Crossed Signals?

I think that somewhere along the way, we got our signals crossed.

Here's our precious little GIRL, Avery, at a flag football game recently.

(Note: She won the headband at the pizza place the night before. I, for one, am devastated that it has gotten misplaced.)

Now, here's Rhett. our big strapping, young BOY. Wearing a princess dress.

I promise he wanted to wear this. And, just to be clear, his dad put this on him. I'm not sure he thought I was going to post it on the internet, but hey, we're all friends here, right?

(Note: I'm so happy to have a husband who is so secure in his own masculinity that he'll let his baby boy wear a dadgum princess dress anytime he dadgum well pleases!)

So, we've got a girl who thinks she's a boy and a boy who wants to wear dresses. Thank goodness Reese is normal.

Wait.

Reese races imaginary friends and picks her nose while she sucks her fingers. God help us.

No Story Behind This Picture...

I just happen to like it.

The Latest Face

This look has become a constant around here lately.

He could be saying No, juice or shoes (My personal favorite is Duuuuude). He can pretty much bring fish lips into any situation and it will make me laugh. Even when he's saying, "No," and frowning. It still makes me smile.

Left Out

Avery's friend, Lilly is here. They, along with Reese and Rhett, went outside to play. They get the only two swings and won't let Reese do anything. She is, understandably, frustrated and things start going back and forth and it ends with Reese telling them she's not their friend. Avery and Lilly are mad and they storm inside, vowing to watch a movie "by themselves, with no rude people." A moment later, Reese came in, wrapped her little arms around my legs and said "I just want my big sister back."
It was almost too much for my heart to take.

Mealtime at Our House

This is mealtime at our house, in a nutshell. Avery and Reese are usually pretty good. Ok, Avery is pretty good. She knows that, if she wants a treat for dessert, she has to eat the majority of her food without whining. Reese understands the dessert part, but hasn't mastered the "no whining" rule. But Rhett? He hasn't learned any of it. He starts screaming the second I put his plate in front of him, unless it's macaroni and cheese or chicken nuggets, and doesn't stop crying until the vile plate of food is removed, which is when everyone is finished. Mealtime is so pleasant lately. Luckily, he loves fruit, cheese and yogurt, so we do have some healthy choices for him, but I refuse to make different food for my kids, so he gets a "kid lunch" and whatever I make for dinner. He rarely eats any dinner, then spends the rest of the evening whining and asking for 'nacks and I find myself saying, no fewer than 12 times each night, "You can't have snacks if you don't eat a good dinner."

He better grow out of it soon....Skinny Tuna just doesn't sound as good as Big Tuna.

I don't know about you....

...but I think Reese may have outgrown the OSU cheerleading uniform.

The tag says 18 mo. Not sure why it was in her drawer, but she loves it. Here she is after her bath, wearing it as a nightgown. Three days ago, she wore it with black pants to the grocery store. Not many people could pull it off, but I like her sense of style.

P.S. Could someone please tell Avery she is a precious, beautiful, 5-year-old GIRL, for Heaven's sake????

I Need Help

I really need to listen to my own advice from yesterday. I found myself, this morning, on the verge of tears over a couch delivery. Ok, so not exactly a couch delivery exactly, but it was kind of the straw that broke the camel's back. And now, I'm not mad about anything except my own stupidity.
Let me give you a little history before I confess all my sins. First, I think I've made it clear that I'm always at home during the day. Always. I babysit and I have two little ones of my own and I'm always here. Always. Always. I rarely have time to do much of anything during the day, and that includes showering unless I do it before the other kids get here, which isn't usually possible, because I'm getting Avery ready for school.
I also rarely schedule errands or appointments for when those kids (just kid, singular, now that I let one go) leave because, by then, it's time to pick Avery up from school and it's a pain in the boo-tay to take all three of my kids anywhere. Any grocery store trips, doctor's appointments, or "me" time is scheduled when Aaron can be home.
But Monday, I decided to be proactive about our financial situation and take a bunch of my clothes to the local resale shop. I cleaned out my closet, loaded all the stuff in the back of the car, loaded up my kids, picked up Avery and Lilly (our carpool friend), dropped Lilly off at her house, got my kids ice cream so they wouldn't fuss, and drove to the resale shop. When I got there, there was a note on the door saying that starting THAT VERY DAY, they wouldn't be accepting anything until May 5. Lovely. The one day in several months that I decide to drop off is the day they stop accepting clothes. Come on! Give me a break!
(You are going to want to punch me as I keep going, because the bitching is WAY worse than anything that has happened to me this week. And I know this, and yet, I cannot stop.)
Yesterday I had a scheduled pick-up from the Salvation Army. They were coming to get our couch, a desk, the mattress, and some bags of clothes. They were supposed to call before they came. Ok, so it's 10:05. The baby is down for his nap and Rhett and Reese are watching Dora. Time for a quick shower for me. I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair when Reese came in and said "Mom, the doorbell is ringing!" Oh, come on!
I turn off the water, put on my robe and run to the door. I am naked under the robe, I am dripping wet and there is still a bit of soap in the back of my hair. There are two men at the door, ready to pick up the couch. I weakly state to them, "Someone was supposed to call." They tell me they are running early today. Okey dokey. They come in, get the couch. I stand there, horrified that I am nude with strange men in my house, dripping wet. I forget to remind them about the desk, the mattress and the clothes, so I'll have to schedule another pick up for those. I was too flustered about the nudity to remember. I know it's stupid, but I was kinda frustrated. I mean, come on. The 5 minutes out of an entire day that I choose to shower is the one time they come to pick up the couch? Come on.
So whatever. Moving on.
Today. Today, Brennon's mom (he's the baby I keep) reminds me that she's picking him up at 12:15. I'm excited, because I need groceries and now I can go during the day instead of either taking all three kids or going after dinner and ending up putting groceries away at 9:00 at night.
I have a flash of genius. I ask my sweet friend, Jennifer, if she's busy. If not, can she keep Reese and Rhett for an hour or so while I shop, so it's more peaceful and quick? Of course she says yes, as she always does. Actually, she said, "I'm glad you asked" which is crazy, because who would be glad to be asked to babysit, but she was. I'm so excited.
Then I see the Haverty's email. Furniture delivery scheduled for today. Woo hoo! Bonus day...furniture AND peaceful, daytime grocery shopping. It's my lucky day. But guess what? The scheduled delivery is between 12:45 and 2:45. The only two hours of the day, week, month, that I've scheduled alone shopping time for myself. Come on!
So I call them. You need 48 hours advance notice to reschedule. Except you can't find out what time they are coming until 24 hours before the scheduled time. How would I know to reschedule 48 hours in advance if I don't know when they are coming until 24 hours in advance? But you know what, I am nice to them. I say forget it. I'll stay home. What kind of a hag would be griping about getting a new couch?
THIS HAG, THAT'S WHO!!! I know these things are stupid, petty, small things, and I hate myself for getting irritated about it. I hate myself even more because I had tears come to my eyes over not being able to go to Target in the middle of the afternoon. It's ridiculous, but COME ON!!!!

Stop and Smell the Roses

Have you ever thought about how much we can actually learn from our kids? I mean, it seems that we're always teaching them, showing them, training them...but really, in many ways, they have a better outlook on life than most of us. I've really been noticing this with Reese lately. Sure, she's only three and a half, but that girl knows how to live life. She's always been a "stop-and-smell-the-roses" type of gal, and frankly, sometimes it drives me crazy. I feel like I'm always saying "Hurry, Reese," or "Come on, Reese, we don't have time for that." The past few days, however, I've tried to make a conscious effort to just let her be. And you know what? It's awesome.

Last week, on one of the sunnier days, she asked if we could just go sit outside on the front steps. For some reason, my kids always want to be out front. I usually say "No, just go out back," so I don't have to just go and sit. You know, my life is soooo busy and important, I can't just go sit on a step for 10 minutes. Sheesh.

But this time, I said yes. Rhett was sleeping and Avery was at school, so it was just the two of us out there. Guess what she wanted to do? Race. With herself.


You see, Reese always loses at racing. She has a big sister who is very athletic and competitive and really has trouble letting Reese have head starts or win. So, most of the time, when the girls race, it ends with Reesie in tears, saying something like "I never get to win anything!"

But this time, she had an edge. Since she was the only one in the race, she won every time.


Here she is at the starting line....





You can see that she took this very seriously. I had to say, "Ready, set, go!" every time. After about five races, however, she started to get tired of winning. Well, maybe not tired of winning, but of racing alone. So, you're probably thinking she asked me to race with her. Nope. She wanted her friend, Shelly, to run with her.


Here she is, racing with Shelly.





Where's Shelly, you ask? You mean you can't see her? She's right there...in Reese's arms. See her? Reese is holding her as they run. Yeah, I'm serious.

Ok, so here's what I learned from Reese that day: If you can't win at something, run your own damn race. And if you don't have any friends, make one.

And if that's not enough to make you stop and think, listen to what happened yesterday:
She and Rhett were in the stroller. We were walking up to the school to get Avery. It was cold, but the sun was shining and it really was a gorgeous afternoon. Out of the blue, Reese leans forward and says "Thank you, God, for such a beautiful day."
Just like that. She just looked around at the day and thanked God for it. It almost made me cry. A second later, she quietly said "I just love you, God." That really choked me up. I cleared the lump out of my throat and said "Oh, Reesie, that's so sweet." She turned her head toward me and said "Mom, I wasn't saying that to you, I was talking to God."

What did I learn yesterday? Always thank God when the sun comes up and for goodness sakes, don't interrupt someone when they are praying.

This Picture Makes Me Nervous

Rock hands? At the age of 6? Tongue out, as if she's at a KISS concert? I'm a little afraid she got one too many of my genes...like Aaron says, "It's fun to be married to, but I'm not too sure I want to raise it."
Oh well, at least she's not topless.

Tea Party

I feel like Reese, the poor middle child, is always left out. I feel like we're always going to something for Avery...school, gymnastics, sports. And Rhett is the baby so he's always getting the "Oh, he's so cute" attention. I feel kind of sorry for Reese, and since I missed the deadline (Loser Mom) for signing her up for spring dance classes, I decided to search for something just for her. I searched our city's activity booklet and found the Teddy Bear Tea Party. Sounded like something right up Reese's alley, so I signed us up. Just she and I, having a "Girl's Day," without having to share it with anyone.

I made the mistake of telling her when I signed up a month before the actual tea party, so she asked me almost daily if today was her tea party.

The morning of the tea party, she was so excited, she could hardly stand it. But then, when we drove off and Avery and Rhett were in the backyard playing with bubbles, she started to cry. She wanted to go home. She cried and said she "doesn't like that tea party," and she wanted to go home and do bubbles.

I tried to keep my composure, but I'll be honest. I was a little pissed. I had raced home from boot camp, picked her up at Avery's football practice, raced home to shower and dress us both in 30 minutes, in order to drive 40 minutes away for a tea party. I told her to just be quiet because I was at least going to get my food that I paid for.

I didn't want to try to force her to actually sit down at the tea party because I know Reese and she has no inhibitions about screeching in public. So, we walked into the antique store and immediately, Reese liked it. There were all kinds of "pretties" that she wanted to look at. But she was still convinced she didn't want to stay for the tea party. I told her I was going to walk back to get our sandwiches and she followed.

It took exactly 3 seconds for her to see the tables, with hats and pearls for the kids', to change her mind. She said "Oh, Momma, this is beautiful. I want to sit here." In an instant, her attitude changed. She was suddenly a lady sitting down to tea. I've honestly never seen her so happy and excited about something.

All we did was sit for the first 5 minutes, waiting on the other people to sit down, yet Reese said at least 3 times, "Momma, this is so much fun!"

Here she is, waiting patiently for her tea.

Notice that she brought her little pink teddy bear. I was all set for her to bring her Build A Bear, dressed in it's princess dress, but at the last minute, she decided on this old, ratty bear that my Aunt Judy gave me when Avery was born.

Reese got her very own teapot and I swear, all she did for 30 minutes, was pour tea. She was in Heaven. I was on the verge of tears every time I looked at her shining, joyful face as she poured tea, talked like a little lady - "Mommy, could you please pass me that white stuff (cream)?"- and sat with her hands and napkin in her lap, eating as politely as I've ever seen her.

She especially enjoyed pouring tea for the bear. I would tell her to look away for a second and then I'd drink the bear's tea. Reese would turn around and it would be gone. I still think she believes the bear was drinking her tea, even though Reese couldn't seem to get the bear to take a sip.

Here she is, eating her cute little sandwiches, tea cakes, and fruit kabobs.

Even though the day started a little rocky, it turned out to be the perfect afternoon. I had such a fun time watching Reese and I think, for at least an hour that day, she felt as special and important as she really is.

Just wondering....

...if you all agree with me that pharmacists should be careful when filling a prescription for an anti-depressant. I mean, if you run a medicine like, say, Wellbutrin, through the computer and it comes up that insurance won't pay, don't you think that, maybe, you should check it again before you page the customer and tell them that they either have to pay $128 or teeter on the brink of insanity for a few more days until they can get their insurance straightened out?
If I was a patient and that happened to me, I'd call the insurance company and get the whole mess straightened out right there on the spot, even though it took over 30 minutes. And then, when the pharmacist realized that it was HER mistake and not the insurance company's, I'd say "Did you by any chance see what the meds were? I mean, seriously. I could have slit my wrists while waiting. You gotta be more careful when you deal with people with fragile minds." Or something like that. Yeah, that's how I would handle it. If it ever happened to me, that is. Which, I'm sure, it never would because as you all know, I'm pretty awesome and totally, 100% normal, non-depressed and not the slightest bit anxious, irritable or crazy in any way, so I'd never need some mind-altering drug like Wellbutrin, or Lexapro, Cymbalta or Xanax. Seriously. I'm totally fine.

A Boy and his Shoes

And you thought girls were the only ones who obsessed over their shoes! My boy LOVES shoes. Especially his furry Crocs. He wears them all the time...

...even when he can only find one.

(Note: He's wearing the nerd glasses that Avery won at the pizza place. He calls them "cool cats" because that's what we always say when someone has on sunglasses. He's standing here saying "I coo cat!")

Even when he's yelling at me because I won't let him have a "Ee-yay-go nack" (Diego snack), I smile because he has his Crocs on. Backward. With his jammies.

He even wears them while accessorizing. Here he is wearing my fake pearls and Reese's hair bow.

God, I love this kid. Have I said that before? Did I also mention that he cleans? Not vacuuming and dusting just yet, but he puts his dirty dishes in the sink and cleans up his toys. Yeah, he may be my favorite child. But don't tell his also-cute-but-not-as-neat-and-tidy sisters.

I'm Freaking Out!!!

Have you ever looked at the date on the calendar and just suddenly freaked out? I did that today. I just realized that today is April 1. Which means May is next month. That means Avery will be turning 6 and graduating to 1st grade. And Rhett will be 2. And Reese? Well, hopefully Reese will be maturing and becoming a kinder, gentler person. She will, after all, be three and a half, which is a whole different ballgame than just plain old three. Right? (Please tell me I'm right...her attitude is driving her dad and I NUTS lately!)
Anyway, I can't believe it's already spring and 2 months until summer and I'm just freaking out.
I keep thinking of how quickly time flies. And it makes me feel old. And that reminds me that my birthday is at the end of the summer and I'll be THIRTY SEVEN. And then, pretty soon after that, I'll be FORTY. And Avery will be 9. And Reese will be 6 and Rhett will be 5 and they'll all be in school and I'll be old and they'll be all grown up and won't want to have anything to do with me anymore and I'll want to get pregnant to replace the empty nest but I'll be old, so I'll have to do in vitro and I'll be the next Octumom and everyone will hate me.
What? This kind of freaking out isn't normal?

Ok, I was just kidding about the Octumom part, but seriously...time goes too fast.