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.