I'm going to have to retire my favorite pajama shirt. I was wearing it at breakfast this morning and the following conversation took place between two three-year-olds:
Kid #1: Why do you think that shirt says Dirty Dancing?
Kid #2: They not dirty. They just dancing.
Kid #1: Maybe cuz they're hugging and his arms are on her?
Me, in my mind: How can we change the topic?
Kid #2: Well, GG, there's no DIRT on Mommy's shirt!
#1: Maybe it's HOW they dance. Maybe they move dirty.
Me, again in my mind: Change. Topic. Now!!!!!
#2: You can't MOVE dirty. You GET dirty.
The other day I saw a grown man walking around Target in an Elmo shirt. His entire chest was the face of Elmo. I thought to myself: What would make a grown man wear Elmo on his shirt?
Now I have my answer.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
How Do I Love Thee?
Let me count the ways:
Tiny Man: holds his hand as though carrying a tray of food when I carry him. He has also learned to say No. Which I am not sure I love. But which I am sure gives him a step up in the "sticking up for yourself around three lovely ladies" department. He also blows the best kisses. Dozens at a time.
Little Sister: calls Tiny Man "Buddy" when she's helping him out or wanting him to do something. "Here, Buddy." So sweet. Has learned to buckle the top buckle on her car seat. And put her shoes on. And turn off the lights. And best of all, move wet clothes from the washer into the dryer. Best little helper in the house.
Big Sister: has created a "nest" on the couch where she likes to "just hang out." She has deep admiration for hula girls, based on a photo I showed her of a hula monkey clock that hangs in my office at work. If the name weren't already taken by a previous kiddo, we'd have to call her Princess since everything she does comes with the declaration: Because that's what princesses do.
Glamour Girl: Uses "It's a Mystery!" appropriately (by "appropriately" I mean, like I do). Somehow (my big mouth maybe) she found out about the Austin Cow Parade and is determined to see every cow in the parade. Thankfully, she doesn't know how many there are, so I think she may settle for the 15 we found last Sunday while trekking around in the double stroller. My favorite was painted like a football. Not my fave because of that. My fave because GG calls it "the meatball cow." Meatball, football, who cares?
Tiny Man: holds his hand as though carrying a tray of food when I carry him. He has also learned to say No. Which I am not sure I love. But which I am sure gives him a step up in the "sticking up for yourself around three lovely ladies" department. He also blows the best kisses. Dozens at a time.
Little Sister: calls Tiny Man "Buddy" when she's helping him out or wanting him to do something. "Here, Buddy." So sweet. Has learned to buckle the top buckle on her car seat. And put her shoes on. And turn off the lights. And best of all, move wet clothes from the washer into the dryer. Best little helper in the house.
Big Sister: has created a "nest" on the couch where she likes to "just hang out." She has deep admiration for hula girls, based on a photo I showed her of a hula monkey clock that hangs in my office at work. If the name weren't already taken by a previous kiddo, we'd have to call her Princess since everything she does comes with the declaration: Because that's what princesses do.
Glamour Girl: Uses "It's a Mystery!" appropriately (by "appropriately" I mean, like I do). Somehow (my big mouth maybe) she found out about the Austin Cow Parade and is determined to see every cow in the parade. Thankfully, she doesn't know how many there are, so I think she may settle for the 15 we found last Sunday while trekking around in the double stroller. My favorite was painted like a football. Not my fave because of that. My fave because GG calls it "the meatball cow." Meatball, football, who cares?
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
An Answer for Everything
Little Sister is talking up a storm. But now she has answers for everything. The SAME answers for almost everything, but answers nonetheless.
Where? "Hiding!"
Who? "Somebody!"
Why? (which she hears 500 times a day from two big sisters) "BeCAUSE!"
The speech geek in me is having so much fun watching this kid learn to talk. My favorite lately is that "Mommy, hold you!" has turned into "Mommy, hold you me, please."
Love, love, LOVE this girl.
Where? "Hiding!"
Who? "Somebody!"
Why? (which she hears 500 times a day from two big sisters) "BeCAUSE!"
The speech geek in me is having so much fun watching this kid learn to talk. My favorite lately is that "Mommy, hold you!" has turned into "Mommy, hold you me, please."
Love, love, LOVE this girl.
All I Really Need to Know I Learned Fostering
Never say never.
Buy different character undies for each child...the sorting will be easier.
Don't try to sweep up rice right after dinner. It's much easier when it's dry.
Vague answers to strangers about who you are, who your kids are, and why things don't always match up are entirely appropriate and acceptable.
Three year olds like bibs too. And stroller rides. And to be held.
You can make your point known...whether it's an I love you or a get down from there this instant...regardless of what your child's primary language is.
It ain't over till the fat lady sings. Or the judge hits her gavel.
Find the source of what really angers you. It's likely not a backtalking three year old. It's more likely that that backtalking three year old will one day walk out the door. Or even more likely that that backtalking three year old wasn't treated right in a previous life.
Just when you thought you've heard it all, you realize you haven't.
There are great gifts to be had in caseworkers, fellow foster parents, visiting children, CASAs and therapists.
Many, many people out there are interested in fostering. Not enough do it.
It's easy to forget the good stuff, so write it down. Fortunately, sometimes it's possible to forget the bad stuff too, so don't bother documenting that.
We are all human. Even bio parents.
But not all humans should be raising kids.
At the end of the ride, my kids will not remember me unless their families remind them. They are too young. They will hopefully remember that they were loved by an additional momma during their time here. It's my choice to believe that part.
It's also my choice to believe that no matter how horrific the beginning, the ending will be a good one. It's called Faith.
Good endings can look like different things.
A day without vegetables kills no one. Nor does a trip to Chuck E. Cheese.
Keep extra toothbrushes on hand. And lice shampoo.
It really does take a village to raise a child.
A full night's sleep is sometimes overrated. A chance to pat someone to bed or to sing them one more song is not.
The word "hurry" carries no meaning to the under five crowd.
There's no need to point out a lie. The liar is aware.
Blood is easier to clean than vomit. Especially at 1 a.m.
If you say it enough times, they'll listen.
If you say it even more times, they'll repeat it.
Make it worth repeating.
There's a reason God inspired someone to invent paper plates.
School serves hot lunch. If you don't make a hot dinner every night, no one cares.
Masking tape, bubble wrap and shaving cream are all really cheap, really entertaining ways to keep kids busy.
Sometimes not being in control is a good, good thing.
Love them like they're staying forever. Treasure them like they're leaving tomorrow.
Buy different character undies for each child...the sorting will be easier.
Don't try to sweep up rice right after dinner. It's much easier when it's dry.
Vague answers to strangers about who you are, who your kids are, and why things don't always match up are entirely appropriate and acceptable.
Three year olds like bibs too. And stroller rides. And to be held.
You can make your point known...whether it's an I love you or a get down from there this instant...regardless of what your child's primary language is.
It ain't over till the fat lady sings. Or the judge hits her gavel.
Find the source of what really angers you. It's likely not a backtalking three year old. It's more likely that that backtalking three year old will one day walk out the door. Or even more likely that that backtalking three year old wasn't treated right in a previous life.
Just when you thought you've heard it all, you realize you haven't.
There are great gifts to be had in caseworkers, fellow foster parents, visiting children, CASAs and therapists.
Many, many people out there are interested in fostering. Not enough do it.
It's easy to forget the good stuff, so write it down. Fortunately, sometimes it's possible to forget the bad stuff too, so don't bother documenting that.
We are all human. Even bio parents.
But not all humans should be raising kids.
At the end of the ride, my kids will not remember me unless their families remind them. They are too young. They will hopefully remember that they were loved by an additional momma during their time here. It's my choice to believe that part.
It's also my choice to believe that no matter how horrific the beginning, the ending will be a good one. It's called Faith.
Good endings can look like different things.
A day without vegetables kills no one. Nor does a trip to Chuck E. Cheese.
Keep extra toothbrushes on hand. And lice shampoo.
It really does take a village to raise a child.
A full night's sleep is sometimes overrated. A chance to pat someone to bed or to sing them one more song is not.
The word "hurry" carries no meaning to the under five crowd.
There's no need to point out a lie. The liar is aware.
Blood is easier to clean than vomit. Especially at 1 a.m.
If you say it enough times, they'll listen.
If you say it even more times, they'll repeat it.
Make it worth repeating.
There's a reason God inspired someone to invent paper plates.
School serves hot lunch. If you don't make a hot dinner every night, no one cares.
Masking tape, bubble wrap and shaving cream are all really cheap, really entertaining ways to keep kids busy.
Sometimes not being in control is a good, good thing.
Love them like they're staying forever. Treasure them like they're leaving tomorrow.
Getting Older
Two girls and I were talking about my upcoming birthday.
"How old you gonna be?" asked Glamour Girl.
"39."
"GRACIOUS, Mom! How's your head gonna fit in the car when you're that big???"
I am not sure which I love more: The question or the fact that the kid who knows how to flip someone off used the word "Gracious" as an expletive. Maybe a bit of both.
"How old you gonna be?" asked Glamour Girl.
"39."
"GRACIOUS, Mom! How's your head gonna fit in the car when you're that big???"
I am not sure which I love more: The question or the fact that the kid who knows how to flip someone off used the word "Gracious" as an expletive. Maybe a bit of both.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
FAQ #6
"How do you do it?"
This comes from people who are really just acknowledging the four under four thing. They shouldn't have a clue by looking at us that we are a foster family. Most people, I would guess, assume the bigs are twins and the littles are far enough apart to have come from the same momma. It comes from people in parking lots, sprinkler parks, and waiting rooms. It still comes from people who have known us as long as we've been a family of five. It just seems to be coming so much lately.
How do I do it?
...not always gracefully
...with a blind eye to dust bunnies under the beds and weeds in the garden
...with a sense of humor
...and some patient children who are mostly really good listeners
...with camera in hand
...with as much sleep as four kids allow
...and as many M and M's as my hands can hold at times
...prayerfully but maybe not always sensibly?
...knowing that we won't always be us
...but wishing we would be
...with endless support
...and with much appreciation for the people who believed that we'd be fine.
This comes from people who are really just acknowledging the four under four thing. They shouldn't have a clue by looking at us that we are a foster family. Most people, I would guess, assume the bigs are twins and the littles are far enough apart to have come from the same momma. It comes from people in parking lots, sprinkler parks, and waiting rooms. It still comes from people who have known us as long as we've been a family of five. It just seems to be coming so much lately.
How do I do it?
...not always gracefully
...with a blind eye to dust bunnies under the beds and weeds in the garden
...with a sense of humor
...and some patient children who are mostly really good listeners
...with camera in hand
...with as much sleep as four kids allow
...and as many M and M's as my hands can hold at times
...prayerfully but maybe not always sensibly?
...knowing that we won't always be us
...but wishing we would be
...with endless support
...and with much appreciation for the people who believed that we'd be fine.
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