7 months, 1 tooth

In honor of Piper's 7 months on the planet, she sprang a bottom tooth yesterday. Claire's so excited you'd think she's pulled it out of Piper's gums for her. The enthusiasm is pretty cute. In honor of her special anniversary, I am going to Happy Hour on Wednesday. Not really for that reason, it just ended up that way. Piper needs some Dada time, anyway. She was pulling that MaMa preference stuff the other day. I got a middle child that has a strong one of those, it loses its cuteness rather quickly. I prefer the I'll-take-whichever-of-you-has-a-free-hand-whenever-you-can-get-here over the MaMa-NOW crap. Hopefully, the tooth's arrival was the reason. More likely, it was her father being gone for too long buying something he doesn't need.

Poor Macy doesn't see, sure he still lives here. Saturday Macy surprisingly said to him, "oh, I didn't know you'd still be here" when we returned from the grocery store.

Get on the bus, Gus!

Early last week Claire missed her bus. This wasn't the morning she woke me up 10 minutes before pick-up time. No, I'd been up for about an hour nagging her to put on her previously selected outfit & shoes. It was perfect, I nagged her down to the front door in time for her to watch the bus pull off without her. I'm not sure she believed my, "you're going to miss your bus" until she saw those red lights through her tears.

I'm not saying I like to see her cry (and because the rest of us were actually dressed we walked to school and got there before school started anyway), but I feel like the incident was perfect for my street cred and her learning a natural consequence.


Now, I have her glued to the window 20 minutes before pick-up. This morning was Donuts with Dad (well, in Claire's case with Bumpa). Nothing is getting between this girl and her donut! When she had to turn away from the window she delegated bus watching to her sister.



Now, if I could just find a way to communicate to Piper I just clean her up because I don't want her neck to smell like a gym bag, not because I'm a jerk.

Grounds for divorce?

My most annoying patient (clearly the man of the house) had a quick little one day cold earlier this week. He thinks illness makes it acceptable for him to leave piles of used tissues in places like his daughters' night stands.

Remember when his friend donned him second-most-likely to get divorced because his wife seems like the type to just get fed up one day? Just sayin', reaching my tissue tossing threshold ....

Red Hot Cinnamon Dot

Red Hot Cinnamon Dot is my nice title for a blog post titled in my mind "Fricking Livid" (but since my 4 year old said 'fricking' yesterday I'm trying to use nicer words until I'm sure one of them pisses me off). Plus, I'm not even livid anymore since I told my husband I was mad, and he apologized. It was all very civilized and adult of us.

Last weekend Piper had her 6 month photos taken. The big girls came along to get one quick Christmas card picture. Seeing as Macy was in some mood where she wanted to shut one eye to be funny, I wasn't very optimistic about the outcome. Plus, in telling a friend about the photographer I learned after the fact that her rates went up like 33%! I had taken the girls solo to the photographer since Bob was dirt biking. That wasn't a big deal since it was morning.

I was overjoyed when I got the pictures, because I loved them. I was pleasantly surprised that there was one picture where ALL THREE of my girls looked good, at the camera. I was trying to share my joy with my husband, but he didn't think they were real enough. (Next year, a picture of Claire picking her nose, Macy eating toast, and me washing dishes while holding a baby?). Then, he said that he wished there was at least one picture where Piper wasn't wearing "that flower thing" in her hair.

"That flower thing" ?!? The night before the pictures while Bob was running around in preparation for his dirt bike trip (to which he forgot to bring a change of warm clothes, some preparation). I engaged him in a conversation about "flower things." Did they distract from the baby? Would it be a good match for the picture of Macy on the wall where she has the crochet hat and a flower? I am not really a flower person; I really wasn't pushing one way or the other. I ended up going to the mall. I hate the mall. Since little girls tend to wear pink, finding a black and gold "flower thing" wasn't an easy feat. I had to go to multiple stores. It was a terrible way to spend kid-free time. I was in at least two kids store that sold bra-lettes to CHILDREN. It was depressing.

I was less than pleased when Bob commented disapprovingly of the "flower thing" because if he didn't like them, this should have been said before the shopping trip.

But, Bob apologized. He said all the right things. He said he needs to listen better, and I didn't say, "Damn right you do!" because I also need to work on being less bitchy. Plus, in the grand scheme, thank God my life is so good I'm worried about my husband's reaction to a flower. Some high school and college acquaintances recently have had three pound babies and have to go visit them at the hospital. A woman who lived down the hall in my dorm freshman year has cancer. I'm part of a 24/7 prayer vigil for her today (my kids have to be good from noon-one today!!) I truly have nothing to complain about.

Seriously, Piper is so stinking cute with or without a flower.

Tale as old as time

Last night the girls started dancing in the middle of our game of catch. Claire says to Macy, "I'm Beauty, and you're the Beast."

This is where I thought the quality family time would quickly disintegrate into an endless volley of "No, I 'm the Beauty!" that would make me want to whip out my inner beast.

But, Macy paused, and said, "Ok, but I am a NICE beast!"

Didn't see that coming.

You got a tick in your ear?

How is it that I can hear Piper crying from the main level when Bob sleeping in the same room about 3 feet from her snores through it? He is pretty tired from riding his little dirt bike around all weekend...

We ain't raising a bunch of Nancies

We keep journals for each of the girls to tell them of their antics and all the things we love about them and don't want to forget. Bob was basically complaining in Piper's that I make him hold her all the time, but that this loving approach served her sister's well, so he's fine with that. It is true, we love to cuddle them babies.

However, I pride myself on not being a whiner. If my kids turned out to be wusses, it would be sheer hell. I mean I would love them and all, but I wouldn't be happy about it. My running partner commented that her other running partner is kind of a complainer. That is like my favorite compliment. I might be slow and offer little in the way of conversation on pop culture due to my lack of TV, have limited knowledge on running gadgets, but at least I don't complain!

So, this is my bad momma confession, I am thrilled that signs are pointing to my kids being tough cookies. I don't squelch emotions and fear, but I say a little internal "sweet!" when they are brave - like when they take on the HUGE slide at Fritse park or jump in cold water (my big wussiness, brrrr).

Claire wanted her ears pierced. That meant Macy wanted hers pierced, too. I took them at separate times (more of a nap timing issue to take some baby stuff to Once Upon a Child). Claire watched two kids get their ears pierced first. When the infant cried Claire told me that she wasn't going to cry because she wasn't a baby. I told her it was ok to cry, and that it would hurt. But, true to her word, she did not even wince. She told her sister, "it's didn't even hurt!"

Back to the mall Claire and I went with Macy. Macy climbed up in the chair herself. Claire had sat in my lap, but Macy had it in her mind that she was going to sit on her own chair. So, up she climbed. She looked so little up there until she started talking. She was chatting with the woman like an adult. She even told her, unsolicited, that she wanted to start with the opposite ear. And the next day the earring came out, I basically re-pierced her ear with an earring from my jewelry box, and she cried then, too. She is still the town crier, so it's not like she doesn't cry, but she is also very brave when she puts her mind to it. I'm digging the tough girls.