow would take away from the beauty of the crown, so she definitely did not need to bother with a bow this morning because she was wearing her tiara to school. Nooooo...... I called Mom, who tried to explain that it was not the greatest idea and that everyone touching it would making it not shine, but Blair said that there was a special tray that it would be placed on and passed around so everyone could look and not touch. She had it all figured out. I packed her backpack and we headed out the door- the tiara safely at home in its bag or so I thought. We drove to school, Blair still talking about her tiara and doing her princess wave to all of the drivers passing us. Somehow the tiara did make it to school (I am still trying to figure out how she managed to sneak it out of the house) and with great pride she placed it on her head as she was getting out of the van. I cannot wait to see what tonight has in store- will she try and wear it in the shower? 

I sent my little girl off with my mother yesterday for what I thought would be a low key Girls' Day and came home to a self-appointed princess. If she starts telling us to bow when we address her, I am sending the tiara and Blair to live with my parents. After all, why should I have all of the fun?

Mommy Duty

Last week I was in the middle of things (and a lot of them) when my husband made a comment that sent me flying off the handle. Now, before I launch into this story, let me tell you that he is a wonderful man and very helpful, but apparently this was a day when he'd 1) had a temporary lapse in judgement or 2) meant this more in a jokingly way and failed miserably in the delivery. I am going to believe that the delivery was lacking that day.

The rug rats last Monday

I am a mother of three children, ages 7 months to 7 years. There is never a quiet, peaceful uneventful time in our house during normal waking hours. I also work full time which is not nearly as important as my Mommy job. Those of you that are mommies know that you are required to plan the play dates, check the homework, feed the crew, do the shopping, clean the house, do the laundry, pack the lunches, kiss the boo boos, wipe the noses (and tears), play dress up, be able to handle a light saber with the appropriate level of "umph" to get the battle done, be a walking encyclopedia/dictionary/thesaurus, a million other things. (For those of you who are soon-to-be mommies, please note that you are required to perform any of these skills at the drop of a hat and often multiple skills at one time.)

That night, I was attempting to finish up homework with two of the kids, unload/reload the dishwasher, cook dinner, feed the baby, get at least one load of laundry completed, and I had to make a unscheduled trip into the attic to look for an article of clothing. Things were rolling at a decent pace and I thought that I was doing good to have most of the activities centered in two adjacent rooms and not spread all over the house (as the y usually tend to be). In walks my dear hubby and out flies, "Dinner isn't ready yet?". I, because of work and the time I lose commuting, usually cook dinner in the crock pot (my saving grace). Tonight was a little different because a portion of dinner could not be cooked in the crock pot and I had to finish it once I got home. The look I gave him apparently wasn't scary enough because it was brought to my attention that of all the tasks I had going on, none were completed (though they were really close to being completed) and on top of that, time was ticking away and basketball practice was quickly approaching. Then I heard the words, "And I thought you were good at multitasking.... (chuckle)" SERIOUSLY?!?! 

At this point do I:

   A) Look for the nearest light saber to attack him with?

   B) Burst into tears?

   C) Grab my keys and head to Chick-fil-a for a great dinner - alone?

   D) None of the above but not without serious consideration

D. I managed to keep my calm (and hold back the tears) when I told him that he was dang lucky that any of this was going on because I had been battling a monster of a headache the entire day and I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a dark room and attempt to sleep. 

So, if you haven't heard it recently or heard it often enough, kudos to all of the moms for making multitasking a true art form. Sure, we do tend to get distracted from time to time, but in the end, it all gets done and everyone gets what they need and when they need it. Sure, we may function on minimal hours of sleep,  sometimes appear a little jittery from the volumes of caffeine flowing through our veins, and long for a magic wand/fairy to come and relieve us of a few of the more daunting tasks (like the laundry), but we do it all because we love our families (and fear the chaos that might ensue if we relinquish all of our duties). 

On a side note: I do love that the 5 and 7 year old are beginning to get old enough to help with some of the smaller tasks. Layne will graciously help me and oftentimes without me asking. Blair is a bit more of a challenge, she is under the misconception that when you turn 13 you don't have to do any chores (I guess you get a magic cleaning fairy?). She was hugely disappointed when I told her that unless she inherited a small fortune and could afford to hire her own maid, her workload was just going to increase the older she became. 

Baby + Dog = ?????

Livvie 

Addison was our first sweet cocker spaniel. We adopted Addison at the end of August 2003 and I found out that I was pregnant with Layne about five months later. I loved my little rescue pup (my first "baby") but I was nervous about how she would react to having a baby in the house. When we adopted her, all that we were told is she had been put outside to live when the couple she was with had a baby. She had never been around children, so her file was marked "No small children". It turned out, she was awesome. She would lay beside his crib or just outside of his door and come and wake me up if he started whimpering. Who needs a baby monitor with this keen pup on the job? The same was true when I had Blair, but this time Addison positioned herself on the stairs so she could be between the two children's rooms and alert me if something wasn't as peaceful as she thought it should be. She cleaned up their food messes without being asked, she let them love on her and play with her. What a dream.

Sadly, Addison left us to go to the Rainbow Bridge in January 2011, a loss that still tugs at my heart today. On Mother's Day weekend 2011 my husband surprised me with another rescue pup. A one year old cocker spaniel named Livvie. Let me first say that this was about five months after saying goodbye to Addison, I was just getting used to not having a dog in the house and the quiet of that life change, and I was about six months pregnant with Kennedy. If I needed my puppy fix, I would simply head over to my parents' house to play with their pups or take them to my house for a visit. I had it in my head that I would have the baby, head back to work and get settled back into that routine, and get the family adjusted to having a baby in the house. I do not care who you are, introducing another member into the family creates a little chaos initially and then you just become immune to the craziness of the new life (or sleep deprivation just takes over and you are simply just going through the motions of what you think to be a "normal" day). My mind was made up that we could start looking for a new rescue pup after Christmas, knowing that it would take a while (hopefully until the summer) to locate the perfect one. However, Dean thought that the children needed a dog, that I needed a dog to fill the void, and that the addition of a newborn would not create that much chaos in our already crazy lives. Ha! Livvie enters our lives and the fun begins! 

Livvie waiting on breakfast

Addison was a mellow dog and much older than Livvie. Livvie is a high energy, needs to be outside and running most of the day, puppy. She figured out immediately how to hop into the kitchen table chairs and make herself at home when it was dinner time (higher chairs eliminated this problem). And, lest I forget to mention how she loves to bark (at anything that comes within 10 feet of our house). Livvie is also a great escape artist. There were many a morning that I was headed to work and she would decide to bolt out the front door as one of the children was walking outside. The chase would ensue, me "trotting/waddling" down the street in my flip flops, chasing after this dog (running like a rabbit on speed), and cursing my husband the entire time. When I finally caught her, I was usually greeted with a wagging tail and those big brown eyes (she knew she was in trouble and it wasn't her fault that a squirrel/rabbit/chipmunk/cat just happened to cross our yard at the exact moment the door was opening). I can't help but to love Livvie. She is a very sweet dog but the timing of her entry into our family was not ideal. However, we have learned to work together.

Livvie insists on sleeping in my bed every night, actually she insists on sleeping on top of me every night which makes for long night. Though I love to hear her (loud) snoring and the incredible warmth that she generates (there's nothing better than sweating in your sleep), I have worked out an agreement with her. I allow her to sleep in Layne's room every night that he is home and in my room on the nights that he is away. It seemed like a great idea to me but I think she is taking it more like a punishment. Layne is thrilled to have the company at night and gets upset when she doesn't immediately come into his room when he is tucked in (I hate to tell him that I have to lug her in there). Blair and Livvie have a hot/cold relationship. Blair wants Livvie's attention when she is snuggled up with someone else, but ignores her when she is snuggled up with her.

So, back to having a baby and a dog. This is where it got a little fun. When we brought Kennedy home from the hospital, Livvie had no clue there was anything in the carrier. We walked in, placed the carrier on the table (Kennedy was asleep), and proceeded to love on Livvie. At the first squawk from Kennedy, Livvie jumped backwards, tucked her tail, and ran out of the room. She slowly crept back into the room and began sniffing the carrier. It took the remainder of the day and night for Livvie to warm up to the baby, but eventually they could finally be in the same room together without Livvie acting like Kennedy was going to attack her with her fierce squawking. We have gone through the "I need to steal the baby's toys" phase and survived. Now that Kennedy is eating, Livvie strategically places herself under the high chair waiting for those tiny hands to come over the side of the chair and release the goodies. My dog loves cheerios, green beans, saltines, and nilla wafers and can scarf then down in record time. Kennedy laughs every time she feeds the pup- it's a game. One fistful of food for Livvie and one fistful for her. Livvie, being the smart one, will now wait to eat breakfast or dinner until after Kennedy has been fed- why fill up on dog food when you can have yummy people food (my vet is going to love me). Livvie also acts like a siren when Kennedy gets fussy. At the sound of the first whimper/cry, Livvie positions herself beside Kennedy, lowers her head, and begins to howl pitifully. She will continue this howling until I (or Dean) walk over and pick Kennedy up. The louder the cry, the louder the howl- no matter what time of day or night. 

To say that things are lively in our house is the understatement of the century. In a place where silence is a rarity, I look forward to the early mornings when all I hear is snoring coming from the bedrooms and coffee brewing in the kitchen (it's the closest thing to quiet I can get), it's the time that I can look back and laugh at the circus that I live in. 

Morning Reality Check

Looking sweet and innocent

This morning was an ideal morning in Blair World, there were no protests or complaints about her outfit selection or hair today. I do not know what is going on, better yet, what she is up to because these mornings are so very rare. Seriously though, it was great to get dressed and be able to laugh and actually talk to her (without either of us ending up in tears). While I was furiously attacking my hair with a flat iron, Blair starting her million and one questions. "Mommy, what's this for (holding the eye lash curler)?" "Mommy, what makes your hair flat when you use that thing?" "Mommy, your hair sure does look crazy before you attack it, are you glad you have an hair iron?" 

Well, for some reason I was inspired to share with Blair stories of my hair days past (something I will now never do again). I told her about when it was long, when it was permed, when it was super short, some of the colors it has been, and of days long ago when big bangs and big hair were the thing. I even mentioned when I crimped my hair- the look on her face was priceless. She wanted to know if the crimper put pretty waves in your hair like Taylor Swift's hair (her dream is to have hair like Taylor Swift or curly like Mrs. Lynne's, her teacher last year at preschool). After I explained to her that no, it did not make pretty waves like Taylor Swift's hair, I got "the look". I knew with that Blair look, I needed to brace myself for what was about to come out of that child's mouth because it was not going to be nice. And then the verbal onslaught began....

"Mommy, seriously? Why would you do that to yourself?" "Blair, that was the "in" thing back then. I am sure that I can show you some pictures, it wasn't all that bad really." "Really Mommy? I am tying to imagine you with frizzy, wavy hair and I am not thinking it looked great. You probably had to use a lot of product too and that isn't good either." (Apparently my child earned a cosmetology degree at her preschool.) "Blair, we had hair styles that were popular just like you have - like you wearing a feather in your hair. It was just something we did to our hair like curling it." Then the ultimate insult came.... "Mommy, were there mirrors to look in when you were fixing your hair like there are now?" (As if I wasn't feeling old enough.) When I answered yes there were, she quickly responded with, "Then what color was the grass when you were younger Mommy?". I had no idea where this conversation was headed. "Blair, the grass was green just like it is now. Why?" "Because I thought it would be gray like in those old movies that I watch with you on TV. You are old Mommy, I know that you are older than Uncle Jeff. I never see mirrors in those old movies so I didn't think they had been invented when you were little." Blair had concluded that I was so old that 1) There were no mirrors to see how bad our hair looked 2) No one was brave enough to tell us how stupid we looked and 3) Apparently dinosaurs were still roaming the black, white, and gray world that I was living in. Am I that old in her mind? 

I know that I mentioned this morning was ideal in Blair World and I will still stick with that statement. However, I am feeling like one ancient thirty-three year old today and I have my five year old to thank. I have to wonder if I was anything like this when I was her age. If so, I need to really start apologizing to my mother.

Go to sleep or else....

This summer we took a family vacation to Blowing Rock. It was Layne and Blair's first trip to the mountains and they were so excited about this new adventure. We were going to Grandfather Mountain, Tweetsie, and staying in a "log cabin". I was just looking forward to a change of scenery, fresh air, and family time. 

Our Mountain Bear

Kennedy was just shy of a month old when we embarked upon this long weekend journey. I was fully preparing myself for the worst case scenario- no sleep, crying baby, etc. However, she proved to be an angel the entire trip. We made it to Grandfather Mountain (wind and all) our first day and saw lots of really cool bears shedding their hair. After we left there, we headed back to our cabin to settle in. Our cabin consisted of one really large room and a bedroom- all we needed for this weekend getaway. I had to break the news to Layne and Blair that they would be on the sleeper sofa and Dean, Kennedy and I were taking the bedroom. Did they take the news badly? No! There was a tv in front of the sofa, any kids dream come true. Layne was planning on watching tv all night long just to see what mountain channels were like. That evening Dean took the kids on a walk around the cabin to explore. They came back telling me about all of the wild things they saw (which amounted to a rabbit, squirrel, fish, and a frog) and how they wanted to go fishing next time they come. It was time for bed (finally!!!) and I tucked them in with strict instructions that they were to be quiet and go to sleep or we were not going to Tweetsie Railroad in the morning. I thought I sounded pretty serious and was very clear on what they should do, but apparently not because those two didn't anymore listen to me. Dean and I sat in our room and listened to Layne and Blair's party- complete with yelling, laughing, pillow fights, and running. Dean walked out of our room to issue his orders- bed, quiet, sleep. Dean took a little creative liberty and added that mountain bears were attracted to noise that little kids make at night, so they had best be quiet or a bear was going to come and get them. We had a nice ten minutes of quiet when the whispering voices became louder and the giggles started. The cabin was really dark, so Dean slipped out the door and went to the window right outside of where Layne and Blair were laying. He started clawing on the screen and hitting the side of the cabin. The cabin was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop. Somehow, Dean managed to slip back into the cabin and our room before the kids came running into our bedroom crying. They were terrified! Between hysterical sobs (and our stifled laughs) they told us about the noises they heard and sent Dean out with a flashlight to look for bears (they were not going back in that room until the outside perimeters had been examined). He took his time looking and then we somehow managed to convince them everything was fine. There was not another noise from them at bedtime the remainder of the trip. 

We still get questioned if that was a real bear that came to their window that night and if bears really do like kid noises. Dean and I still share a good laugh when we remember the looks on their faces when they came running into the room. I am sure that the majority of you that are reading this think we are cruel and evil parents, but we were desperate for sleep. I am sure that if you have children, you've come up with some pretty good scare tactics as well. Please feel free to share them, we need some new ideas. 

Just another Wednesday night.....

Family portrait by Blair

Wednesday night... what a night. I got home from work to find the kids eating a "light" snack of nachos, fruit, yogurt, and cake. Well, there goes dinner. Dean arrived home to find Kennedy chowing down in her high chair (wearing a Nilla Wafer between her eyes), me wearing an assortment of fruits and vegetables on my shirt, and Layne and Blair begging to go buy their Valentines' Day cards. Oh, I also had to break the news to him that Kennedy had decided to start pulling herself up to standing, so the crib was going to have to be lowered ASAP or we were sure to hear a thud in the middle of the night. The look on his face was priceless, something of a cross between worry, pride, and a little more worry. He took off with Layne and Blair and I began the process of chiseling food off of Kennedy and myself. By the time they returned, I had started disassembling Kennedy's crib while she sat in the middle of the floor playing and supervising my work. Blair popped her head in to inform me that she needed some extra beauty sleep and was headed to bed (it was 7pm). Not one to argue when she volunteers to go to sleep early, I went to her room to tuck her in and left Kennedy and Layne playing in the nursery. All I could hear from down the hall were squeals and laughing.

To say that Layne loves Kennedy is a huge understatement. He helps put her to bed, can get her to babble with him endlessly, he reads to her, and always asks about her when he is away from home. That is his little (est) sister and one that he is the most protective of. When Kennedy saw Layne come into the room, her little face immediately lit up, and she got on her hands and knees and started worming her way over towards him. He started cheering her on to try and crawl to him (something that she has been toying around with for a little while) and lo and behold, she did it. The more he backed away from her, the more she pushed herself to get to him smiling the entire time. He was the only one that she would crawl to last night- every time. He looked up at me with a huge smile and said he was so proud of her. His exact words were, "Mommy, I am so proud of her that it makes my heart hurt. I just want to hug her.". I told him that is the way I feel when I see him or Blair working so hard at something and they finally accomplish it. It's a good kind of hurt. 

So today I am thankful for my precious son with his kind and tender heart, for being able to witness these moments that bring a smile to my face, and for knowing that when Kennedy starts dating she has an awesome big brother to look out for her. 

Now, off to tackle today and wonder what surprises tonight will bring...

Divorce: the ongoing saga

I was married to a toad before I found my prince, but from that toad, I have two incredible children. That just goes to prove that there can always be something positive that springs from a negative situation. I will not go into the ugliness of my first marriage. We both made mistakes, something that I will freely admit to, and in the end it was better for us to part ways.

I left my first marriage when my son was three years old and my daughter just a year old. It was the hardest decision that I ever had to make. The guilt that I felt (and I still get twinges today) for breaking up a family, for taking two children away from a two parent household and uprooting their lives and for the scars that this divorce would leave on them, was almost unbearable. I had to remind myself constantly that I was doing this for them, to give them a better life and to give them a chance to grow up in a better environment. It still did not take all of the sting out of it. My children did not cry because they missed their father, they cried because they missed their dog, their fish, and their toys (the treasures that they cherished). 

The day I left, I packed three suitcases of clothes and grabbed a few toys and their blankets. I honestly thought that he would let me come back to the house to live since I had the children, but instead he remained and I moved in with my parents. Bless their hearts. They went from a house of quiet to a house of chaos in under twenty-four hours. We lived with my parents for a good two years and those are two years that I hold dear to my heart. They were the stability that I needed and that my children desperately needed. They were an extra set of arms to hold all three of us, encouraging words to help us, and a constant reassurance that we were safe and going to be just fine. I would not have been able to go through my divorce alone and I will be forever thankful that my parents were by my side (as they continue to be). 

The sad thing about a divorce that involves children, is that it is never truly over for anyone involved. There is truly no escape and just when you think you are getting a break, a parenting agreement needs to be modified, child support needs to be modified.... it just goes on and on. So, I sit here today wondering when or if it will ever be over but I am also counting my blessings. I have been blessed with wonderful children, a wonderful and supportive family, and amazing friends. My incredible husband is there for me when I need to vent (like I did five minutes ago) and for the children when they need him. It is amazing to see how far we have come, how much love he and the children share, and to know what wonderful things the future holds for us. I never thought I would be able to pull myself out of the place of little hope and misery that I was living in but I did. I know there was no way I could have done it without my family, friends, and their love. It was the best gift that I have ever received. 

Fashionista

Blair has very strong opinions when it comes to what she wears and how she looks. She is a self proclaimed "Fashionista" (I'd like to thank TJ Maxx for adding that word into her vocabulary.) This has been an issue since the child was two years old. I was truly hoping that by now she would have eased up on me a little but that hasn't been the case. To avoid as much drama in the mornings, I will consult with her the night before and ask her what she thinks would be a good choice for the following day. Usually we can reach some type of compromise that we are both happy with but there are times when I have to play the "Mommy Card". I do reserve the right to veto an outfit if I feel that it isn't weather appropriate. I have even gone so far as to hide clothing from her - out of sight, out of mind. If not, I will come home to bathing suits in November, princess outfits layered with winter pajamas in July, and sleeveless shirts during a snowstorm. Leave it to Blair and her flair for fashion (and defiance).

Last night, I was looking in her closet when she skipped into the room. (Side note: I love how she skips every where we go.) She greeted me with, "Hey Mommy, you sure do look pretty right now." (Red Flag: She is up to something). She stood in front of her closet and for a solid fifteen minutes, tried to explain to me why she needed black leggings (and a few pairs of them) because they are a staple in every girls' wardrobe. She then launched into greater detail about the type of tops we would need to buy to go with the leggings for a super sassy look. After I agreed to think about it (that always gets me off the hook with her), she asked what she was going to be wearing to school. I showed her the outfit - mistake. She said she hated it, it wasn't a good color for her, the pants were too loose in the legs, and it made her look silly. Then I was hit with, "Mommy, you are overloaded. (she reached up and took my hand to hold) I have an idea. I am going to hire me a dresser to bring me outfits to wear so you won't have to worry about picking them out." It took everything I had not to drop to the floor laughing. I appreciate her wanting to unburden me (I think there was some sincerity in it) with this task of selecting her clothes. However, she was totally expecting me to pay for this professional "dresser" to come every morning with new clothes to dress her in. She's a creative (and crafty) one.

As I drove into work this morning, I found myself weighing out the pros and cons of her proposition. Seriously?!?! Yes, because we had another morning meltdown - over her hair bow. 

Boy, Girl, Wild?

My children have taken it upon themselves to build their own version of a zip line in our backyard. Though I am proud of their ingenuity, I am terrified of one of them breaking a bone. This zip line was erected last Thursday and was tweaked a little yesterday afternoon (I am struggling to see what adjustments were made but I was assured that there were some done). At the dinner table last night, I was trying desperately to explain to Layne and Blair that twine was just not strong enough to support their weight and that using a stick to slide down the rope  was not the greatest idea because the stick may not be that strong. I was quickly informed that a stick was no longer being used because it broke and Layne had decided to use a light saber instead (because cheap plastic is always stronger than wood). I went back and forth with Layne about the dangers of this but still trying to stress that I was proud of him for what he had built. He told me not to worry, he was going to test this version out to make sure it was safe he was going to let Blair be the tester. Blair whipped her head around and said, "You have got to be crazy! I am not about to get on that and risk breaking something, like a nail. Plus you are not my parent and I don't have to listen to you when you want me to do crazy things." Layne pointed out to Blair the time he made her eat a dirt/bug/plant like thing...... 

Layne and Blair love to watch survivor type shows. Their favorite show is Man, Woman, Wild on Discovery Channel. There have been many a weekend when we have all piled in to watch this show with them and I am amazed at what they have learned. Layne now begs for steel wool and 9 volt batteries every time I go to the store because he is determined to start a fire in our backyard. I am equally determined to prevent this from happening and to keep him from burning down the neighborhood in the process. One day, the kids were outside "helping" Dean do work in the yard. I noticed them huddled up in the corner of the yard, a fake fire pit was in front of them, and I knew they were re-enacting something from Man, Woman, Wild. Suddenly, Blair shoots up, spitting and wiping her mouth, and running towards the house. She flings open the door and yells, "WATER! I need water!!! Layne made me do it!". What Layne made her do still remains a mystery - to a degree. We know that they were playing "survivors" (and deeply engrossed in it too), he told her to eat something that looked like bug/plants/dirt like thing, and she did it. She loves Layne and trusts him, but she airs a little on the side of cautious now when it comes to him and anything outdoors now. 

I don't want people looking at me!

First meet happiness

Last summer, both Layne and Blair swam for a swim team. Layne thrived, Blair cried. 

Blair insisted on a few "incentives" to swim (and she wanted to look good while she was doing it). Blair wanted pink goggles, which she got. She wanted her nails to match her swimsuit, we made it happen. If she swam in one heat, my brother was buying her a new purse- we have the gaudy purse to mark that accomplishment. Her first time out, she was scared and we were standing right there to cheer her on (her poor coach was in the water walking beside her to give her that extra shot of encouragement). I was so proud when she made it- and that was the first and last time she attempted swimming. She'd go to the meets looking cute in her suit, hang out with the team, attend all of the practices, but she was determined she was NOT going to get back in that water during a swim meet. We did get her to slip into the pool for one more meet but it was more work on our parts than it was on her's.... never again. 

Second meet distress

Blair's biggest issue with swim meets were the people standing around the pool. She made that very clear when she said, "I don't want people looking at me!". I was floored! This is coming from a child that thrives on attention and being right in the center of it at all times. She has no issues when she's on a stage for ballet- she grins from ear to ear and loves every minute of it. She cheers- grinning from ear to ear too. Yet, being in the water during a swim meet is her worst nightmare? I just don't understand. We all explained to her that the only people looking at her were her family and her teammates - all of whom were cheering for her. Still, she wanted nothing to do with it because people were looking at her. I am still utterly baffled by this. 

As I said earlier, Layne thrived last season in swimming. As he got more and more ribbons to mark his accomplishments, Blair became decidedly jealous. She wanted the attention he was getting and the awards too. Plus, it didn't help matters that he constantly called her a cry baby and waved his ribbons in her face. He has asked to continue on the team this coming season and ...... Blair has asked to swim again too. I am bracing myself for this season and praying that it goes much smoother than the last (at this point, anything would be a drastic improvement). If not, then she is just going to have to be happy sitting on the sidelines and cheering him on.

I remember praying for patience at various times in my life. God answered by giving me the ultimate tool to test my patience on a daily basis. Thank you God for Blair. 

A Shot of Nice

Dean took Layne to the doctor a little over a week ago because he was complaining about his ears hurting. There he was, all three children surrounding him in the room, when he proceeds to tell Blair that she was there to get a "Nice Shot". This did not sit well with that child and sent her into a fit of tears while she begged for just one more chance to be nice and promised to be an angel. The pictures that he sent to me made me laugh and feel sorry for her. I know she was overly worried about getting a shot, that is her biggest concern anytime the word doctor is mentioned in our house.

I guess I should tell you what led up to this threat. Blair had been acting up at home, refusing to listen, and was getting a little too aggressive with Kennedy and Layne. On one hand, she is now the middle child and because everyone ignores her this is her way of getting attention but it is causing us great frustration and needs to be corrected before someone gets hurt. Time outs, taking away activities, and sending her to her room weren't working at all. In just a few seconds at the pediatrician's office, Dean came up with the "Nice Shot" as a last ditch effort to get her back in line. He gave her a one month evaluation period and if she behaved and listened to everyone, then she could avoid this shot, if not, he was headed back to the doctor with her. The idea of her having to get a shot led to some great days of perfect manners, voluntarily helping with chores, and lots of love being shown to her siblings. I had a perfect 5 year old for about two days and then we were back to our old ways. 

Which brings us to this morning's waterworks session. Kennedy had an appointment for some vaccinations and Dean was taking her after he dropped Blair off at school. I had forgotten about his deal with Blair until she came running into my room, panic stricken eyes, begging for me to help her escape. Donning her backpack and clutching my car keys, she told me that it was her day to get the "Nice Shot" and she needed my help sneaking to school. Her grand plan was to "tippytaptoe" out the door while he was getting dressed and was distracted. In order for this to work, I was going to have to get dressed at work or in the car in the church parking lot because she had to get out of that house quickly. I glanced up to see a grin on Dean's face, liken to that of a Cheshire cat, and the begging, pleading, and negotiating started up between the two. Between sobs (and while wrapped around my leg as tightly as a tourniquet) she promised to be nice, listen, and follow the rules at home (oddly she seems to be an angel at school) if he'd call the doctor and tell them to give her one more month. He agreed to her terms with the understanding that by opting out of the first round of the "Nice Shot", she was going to have to get the more painful one if he did have to take her to the doctor in a month. A handshake sealed the deal. I can't wait to see how long this agreement lasts.... 

Mommy - 1 Blair - 0

This morning began just as every Monday begins.... my alarm clock goes off and I groan, Dean groans, and the dog nestles deeper under her blankets and snores. The process of getting five people dressed and out the door starts despite the protests. We like to let Blair sleep as long as possible to avoid the morning drama that goes along with her just waking up. Today we didn't have to wake her, she got up on her own. I was in the kitchen cleaning up after  Layne's breakfast when I heard, "Hi Mommy. I had sweet dreams last night. I love you.". Music to my ears. There she was, blanket in one arm, rubbing her eyes and smiling. These are the sweet moments that I have to remember while we are in the midst of a showdown. She then inquired about what she was going to wear to school today (my cue to brace myself). I told her it was hanging on the ironing board, and off she went skipping (skipping = GREAT mood) down the hall to check it out. 

And it begins......

Within minutes, I hear stomping feet coming down the hall accompanied by a pouty whimper (pouty whimper = nails on chalkboard to Mommy). This child's moods can flip as fast as someone can turn on and off lights using a switch. With her hand on her hip (head shaking) she looks at me and says, "Are you (pause) serious? I don't like that outfit and I tell you that EVERY time you make me wear it. Are you trying to make me look like a lollipop?". "No Sweetie, I just thoroughly enjoy torturing you with poor outfit selections." My sarcastic response won me the "Blair look". (If you know my child, you know this look and I am often of the receiving end of it whereas others are just mere witnesses.) This outfit is a white fleece jacket and bottoms with different shades of pink and green lollipops (very warm and comfortable). I tell her to get over it I lived through my mom torturing me the same way and I survived. (I again received her signature look) She stomped back to her room mumbling something about her friends laughing at her, at which point I tuned her out so I wouldn't feel so guilty about sending a lollipop to school. The protesting subsided (highly unusual for her), so I continue cleaning up the kitchen and packing the girls' school bags. Then the sounds from her bedroom start, not wailing and screaming but talking, almost like cheering. In my foggy state of mind (I am only functioning with three cups of coffee at this point), I am secretly holding out hope that she has decided to be happy about the clothing selection (see, still somewhat delusional too). I head to her room to see if things are okay only to find her waving her outfit in front of our dog's face, saying "Come on Livvie, get it, get it girl. You know you want to play. Please help me Livvie. I don't want to wear this. I'll give you a cookie.". Oh yes, my crafty child was trying to bribe our innocent cocker spaniel into eating her outfit so she wouldn't have to wear it today. Thankfully, our dog isn't that stupid. 

We made it to school this morning, wearing the outfit that caused such issues (Mommy-1 Blair-0). My 5 year old "teenager", with her dramatic flair, walked into school telling me what a bad decision I had made for her but still gave me a hug before I left and told me how much she loves me (she may be trying to soften me up for tomorrow morning). I guess I should start getting used to this because I have a feeling that it is only going to get worse.  

Disclaimer:  I was informed over the weekend that I am being far too kind in the way that I portray Blair in these stories. I will chalk it up to 1) Mommy amnesia (maybe) and 2) I want this child to marry some day and move out of my house. If I divulge too much, I may scare off any potential mates.

To know Blair is to love Blair

Blair @ Icon

Blair is five. I would like to say that Blair is the reason for all of my gray hair, but that would be a lie and she could easily get Carlton (my incredible hair magician at Icon) to back her up. Blair is highly opinionated, loud, and determined. I love her more than anything in the word and pray that she will keep these characteristics throughout her life. That being said, I would like to now retract that statement a slight bit. I enjoy and appreciate her, however, I would like to have a day when her will did not clash with my will. I am starting to really believe we are too much alike (my husband thinks so).

Beginning just before she turned two, Blair started having meltdowns. I do not want you to confuse these with temper tantrums, because they were no where close to that. She would simply burst out into tears because her hair was not down to her liking. There were many battles fought between the house and the front doors of the preschool over her hairstyles. I would put it up, she would want it down (and rip it out in the car). I would leave it down and she would want it up. One bow, two bows, no bows...... it was always something. Then, there came the wardrobe issues. The outfit was ugly, the wrong color, too puffy, too tight..... we still have this battle. This morning, it was over the hair and the outfit. The purple was the wrong shade for her to wear today (straight from her mouth) and the headband was annoying but she didn't want her hair done any other way, tears were flowing and life was coming to an end. (Shame on me for not getting my Mommy Magic Wand back from the repair shop because I am sure that would have fixed all of the problems in one magic swish.) Blair knows what she wants- she wants to look good at all times and she makes that point very well known. She loves to shop. She loves to accessorize her outfits with jewelry, purses, and hair bows. She is a little girl, prissy in every way. She is quick to tell me that I look ugly in something while I am in a dressing room trying on something. Honestly, she is right most of the time. She loves watching What Not to Wear, Tabitha's Salon Take Over, and Project Runway. She scans magazines oohing and aahing over the dresses and jewelry she sees. She criticizes me when my fingernails and toenails aren't painted, and sits on my bathroom counter in the morning putting on her "make up" while I do mine. She loves Fancy Nancy, cupcakes, and all things pink and purple. Despite the daily hormonal surges, tears, and battles, she is my Blair and I love her and she loves me.