Free

my children are amazing.
every. single. ounce. of. them. is. amazing.
the smiles.
the silly faces.
the impersonations.
the laughter that erupts from nowhere and stays until their little faces turn red.
the hugs.
the kisses.
the spontaneous emotions.
the conversation.
the imagination.
the bossiness.
the defiance.
the independence.
all of it.
it's all amazing.

as a babysitter in my younger years, i always knew that little ones were cool. but i never really GOT how these little creatures are just so miraculous; until i was a mommy. now i see the amazing-ness all around me everyday. take for example this morning. let me set the scene:
7:05 AM
we've just dropped daddy off at work.
the kids and i are in the car alone with a 20 minute drive ahead of us.
fun. i know.
i roll the windows down.
decide on a radio station.
seek approval from the littles on choice of station.
and crank up the music-LOUD.
thankfully, this morning, there was a slew of good sing-a-long type songs to be heard. and we dove right in.
'Free' by Zac Brown Band is one of their favorites and it was the first one we listened to today.
i sneak a peek at their beautiful faces.
MP is squealing, "my song! my song! sissy, you heeeaaaarrr? my song!"
Norie is tapping her sweet hands to the beat on her door window. her eyes slowing closing as the chorus begins...
"Just as free
Free as we'll ever be
Just as free
Free as we'll ever be"
my babies belt out those words as loud as their voices will let them. swaying to the music. having no real understanding of how fitting this chorus is for this moment in our lives.
we've got no worries in this moment.
no stress.
just beautiful music, harmonies, and love.
all three of us continue singing in unison with Zac and his band.
i sneak another peak because i know that MP's favorite part is coming up.
his smile is wide and carefree. little teeth beaming through and blond locks glowing in the sun. Norie is bobbing her head. singing every word. (on key)
and suddenly, collectively, our voices get soft...
"No we don't have a lot of money (voices soft)
No we don't have a lot of money (getting louder)
No we don't have a lot of money (almost to full blast)
All we need is love" (singing our hearts out LOUDLY)
i get overwhelmed each time i hear them sing those words. my babies don't know that we are, in fact, not wealthy.
but they DO know-love surrounds them.
they DO know our family is close. (grandmas, grandpas, aunties, uncles, cousins-all of us)
they DO know someone will always be there for them. no matter what the situation.
they DO know in our family we overuse 'i love you'.
they DO know hugs and kisses are unlimited.
because in our family: "ALL WE NEED IS LOVE"
my babies show me the meaning of this phrase-everyday.

amazing, isn't it?

birthday e-vites

Princess Norah is turning four,
Won’t you come with us to explore?
Fish, butterflies, alligators and sharks
And some more critters from Noah’s Ark
Are waiting for you to come by and see ‘em…
At the Natural Science Museum!
Cupcakes and juice will be there too,
Now we’re just waiting to hear from you!

Natural Science Museum
Saturday, August 21, 2010
10 AM-12 PM

yes, i know it is August

and i realize i haven't posted anything since, well, ummmmmm...
that last post, which was titled a lot but said really nothing at all.
cause i had a lot to say then.
but that in no way amounts to the volume of stuff i have bouncing around in my brain right now. i'm not ready to talk about it all yet. not even one tiny bit. but writing, it helps me.
it helps me remember.
it helps me to feel.
it helps me declutter my thoughts.
it helps me hurt.
it helps me heal.
it helps me laugh.
it helps me cry.
it helps me hold grudges when i just don't want to let it go.
it helps me put away some of the exhausting feelings i have been having of late.
it helps me work it all out.
it helps me. it just freaking helps.

so here i am writing; random, fractured thoughts.
in a nutshell, my head is crazy right now. bouncing, erratic bits of information, questions, emotions, thoughts.
i feel left out by some.
i feel shut out by others.
a lot of people confuse me.
others hurt me in ways i didn't know possible.
i got really pissed off this weekend. i mean like REALLY pissed off.
today was my first day back at work in almost a month.
my new scar on my physical self looks good; healing up nicely. i am a firm believer in that skin super glue.
the new wounds on my heart aren't healing like i think they should. sometimes i wonder if they are meant to heal at all.
i am amazed by the compassion of others.
the outpouring of love and giving in honor of another.
thankful for so much.
those McDonald's french fries were not a nutritious lunch or enough to fill the void in my belly.
my eyes hurt a lot.
i got new glasses last week but they don't quite fit right yet.
i think lucida sans should be the default font for the world.
this might be enough for today.
so i'll end with this:

my heart

a lot

i have a lot to say. i just don't know where to start or where to end.
both of the offspring have been particularly funny lately.
i really like to swim.
the kids like to slip n slide.
roxee likes frogs. (well, i don't know if we have toads or frogs)
i haven't had a lot of time to think lately.
i made a random comment on my friend M's blog.
maybe i'll have more to say tomorrow.
KH-this post was for you.
just so ya know.

the end.

new beginnings

Sweet Pearson Family,
Congratulations on your decision to move to Florida! Not only will you have the luxury of seeing the beautiful beach sun shine on the water, experience the white sands beneath your feet...creeping through your toes, smell the wonderful ocean air, feel the sea breeze caress your hair and body; you will now experience the joy in knowing you are doing everything in your human power to provide the best for your angel boy. (not that you haven't been so far, mind you) I, as one person in our extended family-I can't express with words the feelings I have about you individually, your family, your experiences, your victories, your frustrations, your fears and concerns...or about Autism.
I can tell you, I am proud.
I am proud to have you a part of my life.
I am proud to know you.
I am proud of your decisions.
I am proud of your courage.
I am proud of your hearts.
I am proud of the love you have for your Cohen.
I am proud of you, Cohen, for simply being amazing and an inspiration to me.
I am proud of you, Kelly, for being a mom I always dream of becoming.
I am proud of you, Chad, for being a daddy every child needs to have.
And Emma, I am proud of you, for being the most wonderful best friend a boy could want.
I love you sweet family and wish you all the best. Here's to many more victories in the future!
I love you.
Kayla

meet Cohen...and his talker

Have a minute? Click on the link below and read about Cohen and his "talker." Awesome job, Cohen!

Meet Cohen

things are changing

Mark Patrick turned 2, two weeks ago.
my precious, tiny, bundle of little-man-ess has entered the Terrible Twos.

for Norah, the Terrible Twos started at like 15 months and continued until 3 years old. the tantrums. the defiance. the rebellion. the overall nastiness of two blanketed us, quickly. she was already quite a talker once she turned 2, so there wasn't much of a change there (except after her 2nd birthday she could speak in paragraphs). but as quickly as Terrible Two captured my angel girl; it left her all the same.

MP.
well, MP is different.
his Terrible Twos are just starting to emerge. he's a sneaky little fellow that loves to plunder and be defiant. with the Terrible Twos he enjoys saying "nooooough!", "stop it!", "kit as-pank-im me!", "non't you tell me noough!" among various other phrases that my once 1 year old wouldn't dare scream at mommy. but it's something about Terrible Twos that helps bring the monster out of your seemingly well-behaved child. it's as if a blue-eyed, blonde curly headed snake-dragon has burst open the gates of my child's brain and has vowed to inhabit his mind until mommy goes crazy. well, that's what it feels like anyway.

back to his plundering...MP can walk-sneak anywhere! he can get into my bathroom drawers and cabinets with the ease of a sniper walking through the woods. sometimes he can walk directly behind me and i have no idea he's gone hunting for trouble. he's taken a keen interest in "brusha teeff"; more acturately, the "brusha teeffpaste". he can squirt this stuff like nobody's business. MP apparently has special squeezing hands that allow the "teefpaste" to launch itself out of the tube and land just about anywhere; toilets, cabniets, sissy's hair, on roxee, in roxee's mouth, on his shoes, in his hair, on the mirrors, in the bathtub, along the chair railing...oooh ooh, and windows. needless to say, i have a fresh smelling house. (lol) the newest challenge to conquer has been mommy's new fridge. he can totally swing those doors open and tends to rearrange any and everything he can-as stealthily and quickly as possible. good thing is, he doesn't really get anything OUT of the fridge. oh, unless it's his "goyurt" or the kool-aid pitcher. but seriously, he can literally be standing right beside me and then with a flash, he's vanished. and everyone knows that when you call your kid's name and ask them what they are doing...and all you hear is silence in return, that little someone is doing something wrong. i find him in all sorts of comprimising situations.

in his closet with "ingredients" for cake. (aka mess)
in his room "playing" with his VHS tapes. (aka tearing up)
in his bathroom "cleaning." (aka getting water from the toilet and slinging it all over the bathroom as he "scrubs" everything with a t-shirt)
in sister's room "re-organizing" the bookshelf. (aka taking all the books out and throwing them across the room)
in my bathroom "helping" mommy fix the cabinet. (aka taking all the door knobs off the cabinets and helping himself to lotion)
in the kitchen "cooking" (this entails many different versions...another story)
and my all-time favorite, in roxee's bowl. (i can't tell if he's ever actually eaten her food or if he just likes to lick the water out of the bowl and then put roxee's food in the water piece by piece by piece. ooh yeah, and the unneccessary need of putting his cuppie in roxee's water, ya know so the cuppie will taste better, duh!)

aah, yes. the joys of Terrible Twos. but ya know, i do quite enjoy watching him develop into his own strong personality. he's opinionated. he knows what he wants and likes. he knows what he will not tolerate. he knows when someone is upset and how to comfort them. he knows when roxee needs a love. he knows he's getting the hang of life now. and that makes me proud.

so if you happen to be in the neighborhood this weekend...stop on by for our birthday celebration. i'm sure he'd love to show off his new tricks for you!

pants

MP had a major victory last night!!
he put his pajama pants on all by himself, like a big boy!
i didn't even have to help him with the normal struggle of getting them over the diaper hump!

now...i just need to speed up the continuous work on my time stopping machine so he'll never get any older.

hmmm...

it's been a while fellow inhabitants of the ether world. my apologies to those of you who check our little blog daily. :(
thanks for being so patient!

(first of all, i am in mourning. my beloved blackberry has ceased from working existence. it's still all together, making up one piece...the pieces just don't work together to create a functioning limb of my body. i will have to replace my bb today. hopefully before dark.)

tuesday's are the knucklehead's early day. we have to leave the house by 6:15 AM so mommy can make it to work on time. this means on monday night, bedtime comes early, too. MP is never really a struggle to get to bed; his sister IS a struggle. the first time i got her in her room all snuggled up in bed, she requested "4-5-6-7 books to read." mommy suggested 2 books-to which she countered with "how about 2-3-4-5 books?" we finally settled on three. i told her i loved her and said goodnight. she stopped me on my way out the door and said, "mommy! you forgot my hugs!"
aah, my heart smiles.
hugs are given, i love you's are spoken and goodnight is lingering in the night air when she stops me again, "mommy! you forgot my sugars!" (i am fairly sure i gave her kisses...the first time) sugars are distributed evenly over her and dimple-faced laughter warms my soul.
"i love you Norah! good night scooby doo!"
she doesn't stop me this time as i walk through the door. this sequence of events will play out again soon...well not exactly the same, but similar. two more times actually.

fast forward. 2 AM.

mommy is in the world of dreamers. suddenly, i hear a little man voice shrieking: "rahksee, rahksee, rahksee!"
i do a quick check-roxee is lying on the floor next to the bed. she couldn't have hurt him.
"rahksee rahksee rahksee!" cry, cry, sob, cry.
i leap to him, cradle him tight and ask what's wrong with my man.
he points his finger at my face, near my nose and his feet are sticking out to the side awkwardly.

eeeewwwwwwwwwwww! it's poop...of the canine variety.

how did this happen? and why is it on his hand? and if it is just on his hand, why is he screaming?
my room is of course dark, so we head to the bathroom for disinfectants.
apparently, roxee had to poop last night and for the FIRST time since she's been living with us-pooped in our room. she didn't ask to go out, as far as i can remember. i'm not having any flashbacks of doggie dreams or scratching at my hand.
ugh.
we begin cleaning his hands off and once they are clean i notice the smell seems to be getting stronger.
"ok man! we got your hands all cleaned up. you alright, now?"
mommy's eyes still aren't awake, and apparently, not even open.
"my fput mama, my fput!"
poor little darling boy. i didn't even look at his feet! that's where the poop was! it was only on his hand cause he tried to clean it up himself, first. poor baby. bless it.
alright. foot is clean. poop is off the floor. we are back in bed-meaning, MP joined mommy and daddy for the rest of sleepy time.
however, since little man saw the light so to speak, he was now not interested in any more sleepy time. he stayed up for about another hour and a half. mommy had to get creative...i tried the threats back to the firetruck bed, tried the singing of nite nite songs, daddy had even given it a go. MP did NOT want to go back to sleep. i ask him if he wants to play a game. of course he does!
so here's how it went:
man, cover up and count to three under the covers.
ok mama. he gets underneath the covers and waits.
we count 1-2-3
i pull the covers back and say 'eep eye!'
we giggle.
alright, do it again man.
he gets in position.
we count 1-2-3
i pull the covers back and say 'eep eye!'
we giggle again.
now, man, can you count to five under the covers?
yeah, m'am.
he gets in position.
i wait a little while before starting to count.
i count 1-2-
he's not counting! did it work?
i peep under the covers-he's out.

aaahhh, good. mommy needs sleep.

uncomfortable

are you ever uncomfortable in your own skin?
blar.
today, i am.
do you ever put something on and then immediately regret it when you leave the house?
today, i did.
i have major anxiety issues and obviously some going on with my self esteem, too. i wore something new today at work. and it looks fine, i guess. but it includes stepping out of my norm, my shell, my comfy that i love so much.

i have on knee high boots.

i have never worn knee high boots with out full length pants. (my mother reminds me that i did wear white go-go boots while performing in college with dance teams but, that is so not the same.) and today i decided (or had a lapse in judgment) that i would wear these knee high boots with a skirt. a shorterish type skirt.
i feel like i look like a kindergarten teacher on crack or something. seriously. in the comfort of my own home, i thought this outfit would work. i mean, how hard could this be, right? i sit at a desk for 8 loooonnnggg hours. but the longer i am forced to remain in public view...the more uncomfortable i become. i get paranoid; as if people can see into my mind, view my thoughts, and silently laugh at what i am thinking.
i know, i know. this is unrealistic.
*sigh*
but it's true. it's how i feel. it's how my day is going.

sometimes, i wish i could get a handle on the whole "i don't care what people think of me and can do whatever i want" thing. cause it doesn't stop at my clothes. i worry about everything and not just the physical. i worry about conversations i haven't even had yet, but may need to be prepared for at a later date. i worry about emails i send that may not have the right tone. i worry about cutting a driver off in traffic and if he'll remember me next time we pass through life on the same road. i wonder...and worry. all the time.

the other night, i had a strange revelation. i had a visitor that night. and my visitor had a phone call. my visitor in MY house-told me not to say anything while they were on the phone. for what? that's total crap. you have to hide the fact that you are at my house? i have to be quiet so you can what, 'safely' have this conversation? what would happen if i decided to yell out or heck, say, anything? how would that adversely affect the conversation you are having? ugh!
i could have screamed. but instead i just told the visitor that i thought it was absolute BS that i had to shut my mouth while they were on the phone AT MY HOUSE. and then it got uncomfortable. the living room seemed smaller. the couches were scooting closer together, quickly. and my revelation was-why do we change ourselves for the benefit of other people? why are there so many versions of ourselves?

i'm working on me. i am a work in progress. i tell myself these things everyday. i want an identity of my own. i don't want to just be his wife, her mom, or his mom. i want to be me. but i don't really know who that is.
i know who i pretend to be at work.
i know who i pretend to be when i'm out and about.
i know who i pretend to be around certain 'friends.'
i have all of these versions of me.
when really... all i want is one version.
to be the same, everyday.
to be normal-whatever the hell that may be.

and i get it. i get that we all have bad days, off days, happy days, sad days, and all the other days in between. but, isn't there anyone out there who really knows who they are?

surely they must exist.

i plan on being one.
cause i'm a work in progress.
and i am sick of being uncomfortable.

question

my daughter's conversation of the day:

n: Mommy, can i have a sister? I really want a sister"
me: baabbyyy, i think lizzie doll is the perfect sister for you! (lizzie doll is her favorite...she talks)
n: yeah, but lizzie doll doesn't have good conversation.

all i could do is laugh!

growing pains

i love my dog.
i really do.
i love my husband.
i really do.
really, i do.
promise.

my husband decided to let roxee out yesterday morning when he left so she could play in the backyard while the kids and i got dressed. how sweet! i didn't even have to ask! :)

IT RAINED! OH, HOW IT RAINED!

i guess that didn't cross his mind as he left. ugh. i didn't realize it had rained either...until i let my roxee in the house. she was prancing through Norie's room, spinning through the hallway, chasing MP to the living room and rolling around on the carpet throughout. and i was looking for her collar. where is her collar?!

oh. ha.

it's on her. the flourescent hot pink collar was now black. from mud. and goo. and nasty. it was black. roxee was covered in filth. she was devising an exit strategy from the back yard apparently.
the time is now 7:05 AM. i MUST leave the house by 7:20 AM to be on time at work. the kids and i are in our pajamas. and i now have dirty carpet and a dirty dog and dirty specks of mud every where. operation cleansofast begins now.
roxee in the tub.
roxee cleaned off (almost).
kids playing in mommy's bathroom while she cleans roxee.
roxee out of the tub.
MP touches roxee as she passes by now sans dirt.
MP laughs.
roxee comes back in the bathroom to shake off.
roxee has strange finger streaks of white on her newly washed coat.
MP laughs harder and rubs his hands together.
MP hands me a tube of kid sunscreen.
sunscreen all over MP's hands.
great.
sunscreen is the strange finger streaks of white on roxee.
ugh...
wash MP's hands.
rinse myself off.
dress self.
comb kid hair.
did i brush my teeth?
brush teeth.
thank goodness it's pajama day at Ms. T's!

7:22 AM
we're out the door.
i forgot something.
i just know it!
what is it?
i dunno.
guess i'll find out later.
oh.
it was my very important tax document i needed to mail.
good thing i'm filing early!

we made it out alive.
and in record time!
that's all that matters.
sigh. inhale. exhale.
what a morning!

in other news...my MP is growing up. sunday morning, he woke up, went straight to the bathroom and took his diaper off. he sat down on his potty. and tried. he really really tried!
my husband was sweet enough to let me sleep in so i didn't get to witness this big boy moment. :(
however, he did run around sans diaper for almost 2 whole hours and didn't have an accident! he's ready for potty training! my sweet little baby isn't so much a baby anymore. (sadness overcomes me)
the other side of this sadness coin lies a very lucrative offer...no more DIAPERS to buy! well, not immediately, but soon...i hope.
my big man even sat on the potty last night before bathtime and sprinkled a little in there! we were so proud! a little sprinkle of victory! (ha, that cracks me up!) now...if we can just get him to understand that when/if he runs around naked that roxee thinks his um, you know, man part, is something to bite and that it would be painful if she acted on this impulse that she has already tried out but missed once. cause right now, he thinks it's a rite of passage to let it all hang out. he'll learn. hopefully not painfully, but he will learn.

and that my friends in a nutshell is the last three blog drafts rolled all into one. i may have to do some editing later...but for now, you got your fix. ;)

prayers

well good morning dolls! it is quite the early morning for me. work at 5AM should be banned from my eternity. on the flip side though, getting off before 2PM is pretty much gonna rock. although, it would be nice to be an heiress...mom and dad there is still time for y'all to build an empire and devote all the money to your 3 girls! you could totally pull that off!

alright, enough chatty cathy. i wanted to follow up on yesterday's post. me and my girl have kissed and made up. it actually happened that night; albeit i still didn't feel good about the day's events that horrifically unfolded earlier, hence boo hoo was born. anyways, while putting her to bed she asked to say our prayer. it's usually the same one every night:

"Dear God, Thank you for my family. Thank you for my friends. I love you very much. Amen."

I'm not sure where it came from, but that's pretty much the nite-nite prayer script at our house. my creative genius of a daughter thought our prayer needed to include a few more items that night:
1. mama, please pray for my drum that daddy threw in the fire. i need a new one. (this 'drum' was an empty cardboard box that didn't know how to be shared)
2. mama, please pray for my dance class. i need to go back now.
3. mama, please pray for God to make shrimp seeds so we can grow them in our vegetable garden. i need them to make me grow bigger.
wow! i had to hold back the laughter. but the prayer felt a little more honest once we got in all those requests. bless it! she's a good one, that girl.

on the MP front, well, he's been fairly mellow lately. 'reading' his books, playing with his roxeegirl (she and he-in love those two-roxee is most definitely MP's girl), coloring LOTS of pictures and generally being adorable. ganma did tell me a delightful story about my children's sibling love yesterday. so, from what i understand, ganma, Norie and MP were sitting on the couch and each had a book to read. Norie decides MP doesn't need to hold the book he has because of some reason or another. so she swipes it. MP was NOT happy with his sissy's choice of movements and pulls one out of his own. (ganma says MP figured he couldn't reach sissy so he had to get creative) he SPIT at her-venomous spit! as if to say, 'if i could have spit directly into your eyeball, i would've. i hope it stings, sissy.'
bwahhahahhhahaaa! good thing i wasn't there. i'm quite certain my giggle box would have turned over for an extended time frame that could be deemed inappropriate. ganma, of course, told him 'Man Man! No! We don't spit. That's not nice.' he responded with a cold shoulder and staring fiercely off into the far corners of the room. i sooo wish you could all see his 'i'm not paying attention to you and i could injure you with these eyes' face. it's a classic. i love that boy. he's coming into his own...quickly. *squeal* which reminds me, he has a birthday coming up! 'tis all for now my friends, i gotta get my snake man's party planned.

boo hoo

first off, sorry for the delay in posts. these past few days have been rough for me. secondly, this may be too personal of a post. but i need to vent. i really need to vent.

do you ever feel like you suck at something...as if you just can't grasp the concept of exactly what it is that you're trying to achieve?
i do. there are a lot of things for me that make me feel this way, right now, it's being a mom. i have been feeling defeated A LOT. i'm terrible at this whole mediocre-mommidom, even worse at normal-mommidom and the worst at super-mommidom. i see all of these other mommies and they rock at this. they are patient, creative, pleasant, never complain and don't yell-EVER.

we were at the grocery store yesterday. my sweet babies were riding in the red 'racecar cart' (their favorite) and were doing fine. then, MP didn't want to share his monkey with his sissy. they fight. they hit. they yell. everyone is staring. i quietly try to intervene, explain the importance of sharing and let them know we won't be here much longer. it works, for about 7 seconds. they start again. pushing. squealing. fighting. i try a different approach.
if you can't be sweet and share the monkey then mommy will hold it until we're back in the car. all hell breaks loose. to them, this is not acceptable behavior for mommy. finally, we're finished shopping. FINALLY. (but not before the entire store knows that i am a horrible excuse for a human being and moreover, a mommy because my children are throwing mini-tantrums in public and i have not done enough to hedge these reckless acts of rebellion.)

Norah screams at me the entire way home. pounding me with insults and ear piercing sounds that beat on my self esteem. how does a 3 year old effect your self esteem? i know she is just a baby. lashing out because something didn't go her way. my head knows this, but my heart...my heart aches. she is instructed to go directly to her room when we arrive home because this behavior will not be tolerated.

she slams the door, teenage style, with rage in her heart. after a few minutes, i check on her and ask if she's ready to come out.
NO! she screams. i don't want you. i don't like you. i do NOT want your company! i do not want to live in this house. i want to live with grandma. get out!
My reply is meek, i am sorry you feel this way. once you calm yourself down, we'd be happy to see you. i quietly shut the door. she begins screaming-this noise. it seems so foreign coming out of such a precious baby. and it sounds so...real. like she is truly feeling this madness that escapes from her tiny mouth into primal sound. i'm angry at her. my heart hurts.

several more minutes pass by. i check on her once more. she's playing in her room and doesn't notice me walk in. i sit down on the bed. she lashes out at me...again. i think to myself; i will NOT allow a 3 year old run my house; i can't stand this! i yell at her. i tell her she is being selfish. i tell her to straighten up. quit that crying or mommy will really give you something to cry about. you have everything little girl! stop acting this way!
she's crying. she's hurt.
i'm crying. i'm hurt.
i slam the door.
why?!
why would i do that? she doesn't deserve this. she deserves better than me. more than i have been giving her. her reactions and actions are a direct result of the examples put forth by her adult guardians. me. she's acting like me.

whoa, i need to take a minute. a minute alone. i head to the bathroom. MP is pacified by daddy right now. it's the perfect time for a breath. i stare at myself in the mirror. i look crazy. i feel crazy. my eyes are riddled with-with what? i can't transmit the wild-eyed look into a word or emotion. i cry. a sob shakes my body. i feel weak-weak minded.
get it together, i tell myself. NOW.

sometimes, i am exhausted by my children. i think they think i am a joke. they don't listen to me. they don't follow my directions. they don't they don't they don't...
have i not taught them how to correctly behave?
have i not loved them enough?
have i not been a good enough example?
in my mind, the answers to all of these questions are NO. you have not taught them enough. you have not loved them enough. you have been a terrible and measly excuse for an example because unfortunately…this scene is not new. it’s happened before. and that sucks. it sucks bad.

i don't want your pity.
i want a new slate.
i want to start over.
i want. i want. i want.
i'm selfish.

my children and i-we'll be fine. mommy just needs to take a few more minutes in the mirror...looking…searching...analyzing...defining...who I am.
because my little sponges don't need to soak up anymore of this negativity.
my little sponges, need me.
and i need my little sponges.
together, we will make a better woman. a better mom. a better wife. a better friend. a better life.
together... this will be the last scene of it’s kind.

imagination

Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!
~Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Thinks You Can Think!

my babies have vivid, non-stop, outrageously fantastic imaginations. just recently, Norah, has decided that she has a baby in her belly, that she will soon need a husband to pay the bills, that her Magna Doodle is her homework pad, and that a cat jumps over her bed in the middle of the night and he (the cat) scares her. this cat thing has been happening frequently for a few weeks now. we don't have a cat. we don't like cats at our house. we don't know anyone with a cat (well, aunt j and her kids have one but we don't ever see it).
so where is this coming from? i mean, how can a little girl that so loathes the aloof feline take such a keen interest in 'Garfield: The Movie'? let me tell you about this cat.
right before bed most nights, we all curl up on the couch. we tell each other jokes and giggle. it's a happy time. then, Norah says:
"i don't like cats, mom. i can't sleep in my bed tonight cause this cat will jump over my bed and scare me."
"Oh baby, mommy and daddy won't let that cat scare you. we promise. and where is this cat coming from?"
N: outside my room.
me: outside your room or outside your house?
N: outside my room.
we usually have this same conversation until i get frustrated and tell her, Baby, there are no cats in this house. i will NOT let a cat come in your room and jump over your bed. now, it's night-night time, i'll carry you to your room and tuck you in. come on, sweetheart." and finally she'll pacify me and let me carry her like an infant to her room.
but these explanations are never good enough for her. how else do you explain that A) this is probably just a dream you are having and mommy is sorry that it scares you or B) your imagination is running wild and that's a good thing?
any thoughts? i'll wait... simmer on that one and get back to me soon.

now, MP. he can't quite verbalize what or where his imagination is going or seeing, yet. so, i like to watch him a lot to see how it's working out for him. i've noticed he really enjoys his closet. it's like a make-shift fort. it's fairly large and the closet walls are lined with shelves on one side and halfway lined with shelves on the other. in the middle of the closet is a type of bookcase thingy. and every possible nook and cranny is filled to the brim with toys, BOY toys. it's pretty neat in there actually. but, can you imagine what this must look like to my toddler? it's a wonderland! i've seen his eyes light up as he walks through-soaking in all the colors and textures and shelves. (i know now he looks at the shelves with such awe because he can climb them-almost to the top-terrifying!) i've seen him read his dinosaurs books. i've witnessed a train racing a bulldozer. i've watched his ride-on dump truck become a stepping stool to reach his puzzles. (i had to intervene on that one. i couldn't have him falling, now could i?)
i've spotted a dragon sliding down a 3-tiered parking garage. i've noticed he knows where every single toy is in that closet, at all times.

i soooo want to immerse myself in my children's thoughts and views of the world around them. i want to be able to feel what they feel, see what they see, filter the world just as they do...
but, i can't. therefore, i must rely on my detective skills and keep my ears open for them to show me...to see and feel and filter. and be resolute in helping to cultivate their imaginations.

roxeelicious

roxee is a ham.
well, she's a dog ham.
i mean...she's a dog that's a ham; meaning, she really loves attention.
she's also RIDICULOUSLY hyper. but i caught her lying down on the job yesterday...

c'mon, let's all say it together...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!

dang it. i can't get my words to left align. they are stuck in center. i don't like that. ok, i think i fixed the problem.

anyways, back to roxee. she's a pretty awesome dog. and the kids are smitten with her! they like to give her nicknames. sometimes, she can be called 15 names in one night. :) adorable.
here's a little run down:
roxee-girl
roxeelee
roxeelicious
roxanne
roxine
baby girl
my girl
foxy roxee
roxeedelicous---huh?

yep. roxeedelicious is the newest nickname. norah dubbed this appropriate.
i wonder if she realizes in some countries, people really do eat dog? i should probably leave that to myself.
this is a boring post. i just wanted to show off the picture of my girls.
blar. i think i have writer's block or something.

GET ANGRY! I AM!

My sweet cousin, Cohen, is in desperate need of ample medical coverage. Cohen was diagnosed with Autism at an early age, he's non-verbal and has terrible digestive problems associated with this diagnosis. He and his parents are having a awfully difficult time affording life, medical bills, therapy, medication, speech devices, etc.  The government office responsible for taking care of the disabled and under-insured, MS Medicaid, has blatantly lied to my wonderful family. LIED!

Cohen's family keeps a beautiful blog of his progress but unfortunately, their most recent post is horrific!
I've included below both the text from today's post and a link to Cohen's blog.
Become a follower, post your comments, help us take a stand!
Please, don't pity them. FIGHT with them; FIGHT FOR THEM! THEY DESERVE BETTER!
Let's help their voice be heard!

Thanks in advance sweet friends.

http://cohenpearson.blogspot.com/

Part 3 of the Medicaid/Disability Battle
I apologize in advance for the rant... So, yesterday morning, I was on the phone with the Director of the Madison County Medicaid Office.
Let me back up, in order for Cohen to be eligible for Medicaid, he first has to be ruled disabled by the State of Mississippi, which I think is ridiculous. He has been ruled disabled by state twice already - once for the First Steps program (which was about as big of a pain and little of a help as this has been) and the public school system. Madison County public schools already ruled him somewhat disabled, because he has been placed in a school strictly for special needs kids. Anyway, once ruled disabled, the application passes through the department of Maternal Child Health (I think that is right, they are never really clear on this), which has something to do with the fact that our income is greater that the maximum allowed for Medicaid, which is outrageous. (Chad and I would BOTH have to quit our jobs, get on unemployment, all 3 of us on Medicaid and food stamps in order for Cohen to be eligible based on income alone. Ridiculous.) Then it is passed on the Medicaid office - this whole process is supposedly a 90-day event.
Anyway, back to call... to make a long story short. She told me that the application and mounds of paperwork and photocopied of SS cards and birth certificates and doctor's notes and evaluations - all the information that took me around 4-6 weeks to prepare had never been filed, and that she somehow was lacking a gray form and a copy of Cohen's birth certificate - both of which I knew I had included in the original documentation. I was so angry, I was shaking, but I tried to keep my cool on the phone... his paperwork was never filed. His application was never filed. Never filed. All those calls and visits I made to the office just to check in and see how things were going in the process, I was lied to. Flat out lied to. They told me to wait my 90 days... it is Christmas holidays, things get backed up... I am sure it is being worked on... you'll hear something, etc. Well, 90 days passed and I had not heard the first thing, not the first thing other than what I had called and requested information on. So 90 days, I called my liar of a caseworker, and he told me Cohen was denied. Another big, fat LIE, because nothing was ever filed. On top of that, he told me I couldn't file again within a year, which is absurd. I guess he was just hoping that I would forget about it or perhaps he would another job by then and not have to deal with me... boy, was he wrong.
So, I told the director, I would be glad to drive all the way up to Canton and bring Cohen's birth certificate and fill out that one form she was lacking. So, I did... I also took Cohen's 4-inch notebook of medical records with me, just in case. And surprise, surprise, I needed that as well.
I got to the office, and (I will try to keep this short, but it was a lengthy visit) come to find out, they "lost" all of the paperwork - all the mounds of paperwork and applications and doctor's notes and evaluations and copies of my driver's license and our SS cards and birth certificates. ALL OF IT. All of the information that took me weeks to prepare. It just vanished. UGH!
And they lied to me about it for 90 days. Flat out lied to me about it for 90 days. All they had to do early in the game was give me a call and let me know the paperwork had been misplaced and let's get another set together. I would have been a little upset, but nothing like this. Instead, I was lied to for 90 days, and then another 2 weeks actually. Our lives literally hung in the balance in for 3 months... awaiting medical coverage for our son for his speech device and therapies and an MRI next week. Things that are not covered by our private insurance due to his autism diagnosis. Things that we cannot afford. Yes, Chad and I both work, but we don't make enough money to manage our lives and pay our cost of living bills and the exorbitant amount of medical and therapy bills for Cohen that insurance does not cover. I have said before, and I will say it again, but we are hard working, well educated, tax paying citizens, and WE DESERVE medical care for our child in some form or fashion.
Back to the meeting, our lives hung in limbo for those 3 months... we were waiting to get Cohen his AAC device and trying to figure out how were going to afford therapy all summer, since there is no option for summer school for him. Therapy at $65/25 minutes adds up quick, and Medicaid would cover that, as well as the speech device we already purchased out of pocket and everything else we deal with on a day-to-day basis, the medications and therapies and tests. While we were checking the mail everyday, hopeful that something would tell us we were approved (we have been told by every doctor, therapist and specialist that Cohen is eligible and should be on Medicaid), they never even filed it, and LIED the whole time.
And now my paperwork is missing... I guess I need to get our social security numbers on some sort of watch list for identity theft, because no one knows where all my paperwork is. All of Cohen's hospital records and test results and doctor's notes are gone! Violation of HIPPA? I think so...!
To wrap this up, the director let me basically yell at the liar for about 15 minutes. He barely even apologized. He should be fired. Actually, no, he should have wait in fear that he is going to be fired for 90 days, and then told that he was going to get to keep his job, and lied to about that for a couple of weeks, then he should fired.
Not sure how the director was notified of the situation - she said someone called her, but would not give her source. So, I guess I did something right.... wrote a letter or made a phone call somewhere along the way that sparked some initiative. So thank you to whoever is helping me. I really appreciate it.
But the situation is not resolved. Is this how we have to get health care for our kids? Cohen still is in the same boat as he has been for the past couple of years. Chad and I still have to pay the majority of his medical expenses out of pocket. I still work three jobs to make that happen. This is not how it should be. We are still in limbo not sure what we need to do, what is best for Cohen... it is looking like a move to Florida to a private school for autism. Did you know Florida passed the Autism reform bill... forcing private insurance to pay up to $36K/year in autism-coded medical bills? They also have a scholarship for kids with special needs to utilize in the event the public schools don't meet their needs. They give you money to send you kid to a private school just for their special disability. Sure would be nice if the state with one of the worst schools systems and worst America's Health Ranking in the US would step up and make a difference in the lives of these kids and their families.

Ok, must get to work now… have to pay the bills.

finger touches

it's the little things that you love and cherish the most, isn't it?
memories from childhood you hold tight.
daily routines with your angels.
smells. touches. textures.
your favorite t-shirt that's ripped and torn and- you get the picture.

i witnessed one of these moments yesterday, several actually.
my hubby came home early from out of town and i picked him up from his shop in the early afternoon. the first thing i saw was his smile, i love his smile.
it's the little things.

we went and got the children from Ms. T's house shortly after. they knew he was coming home and had been talking about it non-stop. when we walked in, they were busy being kiddos, not paying attention to much except their friends. they saw daddy. squeals! sweet dimples are glowing, eyes are shining, arms are wrapping and holding on tight. their little legs are working hard to climb up the big daddy mountain. oh, the delight!
daddy is beaming. you can feel his smile radiating from across the room.
his smile. i love his smile.
it's the little things.

we had to stop at the gas station and pick up a few things on the way home. daddy gets out, goes in the store, walks back to the car and he stops at Mark Patrick's window. daddy presses his pointer finger against the glass.
instinctively, Mark Patrick's tiny pointer meets his daddy's finger perfectly on the opposite side of the glass. they both laugh. daddy says, "Man-man, I've missed that every single day I've been away."
he smiles. i love his smile.
it's the little things.

we've been home a while now. Norie is snuggled up with her dah-tee. (she likes to pretend like she's little, sometimes; when she's not acting 25) i see him smell her hair, caress her little face. she scoots a little closer- just a little closer. daddy makes us all feel just a bit safer, more secure, protected.
he smiles.
i. love. his. smile.

i don't have to travel with my job. i see these precious sparkles of light our children give us, everyday. i've never had to be away; never had to miss these moments that stop our hearts with bursts of love. and it made me wonder...why is it so hard to immerse ourselves in these bright flashes of life, in the moment, as they happen, everyday?
for me, i've realized, it's time. i rush through life-organizing, cleaning, cooking, disciplining, working, re-organizing, working, cleaning, cooking, chauffeuring, doctoring, feeding, washing, working, cleaning, cooking...
i'm gonna be certain today-to slow down the madness. take inventory. prioritize. sweep away the unnecessary. apply the moment, to the moment.

we missed daddy.
he missed the little things.
finger touches.

excitement

I don't have a lot to say today guys...I'm on the verge of squealing to be honest.
My husband comes home today. One week and one day early!
YYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Stay tuned...more hilarious moments to come!

tid bits

if you haven't noticed...i'm a bit of a scatter brain. i've been trying all morning to get some semblence of a post together-i keep coming up short. so here, in all it's befuddled glory are tid bits from last night:

-the kids wanted a moist and delicious cupcake for their afternoon snack. i gave in. i usually don't let them have something that decadent and filling before dinner...but everyone needs a little indulgence-a treat for the soul, if you will. here's a window into that loveliness:

-i knew had to start dinner quickly; the pork roast was gonna take a while to cook. pre-heat oven, check. put field peas in pan, check. get out box-o-noodles, check. put roast in pyrex, check.

-roxee needs to do her thang, outside. she's talking fast, and jumping like kids do when they just can't hold it any longer. we went. we ran around. the kids are still reveling in chocolate heaven.
-time to start seasoning everything. i grabbed the pepper, nope-that would be mustard seeds. i tried again. pepper, shaken vigirously onto the peas. huh, pepper is black and that is...NUTMEG!? (fail) i decided looking at the seasoning might make this less painful. pepper is found, opened up-shook on to the peas. oops, the wrong side is open. pepper was poured into the peas. (fail)
-oven's ready. pork roast is slipped into the, ARGH! i left the cupcakes in the oven? ha, yeah, i guess i did. OOPS! cupcakes are now a gooey mess of nasty. (fail)
-play time for the kiddies. they love play time. Norie selects the art easel for her creative canvas tonight, the dry erase marker board side. MP makes room for himself at the easel as well. FUN!
-MP is such a thoughtful little man! He gave himself a green dry erase marker mustache and then gave one to the bathroom door! (i tried to get a picture but as soon as i got the camera out his "I am in so much trouble" tears ruined the mustache)
-Tennie and Papaw come over to change the carport "lightbug." Norah, MP and Rox are estatic! company at 7 PM! it must be a holiday! MP decides to show off his dare-devil skills, fearlessly jumping from the "otterman" to the "crouch." it's hilarious. you should see it. he stands on the otterman, desperately trying to keep his balance on the mushy underfoot, takes a deep breath, bends his knees, and launches himself. only half of his body seems to make the leap, everytime. head on crouch, feet dangling to the floor. it's bliss for him.
-bedtime. good times. roxee and i are on the couch. kids are tucked away in their beds. roxee hasn't been feeling well for the past few weeks, poor little four legged creature. she flips to her back. legs strrreeetttccchhhiinnnggg out-head flopping from side to side. adorable. look at me! aren't i cute! wanna play? watch, i can make you pet me. look at these eyes. aww, c'mon, give me some lovin. glad you're feeling better, girlfriend.
-bedtime. good times. letterman's on the tube. this creates the perfect atmosphere for...*snore*

cupcakes

We made cupcakes yesterday! The moist and scrumptious fun-fetti, chocolate covered kind. mmmm, muy muy delicious! We had a good time. Really, we did. The best part was eating them-for me anyways. I think the kids more enjoyed making them. They enjoyed stirring, pouring, tasting. LOTS of tasting. HA! The evening was filled with thoughts of "more cho-ate amorrow!"
Then morning came.
MP woke up around 4 AM. I think he heard me shut the door after taking Roxee out. He sped into my bedroom, squealing, "DAAAAAADDDDYYYYY!"
He looked in the bed, the bathroom, the closet. "DDAAAAADDDDYYY!"
"Daddy's not here buddy...come here, let mama snuggle you. Make you cozy."
He's crying now. Oh that hurts, oh man that hurts.
We fell asleep.

It's time to get up now. Blar. I don't wanna get up today.
Daddy called. He's in a hurry. Just has a quick minute to say "Good Morning!"
I decided that MP probably needed to hear from his daddy today after the early morning let down. I hand him the phone. Norie is patiently waiting for her turn. Daddy has to go. OH NO!
Tears ensue. Lots and Lots and LOTS of tears. Poor darling, mommy's here... But it's not the same, I'm not daddy.

We're in the car now, on the way to school. Norie "leeds" to call Papaw. He "leeds" to make her feel better. I hand over the phone.
I hear her angelic voice say, "I miss my daddy, Papaw." They talk, she's better. Thank GOD for Papaws. I can't take it when my babies hurt.
Finally, we're at school. The kids perk up cause we're at Ms. T's house!
WOO HOO! We LOVE Ms. T!

I'm alone in the car; hot tears flow down my cheeks. I can't take it when my babies hurt. And then I realize, I hurt, too.
He's still in Florida. Their daddy. My husband.

And I miss him.

show my teeth

My little man bit the other day. For the first time. As in showed his teeth, placed them on another child's skin, and clamped down with his jaw, making his teeth sink into another's flesh.
Why?
Why? Why do kids bite?
Norah used to "show her teeth" (that's what Norie called biting) to other kids all the time. She would bite for no reason. Seriously! But my little man, he's never really been the aggressor. Never really ever done much to hurt anything.
And of course, AS SOON AS I WALK IN the teacher tells me that my child bit and then what am I supposed to say?
umm, so?
did it leave a mark?
what'd that no good little brat do to my angel first?
is he bleeding?
do you think the other parents are gonna sue?
are you sure MP bit that kid first? cause you know, my angel doesn't do things like that...

While I would probably like to say all of those things...I tend to stick with, I'm sorry.
But seriously, kids bite one another. It happens. They retaliate. Get angry cause another one took away a toy or whatever.
Therefore, I decided to use my wicked detective skills and solve this mystery with Mark Patrick. As we're riding home that afternoon, I ask him, "Baby, why did you bite L at school today?"
MP: L bite me.
Me: Baby, are you sure L bit you first?
Norah is now interrupting...NOOOO, MARK PATRICK, YOU BIT L!)
MP: L bite me.
Me: Did he do something today to upset you?
MP: I no like it.
Me: What don't you like, sweetheart?
MP: I no like L.
Me: Did he hurt you?
MP: yes.
Me: Where baby? How did L hurt you?
MP: L scratch man.
Me: Can you show mama where he scratched you?
Since we're riding in the car all he can do is wiggle a little in the car seat, but I can tell he's trying to point to his back, well, kind of. I let it go for now.
We're home. I decide to try again.
Me: Can you show mama where L scratched you baby?
MP: points to his back, near the shoulder.
Me: I pull up his shirt...there's a big scratch from his left shoulder going down about 2 inches. "Poor darling, L did get you, didn't he love bug?"
MP: yes. I no like L.

Me either. Gah, I knew that L kid was no good. L better watch out, I'm gonna sick Norah on him next time. Yah, that's what I'll do. Send Norah...that'll teach him. How DARE he think he can hurt my baby and get away with it?! See, I knew my baby wasn't capable of a mean thought. I knew he wasn't capable of harming another human for no reason. He isn't intentionally hateful.

After we're settled at home and the kids are hanging on the couch, I decide MP needs an extra sugar today, for his heartache and scratch. I head over to them.

A cup is launched. A face is smacked with the cup. Norah is sobbing.
MP is laughing. He did it on purpose.

Well, maybe sometimes he can be a little rough.

you're never fully dressed without a smile

Who cares what they're wearing
On Main Street,
Or Saville Row,
It's what you wear from ear to ear
And not from head to toe
(That matters)
-From the musical, Annie

I have really enjoyed these past few days of spending "alone" time with my angels, without daddy, without interruption; just the three of us. Don't get me wrong, I miss my hubby terribly...but this has been nice. Ya know, I always guilt myself for missing out on most ALL of Mark Patrick's infanthood. Almost 2 years after, I still feel terrible.
I went back to work 5 weeks after he was born, got a promotion at work shortly after (like within a few weeks), and started working second shift: 1-9:30 PM. We HAD to have the money. I HAD to move up at work. I HAD to be a Supervisor. I just HAD to...HAD to. How could I pass up a possibility like this? I remember other mothers asking me, "How could you do that with small children?", "Don't you feel like a terrible person asking your husband to do so much?", "Don't you think this will affect MP in the long run, not having his mommy to put him to sleep at night?" "I could never do that to my kids," they would say.
I cringed each and every time-with every question-with every statement these other mommies made. They just wouldn't stop. It was constant.
Fast forward to present day.
Mark Patrick, he'll be 2 in March, ya know. He's resilient, happy, healthy, funny, clumsy (man is he clumsy!) and such a tender heart. He's turning out alright, isn't he? He's meeting his milestones, huh? Yes, he is. Full speed ahead-that little one.
Last night, we had such a fantastic evening planned. We were gonna make chicken tacos, cupcakes, watch 'Annie' and wait for Gamma to over and spend the night. Well, only 'Annie' ended up happening. But so did this amazing moment...
MP and I were huddled up on the couch with Norie and Rox. Man had his banket (aka blanket for those that do not speak toddler), pah-tee (passy) and paayow (pillow); leaning against me, smelling like sweet babies do after a bath. Suddenly, he turns to me, takes the passy out, and out of no where says, "Mama, see ya nose? Mama, see ya nose?"
"What's wrong with my nose, buddy?"
"Boodger? You got a boodger?"
umm, i think i'm alright in the booger department, man. nothing to see here.
I now have a little pointer finger dive-bombing my nostril, or my left nose as I like to call it.
Giggling, I tell him, "Ouch, man! Get that panger outta my nose!"
He's laughing now. His finger is now in his left nose, and oh yeah...he's got something. Before I know it, that little finger is dive-bombing me again (all while, "You're never fully dressed without a smile!" is blaring through the surround sound from 'Annie'.) He inserts his booger into my left nose. NO WAY! A little graphic, but nonetheless true.
"AAAHHHHH," I playfully scream while wiping my nose. "MAN, I no wantcher boodgers!"
He's in hysterical hyena laugh mode by now. He can't keep it together...at all. He's drooling, face is red and squishy, can't catch his breath, just laughing. That sweet, sweet sound of laughter.
My eyes are closed, soaking it all in. Sissy is laughing with us now, too. Roxee has moved away from us. She's thinking, How dare you interrupt my sleep?

"HONK, HHHOOOONK!" he says while pinching my nose.
He's so handsome.
He's making it.
He knows his mama.
I didn't ruin him by not being there to put him to sleep every night.
He's happy.
He's healthy.
He's clumsy...silly clumsy.
He's laughed himself off the couch now. Squealing with delight. As his head pops back up, he steals my sugars. "I uh yew!" spills out of his toddler mouth.
Yep, he's gonna be just fine.

"You're never fully dressed without a smile!" :)

my woo woo

So, my girl...she's a pretty cool chick. She's tender-hearted, witty, deliberate and intriguing. The other day, while at "school", she reported to Ms. T and her "classmates" with this information, "You guys, I just can't play today. I am tired and I just can't do it. And besides, my nerves are bad."
Oh yeah, we have a firecracker on our hands. No. Doubt. And seriously, I have no idea where she gets this stuff! :D
Lately, I have been quite captivated at her ability to "read", recognize, and speak with such clarity and understanding. Her sentences have gone from baby thoughts to big girl thoughts in what seems like just a week. She's 3! She's not a big girl yet! Well, not in my eyes anyway.
And this morning on the way to school, she wanted to call my friend, Ms. N, to wish her a happy day. Thing is, we also tried this on Monday and it ended up with Norah crying. Dang leaf blowers...why do you need to blow leaves every Monday, by the patio, at work, where people are CLEARLY trying to have non-elevated voice conversations?!
Alright, back on track...we call Ms. N and get the voicemail.
Norah says, "Ma, she didn't answer, but my homework lady did!"
huh?
your homework lady?
hmmm, i'll bite.
"Baby, you have a homework lady?"
"Acourse Ma, she's talking to me on the phone right now!"
"No way," I say, "how did you get a homework lady from Ms. N's phone?
"I dunno," she says puzzled. "But I do."
This prompts the daily morning phone call to Grandma. The call goes to voicemail.
Norah leaves a message, "Hey Grandma! Call me baaacckk!" Then suddenly, "She's calling me back! She's calling me back! Yay! Grandma!"
That's funny. I didn't hear the phone ring.
"Let me see angel." Norah hands me the phone and sure enough...MAMA (my name for her Grandma) is displayed on the screen.
How does she do this? Was it a good guess? Wishful thinking?
And silently, I smile to myself and think, "I dunno. But I do."

my first

Wow, so I have officially started a blog. Embarrassing, right? Well, maybe not...
(I wonder how many people say that during their first post?)

So, I should probably start off by telling you a little about the Kelly family. First, there is me. Kayla aka mama-MOTHER-mommmmmy-pack mule-healer of bo-bos-keeper of the house-taker outer of dog-feeder/cleaner/doctor of turtles-cook-nanny-and pretend funny person extraordinaire.
Next comes the husband. Mark aka daddy-dad-Roxee's love toy-meat cook phenom-strongest man in the world-Norah's official hair brusher-MP's official punching bag-and professional husband.
Then, we have the namesakes...Norah (Knucklehead #1) and Mark Patrick (Knucklehead # 2.)Norah aka sissy-Norie-scooby doo-boo boo-angel girl-teenager in a 3 year old body-comedienne of the family-professional dancer-and esteemed language artist and quite possibly the most beautiful girl that has ever lived.
Now, Mark Patrick aka-bubba-bow bow-brotherman-man man-hammerhead-future quarterback/baseball player/dancer/gymnast/Olympic hopeful-MP3rds-and quite possibly the most handsome boy that has ever lived.
Next come the non-human extensions of the Kelly household: Roxee-lady, age 8 weeks, lab mix puppy; Oolie- red eared slider turtle, gender unknown, named by Norah, claimed by all; Dabu- red eared slider turtle, gender unknown, named by Mark Patrick, claimed by all; and lastly...some fish. We haven't named them but may have to start since they are now procreating. I am the unofficial grandmother to fish. (Not where I saw myself at 25-for sure)
And that's all of us! :) We are quite the rare breed. And, now that we are all acquainted...

Anyways, so let me tell you happened in the Kelly house around 3AMish this morning.
Oh yeah-you read that right, 3AMISH!

(side note: Mark is out of town working so the kids have been crawling in bed with me and Roxee each night. Two toddler ninja kickers+a dog+a normal sized adult human=one small bed.)

So, I am feeling the love of sweet unconsciousness when I awake to the smell of toothpaste.
Hmm, I wonder...toothpaste? I must be dreaming.
My eyes are fighting my brain this early morning and don't want to open, plus my contacts were sticking to my eyes...no surprise there!
And as I rollover, I see my sweet angels covered in blue toothpaste! Blue toothpaste...we don't HAVE blue toothpaste! My brain reminds me, 'I threw away some kid's Crest this weekend that was about 2 years old.'
CURSES! MP has been in the trash...again. Unfortunately, no surprise there either. To you, reading along, this may seem quite hilarious. But, alas, it was not to the crazy one-eyed mother who was screaming into the darkness before the sun decided to let the rooster know it was the start of a new day.

Goooood Moooorrrrning, Sunshine!

Well, no more procrastinating-time to survey the damage. As I begin to sit up, I feel foreign bed matter all around. Puzzles, books and toys DO NOT belong in my bed. But, there they were, hanging out with the knuckleheads just waiting to be played with. Alright, damage survey now includes 1) toothpaste covered children and 2) way too many toys in my bed. Not too bad, right? (Remember, we haven't left the sweet comfort of bed, yet)

Honestly, I can't remember which comes next but I guess all in all it doesn't matter the order. Basically, this is what I saw...knuckleheads created a painting on the mirror setting next to my bed, I'd call it 'toothpaste by numbers,' there was toothpaste all over the toilet, counter and floor in my bathroom, MP had also taken the stickers off my deodorant, plastic casing off my hair mud and stuffed a bottle of hair spray in the toilet, there was water ALL over the bathroom floor, the deodorant holder was on the opposite side of the bed and appeared half-eaten, and the dog peed on the carpet. I can giggle now that is has been a few hours but I swear to you, my face was purple due to the holding of my breath (still wishing it was a dream).

It is now sometime near 5:00 AM; kids are de-pasted, counters, floor, toilet and mirror are clean, dog pee is out of the carpet and lysol'd and the kids have been instructed to "NOT MOVE FROM THE SPOT I PUT YOU!" mmmmmm, laying back down now. God, I love sleep.

**bzzt, bzzt, beep, beep, beep, beep, bzzt, bzzt**

It's my alarm...it's 6:00 AM now. I start my daily routine, thankful the kiddos are still sleeping, and what happens next? dog pee-on the tile-right outside my bedroom door-it splashes against the sole of my foot and in between my toes. Good thing I needed to shower anyways, Rox, thanks girl.

Later on that morning, the kids are up and running and Norah walks up to me so sweetly and innocently, looking right into my eyes and says, "Mom, you sure did yell at us a lot last night."
I reply with the sheepish, "I'm sorry mommy yelled, baby. I really am. We don't talk to each other like that, do we?"
"Noooo," she says. "But I have been thinking, and, since you yelled at me, I can yell at you now, right?" Man, her mind works too quickly to be 3-she just knows everything. Little smarty pants.

I try to explain that is not how it works. She blurts, "AND you always tell me what to do." Again, I try to explain that's a mommy's job; to help her babies make good decisions and to ensure they are safe, by all means necessary... (shaking my head as I write now...I had a feeling this was coming)

"UUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH, I am so full of anger at you now Mama!", she screams.

And all I can say is, "I know baby, I know" and pull her tight and steal her sugars.

Aahhh, I love this life. I really, really do.