I knew when I had a daughter that I’d one day have debates with her over clothes. I just didn’t know that it would start at age 4. My daughter already has a mind of her own, and she doesn’t think twice about sharing her opinions. My diva-in-training is quite fond of her dresses… so much so that she pouts and throws a fit at the mention of wearing pants.
Heaven forbid I ask her to put on a pair of jeans. It’s hard for me to accept that my little girl doesn’t share...
We have one of those neighbors who goes all out for Halloween. She decorates her house outside and inside, spending the entire month of October adding to the spooky scenery until her haunted house is ready on October 31. This year’s props included haunting music, a strobe light, robotic zombies, a fog machine and tiny plastic spiders covering nearly every square inch of the inside of her home.
My neighbor insisted that I bring the kids to her house for trick or treating....
Oh, what I’d give to live inside the mind of my 4-year-old daughter for just one day! I’m only privy to the excerpts of her thoughts as her imagination runs wild through play. I love listening in when she’s not aware that I’m there. I hear all kinds of interesting tales, many involving princesses and kittens. I know all children play pretend, but what fascinates me about my daughter is she actually narrates her stories as if they are written in a book.
If there is an award for the slackiest parents of 2010, my husband and I should nominate ourselves. This weekend we gave our twins their birthday presents, which really wouldn’t be so bad if their birthday hadn’t been four months ago!
We didn’t intend for it to take this long. Time just got away from us. In our defense, I’ll say this has been a terribly chaotic summer for our household…moving into a new house, renovations with lots of setbacks and two children with broken...
On Sept. 11, my baby turned two years old. In his two years of life, I’ve gotten used to hearing a slight gasp from many people when I say his birth date. Even before he was born, I got some interesting comments when I’d tell people I had a C-section scheduled for 9/11.
The morning I entered the hospital for the labor and delivery floor, a man in the elevator said, “Well, at least the day will be good for you. It’s just a day of pain and suffering for so many people.”
At approximately 7 a.m. Thursday morning, a crime took place at my house. The culprit, a 28-lbs white male with blue eyes and curly blonde hair, was spotted in my bedroom.
My husband and I awoke to tiny footsteps that echoed like elephants running a sprint down the hallway. Soon after we heard giggles. However, this time there were three giggles, and that meant trouble. A wave of panic shot all the way up my spine. I sprung up in bed. We had a prison break. Siler had mastered the art of fleeing...
Last weekend my husband and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary with a child-free weekend away. Who would have ever thought when we got married in 2000 that we’d have three children by now?
I looked back at our premarital counseling booklet, and I had to laugh out loud. The booklet contained a list of questions that we answered separately and then discussed with the pastor who married us. “How many children do you want to have?” I circled “1.” My husband also circled...
I hear all kinds of entertaining tales from my four-year-old twins, and most of them are not even true.
At this age, they are masters of creative storytelling. They try to see what they can pull over on Mommy, and they like to make sure that someone else is to blame for any deed Mommy doesn’t like. This week I heard the most inventive fib yet.
Eli had a quick virus over the weekend. He woke up with a fever of 102 Saturday night. I gave him Tylenol and a small cup of watered down apple juice...
You can forget all the toys we have in our house. My 23-month-old son would rather play with the vacuum cleaner. In fact, Siler is pretty much obessed with the vacuum cleaner. I’m not exactly sure what he finds so appealing about the vacuum. Maybe he likes the loud noise that it makes, which is interesting considering his big brother and sister were scared of the vacuum cleaner until they were three years old. They’d run out of the room and cover their ears whenever the vacuum came on.
Lately I’ve felt like I’m trapped inside the children’s book “Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed.” Only in my version of the story, I have three monkeys, and my little monkeys are breaking their arms instead of bumping their heads.
I could hardly believe it myself when Eli, my oldest son, broke his arm last week just one week after my youngest son broke his arm. What are the odds of that happening?
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