Oh, How We Love The Zoo

It was just warm enough a couple weeks ago to make a last-second decision to ditch any plans and field trip the morning. Fooz was available to herd the bairn, which is critical. Critical because none of them would be caught dead riding in a stroller or the wagon these days if they can help it - except Lizzy. But then it's only for a couple minutes to gnosh and then she wants to walk. I'd be thankful for this (because I'm tired of kid-related accessories) if I could guarantee no one would want to be held by the end of the tour. So we have gear.

The turkeys did end up walking most of the way and danced at the monkeys (it is SOOOO exciting to see MONKEYS!!!), shrieked with joy at the cheetahs, and actually were quietly awestruck at the elephants.

There was one thing that struck me: I hadn't been out in a random public place for awhile, and I'm always reminded of something when we are. We are loud. Shockingly and probably annoyingly-to-some kind of loud. The kids squealed and screeched and yelled each others' names and mine and the names of the animals so everyone in Creation could hear them. I'm busy doing head-counts every 5 seconds and then calling if I only get "three". Or two. But heads turn, and it isn't because of our freak show - it's because one or all of my kids have startled them by their voice. There were all these nice families at our zoo for their Spring Break (I know this because I am horribly nosy and listen in on every one's conversations), and they were being sweet and having fun and then my four would parade through with our happy-yelling. It's as if we have no couth.

Good grief.



I tried to take some pics, really. This is the only one with all four kidlets. We were at the penguins and there was a little cave they would have played in all day. They liked it much more than the stinky penguins.

Thank you, Fooz!

My Little Leprechauns

The pics are presented in order taken. I'm not sure why I bother trying to get everyone in the same frame. Ever.

Lizzy is the only one looking at the camera. Gracie is completely frosted. Someone has offended her (probably me). Sweet lil' cherub.

Gracie is still hacked off. Ainsley is at least smiling, and Johnny is getting ready to bolt.

Johnny's gone. Gracie's thinking about joining him. Lizzy and Ainsley are wondering when my ridiculousness will be over, but are playing along.

"psst. how's about an escape?"

We've got runners!

And we're back. Ainsley busy organizing Johnny. Lizzy still performing well. Gracie has her classic smirk on her face.

Triplet Logistics

It used to be so easy. Taking all four kids to a store - nearly any store - was a breeze. Really. From the time we were released from quarantine to avoid rsv, we were out the door. The system worked beautifully and efficiently: two in the double-stroller, two or one in the cart, depending on the cart situation. I had 18 months of breezy errand-running.

Then trouble happened. The trio discovered the "car carts" at the grocery. Totally uncool, especially if there is only one available. Two-year-olds have opinions, you see.

Then bigger trouble happened and she is called Miss Independent. Sweet Gracie decided one day that she would prefer to walk in stores. I didn't think much of it and allowed it to happen because she's a 100% mama's girl and usually sticks to me like glue. But why in the world did I not think that maybe, just maybe the other two would remain content hanging out in a cart while their sisters (remember, there's an older one in the mix) had freedom?

Well, now I have everyone walking at least 90% of the time and it is not cool. These are the days when I wish we could get away with putting eensy shock collars on our kids so if they run off we could give them a little jolt.

Double Sigh.

Honestly, People.

Tonight, for the fourth time in as many months, I was asked a version of the question "When are you due?". This would be barely tolerable IF I WAS PREGNANT, but I'm not.

Listen. I don't care who asks the next time, or says (as in the case tonight) "Oh, so I see we're adding another one to your brood!". I will not laugh it off, or help make you feel better, or lightly toss out some silly remark that will make you laugh.

I will not be sweet. I will not help you out of the mess your mouth created. I will try to refrain from punting you as far as I can, but that is not a promise.

This is getting ridiculous.

I Don't Care If You're Cold!

The Laird children were aching to have The Stink blown off them, so when the sun finally decided to prove its existence last week - I flung them outside. It was a brisk 40 degrees, but oh so worth it. The picnic table was dragged out of the garage, spots were claimed, and snacks distributed.

First there were two. Johnny couldn't be bothered - he had to re-orient himself to the yard he hadn't seen in months. Oh, and Lizzy did not have a head wound. She just likes having a band-aid on her forehead and Ainsley loves indulging her.

But then the desire for pretzels took over and he joined the table. Gracie was not happy and kept trying to push him off her side. You can see her pointing her finger as she said "NO Johnny! You sit over THERE!". My sweet little bossy thing.

Freak-out over. Heaven forbid Gracie ever has someone in her personal space. Just like her momma.

Trying To Stay Calm

Two of my girls like the cool boys and I'm worried. Gracie has a crush on dread-locked Charlie on Clifford, and Ainsley thinks long-haired Imagination Mover Scott is the berries.

Lizzy doesn't discriminate.

I know it is WAY too early to freak out...but I'm freaking out.

Not really, of course, but you know what I mean. I have visions of weirdo boys (or any boys, for that matter) having the audacity to show up at our doorstep for any ridiculous reason and it will take everything I have to allow them the privilege to glance in my daughters' direction.

Conflicted

Our sweet, sweet boy. He is surrounded by only girls and lots of girly things for the better part of his days. So, he knows all the princesses (Sleeping Beauty is his favorite), walks better in heels than any female in our family, and is as comfortable running around in a princess dress as he is a fireman's costume. On the other hand, he makes impressive vehicle and tiger noises, has a true need to tackle anything that breathes, and laughs like crazy when he forces out bodily noises. He told me the other day, very seriously, that John is "My buddy". He loves, loves, loves his Daddy.

John and I joke that he is conflicted, but I really just think he's going to be an amazing husband and dad. If he has girls, they'll be incredibly lucky.

A bus in one hand and a purse on the elbow. What to choose??

Love Marketing

Wrap something in pink or make it smaller or put a heart on it, and my day is a little brighter. I'm every marketer's dream.

My newest favorite:



Because grown-up television viewing is abnormal around here, I missed out on all the advertising that went along with this new campaign. So when I pulled out a perfectly chilled can of near-delish (only real Coke is truly such) and saw that sweet little heart - my insides did a little happy dance.

I am not at all embarrassed, either. Because when the noise level is concert-level for the 4th hour in a row, something fun and unexpected really keeps me from going totally loco.