1. The head coaches at The Dance look like adolescents.
2. The assistant coaches look like toddlers.
3. A 600mg ibuprofen is needed after a run to help the knees.
4. You think of a musical reference during a conversation with friends and don't use it because you realize they were in preschool when it was running.
5. Your heart dies a little when you realize you're having to hold fine print out a bit to read it better.
6. Your opthamologist suggests you could use some "cheater" glasses when sewing or reading in "dim light". (I refuse.)
7. Your heart dies again when someone at a party off-handedly mentions something about "40-year-olds" and it takes everything you have to not mention you are...well...sigh.
8. You take the kids to preschool and have to refrain from punting the moms who don't have grey hair because not only do they actually look cute in their work-out gear, they get to work out. Often.
Sheesh.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Bedtime Shenanigans
I've been meaning to document the silliness that happens as soon as the door is closed for wubby time (nap) or bedtime for awhile now. I keep thinking the games and songs and insanity will stop, but they simply continue to create new ones that usually reflect what is happening in their world at the moment.
The early ones, when they were still in their cribs, were simple:
1. Motorcycle - one would straddle the front rails of their crib and hold on to the end in front, yelling "VROOM VROOM!!! I'm a motorcycle rider!!! VROOM!!!".
2. Carousel - similar to "Motorcycle", but they would each choose and animal and "ride it". This one was fun because they would discuss at length which animal they would ride. Then it became more complicated because the carousel at a zoo we visited in Ohio last summer was under construction "broken" when we visited. Before riding their crib carousels, they would have to "fix it". The conversation usually went like this:
Trip 1 - "Hey! Let's play Carousel!"
Trip 2 - "Yay! Okay!"
Trip 3 - "But it's bwoken!"
Then - "Oh NO!" and "Don't worry, I'll fix it!", followed by "Oh thank you!" and a "You're just like Handy Manny!", then a "Let's have Handy Manny fix it!". "Yay!!"
3. Birthday Party - this obviously started during the birthday months around here and this was the first year they really started LOVING birthdays, especially theirs. It went like this:
Trip 1 - "Hey guys! Let's play Birthday Party!"
Trip 2 - "Yay! Birthday Party!"
Trip 3 - "Hooray!"
Then there was usually a short discussion on who would go first. After a choice was made, the "Birthday Song" was sung. Then "presents" were given to the birthday girl/boy, who would ALWAYS say "For me??? Oh THANK YOU! I love it!" Then they would be instructed to blow out the candles but "don't spit on it!".
And then it was someone else's turn. Then sometimes it was a stuffed animal's birthday, etc.
It is understandable that John and I were hesitant to move our little chuckleheads to big-kid beds. What would happen once they were truly free?
Not that much; just more fun.
1. Sing-a-long: simple but darling. Someone chooses a song and then they all sing it together.
2. Let's Fling Something: mostly played by the girls because their beds run parallel to each other.
It is what it sounds like - they fling their stuffed animals back and forth across the chasm between their beds, laughing hysterically. It's a simplistic version of "Take Out The Trash".
3. True Play-Acting: now this covers the majority. What happens is that each child has a stuffed animal or some other random object they have stowed away. Then the production happens. One animal/toy may be the mommy (this is usually Gracie's b/c we can hear her go "Oh Honey, It's okay. You'll be okay" and that's how she talks), some one's usually needs to be rescued and the others do so, or they go to school (this one is pretty complex b/c they then do songs, projects, or go to the playground), and so forth.
I did catch them out of their beds once and only once because they were being so loud they didn't hear me coming. They had thrown everything out of their beds into a big pile in the middle of their room and were dancing around like crazy people.
Even though it usually takes them FOREVER to fall asleep, I actually love this. Every night is like the greatest_slumber_party_ever! and who doesn't like slumber parties?
Can't wait to see what happens when the girls move into Ainsley's room in a few months. Johnny has declared he will be part of the move (which is fine; the poor guy would be so lonely), which means the four oldest will be together.
It's going to be like the monkey house at the zoo.
The early ones, when they were still in their cribs, were simple:
1. Motorcycle - one would straddle the front rails of their crib and hold on to the end in front, yelling "VROOM VROOM!!! I'm a motorcycle rider!!! VROOM!!!".
2. Carousel - similar to "Motorcycle", but they would each choose and animal and "ride it". This one was fun because they would discuss at length which animal they would ride. Then it became more complicated because the carousel at a zoo we visited in Ohio last summer was under construction "broken" when we visited. Before riding their crib carousels, they would have to "fix it". The conversation usually went like this:
Trip 1 - "Hey! Let's play Carousel!"
Trip 2 - "Yay! Okay!"
Trip 3 - "But it's bwoken!"
Then - "Oh NO!" and "Don't worry, I'll fix it!", followed by "Oh thank you!" and a "You're just like Handy Manny!", then a "Let's have Handy Manny fix it!". "Yay!!"
3. Birthday Party - this obviously started during the birthday months around here and this was the first year they really started LOVING birthdays, especially theirs. It went like this:
Trip 1 - "Hey guys! Let's play Birthday Party!"
Trip 2 - "Yay! Birthday Party!"
Trip 3 - "Hooray!"
Then there was usually a short discussion on who would go first. After a choice was made, the "Birthday Song" was sung. Then "presents" were given to the birthday girl/boy, who would ALWAYS say "For me??? Oh THANK YOU! I love it!" Then they would be instructed to blow out the candles but "don't spit on it!".
And then it was someone else's turn. Then sometimes it was a stuffed animal's birthday, etc.
It is understandable that John and I were hesitant to move our little chuckleheads to big-kid beds. What would happen once they were truly free?
Not that much; just more fun.
1. Sing-a-long: simple but darling. Someone chooses a song and then they all sing it together.
2. Let's Fling Something: mostly played by the girls because their beds run parallel to each other.
It is what it sounds like - they fling their stuffed animals back and forth across the chasm between their beds, laughing hysterically. It's a simplistic version of "Take Out The Trash".
3. True Play-Acting: now this covers the majority. What happens is that each child has a stuffed animal or some other random object they have stowed away. Then the production happens. One animal/toy may be the mommy (this is usually Gracie's b/c we can hear her go "Oh Honey, It's okay. You'll be okay" and that's how she talks), some one's usually needs to be rescued and the others do so, or they go to school (this one is pretty complex b/c they then do songs, projects, or go to the playground), and so forth.
I did catch them out of their beds once and only once because they were being so loud they didn't hear me coming. They had thrown everything out of their beds into a big pile in the middle of their room and were dancing around like crazy people.
Even though it usually takes them FOREVER to fall asleep, I actually love this. Every night is like the greatest_slumber_party_ever! and who doesn't like slumber parties?
Can't wait to see what happens when the girls move into Ainsley's room in a few months. Johnny has declared he will be part of the move (which is fine; the poor guy would be so lonely), which means the four oldest will be together.
It's going to be like the monkey house at the zoo.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Snow Days
It snowed again yesterday. March 14th. I had glanced at the forecast the night before and blew off the prediction because well, it's the middle of March. Plus the meteorologists have grossly missed the mark so often this winter that I just didn't believe it.
Imagine my shock when I stumbled out of the triplets' room that morning, happened to glance out the window and was greeted by yet another world of snow. Ugh. Why was I in the trips' room? Because my sweet Lizzy Lou had a freak-out at 5 a.m. about some random thing and once that kiddo's huge brown eyes pop open she wants to play. Since I was NOT going to give her the privilege of running around the house that early in the morning I climbed in with her in the hopes she would go back to sleep. She did not. Neither did her brother, who would occasionally sit up in his bed and say "why isn't anyone talking to me?". I cried Uncle around 6:15, released them from their room, only to be confronted with the white stuff.
And what was the first thing I did? Go online and check the school closings....and Whew! School was still on. We've had loads and loads and loads of snow this winter and I was over it. Too many snow days and too many hours to kill with five kids.
But then I got to thinking about how much fun we had this winter. The kids were finally old enough to really play outside for more than 3 minutes. If they fell down, outfitted like Randy in A Christmas Story, they could get back on their feet instead of staying turtle-up. They were awesome, which means next year will be even better.
Miss Lizzy with the coveted red snow shovel.
My big girl.
Imagine my shock when I stumbled out of the triplets' room that morning, happened to glance out the window and was greeted by yet another world of snow. Ugh. Why was I in the trips' room? Because my sweet Lizzy Lou had a freak-out at 5 a.m. about some random thing and once that kiddo's huge brown eyes pop open she wants to play. Since I was NOT going to give her the privilege of running around the house that early in the morning I climbed in with her in the hopes she would go back to sleep. She did not. Neither did her brother, who would occasionally sit up in his bed and say "why isn't anyone talking to me?". I cried Uncle around 6:15, released them from their room, only to be confronted with the white stuff.
And what was the first thing I did? Go online and check the school closings....and Whew! School was still on. We've had loads and loads and loads of snow this winter and I was over it. Too many snow days and too many hours to kill with five kids.
But then I got to thinking about how much fun we had this winter. The kids were finally old enough to really play outside for more than 3 minutes. If they fell down, outfitted like Randy in A Christmas Story, they could get back on their feet instead of staying turtle-up. They were awesome, which means next year will be even better.
Miss Lizzy with the coveted red snow shovel.
Johnny. Happy as always.
Miss Gracie
My big girl.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Heart Is Willing
A week ago, I finally had a few minutes to go on my first run in 10 months. I knew it wasn't going to be easy-peasy, but I feel free when I run and freedom is something I haven't experienced a whole lot of lately.
So it was with joy that I lovingly tied my kicks and bounced out the door. I felt light and sort-of fast and fantastically normal. I did my usual left-turn at the bottom of the driveway, elated that this was finally happening! I had looked forward to this moment ever since Annie arrived (really, I thought about running while I was in the hospital), so I was thrilled I felt so great.
20 yards...fine and fancy. 40 yards...hmm. 50 yards...oh boy. 100 yards...good golly this is going to be horrible. So with my triplet apron flapping and my hiney-baby flopping I old-lady-shuffled through the next mile, praying that the cracks in the sidewalks wouldn't trip me up.
The maddening part is that my problem is purely muscular weakness, made worse by the 10+ lbs I need to shed. The heart and lungs are fine. The mind is still competitive and prideful enough that I refused to walk.
It's the rest of me that made my first run of 2011 so ghastly.
Baby steps. More like baby crawling. Without the spit-up and drool.
So it was with joy that I lovingly tied my kicks and bounced out the door. I felt light and sort-of fast and fantastically normal. I did my usual left-turn at the bottom of the driveway, elated that this was finally happening! I had looked forward to this moment ever since Annie arrived (really, I thought about running while I was in the hospital), so I was thrilled I felt so great.
20 yards...fine and fancy. 40 yards...hmm. 50 yards...oh boy. 100 yards...good golly this is going to be horrible. So with my triplet apron flapping and my hiney-baby flopping I old-lady-shuffled through the next mile, praying that the cracks in the sidewalks wouldn't trip me up.
The maddening part is that my problem is purely muscular weakness, made worse by the 10+ lbs I need to shed. The heart and lungs are fine. The mind is still competitive and prideful enough that I refused to walk.
It's the rest of me that made my first run of 2011 so ghastly.
Baby steps. More like baby crawling. Without the spit-up and drool.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
So Sweet And So...Boy
The Scene:
It is bedtime. John has already had "snuggle time" with Johnny and has left to take care of Annie and Ainsley. I'm reading to Lizzy when I hear in the sweetest Little Boy voice...
"Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree-top"
I peek over the top of "Clifford's First Autumn" and see my boy, cradling Christmas Bear (the stuffed bear Ainsley gave him for, of course, Christmas) and gently rocking it to sleep. It was so stinkin' cute and he just continued to stand there, serenading his beloved stuffed animal. *
"When the wind blows, the cradle will rock"
I smile and glance at Lizzy, who smiles back. I continue reading and peek again because it is so, so very sweet to watch.
"When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will...BWAAUURRRPPP!!!"
A belch so loud it could NOT have come from a 3-year-old exploded from my son. It obviously caught him off guard and I flat-out guffawed. Lizzy thought it was hilarious. Gracie hadn't been paying attention to Johnny's singing since it is common practice in their room, but heard the burp and squealed. Since we were all laughing so hard, Johnny thought it would be funny to continue the comedy by forcing burps (not funny, but he'll figure that out someday).
And so they got themselves all wound up and bounced around in their beds for another 45 minutes or so.
Just another day in the life...
*Did you know our zoo calls stuffed animals "plushes" instead? Makes sense. Think about it. Call me if you need some help with this one.
It is bedtime. John has already had "snuggle time" with Johnny and has left to take care of Annie and Ainsley. I'm reading to Lizzy when I hear in the sweetest Little Boy voice...
"Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree-top"
I peek over the top of "Clifford's First Autumn" and see my boy, cradling Christmas Bear (the stuffed bear Ainsley gave him for, of course, Christmas) and gently rocking it to sleep. It was so stinkin' cute and he just continued to stand there, serenading his beloved stuffed animal. *
"When the wind blows, the cradle will rock"
I smile and glance at Lizzy, who smiles back. I continue reading and peek again because it is so, so very sweet to watch.
"When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will...BWAAUURRRPPP!!!"
A belch so loud it could NOT have come from a 3-year-old exploded from my son. It obviously caught him off guard and I flat-out guffawed. Lizzy thought it was hilarious. Gracie hadn't been paying attention to Johnny's singing since it is common practice in their room, but heard the burp and squealed. Since we were all laughing so hard, Johnny thought it would be funny to continue the comedy by forcing burps (not funny, but he'll figure that out someday).
And so they got themselves all wound up and bounced around in their beds for another 45 minutes or so.
Just another day in the life...
*Did you know our zoo calls stuffed animals "plushes" instead? Makes sense. Think about it. Call me if you need some help with this one.
Monday, January 31, 2011
I Never Thought...
...I'd be worried if 7 gallons of milk would get our family through 4-ish days of being holed up in the house. Supposedly we're in for a significant storm, which means no popping over to the grocery store for anything. Heck, they (I'm unsure as to who "they" are) have announced the storm to be so severe that people and friends are hauling out the generators.
We don't have a generator.
We do, however, have 7 gallons of milk.
We don't have a generator.
We do, however, have 7 gallons of milk.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Starting Early
The Boy tried to work me over today and, while he didn't get what he wanted, the effort was appreciated and admired by The Mommy.
Background:
Johnny loves, loves, loves chocolate milk. Chocolate milk is something I crave during pregnancy, so he comes by this naturally. Lately he's had a lot of it, due to time spent with the beloved Fooz, Daddy, and junky winter weather that sometimes softens my heart.
Which leads us to today's conversation:
Johnny: Mommy, I don't like white milk. (Note - he had just drained a cup of milk.) White milk is for girls. I like chocolate milk. Chocolate milk is for boys. Boys like chocolate milk.
Me: I like chocolate milk and I'm a girl.
Johnny: No, girls like white milk and boys like chocolate milk. I want some chocolate milk. (It must be said that he wasn't being demanding, just factual.)
Me: Nope. You just had some milk and chocolate milk is for special times, like with Fooz or Daddy or weekends. Plus, you just had some milk.
Johnny: But I didn't like my milk (not true) and I'd like chocolate milk.
Me: Nope. Chocolate milk is for special times with Fooz and Daddy.
Johnny: But Mommy, you're special. I can have chocolate milk with you. (said with this enormous smile, as if he was trying to hold back a belly laugh. He knew what he was doing.)
Me: Nope. Sorry bud. You can have it tomorrow.
I'm so cold. But again, I'm pretty impressed with my 3-year-old boy. He'll quickly learn it's going to take more than words to sway me. It will take ice cream (that's how his dad won my heart) or chocolate, preferably lots of both.
I'll leave you with the very latest pic of my too-smart-for-his-britches son. Whom, I should add, I adore. Please excuse the quality; it was taken w/the phone.
Background:
Johnny loves, loves, loves chocolate milk. Chocolate milk is something I crave during pregnancy, so he comes by this naturally. Lately he's had a lot of it, due to time spent with the beloved Fooz, Daddy, and junky winter weather that sometimes softens my heart.
Which leads us to today's conversation:
Johnny: Mommy, I don't like white milk. (Note - he had just drained a cup of milk.) White milk is for girls. I like chocolate milk. Chocolate milk is for boys. Boys like chocolate milk.
Me: I like chocolate milk and I'm a girl.
Johnny: No, girls like white milk and boys like chocolate milk. I want some chocolate milk. (It must be said that he wasn't being demanding, just factual.)
Me: Nope. You just had some milk and chocolate milk is for special times, like with Fooz or Daddy or weekends. Plus, you just had some milk.
Johnny: But I didn't like my milk (not true) and I'd like chocolate milk.
Me: Nope. Chocolate milk is for special times with Fooz and Daddy.
Johnny: But Mommy, you're special. I can have chocolate milk with you. (said with this enormous smile, as if he was trying to hold back a belly laugh. He knew what he was doing.)
Me: Nope. Sorry bud. You can have it tomorrow.
I'm so cold. But again, I'm pretty impressed with my 3-year-old boy. He'll quickly learn it's going to take more than words to sway me. It will take ice cream (that's how his dad won my heart) or chocolate, preferably lots of both.
I'll leave you with the very latest pic of my too-smart-for-his-britches son. Whom, I should add, I adore. Please excuse the quality; it was taken w/the phone.
He ran around the house like this...
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