Stupid Appendix

Okay, here's what I don't understand. Why the HELL do we have organs that are useless? And, if they're not going to do anything in there, then why the HELL do they have the ability to do anything ... like, um, get infected and need to be removed?!?!?

Let me back this bus up a bit. To around Monday morning.

I woke up with what I would call a little tummy ache. Sort of like the feeling that maybe I needed to go to the bathroom, but couldn't (you know what I mean - and, no, that wasn't the case). Just enough to make me a little grouchy. Not enough to stop me in my tracks. I mean, I went to the gym and did a wicked-hard workout class and proceeded to do the rest of my Monday morning errands with relative ease ... with a side of discomfort.

But, by the time I got Paige home from Preschool things were quickly taking a turn downhill. I couldn't get off the couch without feeling like someone - or actually, multiple someones - was stabbing me in my mid-section. By 3:00 I had to call Derrick and beg him to come home early from work.

Fast-forward to 2:30 am, when I finally hit gently nudged my husband awake and told him I was going to need to go to the hospital. Something was DEFINITELY. NOT. RIGHT. He wanted to wake up our girls to take them with us to the Emergency Room. In the middle of one of the worst flu-seasons ever. I looked at him like he was a crazy person.

Then I proceeded to behave like any crazy person Mommy. And I drove my own, keeled-over, moaning self to the hospital. In all honesty, I was thinking maybe I had some crazy version of the flu or something. In my head I was going to be given a quick dose of fluids combined with an antibiotic and then be sent on my merry way.

Not so much. It was wishful thinking. Especially since on the 1-10 pain scale, I was hovering around 9.5 (folks - during labor I never listed myself as higher than a 7 ... and I was probably over-estimating just to get that epidural in as fast as possible). Needless to say a call was made to Susu and Derrick quickly joined me in the ER.

I was given an IV of fluids and a pain killer that I didn't quite catch the name of, but that I can only hope is provided over-the-counter at every single place I visit in heaven. It was wonderful.

A quick CT and some bloodwork confirmed that my appendix was indeed protesting it's current status as an organ in my body. I was transferred up to a room and scheduled for an early morning surgery. It all went quickly and well.

Well, except for the wicked case of hives I woke up with:

Sadly, this is not all that unusual for me to look like this. Also sadly, the nurse in recovery tried to inform me that I couldn't scratch. As if I was unaware it would make them worse. And also as if I was some sort of child. So, she ended up dealing with a strongly-drugged strongly-willed me. NOT a good combination...

I had an uneventful overnight stay. I was sort of hoping it would be restful - I kind of imagined myself sleeping through the night, waking up to the delightful sounds of bluebirds chirping. Not so much ... how quickly we forgot just how crappy it is to sleep in a hospital. I finally turned off the TV at 9:30 pm, and woke up later imagining it was probably near around 5:00 am. It was 11:53. I did go ahead and watch a movie. And then watched another one when this happened again at 4:00 am.

Sooooo, the surgery was Tuesday morning, and today is Saturday. And I am PISSED. In my head, I was going to bounce right out of that hospital, maybe even stopping at the gym on the way home. Okay, not really, but ... seriously?!?!?! This is crap! I am still sore, still exhausted and still keeping my reflexes cat-like (my girls alternate between using my abdomen as a 'pushing-off' point to get up from the couch and running at me full-force to give me hugs to remind me how glad they are that I'm home.).

I realized my limitations this morning when I was woke up feeling pretty good. Then Blair took a header off our bed while we were all hanging out. Meaning, she landed face-first onto our hardwood floors. I quickly jumped up, ran around the bed and scooped her up. She earned herself two bloody lips and a bloody nose. I earned myself what I can only imagine was a regression back to what I think was probably Thursday evening's progress.

Awesome.

However, it's not all bad.

I realized how grateful my girls are to have an active mommy. They do NOT appreciate sedentary mommy. They are going stir-crazy (they are not the only ones) and don't seem to know what to do with me while I'm sitting around. They almost seem confused.

I realized, or rather, was re-affirmed of, just how much my girls love me. They did NOT do well waking up and finding out I was in the hospital. Paige cried when I talked to her on the phone. Blair has yet to sleep through the night since I've been home - she wakes up crying for me and promptly earns a spot in our bed (I can't pick her up, so Derrick's solution is to just tuck her in next to me. Not a great solution.).

I realized that if you're gonna have to spend some time on the couch/in bed, it definitely helps to have two little girls that LOVE television. They are good little caretakers, and partners-in-crime.

Just the girls (me, Paige, Blair and Princess Sophia/Doc McStuffins)

Still. I'm ready to be back to 100%.

Stupid appendix.

Gall bladder, don't get any ideas.

Happy 4th Birthday, Paige

I'm not sure how this happened. I swear to God, Paige was born about 6 months ago. And Blair is still an infant. Right?

Somehow this:

Became this:

And then all of a sudden become this:

I swear to God, I went to bed one night, and all of a sudden she's four years old.

Below are a few pictures for Paige's 4th birthday party. It was rainbow-themed, and I'm pretty sure it was everything she hoped it would be (or, at least, I hope so). 

Before that, I'm going to get sappy for just a quick second. Only because I hope that someday my girls will look at these posts as a sort of journal on their youth.

Dearest, dearest Paigers, you are my sunshine. You TRULY make me happy ... even when skies are already sunny. I love you so much that my heart literally hurts (in a good way) on a daily basis. (Here I go, tearing up). 

Your Daddy and I hoped and prayed for you for so long, and we even thought that there was a time where we would never know you. And then, a miracle. And there you were. My little baby girl. Perfect in every way a baby should be. And imperfect enough that you don't ever have to worry about living up to an unachievable expectation.

I want nothing else for you but a life full of love and happiness. But I know that hurt and pain will someday come your way. In that case, I want nothing but to be your rock, your understanding ear, your sympathetic heart, and your ever-waiting arms. I will always love you. No matter what you are. No matter who you are. No matter where you are. Your daddy and I will always love you with all of our hearts.

Aaaaaaannndddd, then Uncle Jay-boy stole our camera. Of course he did. Silly twin.

Post-birthday viewing of 'Finding Nemo' with Uncle Brian, quickly followed by a pre-6:00 pm bedtime. 

Overall, a birthday success.

Happy, happy, happy birthday my dear Paigers. I love you more than anything. To the moon and back. And even more then some. Times infinity.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow (Cake)

Hi Mamas!  Some of you have been asking for the recipe for the Rainbow Cake I made for Paige’s 4^th birthday party, so – viola! Ask and you shall receive! (Warning: it’s a bit of a mish-mash of recipes I’ve collected and adapted, but they were chosen after many years of trial and error, so stick with them!).

Cake recipe:

Hands down, the best white cake recipe I’ve ever tried. It’s easy, and simple to follow. I’ll tell you this – having the ingredients at room temperature is key!

Each batch makes two 8-inch rounds, or 2 layers (or, if you want a smaller cake, 4 layers – simply cut each finished round in half with a serrated knife). So, for this rainbow cake I made each batch 3 times.

Each recipe is about 5 cups, so to split the recipe in two before dying the cake batter, separate into 2 bowls – approx. 2 ½ cups per bowl.

Also, be sure to use GEL food coloring. The color is much more vibrant, and it won’t change the consistency of the batter. (I used Wilton Gel food coloring – available at any large grocery or at a Target that carries groceries.)

As a sidenote, I use these tips as my ‘baking bible’. Seriously, I’m on something like my 5^th version because I keep getting cake batter all over it and have to reprint them! Learn them, use them, love them!

Ingredients:

Cake:

            1-1/2 cup whole milk, at room temperature

            7 large egg whites, at room temperature

            1 whole egg, at room temperature

            1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

            1/2 teaspoon almond extract

            4 cups cake flour, sifted

            2-1/4 cups sugar

            1-3/4 tablespoons baking powder

            1 teaspoon salt

            1-1/2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature and cut into cubes

            6 tablespoons vegetable shortening

Instructions

For the Cake:

Preheat oven to 350°F (180°C). Grease, line with parchment and flour two round 8-inch pans.

In a medium bowl or measuring cup, combine and stir 1/2 cup of the milk, stir the egg whites, whole egg, vanilla and the almond extract. Set aside.

Sift cake flour twice. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine the dry ingredients, including the sugar, together on low-speed (I use the “stir” setting on my mixer) for 30 seconds.

Add the butter and shortening (I actually skipped the shortening and just altered the recipe for more butter, but to each his own!), blending on low-speed for about 30 seconds, then add remaining 1 cup of milk, and mix on low-speed until just moistened. Increase to medium speed and mix for 1 -1/2 minutes (90 seconds), but no more.

Scrape the sides of the bowl and begin to add the egg/milk/extract mixture in 3 separate batches; beat on medium speed for 20 seconds after each addition.

Pour 1/2 of your batter (~2 ½ cups) into each prepared pan, spreading it evenly with a small offset palette knife.

Bake cake layers two-at-a-time in center of oven and 2" apart for 20 minutes or until a cake tester comes clean when inserted into the center. Be so careful to not over-bake. Check cake at 20 minutes, but not before, and once you feel it’s almost ready, set the timer for 2 minute intervals. Let cool on racks for 20 minutes before loosening the sides with a small metal spatula, and invert onto greased wire racks. Gently turn cakes back up, so the tops are up and cool completely.

Wash the 2 cake pans and line, grease and flour again and repeat.

Wrap tightly and store at room temperature for up to 2 days, refrigerator for up to 5 days, or frozen for up to 2 months. Best enjoyed day 1 or 2.

Instructions

Icing:

            2-1/2 cups (5 sticks) unsalted butter, softened and cut into cubes

            5-1/4 cups confectioners’ sugar, sifted

            4-1/2 tablespoons milk

            1-1/2 tablespoons pure vanilla extract pinch or two of salt

For the Whipped Vanilla Frosting:

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, whip butter for 3-5 minutes on medium speed. Butter will become very pale & creamy.

Add remaining ingredients and mix on low-speed for 1 minute, then on medium speed for 6 minutes. Frosting will be very light, creamy, and fluffy. Best used right away (for ideal spreading consistency), but keeps well once frosted.

After I iced the cake I used a small tip to add a small ‘line’ around the base and the top of the cake. I then added small gumballs. Wait until the last minute for this, or else the gumballs will bleed into the white icing.

A Bit More Believable

Remember that one time? When we flew on an airplane? And my girls were super well-behaved?

Ah. That was fun. And, yet, it seems so very long ago.

Then we had to fly home. I guess that's the problem with round-trip tickets, huh?

Now, let me be fair. Paige actually was pretty well-behaved. Surprisingly so.

Because I'm pretty sure her mission while on vacation was to see just how many times she could drive me to the brink of madness, just to bring me back with something adorable. (Stupid lisps, pigtails and pink glasses. How do I stay mad at those?)

We weren't seated together. I was in an aisle seat, Paige was directly behind me, and then Derrick and Blair were next to Paige (with Blair on Derrick's lap). Fully-packed flights are awesome.

This was her pretty much the entire flight. Well, a little more smiley. This was just an "off" moment. Probably when Tinkerbell realizes her wing is ripped.

See the woman sitting next to Paige? She actually couldn't have been nicer. At one point, Paige turned to her and basically yelled "CAN I TELL YOU SOMETHING? MY COUSINS FOUND A STARFISH ON THE BEACH AT THEIR FLORIDA. A REAL STARFISH." Then turned back to watch her movie. (Seriously? Does people yelling because they are wearing headphones and they can't tell how loud they're talking ever NOT seem funny?).

Not included is a picture of me shoving a diaper underneath her while we spent 45 minutes stuck on a bridge just outside Tampa. She actually thought that was hilarious. Me? Not so much. (Okay, maybe a little. But mostly because she didn't get any pee on me. And because we were forced to make eye contact the entire time because I was leaning into the backseat. Which led to a giggle-fest. Derrick included.)

Let's see ... who else was on the flight with us?

Oh. That's right.

Blair.

Yowza. That's really all I can say. A friend of mine was on the flight and she said that she and her family didn't hear anything at all.

She is now one of my favorite-ist friends. She is willing to lie to me, especially via Facebook Messenger. So I can't see or hear her laughing while she's lying to make me feel better. (Thanks again!)

Blair was HORRIBLE.

She screamed. She cried. She pulled my hair. She scratched my face. She dumped a cup of ice onto the lap of the little boy sitting next to Derrick. Who was traveling by himself. And who then spent the rest of the flight sitting on Derrick's sweatshirt and Blair's blanket so it didn't look like he peed his pants (it still sort of did).

At one point, she and I were in the teeny tiny airplane bathroom and I was begging, BEGGING her to Please. Just. Stop.

I'm not sure if you've tried to reason with a hysterical 18 month-old lately. Let's just say I won't count that one as a 'success' in my column.

After about 40 minutes of absolute terror, Blair looked like this:

Because it's exhausting being this cute. Look at those pigtails. Look at those cheeks and those lips.

What was I talking about, again? Who was being horrible?

Stupid pigtails. They get me every time.

Repetition. Again.

I have often said that Paige will someday be either CEO of a large company, or dictator of a small country. Either way, she will rock it, I'm sure.

I've also mentioned once or twice that Paige would be an excellent addition to either terrorist cells or those designated to break the spirits of terrorists.

Case in point:

We are currently in Longboat Key, Florida. The Feldmann crew is staying in Nani and Botsie's condo, while the 'cousins' (and their parents, obv) are staying in a condo down the road. This has actually been awesome, because their place is on the beach and we spend time there with them during the day,

and then at least one of the cousins have been spending the night with us.

Seriously? How much fun would it be to have this many ready-made playmates? And there is even one missing from this picture. The youngest, a boy ... poor kid. If only he knew this is what his future held ...

On more than one night, all three Whitacre girls have spent the night.

(Just setting the scene for you, here).

So, the Feldmann family's day began at 5:35 this morning (typical). When Paige came into my bed (ugh...really?) and curled her little body next to mine (still a perfect fit) and told me she loved me (oh, sister. Please always do this.).

Then she asked me when her cousins were going to wake up.

M: "I don't know, sweetie. It's SUPER early. Let's shut our eyes and go to sleep."
P: "Okay, Mama." Insert 10 second pause. "Hey, Mama. When will my cousins wake up?"

People? This went on for 2 hours. 120 minutes. Of being asked EVERY. 10. SECONDS.

At first, I was sweet about it. Then I became a little impatient. Then I became annoyed.

Then, I lost my shit.

Around 7:25 I may or may not have raised my voice and said "PAIGE!!! I CANNOT answer that question! There is no way for me to possibly have any clue when your cousins are going to wake up!! I cannot know the answer to that question!!!! I will promise you this: they WILL be awake at some point today! That is all I know! PLEASE!!!!!"

She seemed to get that she was driving me very close to the edge. She seemed to recognize that I was only 2 cups of coffee into the day (or, already two cups into the day ... however you choose to look at it).

She gave me a vaguely dirty look, put her thumb in her mouth and went back to looking at pictures on my phone.

Then, after about 30 seconds, she turned to me, gave me a sweet smile and said:

"Hey. Mama? When will my cousins wake up?"

Seriously? Government people? Pay attention. Get this girl on your payroll now. Because when it comes to breaking people down, she has the market cornered. She even has the wherewith all to looked shocked, STUNNED even, when I get frustrated with her. As if she can't BELIEVE why on Earth I would be upset with her.

And, I start to wonder if I'm a little crazy. Perhaps I AM being irrational. I begin to doubt myself. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, I actually DO know when her cousins will wake up.

Well played, Paige. Well played.

Update: Since I began writing this post, the cousins have indeed woken up. Just as I predicted. For those of you interested, it was just before 8:00 am. I actually didn't know kids slept that late. Huh.

Addison and Paige greeted one another in the hall with a hug. The cousins all congregate in our room to say good morning to each other, and Paige literally squeals with joy. They all look at Paige, incredulous at her energy so early (I'm only guessing). Addison has declared "That Paige sure is a wunner (runner)."

 Blair and Paige have had two fights, Blair has tried to break Paige's glasses once. 

They are now all playing house. Gracie is pretending to be the Mommy, and I just heard her tell the girls it was time for their spankings. She then just ran into our room with her "purse" and said, "Sorry, I'm trying to hide from my kids."

Derrick and I just looked at her, knowingly, and said "Yeah. We get that. Us too."

Unbelievable

You aren't even going to believe this.

We flew to Florida last night and the girls were ... well, they were good.

No. They were GREAT.

Okay, let me back up.

The day did NOT start off well. We were only two days past the craziness of Christmas, and we were facing our second day stuck in the house thanks to the Blizzard of 2012. Let's just say the girls worked together very well - tag-teaming to keep the Time-Out seat warm. Around 9:00-ish (am, everyone. am) Paige threw a 47-minute fit because she couldn't reach her piggy bank.

Forty. Seven. Minutes. I wish I could say that was an exaggeration. (You've got to hand her this - she's taking the weeks leading up to Oscar season VERY seriously. At one point, she threw herself across her bed and yelled "You don't even love me! You just hate me!! I'm serious!!!!")

Blair dumped her breakfast all over the floor. The kiwi was a pretty quick clean. The oatmeal, not so much. Ramsey, I never thought I'd say it, but I miss you. I've never had the vacuum and the mop out so much in 4 days!

To say my expectations for our 7:15 pm flight followed by an hour car ride were low would be a drastic understatement. I may or may not have made the following announcement at the beginning of the ride to the airport:

"Let's just all keep our expectations for tonight as low as possible. That way, we'll be pleasantly surprised if things go even remotely well."

Well, color me surprised.

We got through the check-in process and security quickly. The girls even earned Junior TSA badges ... which, come to think of it, might actually be an insult. They were being sweet and smiley, I promise.

Derrick and I took them to an actual sit-down restaurant. With menus and everything. And we didn't draw stares. Not once. (Okay, they did both have iPads in front of them and headphones on, but honestly ... we were going to do whatever it took to make this evening at least tolerable.)

At the gate, the girls sat on the floor and watched a movie on my laptop. I was pleased, but not optimistic. People smiled with that "Oh, look at those cute little girls" look on their faces and I just smiled back and thought "Wait for it, folks. You have NO idea how horrible these girls can make the next few hours of your lives."

We boarded the plane with relative ease. Granted, we were in Business Class (thanks for the upgrade, Nani and Botsie!!), but still. At a certain point it doesn't matter where your seats are located. You still have to tie down put seatbelts on two excited, tired, wriggling kids.

At the rest of the flight was uneventful. Even with Derrick across the aisle. Hand to God.

The girls had suckers during takeoff and gladly handed them to me with the promise of an iPad. They watched some 'Doc McStuffins' and 'Daniel Tiger.' And when Blair started getting restless, I put lullabies on my iPod and she quickly fell asleep on my chest (yes, this flight was brought to you by Apple).

Ladies and gentleman: I got to have wine. Not whine. WINE.

Paige watched 'The Sound of Music' for the rest of the flight, and we landed without incident.

Okay. This is the point in the story where you might start thinking I'm just making shit up.

After we deplaned, we were walking to the bathroom when a woman turned around and said "Oh my gosh. Your girls were SO well-behaved on the flight!"

Oh. My. God.

This wasn't just any woman. It was the woman who had been sitting in the row directly behind us.

Folks - people say a lot of things to me about my kids.

So cute! Thank you. But don't get too close - they'll scratch your eyes out.
So funny! I know, they definitely make me laugh.
So much energy! Really? I hadn't noticed.
So smart! Let's hope they use that for good one day, and not evil.
So loud! Um, that's not a compliment ... but I agree.

But so well-behaved? Never. Never in their entire lives.

I wanted to cry.

Both girls slept the entire car ride from Tampa to Longboat Key, and quickly went to bed once we got to the condo. We were flabbergasted. Botsie, Nani, Derrick and I just sat around staring at each other. We kept saying "They were so good!" As if we had just discovered that the Smurfs were real or something equally as unbelievable (sorry for the spoiler, fellow Smurf Fan Club members - I too was disappointed to find out they were make-believe. Gargamel and Azraell, not so much).

Let's just say I'm pretty sure last night was my double rainbow. My 4-leaf clover. My winning Powerball ticket. My ... well, you get the point. I'm certain this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

And I'll take it. My belief that I was a good mom was restored, albeit for a fleeting moment of self-satisfaction.

Never fear. Ive been brought back down a few notches today. They've been decent, but Paige has already been in Time-Out more than once (she remembered where it was from last time) and Blair didn't nap.

But for that one, brief, shining moment we were THAT family.

And my girls were "so well-behaved."

Merry Christmas!

Well, we survived Christmas 2012, and are now hunkered down hoping to survive what they are calling 'The Blizzard of 2012.' Call me crazy, but I'm actually looking forward to a day or so of being stuck inside. I can pack for our trip, take down decorations and clean before we leave. The kids can play with all their new toys.

Wait, and fight over their new toys. And 'unclean' all the cleaning I've done.

Seriously. Call me crazy.

Anyhoo - back to Christmas.

That sneaky old elf Santa brought me an extra-special gift on Christmas Eve - the flu! Wasn't that sweet of him? I didn't have a fever, but spent most of the evening/night enjoying the other flu-like symptoms (My Mamo had a very polite, very Southern word for it: upchuck.)

Still, we powered through and brought Christmas to the Feldmann house. So, so much work leading up to this one day. And yet, our morning played out like this:

• 6:12 am: Paige begins yelling that she would like to get out of bed to see if 'Snanta' ate his cookies.
• 6:20: Still yelling ... really just one, long continuous yell.
• 6:30: Derrick goes to get Paige out of bed, as she has yelled to let us know her clock has turned yellow. (She was not allowed to get out of bed on her own today, because she had to wait to see everything until Blair was awake).
• 6:31: The suggestions of "Let's go wake up Bear" begin.
• 6:40: The hazing is successful, and we finally wake up Blair.
• 6:45: The girls come downstairs, run to check to see if Santa ate his cookies, then race over to see their gifts.
• 6:55: Gift opening is complete.
• 7:00: The girls are playing with toys they already had, some of them since Paige was a baby.
• 7:01: Paige begins asking when she's going to see her cousins.

Yep, I'd call that a success. I guess?

Since I was still feeling horrible, I decided I'd take a hot bath. I was hoping I would be able to relax enough to start feeling a little better. I slipped into the water and grabbed my book "Raising Your Spirited Child." Perfect bathtime reading, right? Welcome to my life.

Then the bathroom door opened, and Paige walked in. The following conversation occurred:

P: "What are you doing, Mommy? Are you in the bath? Why are you in the bath? Can I take a bath with you? Pleeeeeaaaasssse?"

M: "No, honey. Mommy is just trying to feel a little better. Remember, I don't feel very good and sometimes a warm bath helps."

P: (touching the water) "OH, MOMMY!!! That is WAY too hot! Look! The circles say 'HOT!'" (pointing to our non-skid stickers that also have temperature warnings. Yes, the temp warnings work. No, the anti-skid does not. Ironically, they slide all over the place and I've almost 'shang-haied' it multiple times while showering.)

M: "It's okay, honey. Grown-ups can have their water a little warmer than kids."

P: "Mommy, your book is going to get wet. That is NOT safe. Here." (She takes my book and tosses it. I'm beginning to feel less better, and a little bit bullied.). "You know what? I'm just going to sit here and watch you, okay? Then you will feel better and be safe."

M: "Thanks, honey. Nothing makes a bath more relaxing than having someone sit on a stool and watch you" (luckily she doesn't yet sense all the sarcasm).

(After a few minutes of me closing my eyes and pretending to be alone while Paige stares at me and continues to touch the water to make sure it's cooling down, we hear someone on the stairs. 

Enter Blair - pushing the door open so hard that it bounces off the wall.)

B: "Maaaaaammmmaa!!! Ba?" (pointing to the water). "Ba? Bebe, ba?" (This loosely translates to "Mommy? Bath? Baby bath? She now refers to herself in the third person when she wants something. She's totally "that girl.")

M: "No, no baby. We're getting ready to leave soon." (Come to think of it, I call her 'baby' a lot. Maybe she thinks her actual name is Baby?).

B: "Bebe ba!"

And she jumps in. Headfirst. In her jammies. And her diaper.

And then Paige, who is already dressed in her Christmas outfit, runs into the hall, yells "Daddy, I'm getting into the bath with Mommy and Bear," undresses faster than I've ever seen her undress (seriously, this process usually involves at least two fits) and jumps into the tub with us.

And that's how my relaxing Christmas morning bath turned into a VERY full tub (we live in an old house, and our tub was crowded already with just me). We all played for a bit and got squeaky clean.

And, you know what?

I actually DID feel a whole lot better.

It was a FULL day with lots of gifts, laughs and love, even though I didn't feel great. And the day ended much the way it began.

The girls, Derrick and I were all in our jammies in our big bed. The lights were off, the small Christmas tree in our room was lit, and I was showing the girls a few scenes of 'The Sound of Music.' They were mesmerized. And I was practically purring I was so happy.

A very, VERY Merry Christmas indeed.

Ho, Ho, ... Eh

I'm pretty sure my girls have called Santa's bluff. (Or, 'Snanta', as we call him in our house).

Don't get me wrong. They LOVE the idea of Santa. Paige stops dead in her tracks every time he pops up on TV in a book. And Blair can "ho, ho, ho" with the best of them.

Paige knows he's magical, and that he arrives inside our house through our chimney. She knows he is the one who fills the stockings, and that he LOVES milk and cookies (so she obviously knows he's not an idiot - who doesn't love milk and cookies?!?).

She has written her letter to him, and asked for a pink bike (sorry, Paige - Santa only made purple AND pink bikes this year). Oddly, she said that Mommy and Daddy want new computers. Poor Blair only wants a candy cane, which I'm guessing Paige would probably take away from her and eat anyway.

She also knows that in order for said gifts to arrive, she must be a good girl. She knows there is a 'Naughty' list and a 'Nice' list. And, she has been told MULTIPLE times over the past few weeks that her name is probably going back and forth between the two.

Here's the thing. She doesn't care. Seriously doesn't give one sh... well ... you know.

We have taken her gifts away, and she is well-behaved just long enough to earn them back. Then she starts the 'losing them' process all over again. I've talked to Santa on the phone with her in the room, and she has the nerve to throw a fit within his earshot. She's even pushed her sister down right in front of Rudy, our Elf on a Shelf.

Get this: the little punk even lied right to his face and told him that she had been a "really good girl" this year.

She's got balls - I'll give her that.

Maybe '4' is the age where the threat of Santa starts working on behavior? Perhaps '3' is too young (never mind the fact that she will actually BE 4 in less than a month)?

Let's hope, because I'm pretty sure Christmas is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year. NOT the most let's-see-how-angry-we-can-make-mommy-because-her-face-looks-crazy-when-she-yells time of the year. (As I'm writing this Paige just sat on top of Blair and elbowed her - and Blair retaliated by ripping her glasses off her face. Such a sweet relationship.)

As for Blair ... well, let's just say the "ho, ho, ho" part of Santa is the ONLY part she is interested in this Christmas.

Yes, they are wearing Halloween jewelry - this was at a meeting celebrating the success of the Haunted House ... and just to confuse my kids a little more I had them wearing Halloween stuff while they sat on Snanta's lap. I am SUCH a good mom ...

Here's looking at you, Christmas 2013.

A Mother's Tears

I don't even know where to start.

I wasn't even sure I should write a post about the events that took place at Sandy Hook Elementary School. Because I think that whatever I write will only express a sliver of the grief I am feeling. A tiny amount of the anger. And none of the fear.

Shootings seem to be commonplace anymore. Yet I remember being in the senior wing of the Alpha Chi house at IU when Columbine happened, and I remember watching the coverage with my roommates. It was the first time I had seen anything like that. The first time it ever even entered into my consciousness that something like that could happen at all. All I could think about was the kids and how scared they must be.

But now I'm a mom. Of small kids. And I'm not saying that Columbine or any other shooting is at all LESS tragic than this. But ... I don't know how to describe it. It's just different for me this time.

I have been feeling sick to my stomach because all I can do is imagine various scenarios that must have been happening at Sandy Hook. All I can think about are the moments in that Kindergarten classroom - the sounds of those small children. All I can think about is what those innocent babies - the same age as my sweet, sweet niece Natalie - must have experienced. All I can think about are the siblings of those children who must have been in other classrooms of the school. All I can think about are the hours that must have seemed like days to the parents waiting in line to pick up their children.

And the parents who no longer were able to pick up their children. The fact that those children probably already have wrapped Christmas presents under the tree. That the lives of those families are forever empty, and their hearts are forever broken.

Derrick keeps getting upset with me because I am watching coverage of it on the news (or, rather, have the news paused for hours at a time because I refuse to have it on while the girls are in the room). But, I tried to explain to him it's not that I WANT to watch it. It's that I feel like I have to. I feel like burying my head in the sand and pretending like it didn't happen would be a grave disservice to the people who lost their lives, and to the parents who lost their babies.

And I feel like ignoring it is what got us into this mess in the first place. We cannot keep pretending that mental illness is a taboo topic. Or pretending that the we don't recognize when someone we love is on the precipice of a meltdown. Or looking the other way when someone is sick and in need of help, even if we don't know what to do.

We cannot keep pretending that it is okay for people NOT in the military or law enforcement to own automatic weapons and carry guns into public places. I understand you want to hunt animals with your rifle. Please do that in the woods, which are far away from my home.

When will people understand we are not trying to take away their rights? We are trying to PROTECT OUR FAMILIES. I am trying to protect my children.

It is not fair that I am scared all of the time. Not "typical" parent fears: that my child will get lost, that my child will make poor decisions, that my child will fail, that my child will have her heart broken. We now have to fear that our children's lives are no longer safe. Not in the company of their protectors - their parents and families. Not in any public place. Not even in school, the first place we ever send our children out 'alone' into the world.

This is an unexpected, and upsetting, part of parenthood. A part that generations past did not even fathom would ever exist. Our generation of parents are unprepared for this. We were not told this would be part of the deal.  Those of you who know me know that I am an anxious person by nature. I am literally a medicated person to help control this anxiety. When Paige was born, I was scared to take her out of the house. I was scared of everything from slipping on the ice while holding her to hurting her when I gave her a bath.

Those fears have faded, and instead I am now scared every time I take my children into a crowded place. My stomach knots when we walk into a mall, and it is difficult to enjoy things like "Christmas at the Zoo," because in the back of my mind I'm wondering if something horrible will happen.

I know this post is rambling, and I know it is far from uplifting. I promise a lighthearted, Christmasy post soon - maybe later today if I can get my act together. But this blog also serves as my own personal journal sometimes ... mostly because the people I spend my days with are of the toddler/preschooler persuasion, and they don't "get me" all the time.

I woke them both up from deep sleeps during their naps on Friday. I squeezed them tightly as my tears fell onto their sweet-smelling heads. Neither of them even noticed I was crying (which, actually, is a bit concerning, right?). I just kept telling them how much I loved them. So, so very much. That they are my entire life, and that nothing else in the world will EVER matter to me as much as they do.

Then, after we decided to head into the basement and play on the slide, Paige took my face in her hands. She looked at me with those big eyes and said in her sweet, raspy voice, "Mommy, I love you so much it breaks my heart."

Oh, sweet Paige. If you only knew.

Morning Time

Here is a sneak peek on what happens in our house. Before 9:00 am.

Now, mind you, I didn't actually start documenting until around 8:00. This was about 20 minutes after Derrick left and I was more than halfway through my cup of coffee. Aka, 'Mommy's Medicine.'

I began by attempting to put the duvet cover back on our down comforter (because it's been sitting clean in our room for more than a week). This turned into a game of "let's pretend this is snow and jump around like crazy people." We actually end up playing some version of this at least 4 days a week ... or however many days a week I end up making the bed (whichever is more ... probably 4 ... sorry, Dad. I know this is killing you to read.).

This is ironic because both of my girls HATE being cold, and when Paige was given the chance to do a snow angel last year she threw a fit because her coat got wet and she got snow inside her hat. She quickly ran inside and declared that she was done with snow.

Anyhoo ...

Please ignore the laundry in the background...

Blair is missing from this one because she rolled off the pillow and into the closet.

Actually, DON'T ignore the laundry in the background! How freaking ridiculous is it that I JUST put away an entire laundry basket full of clean clothes, and this is what is waiting for me?!?!

It finally ended when I had enough and told them I needed to actually accomplish something before getting myself dressed (I'm not sure why I didn't count getting them dressed???). Paige declared me "rude," told me she didn't want to play with me anymore, and took Blair into her room to play.

Oh, and she shut the door so they could have "privacy." I'm not sure if you're keeping score, but I absolutely count this as a point in my column.

Then she came back in, gave me a hug and said "Happy holidays, Mama." These mixed messages are difficult to decipher.

Which, come to think of it is probably part of her plan.

Shit. Point Paige.

Then it was time to brush our teeth (or "TEEF!!!" as Blair likes to scream as she runs to the bathroom). Anyone not currently a parent to children this age would be shocked (honestly, SHOCKED) to either learn or remember how long this process takes.

Sidenote: this is the first point of the morning where I wonder how the hell moms who work actually get out the door in the morning. Notice I say the first point. I'm actually not sure how they even get themselves dressed in time to get anywhere before 9:00 am. And my kids get up at 6:00.

Luckily, this morning I had a little help. Which was pretty nice. And more than a little cute.

Finally, everyone is dressed. Hair is done (or brushed, which are synonyms at my house). Beds are made. Laundry is put away.

We head downstairs so I can write this blog and check e-mail get the rest of the morning's activities done. Which include cleaning up cat puke, reprimanding Ramsey for eating the girls' breakfast leftovers off the table (yes - off the MIDDLE of the kitchen table), switching the laundry, emptying the dishwasher, talking about poop, changing poopy diapers, packing snacks, telling my little dementia patient (Paige) for the 200th time what our plan is that morning ... you get the idea.

How does she get this all done, you ask? Is she some sort of magician, or a Super Mom? How does she do it (besides sweatily, that is)?

Nah. I'm actually just standing in front of them reading a book.

Or ... um, that may or may not just be the general direction of where our television is hung. I'm not saying it was on. Okay. It was.