Broken

Remember how I wear thongs? Well, I was getting dressed the other day, and I noticed S staring curiously at my butt.
"Why are your underwear like that, mama?!"
So, I abandoned the goal of setting an honest example for our kids, and said, "Um, they are broken. I need new ones."
Who wants to tell their three-year-old that she likes to have her butt hang out?
No pictures today, appropriately! :)

Perfectionism, Papa, Cheesecake and Winter Fashion

S is starting to realize that I have a perfectionistic side.

She made her bed today.

I remade her bed.

Hands on her hips, she glared at me, and asked, "What are you doing? I made that bed already? It wasn't good?" And I tried to say something about how I was looking for something under her blankets, and then remembered that "How to Behave So Your Preschooler Will Too" says that we need to set an example of honesty for our kids, even in the little things, so I stopped mid-sentence, and just looked dead-guilty. She shook her head at me and walked out. (Side note: Why is she shaking her head at me?! She's THREE!)

Then, I asked her to pick out some clothes. She came out in this lovely attire, and when I laughed and asked her to change, she said, "How come I can't wear this?" (Geez mom, you are so picky!)
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I made cheesecake for tomorrow's Christmas get-together, and B set up "house" in the cupboard where my baking stuff usually resides. He was in there for most of the morning.
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Keith is home today. It may be the first Christmas Eve he's had off since we've been married.
Whenever K is home, I am totally off the hook. My kids want nothing to do with me. Who would want me when their Papa lets them hang all over him like monkeys all day? Even when asked, I just can't bring myself to wrestle...I can't. I'm not good at it. I don't like flinging my kids around and acting wounded and yelling, "Pow! Pow!" I leave that up to K. I would much rather read Christmas stories, play with playdough, set up their train track, or color. You know, quiet things. I'm glad they have their Papa.
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Also, Merry Christmas!

Santa and his Christmas Tree

Merry Christmas!

Love to all,

B

Christmas stuff, mostly

I just put up our SECOND tree last night.

With much effort, I tried not to complain about the fake Christmas tree that K hauled up from the basement. I couldn't involve myself in decorating the thing, because Christmas isn't Christmas (to me) without a real tree....
But I have to admit, K and the kids did a great job. It looked good, actually.

Then, a couple of mornings ago, before I was fully awake, I heard a CRASH....
and then an "Uh, oh."

Silence.

I dragged myself out of bed, practically crawling down the hall in my tired state, to see my darling boys standing before a prostrate Christmas tree.

"We tried to get the angel", they mumbled, staring at the needle-filled carpet.

I tried to resurrect the thing, but the stand cracked in two, and the top wouldn't stay on.

K picked up a real tree yesterday, and we put it up last night, with the Muppets Christmas Story playing in the background. Well, my background anyway....the kids were glued to the TV. They didn't want to decorate again, I guess.

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We received a big ol' box filled with chocolates and cookies from our dear Scottish friend, Gillian, who now lives in N. Ireland. I love her exponentially now. Does that word even make sense there? The box and card were addressed to the whole family, yet it took me at least two days to decide to share with K and the kids.
I have to say, I am not about saving these delicacies. When Beth, Diana and I received them, I quickly ate three candy bars (or if you are British, you can call them biscuits, which makes you feel less guilty about eating so much junk).
The box is nearly gone, and it isn't even Christmas yet. Where do you think it is going? I would blame my family, except I don't think K has eaten any, and I dole out only one per day to the kids. Poor, deprived kids.
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I haven't been blogging, because I really have little to say, but how about this for an ending:

B: Mama! Z and S are saying they are cats, and they aren't!
Me: B, it is ok. You are right. They aren't cats, but they are just pretending.
B: No, they aren't. They are "realing!" I don't like it! I don't want them to be cats.

Antibiotics

In Rhode Island, our kids were not on their best behavior. They whined. They fought with K and I and with each other. They cried because we looked at them funny. They fought some more. B slammed Z's finger in a door. S pulled Z's hair. Z spent lots of time screaming...the kind of scream that pierces your ears. We stayed with K's family, and I was a little embarrassed at our failure to raise good kids.

I spent much of the ride home being perplexed....wondering how we were going to raise one kid in particular (B) to an even kind of stable and contributing member of society.

We actually decided to look into different parenting techniques, because the one we were using was not working.

Their bad behavior only escalated when we got home.

Although B was the subject of my worries at night when I couldn't sleep (Would he always be this selfish? Will he grow up to be a jerk? Is he going to be verbally abusive to his wife?), Z and S weren't much better. S cried and whined for most of the day, and Z used what I have deemed his "fighting voice" whenever he got the chance.

I finally took them to the doctor. When she came in to check them, I told her she could either prescribe medicine for them or take them home with her. I was done with these kids.

She prescribed meds.

S had a "major sinus infection". B had a double ear infection, one of which their doctor was sure was pretty painful, and Z had an ear infection in one ear and a sinus infection as well.

I actually clapped.

I wasn't necessarily happy that my kids were sick, but I was SO happy that there was a reason behind the devil children I had been experiencing lately.

I will give a cheerful update in 24 hours, when their meds are kicking in and they are on the mend.