Dear Kindergarten teacher...

Dear Kindergarten Teacher:
   
My kid is special, I know you hear that all the time, in fact I'm sure that every parent things their kid is special, the thing is...  mine is...  special... really special.  Her heart is bigger than you could even imagine.   Her compassion for all things is immesurable.  I know those words are used often so allow me to give you a few examples of my sweet daughter and what I pray happens in your care and loving hands.

Shannie is emotional.  She cries watching commercials, movies, and "The Voice."  she says things like "that lady was so happy it made me have tears."  or  "why did Baby Moses' mom have to give him away, I was so sad it made me choke."  Yeah, she's that kid.  So please be gentle with her heart.  She will feel everything you feel, every frustration, every mean word, and every friend that makes her feel yucky.  But the glorious thing about Shannie, is that she'll get over it, and she's no worse for wear.  She will duck her head for a few minutes, she will shed a tear or two, and then she'll move on as if nothing happened.  You see, Shannie is a forgiver.  In her very nature she's a forgiver.  She is "abused" over and over and over again by big grumpy dwarf (her brother)  she ALWAYS forgives and always gives him the benefit of the doubt.  Don't be fooled, her easy forgiveness doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt if only for just a minute.  Please give her a moment when she's sad, she just needs her privacy to gather the strength for forgiveness, you see she doesn't give it lightly, she means it... really means it.  I pray you honor her request for "alone time."  I promise it will work out in better that way.

Shannie is an expert at abstract art.  you only need to read my blog to discover the never ending possibilities of Shannie's creativity.  I know you must teach her to color in the lines, and to do "color   by numbers"but I pray you give her a blank sheet of paper and allow her to scribble her creations.  Her 5 year old brain cannot communicate to her 5 year old hands how to paint, draw, color knights, and castles and princesses and ponies, and unicorns, and aliens, and the infinite stories that these characters create for themselves.  So to you it may look like scribbles on the paper, to Shannie it's an imaginary world.

Shannon can answer any question you ask her. I know you are required to teach her to answer the question "like the book" or "fill in the blank."  I get that, I don't agree, but I get it.  I pray that you also ask her a million open ended questions this year, because you will get a million open ended answers.  Some will be silly, some will be serious, and most will be a beautiful window into her precious little soul.

Gotta Pee!!!!

I can tell its the start of summer...  long summer nights with nothing to do but eat ice cream and ride bikes/walk/play outside until the sun goes down.  In my house, and I'm certain yours, you can also tell it's summer by the number of tantrums/meltdowns/overstimulated spinning out of control moments you have between 3-5pm.  Please allow me to share this beautiful picture of my sweet daughter and her meltdown extraordinaire.

I was upstairs putting away the 4,321st article of clothing that day, Baby is sleeping, Shannie is happily playing in the living room.  Suddenly I hear tears, not just little tears, the kind of tears that signify something is terribly terribly wrong.  But I didn't hear that tell tale scream...  why didn't I hear the scream?  Is the ceiling fan to loud?  did she go outside alone without me knowing?  I sprint full speed down the stairs, scoop up my sobbing little person and hold her tight.

Mom:  What hurts honey?
Shannie:  wail... .sniff sniff... wail my belly.
Mom:  Did you hit it on something?
Shannie: (with a look that says.. how do you hit your belly on something, seriously mom) no.
Mom: Do you have to go poop (remember we have potty issues, we ask this question a lot)
Shannie: wail, sob, sniff sniff, wail (I must be getting closer)  no.
Mom:  They why do you think you belly hurts?
Shannie: pout I have to go pee.
Mom: well then go pee, there's no one in the bathroom.
Shannie:  giant, make your heart stop wail...  (Wait for the punchline... it's so good)  I don't know which bathroom to use!!!!

It's at this point that she falls on the floor, face first and cries her little eyes out.  There was no consoling (because I was laughing uncontrollably), there was no reasoning, (her bathroom probably doesn't have the toilet flushed, the downstairs bathroom is to close to the basement stairs, which is suddenly scary, and my bathroom is to far awaaaaayyyyyy)

Yes really, I couldn't make this stuff up.

So I sat, and watch my poor child struggle with the most important decision of her day.  I remind myself that sometimes I have had just a little to much chocolate/coffee/activity/children... and I have a face plant meltdown on the floor too.  Mine usually starts with a mad 8 year old who won't practice piano, or a 5 year old who won't leave my side even to use the bathroom.  So I gave her some space, that's what I would have wanted, and I waited... I figured sooner or later the urgency of the potty would supersede the location.

It did, a long time later.  Her sobs slowed down, she picked herself up off the floor, and said "I hate it when I can't stop crying."  as she wiped her little tears and tried to put on a happy face.  I wanted to say "get used to it kid."  Instead I gave her a little hug (I won't lie I laughed) and helped her to the potty.

A note to my Husband this Fathers day...

Believe it or not...  I have a weakness, one that I am so frustrated by!  I am TERRIBLE at letting people know genuinely how amazing, wonderful, beautiful, gifted, etc. they really are.  Sure, I'm great with the little things.  "You are my hero!"  "you did an amazing job at ______"  "you rock...."  "wow, you are great..."   I think I'm truly gifted at the generic grateful recognition of people in my life who do nice things.  But I'm TERRIBLE at the big things, the really big things.  The things that are uncomfortable, telling friends how much I truly value their friendship, telling my children that they really make my heart happy just being alive...  That's where I sit this Fathers Day, I have so much I wish to genuinely tell my sweet husband, but instead I hide behind the generic.  

 

"You are a great dad" seems way to generic for the man who changed my world in the most amazing way possible. The man who picked me for his FOREVER!  Who loves me more than I can even imagine and makes sure I know it each and every day.

A new briefcase (his very deserved and super needed gift this year) hardly seems to say "Thank You" for working so incredibly hard so I can stay home and care for our family.  Nor does it say "I understand how much you agonize over working late or working weekends, and I thank you for wanting to be with us, even when you can't."

A funny "today you can play golf all day" card doesn't really describe how sacrificial he is of the time he's home.  My sweet husband has no vices.  Nothing that takes him away from us.  When he's not working, he's home, navigating the insanity of family life and listening quietly and attentively to the never ending ramblings of all his girls, while playing games with the boy.  Sure, he could take the day and play golf, go to the shooting range, whatever he wishes to do... but he always choses us... how do I tell him how much that means?

A homemade breakfast barely scratches the surface of what I really want to say...  "Thank you for making family dinner a priority."  Thank you for walking in the door every single day, and devoting yourself to our family around the dinner table.  Thank you for your patience with the spilled milk, the forgotten manners, the over excited story telling and the constant interruptions.  Your presence makes me fall desperately in love with you every evening.

That store bought "fathers day cake" which was rainbow colored with sprinkles on top...  was obviously not what you would have chosen...  Thank you for indulging your daughter in her love for all things celebratory.  Thank you for smiling at her party attire, and her excitement for the party, even when there isn't one.

So, I did that...  all that very little nothing, that in my heart meant so very much of something but from the outside really appeared to be a whole lot of nothing.

The Go-for

Shannie is known as the "gopher" at our house.
Mom: Shannie can you get me a diaper, my water, that toy for Millie, a burp cloth....
Dad: Shannie can you grab me the screwdriver, a napkin, mom's water...

Well, apparently it's rubbed off on the brother.

We have new neighbors...
New neighbors built a tree house...
Tree house is for boys only...
Boys don't ever (and I mean EVER) leave the tree house... except for sustenance
So I often hear from the back yard...

Brother/Neighbor:  Shannie can you hand me the baseball bat... Shannie can you hand me my water... Shannie can you hand me the ball....

So it was no great surprise when Shannie ran in the house looking for something for the boys to do in the treehouse.

Shannie: I'll bring them monopoly
Dad: Board games should stay in the house so we don't loose important pieces, but you could bring cards.
Shannie: It's okay, I'll just bring coloring books
Dad: I don't know that the boys will enjoy coloring books as much as you do.
Shannie: Hmmm....  but they DO love concerts.

thump thump stomp stomp pitter pat, she sprints up the stairs and runs outside with her pretend microphone.

Dad:  "This aught to be good"

Partly...

Shannie: What does partly mean?
Mom: it's kind of like halfway.
Shannie: but what does it meeeaaaan. i wish you could hear inflection in script, this attempt was the best I could do

She says that a lot.  things like "sounds like, it reminds me of, or kind of like" don't work for her.  She likes specifics

Mom:  It means a little bit of something and a little bit not  I know brilliant right
Shannie: Ohhhh  Thinking about it...

Shannie:  Like in the morning before you've had your coffee... your eyes are partly awake?
Mom: Ha, exactly.

Shannie:  And then in the night after my bath I'm partly naked when I'm just wearing a towel?
Mom: yup, you've got it.

Shannie:  And after I've had dinner but before dessert, I'm still partly hungry?
Mom:  I think you've figured it out.

Shannie:   Or when I've done something bad but it's a little bit funny, you are partly mad and party laughing?
Mom:  Yes, like that

Shannie: Can i tell you a joke?
Mom: sure... curious as to how this relates
Shannie:  Don't worry, it will be partly funny.. 

The honest Truth

So, the honest truth, is that this blog it's my sanity.  There are days, hours, minutes, and moments when my sweet, loving, creative, free-spirited daughter, makes me absolutely crazy for the same reasons I cherish her and love her so very much.  It's in those moments, when she is treading on thin ice, when her creativity has destroyed one more "grown-up" thing in our house, when I have put away her shoes for the 24th time that day, when I have impatiently waited for 15 minutes for her to simply get in the car and buckle her seatbelt, when I have asked, begged, pleaded and yes, probably bribed her to pick up her dishes, put away her toys, be nice to her sister, don't pull on the dog, please don't lay on the dog, please stay in the house when you are naked...  it's those moments, that I take 20 minutes and I write a blog post.

The Honest Truth is that this blog helps me to remember how beautiful she is, what joy she brings to our lives, and what kind of amazing gifts she has to give the world.  I FORCE myself to recognize it, because if I don't, I will lose my mind and you people would have to visit me in that special wing of the loony-bin where they keep road weary moms.  

Perhaps I should start one about grumpy dwarf for the same reason.  

Is It hair washing day?

 I'm certain the original transcript of Genesis read "on the 6th day all 5 year olds washed hair, and it was torture."  So on the 7th day, God rested.

"Is it hair washing day?"  is the daily question around bath-time.  If its not hair washing day, she throws a party.  literally there are 8 Barbies, a boat house made from a bucket, old shampoo bottles, 3 different kinds of hairbrushes, watered down conditioner to aid the barbie brush-a-thon, boats, cars... you name it it's in the tub.  She could (and has) spent hours in the bath tub.  But on hair washing day, the merriment is gone.  There is no fun, in fact the anxiety level is so high I even want to cry just thinking about having to wash Shannie's now matted, crusty, paint colored, food caked hair.  I know what you are thinking, we should seriously wash her hair more than once a week.  Yeah...  you'd think so, I challenge you to take on that battle, and see what kind of scars you leave with... then you are allowed to judge.  Until then... zip it.

Shannie: Is it hair washing day?
Mom: It's Saturday, it's hairwashing day.
Shannie: just a little whiny "but I don't want to wash my hair"
Mom: Tough, you have to. I know, I know, not at all helping the situation
Shannie: a little more whiny  Can I play first?
Mom: Nope, if you wash hair without screaming/yelling/fighting/water squirting...  then you can play when we are done.
Shannie: crazy whiny now Please, just for a minute
Mom: standing my ground no, let's get this hair washed

all of a sudden all hell breaks loose, screaming, the kind that make you ears bleed yelling, kicking, more screaming, it was terrible.  So mom, in all my shining glory, grabs that squirming, yelling screaming then 4 year old, and steps fully clothed into the shower.  She was so shocked, she stopped everything and just stared at me.  I was furious, and wet.   I wasn't careful of her "ears" I didn't do the special cover her eyes so the soap doesn't run in them, I didn't even give her a towel when she fussed about the water in her face, I just held that girl and gave her the fastest, messiest hair washing of her life, wrapped her in a towel and put her in bed.

I would say it rivals shannie in impulsivity.  But to this day, it's a great story, it makes us both laugh, and it's a good "threat" when the whining and fighting begins to escalate.  Husband says sometimes it's pays to show off a little crazy, I think in this case...  perhaps it did.

Family Game night

Papa Smurf (formerly known as grumpy dwarf) LOVES to play games.  Husband says it's my fault. We play cards while waiting at the doctors office, we own 4 different types of monopoly.  we have an entire closet dedicated to board games.  It's a Lehman family addiction (ok... all of us except Husband, he's not so much a fan)  So on this particular night we were playing a random game that we got in a Wendy's happy meal a few years ago.  In it, you have to accomplish certain tasks in order to progress to the next stage (think Cranium for kids).

They started off pretty easy, go find 10 items that are blue. So the table in littered with a blue folder, paper clip, bowl, toy dog, hair bow... you get the picture.  

Brother needed to make a cameo

Next:  name 3 things that start with the first letter of your first name, Connor:  Christmas, Caterpillars, Canopies.  Shannie:  Sister, Sugar, Sweat

Then perhaps the most fantastic question ever asked of an 8 and 5 year old in the history of gaming:  "Yell out 2 things you are great at."

Connor:  "Spelling and Math!"  (he's an academic masterpiece, and knows it)

Shannie: at the top of her lungs and dead serious "Squirting Ketchup and putting on panties!"

The boy and I fall into a heap of hysterical laughter, and the game abruptly ends.  There is nothing that can even compete with that.

Bedtime with Shannie!

Our normal bedtime ritual begins like everyone else.  Bath, teeth, books, prayers, bed...  that's where the similarities end.  my dear daughter must talk herself to sleep.  I know, shocking.  So we let her have a few toys in her bed to wind herself down.

S: Can I have my toys?
M: What are you playing with tonight?
S: That doll that's in the basement and the barbie that's in the car.
M:  Nope, try again.
S:  exasperated Fine, my squinkies and the house.
M: Much better, Good night, Love you.
S: Love you
M: Love you more
S: Love you morest

(That's my favorite part of the ritual, someday she'll learn that morest isn't a word, until then... it's cute!)

Papa Smurf (the artist formerly known as grumpy dwarf) settles in with a book and is silent.
Shannie on the other hand... sings, dances, and generally parties herself to sleep.  Often the radio gets cranked up to her favorite song and a dance party ensues.  As long as it's kept in her room, and it doesn't disrupt anyone else, it's fair game.  It usually ends quickly and she's out in 20 minutes or so. I go up, turn off the overhead lights and turn the radio down a few hundred decibels, pull 18 toys from her bed, and tuck her in "tight" while listening to her snore and talk (yup, she talks even in her sleep)

Last night however, dear Husband and I had long tucked in the little darlings.  (like 3 hours before, it was nearing 11) the lights were out the music was quiet... eerily quiet.

Me: "Next commercial break I'd better check on Shannie"
Husband: "She has been awfully quiet tonight"
Me: giving her the benefit of the doubt "She did have a busy day, maybe she was just tired"
Husband: "Snort"  (you know that snort that means, I don't want to argue with you, but you just said something really dumb)

**Sometime before the next commercial break**

Creak, pitter pat, pitter pat, slam, thump, crash, pitter pat, pitter pat, creak, thump....
Then...  the Radio.  It was cranked up (and I mean UP) to the spanish music "mariachi" station.

Me: "I'd better go check that"
Husband: giggle giggle giggle (if he giggled... it was really more like a chuckle)

 I open the door to her room, turn the Spanish musical channel down a few hundred decibels, and observe the scenario:

Shannon is standing up in her bed, a nearly empty squirt bottle of lysol bathroom cleaner in her hand, and an entire roll of paper towel strewn about her room.  She was dancing, singing to mariachi music, using the lysol bottle as a "ukelele" in between dousing her bed, walls, sheets etc. with lysol spray, and having the very best time of her life.

Me:  "Shannie, it's very late my dear, what are you doing?"
Shannie: "I was asleep, and then heard this great song, it made me want to clean my bed and walls."
Me: "Maybe we could do this tomorrow?"
Shannie: "But Mom, then the song will be over!!"
Me: shaking my head "Well then why don't you finish it up real quick and get back to sleep."
Shannie: "Ok, love you."

I have no great moral to this story, no great words of wisdom, except perhaps that we should hide the cleaning supplies, give our daughter sleeping pills, or I need to take a class in strong arming a strong willed preschooler.  None of which is really practical or necessary.  I suppose we will just continue to smile, giggle, roll our eyes, and remember that this phase will pass all to soon.  She will be a cynical teenager someday, she will still crank up the music, though I doubt it will be the spanish music channel.   I do hope she continues to find joy in music.  I have never met a 5 year old with more love for music than that girl.  So for now, we celebrate Shannie, all of Shannie.  the fun, the frustrating the bizarre and the crazy.  I can't wait to see what kind of grown up she will be...

Things I should record and play on repeat all day long....

Please stop licking the baby

Be careful of her neck

If you kiss the baby one more time you'll have to go to time out

Be careful of her neck

Our baby cannot ride in your doll stroller


NO MORE KISSES!!

no, Millie can't eat hotdogs yet


Be careful of her neck

Her feet are not drums


NO MORE KISSES!!

How about just 1 stuffed animal at a time?

Be careful of her neck

you may only play with the baby when she is awake


NO MORE KISSES!!


oh, Millie does look beautiful, but perhaps you just keep the lipstick/hair gel/eye makeup/markers to yourself.

Do ghosts have armpits... and other one liners...

Below are just a few of the great Shannie one liners that we hear all day long...  None of them are long enough to make a full post out of but I hope to grant you a little window into the soul of this precious child of mine.

Shannie:  Do Ghosts have armpits?
Mom: What would ghosts do with armpits?
Shannie: Scratch them of course!


Shannie: What's a party pooper?
Mom: What do you think a party pooper is?
Shannie: Someone who poops on the floor at a royal ball.
Mom:  Well, there is that.


Shannie:  excuse me, I farted
Mom: Shannie we don't say those words, especcially at the dinner table.
Shannie:  What! I'm just being a truth teller!


Shannie:  What!? no pandora in the car?
Mom: We don't have internet in the car.
Shannie:  Man, I wish I would have packed my ukelele.


Shannie:  How do you make peace on earth?
Mom:  By being nice to everyone you meet
Shannie:  no, I mean with my hands.
Mom: Oh you mean like this?  (flashes the peace sign)
Shannie: Of course (eye roll)

wardrobe changes

A typical day with Shannie has one commonality: Wardrobe changes.

Outfit #1:  At breakfast, she kneels on her chair, reaches over her breakfast to put her blanket on the table (yes really, after being told 5 times/day for at least a year that blankets do not belong in the kitchen).  She slips, just a little and puts her elbow in her cereal bowl, flipping the just poured cereal onto her school clothes, and her treasured blanket.  

Outfit #2:  I arrive at pick up time to preschool.  All the other nice clean children greet their parents with hugs and "I had a great day..."  Shannie's always the last one out the door, (it takes a long time to cram all your "artwork" into you backpack and wrinkle it up really well)  She's typically panting, has her shoes on the wrong feet, the nice ponytail is half out and the rest is sticking up (I'm thinking glue accident)  and is covered with little paint/marker spots from her eyebrows to her ears, to the back of her hands, and of course her elbows (because she accidentally slipped into the paint tray).

Outfits #3-6:  Quiet time happens at our house about 2pm.  You'll find Shannie in her room with her door closed, her music blaring and the stomps, crashes and bangs of a dance party turned violent.  Typically she'll change in and out of dress up clothes 3-4 times during her quiet time.  each time throwing it into a heap in the middle of her floor.  When quiet time is over, it is customary to find Shannie in a princess dress, heels, a tiara and "marker make up" (how she smuggles markers into her room is beyond me)   If they princess is feeling feisty she might be dressed in a ninja costume with a sword and many... many "bad guys" (aka: stuffed animals, but not the pink ones) slain throughout her arena.

Outfit #7:  PLAY TIME!  Brother is home, the neighborhood is her playground.  Because dress-up clothes are inappropriate for cruising the neighborhood, she'd better find something to wear.  Today that is her angry birds Star Wars shirt and hot pink pants, pair that with a nice sparkley boot and you have the perfect neighborhood attire.  

Outfit #8:  Swim time!  Brother does competitive swimming, which means lots of time at the pool.  Shannie has specific swim outfits, not to hot, not to cold, ok to get wet, fun enough to impress her pool friends but not so big that it looks like she's trying to hard.  You know the type.

Outfit #9: With blankie fresh from the dryer, a full belly, and a clean body, it's time for the last wardrobe change of the day, Jammies.  Jammies are special at our house, sometimes you need "woolies" (aka warm footed jammies), sometimes you need pretty (dress jammies)  tonight she needed Santa Jammies.  "Because I'm excited like Christmas!"

Santa Jammies on, teeth brushed, "one more drink please" accomplished, books read, and a million kisses later, I gather up the clothes that make up the story of her day.  

Remember dear daughter, to live out your story each day, clothes are meant to be changed, lives are meant to be lived, and Christmas should be celebrated every day!

Remember dear mommy: Tomorrow, teach her to do her own laundry.

What about that name?

Let's start with this one:
Lady at the library: "Wow! You had a girl, what's her name?"

Me:  "Millie"

Lady at the library: She smiles trying to recover from the weird look on her face that totally gave away her distaste for my baby's name. "Well at least she's cute"

This happens A LOT:
Cashier at Wal-mart:  "what a cutie, what's her name"
Shannie: "Millie"
Cashier:  That's my grandmothers name....  (followed by awkward silence)

Or how about this one:
Bank teller: "Oh it's a girl, what's her name?"
Me: "Millie"
Bank Teller: "you named her Mildred? how terrible!"

Yes, really all the above have happened (and some happen daily) since baby Millie was born.  We've started saying "Her name is Amelia, but we call her Millie.  We wanted to give her options when she grows up, but for now...we like to call her Millie."  This week, she's a crying kind of baby...  so we tend to call her "Millie Grace" more often than not.

Amelia is a family name (Will's mom's side)  and honestly we just thought Millie was cute.  It's making a comeback folks.. you just watch and see, we've started a new trend.

Technically Millie means:   industrious, striving, work, helper to the priest, bee, honey, gentle strength, brave strength.  She will need plenty of brave strength to be managed by her big over loving, never stopping sister.  and plenty of that gentle strength of have patience and speak softly to her anxious big brother.  But I think she can handle it! 

What kinda baby is it!?

Amelia (Millie) Grace born March 4, 2013.  7lbs 13oz 19 and 1/2 inches long.  this is her.. (isn't she adorable all gooey and gross?)

Having a 3rd scheduled c-section leaves little surprise in the whole baby thing.  You have a date, a time, a name, monogrammed burp cloths a gender specific room with little wooden letters depicting his/her initials, and a closet/dresser filled with blue/pink clothes.

We decided that we wanted just a little bit of a surprise, and daddy wanted to share just a little bit in the process (you know more than.. woohoo a baby!)  So we chose not to find out what kind of baby we were having!   foot note: For any of you considering such an ambitious move...  be okay with having 4 outfits for the first week of life.  gender neutral clothing is virtually nonexistent.  At times it was terribly painful.   But I think my friends had a harder time with it that we did.  I often said it was a good thing we had to make the choice at 18 weeks not to find out... because if I had the option at 25 I totally would have caved.  But in the weeks leading up to her birth the excitement was so much fun!

The excitement in the operating room was contagious.  Not just for us, but for the OR staff.  They were taking guesses, placing bets and all around really enjoying this with us!  I get the lovely view of a giant blue curtain... so I was laying there listening to the music on the radio and hearing the doctors and nurses "do their thing."  The song changed to "This girl is on Fire" and I heard a strong cry and Will says "it's a girl!"  We all got a great kick out of that.

Since then this girl has definitely made a statement.  She's fussy, she's smiley, she knows what she wants, she's already a strong but loving little lady.  Shannie is thrilled to have a sister (more on that later) and Grumpy Dwarf is a little less grumpy and a little more Papa Smurf.  Welcome to the world Millie Grace!

The Big Sister Freak out

After what seems like months (okay it has been months) I have 2 free hands to actually type a Shanniegans post!  Baby Millie Grace joined our family on March 4!  It was a rather uneventful birth but I'll share the highlights for those of you who are into that kinda of thing over the next few days.

The weekend before:  We tried to set up our weekend just like every other weekend.  It started with Friday night pizza and movie night.  Shannie was a little off, stomach aches, whining... my immediate worry.. .what if she's sick!!  we are having a new baby in 2 days.. what if she's sick.. what if I get sick.. worse what if Will gets sick!!?!? (you see he the most important part of baby week... without him.. the entire thing unravels and I lie in a bed and cry)

Dad: "is something bothering you?"
Shannie: hiding her now tearing eyes and whispering "I'm nervous about being a big sister"
Dad: that's ok.. I'm nervous about having 3 babies
Shannie: "But Dad, I don't know how to be a big sister, I only know how to be a little sister!"

Then the uncontrollable tears started, down to the hiccups, and the not breathing and the snotting... yeah one of those girl cries that reaches into your soul and you just can't make them stop.  (ladies, I'm certain you can relate)  it all culminates with a giant stomach emptying mess.  also known as cry induced  puke.

After a nice long warm shower, the tears subsided.  She camped out in a giant mommy sized robe in front of the space heater.  Suddenly I overhear this sweet sensitive loving child of mine say "thank you God for giving me all the hot water for my shower, just to make me feel better."  Her gratitude is always humbling.

A little book time and all seemed ok.  I can TOTALLY sympathize with the pressure of being a big sister, it's a lot for a little girl to handle, but 2 months later I can tell you she's a great big sister, loving, generous, and over attentive.  (more on that to come)  If only I attacked each event in my life with such desire for perfection.

Yes, it really happened this way....

Yesterday Grumpy Dwarf (age 8) asked to go to a friends house to play!!  This is big for us.... like really really big!!  Typically playing legos in his room, or even playing with his sister, trumps the  unknown of someone else's house.   So, 30 minutes into the "play-date" I get a call from the mom...  

"the boys were playing ball, Grumpy Dwarf (she didn't call him that obviously!) got tackled and hit his head.  I'm a nurse, I cleaned him all up, he's fine and they are playing board games, so don't come get him, just wanted you to know."

Me: "I grew up with 4 brothers, you could say I think he broke an arm, and I'd say... "no problem, I'll be right there."  I'm not one to panic about stuff like that.

So we (Shannie and I) show up at the appropriate time to pick up the brother, who promptly launches himself out of the house and into the car without a "bye, thanks, see later ..."  After a good eye roll from me and an apology to the mom, Shannie and I head to the car.

As Shannie is climbing in I hear... "Oh no!!  Connor don't turn your head!"

C:  "I can't if I wanted to sissy, it hurts!!"

S: "well it's hurting my stomach to see it!!"

C: (taunting his sister)  "It's my head sis, just look..."

S: starts dry heaving...

Mom: "Whatever you do do not throw up in this car!!  We are almost home!"

S:  "but I can smell his blood and it makes me sick!"

C:  "You can't smell blood you are not a vampire!"

S:  "I can so smell blood and yours smells like alligators!!"   (apparently alligators are terribly smelly)

       *cough cough heave heave*

Mom: "We are home, everyone out, now!!"  (I am so proud that we made it the 3 blocks home without a vomit issue)

S: *cough cough.... puke.  on the steps... awesome

C:  "sissy did you just puke?"  

S: "yes it's your alligator blood!!"

C:  *cough cough....

Mom: Please don't....

C: Puke.

Mom: Seriously....

so for the rest of the evening this Mommy cleaned up vomit that we should attribute to "alligator blood" issues... and kept the boy out of Shannie's line of sight.  If she saw him, any part of him, she burst into tears and gagged.    My husband and I spent the evening in between hysterical laughter and complete exasperation.   Needless to say... I'm guessing Shannie will not be a nurse/doctor and it will be a VERY long time before Grumpy Dwarf leaves his cave again.

Thoughts on MLK

So, as we near the Martin Luther King Holiday I give you these words of wisdom from my sweet little Shannie.

Shannie: Mom, how can Dr. King be both a Doctor and a King?!?
Mom:  Well, Dr. King's last name is King.  What do you know about Dr. King?
Shannie: That he had LOTS of jobs.  He's the doctor of the Kingdom!
Mom: Do you know what Dr. King did?
Shannie: He shouted "FREEDOM" from the rooftops. (under her breath) but I don't know how people heard him up on the roof.
Mom:  That just means that he said it for the whole world to hear.
Shannie:  he must have a really loud voice.
Mom: Who needed freedom?
Shannie: I dunno, his friends?

 I'm so thankful that my daughter goes to a preschool where they talk about such things!  I am also so thankful that my daughter believes that Kings and kingdoms are an everyday part of life, and that freedom is such an abstract word for her!  in her universe the need for freedom doesn't even exist.  She doesn't understand selfishness, bigotry, racism, or fear.  She simply understands that people live in happy places, where working to hard (a doctor and a king) are the worst enemy, and that life is full of imagination and joy.

the best thing about rain....

We all woke up pretty slow this morning, the cold drizzle outside make it extremely dark, and pretty comfortable under the covers.  We took grumpy smurf to school, and the whole 4 minute drive he whined "It's raining, that means we can't play outside, It's raining, that means that I'm going to be sleepy all day." and on and on and on.  Shannie is surprisingly quiet (rare, I know)  We get home and are snuggling on the couch watching a little Jake and the Neverland Pirates (where WAS that show when I was a kid!? I'd like to discover gold dabloons... zablooms... gaboons...  yeah whatever those gold things are, just for counting to 5!)

Suddenly Shannie looks out the window and says... "you know the best thing about rain?"
Mom: What's that?
Shannie:  The rainbow that comes when it's over.
Mom: Oh Shannie, remember that for the rest of your life little one!

How true is that of the challenges of life?  It's so easy to get wrapped up in the fact that is RAINING!  Shannie wants to play outside, ride her bike (a new found skill)  jump rope, color with chalk... it is in fact 55 degrees outside!!  But it's raining, so we have to find things to do inside, namely snuggle and read books, watching movies, do crafts, the same kinds of things we've been doing for what seems like months due to the cold.  But does she whine about the rain?  No...  She's looking forward to the rainbow and the treasures beyond.

I think that's probably what Jesus meant when he called us to have faith like a child.  Perhaps it's a little of that instant trust and friendship that children seem to bestow on everyone; but I think it's more about the hope and joy.   To even know that there's a rainbow at the end of the storm means that we have hope that the storm will even end.  That life will look a little different on the other side, that there is HOPE for the next leg of our journey.  So thank you my little one... for the reminder to continue to search for the rainbow!