Wild Monkey

I took S to the doctor this afternoon. As visits go, it was average. I've had much worse. Had to wait half an hour - most of it in the examining room (the worst place to wait). S and K's behavior was decent. But M is at the worst age! She was dying to get down and crawl around, and so the whole trip was a wrestling match between her and me. It was like holding a wild monkey. I'm not that paranoid about dirt and germs - I don't mind kids crawling outside if they're in old clothes. But I'm not too keen on examining room floors at 4:30 in the afternoon. Who knows how many gross things have been spilt, leaked, or dropped on them in the course of the day? Plus, I didn't have her in old clothes, because I always feel like I have to make an impression of motherly competence on the doctor.

I know when I take her back for her one year check up I'll have to give and let her explore; today was about all I could take. She kept head butting me in the chest. Hard. In case you don't know how that works: baby leans forward, bending at the waist, and then quickly slams her head back on you.

I've seen parents holding babies and toddlers older than M is, who are content to just sit on their parents' laps. It just amazes me. Once I saw my friend Missy hold her little boy, who was over one year at the time, on her lap for over an hour. He hardly even tried to get down. I could hardly believe it. None of mine have been that way.

Starting Young

As the missionaries were leaving our house this evening, K opens her arms wide, and says, "Hugs and kisses!"

Stinky Gas

No, not that kind. I'm talking about gasoline. I've heard some people actually like the smell, and I know some "headed-for-a-life-of-underachievement" adolescents like to sniff it, but I detest the smell of the stuff.
Last night, I went to get gas (in the aforementioned snow "storm") and stepped in a puddle of gasoline someone had spilled. Then without thinking, I grabbed the pump handle, which was also covered. I had to throw my glove away, and suffered with smelly shoes the rest of the evening. Next month, I wouldn't be surprised if the people we visit teach won't let me come back! I'm sad about the gloves; they only cost $1, but I really liked them.

Southern Drivers

Why are people so darn afraid to drive in a little bit of snow? This evening I went out visiting teaching, and my dear friend (who shall remain nameless) was very uneasy because it had begun snowing/sleeting. Just a little dusting. It wasn't sticking to the roads. And if snow does start to stick to the roads, it usually takes at least a few hours before it becomes impassable, and you're stuck and forced to eat the crumbs in the carseats to survive. At least that's the way it is in Virginia. I'm well aware that there are parts of the country where conditions can become bad quickly. But this is Virginia. It's been years since we've even had a decent 12 inch snow. But an awful lot of people around here, who are old enough to have had some snow driving experience, are convinced that they will slide right off the road as soon as snow sticks.

I was born and raised in Virginia, and in a part of the state that gets less snow than here, but my parents are Northerners. I guess they imparted their "don't let a little snow stop life" attitude to me. So people, listen up: If there is some snow on the roads, don't panic. Just drive a more slowly and allow plenty of braking room. (Ice is a different story, however, so learn to tell the difference between the two.) Think of the millions of people who live farther north, and still go on with work and school even when it snows! If they can do it, so can we!

Not again

Apparently, we may get yet another ice storm tomorrow. For some reason this winter weather has been happening on Fridays a lot, which means S misses her dance class. She's missed two already, and she gets so disappointed. Hubby and I aren't thrilled, partly because we don't like to see her sad, but partly because we paid an arm and a leg for these classes! We want our money's worth!

Sisterly Love

My two oldest daughters are only 3 and 5, and they have already had their first fight over clothing! It was partly my fault. Back before Christmas, their grandmother gave me some clothes to give the girls for Christmas. One of the items was a fancy looking skirt. I thought it would fit K, so I wrapped it up for her. I was wrong; too large. She wore it once, and it kept falling down. So yesterday before church, S needs something to wear, and I pulled out K's skirt and asked her if S could wear it. That was my mistake - I should have never had such a crazy idea involving love and sharing. K had a fit, shrieking that it was hers. S, wanting to wear it, starts wailing because K doesn't want her to. In the end, I got K to give in, and everyone was mostly happy.

Even though I have five sisters, I never had to share clothing, since we were so rich my parents bought us more clothes than we could wear. Oh wait, that was just my fantasy. Really, my next youngest sister is six years younger than me, so I was out of the house before she caught up to me in size.

Baby Blue Jean Blues

Grumble! Once again, I have a child who is changing sizes mid-winter. And of course, the stores have all switched to spring clothing. In February. She needs long sleeves and pants! And the size that I need is 12 months, and apparently that is more scarce than say, 3T or 3 months. Like at Target, they have infant clothing that goes from 0-9 mths, and then they have toddler clothing that goes from 24 mths - 5T. There's not much in that mystery land of 12-18 months. Why not?! So I am having great difficulty finding anything for her to wear. At Target last week, I literally saw a father put two pairs of 12 m pants in his cart. The last two in the store! Wal-mart has two tables of boys winter clothes marked down to $1, but nothing for girls in 12 months. If only I had had the foresight last month to get her some stuff when I caught the fabulous Jan. clearance sale at Old Navy. But she's a slow grower, and I didn't think ahead . . .

So last night, after a hospital visit, J and I rushed in to Old Navy in Charlottesville before they closed. They did have a few winter things left, and even a few spring things in long sleeve. The prices weren't quite what I would have liked, but beggars can't be choosers. And now back to the title of this post - they mostly had just shirts. I found one pair of sweats that don't match that well with the shirts, and there were racks and racks of adorable baby blue jeans. WARNING to new parents: blue jeans might look fetching on the rack, but they are usually a poor choice for babies. Fat, chubby babies need soft, elastic waist, easy-on, leggings or stretchy pants. Jeans end up looking funny, are hard to get on, and are stiff and uncomfortable. But I bought a pair anyway, out of desperation. Tried them on this morning, and I could barely get them over her fat roly-poly thighs. Then I could hardly get them snapped. The length was just right, so going a size up wouldn't work. Back to the store they go.

Maybe we'll have an early spring.

Valentine Cake

No need for a heart pan. Instead of baking two round layers, bake one round and square cake. Cut the round in half, and place the halves on the sides of the square, and you have a heart shape. I had to trim it up a bit, but that meant there were scraps for snacking.

The pink sugar kind of hides the lettering, but it gave my little helper K something to do.

Matching Food

Here's what I fixed the girls for lunch today:
leftover pork loin roast
buttered whole wheat bread (homemade)
apple slices
fresh blueberries

Not a bad spread in my opinion, even if it is a little different. It covers the food groups. And I rarely buy blueberries, so that was a treat. But S informed me that "it doesn't match" and would only eat the fruit!

Valentines and Lollipops

At story time today, the libarian asked the children what Valentine's Day was all about. "Lollipops!" shouts out my three year old. Ah, the simple life of a child.

During all of my single years, I think that I was dating someone only once on Valentine's Day, and by that point I was dying to break up with him. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until I was getting ready to go out with him for the evening, and I noticed that I was dreading seeing him! I didn't have the heart (haha) to dump him on V-day - how cruel would that be. So I suffered through the date. We went to a lovely, expensive, little French restaurant in Georgetown. It would have been so wonderful if I had just been with someone else! How terrible of me to say that, I know. I really don't miss those single years of disappointment much.