Maybe

Since Lent started we have been trying out different churches to see if one or another feels right for our family. For the past two weeks we have made an appearance at the Basilica which is an amazingly beautiful church located right on the edge of down town.

As we pulled our car into the parking lot, which sits right under the highway, there was a homeless man with a sign that said he was looking for food, money and/or work.

PJ looked at the man as we drove by him and asked, “Mom is that Jesus?”

Lunchtime fact or fiction

PJ: Oh shoot, I wish I brought home the flower my teachers gave me.

Me: Did the teachers hand out flowers to all the kids today?

PJ: Not to everyone, just me.

CT: PJ, they did not just give you a flower. That would make all the other kids sad.

PJ: They gave me the flower because they love ME best.

Fish food

PJ fell asleep on the couch yesterday while I cooled my jets to try and figure out how to extract the carrot. Once she awoke I bribed her with the possibility of watching an early television show if we got it out ourselves instead of dragging everyone to the ER where the doctor would surely hurt her much, MUCH worse than mommy, she took the bait.

We chose the couch as the place to perform the procedure. She laid-back, I knelt beside her. She held Dori, I held a tweezers and a straw (thank you Peggy). She started blowing. I saw “it” start to move. The nap and endless tears seemed to have created an abundance of snot around the carrot and plugged the entire nostril. I held down the opposite nostril and told her to blow…out shot the mucus covered carrot, right onto my sweater.

Stand off

I’m sitting in the kitchen in a rage.

PJ is sitting in the living room wide-mouthed and quiet and scared.

She won’t let me extract the CARROT CHUNK that she lodged up her nose over lunch.

Blowing hard out of only one nostril didn’t work. Pushing down on the carrot externally didn’t work.

I need to go in with a tweezers.

She won’t let me.

I have tried to reason with her. I have explained things simply and easily. I have held her gently. I have pinned her down.

I’m at a loss.

Excuse me, are you using that dumbbell?

When PJ was just starting to eat solid foods, around 5 months old, we would plop her in the high chair so she could participate in our family dinner. Well, she wanted nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the post that shot up between her legs that was intended to keep her little body safely in the seat. She would simply stiff arm the spoon and start writhing and then her face would turn red. Yes, it was a little disturbing for a mother to watch and I promptly stopped using that chair.

At this same point in time, CT (then 2) was discovering his very own body parts. My house seemed to be highly sexed and my babies were getting a lot more action than I was. A talk with the pediatrician ensued and she assured me that my children were very normal and just exploring their bodies.

Well today, PJ has found her body again. She is very open to discussing how her bottom feels good when she lays face down and her binki is placed in just the right position. She has even found a name for her new feel good activity. She says, “I’m goin’ to do my exercises.”

Oh, how I wish my exercises felt that good!

And she was reborn from the murky depths

I guess I’m not getting my Christmas bonus this year

On the days we go to the gym, we ALWAYS have the following conversation, “Now, when mommy comes in to get you, what do I expect you to do?” Kids in angelic tandem, “Come right out and put on our shoes and coats.”

And today was no different. I asked the question. They responded. We went into the gym. I worked out. I came into the daycare to get them and PJ refused to get her shoes on. It’s not that she just doesn’t want to do it; she simply wants to watch the rest of the Dora the Explorer that she was so rudely ripped away from. None the less, we still need to leave.

After several failed attempts to redirect her to her shoes and away from the TV, I told her that the rest of us were ready and that we were going to start walking out the door. She turned to me and loudly proclaimed, “Mama, you goin in a time-out cause yous a snotty giyal. AND, (brow furrowed and finger waging back and forth at me) I don’t want you to be my mama anymore, I want someone else to be my mama!”

I told her that if that was indeed the case, she could go find that woman and have her make her lunch.

Heeeerrrrre Rufus, Rufus, Rufus

PJ has an unreasonable, ridiculous, violent and down right insane aversion to dogs. If she sees one from across the street she’ll go plumb crazy. She’ll start jumping up and down flailing her arms like she’s standing on a bed of hot coals and can’t get off and then will start in with begging and quickly move onto screaming some unintelligible voodoo spell at the dog. It’s a real sight to behold.

But over the past few weeks, PJ has mentioned that she now likes dogs. OK, small dogs. But it is progress non-the-less. And just two days ago she actually asked for a dog. Albeit, a small dog. And just yesterday she played with a dog, her very own dog. Her very own small dog that she made up in her mind, and she named her Rufus. Yes, her Rufus. She spent a couple hours throwing a bone (CT’s balled up socks) to Rufus, taking Rufus for a walk, feeding Rufus and putting Rufus’ collar on and off. Rufus even slept in her bed and kept her warm last night.

This evening we are invited over to The Bickerons for a campfire with the kids and their dogs. I can’t wait to see if Rufus will be joining us or if we will be dragging our hysterical, head spinning, fire spitting, dog hating little girl back home early.

Anyone want to place a bet?

I am woman hear me roar

PJ had to get pinned down today at the doctors office for a throat culture. She didn’t like it. She would not lie down or open her mouth without assistance.

Please picture one small examining room. In the exam room you find one nurse with two cotton swabs, one screaming/hysterical child, one mom pinning the screaming child down on the exam table, same mom prying mouth open of screaming child, smallest sibling of screaming child pulling at mom’s pant leg trying to climb up mom’s leg and also crying, and oldest sibling of screaming child doing karate/ninja moves all over the 3×3 exam room.

Fun times!

I can to fly!

All I need is my fairy costume

and a slide to jump off of.

Oh yeah, and my helmet.