Random Mostly About Sadie Because She Is Two

Sadie: Oh no! Candace ate Phimeas and Ferb, and she didn't even say sorry! That's not very nice!

Sadie had a hard time going to her little nursery class on Sunday. I asked her why she was so scared because she usually loves going and has no fear. She answered, "I didn't wike my teacher today. She was creepy. Her hands were awe creepy."

Sadie: I don't want you to turn into a bad guy! Stop waughing wike a bad guy! I don't want you to turn into a bad guy!

Not a story about my kids, but something that made me laugh when it popped into my head: When I was about seven, I learned what "loathe" means. My sister still sort of laughs about how I dramatically told her frequently that I loathed her. (I actually like her and think she is awesome.)

Sadie: I wike my Presty-boy. I miss him. He's my Presty-boy.

A typical Sadie conversation lately goes something like this, "What's your name, Mommy? Are you my mom? And do you wike me? And am I Sadie? What's your name? Are you my parent? I'm a parent. Are you? Are you happy? Oh, you are happy? And do you wike me? What's your name, Mommy?" She will have some version of this conversation many times a day and with everyone she talks to. When I say "conversation," I am talking about a pretty much one-sided monologue that is several minutes long and adorable with her giant brown eyes staring at me.

Speaking of those giant brown eyes, she started crying yesterday because she wanted blue eyes like mine. Then she was sad because she really wanted them to be pink. I love my brown-eyes kids. Preston's are root beer brown, and Sadie's are chocolate brown. Two of my favorite treats. And Bill's are kind of like mud.

I am trying to get caught up on laundry today. I gave Carter some of his laundry to put away, and he responded in a way that I never thought I would hear. "Awesome! Thanks for doing my laundry!" He also repeated the sentiment an hour or so later when I gave him another pile of things to put away. I don't know who replaced my kid, but I like it! He also said, when I first came out of my room this morning, "Do you want to just go back to bed? I can watch Sadie for you today so you can rest. I know the medicine makes you feel really sick and tired. I can just babysit for you the whole day." He has done a good job of helping. I think he is bored with Preston and Avery gone. And maybe Bill had a talk with him about helping out more and being better behaved? 

Gum and Goats

Carter: It would be so awesome if I was a goat.

Avery: Why? All you could do is ram other goats.

A conversation I overheard at church today:

Cute two year old girl behind us: I wish I had some gum.

Sadie: We don't have any gum. Sorry. My mom said it's awe gone.

Girl: Oh, do you have some candy?

Sadie: No, I ahready gave you some. It was your wast piece.

Girl: Okay. 

If your bishop is your chiropractor, you might feel guilty when you pop your back or neck in church or if you even contemplate such an action. You might wish you were sitting in the back instead of front and center. Not that I would know anything about that... (I am at least 95% sure that he doesn't read my blog, but he already knows about my stiff-neckedness, so it's not really a secret.)

If you have read my blogs over the past year or so, you know that I always seem to have trouble walking when I go to Costco. I don't know what it is about the store that sets off weakness in my legs. I also wonder if other people shopping who feel so impatient with my slow walking would say as many rude things if I was an elderly lady instead of a young(ish) mom. Bill said it reminded him of the super slow traffic that we were getting frustrated with when we were in vacation in Hawaii several years ago. When we saw that the person causing the slowdown was an old man riding a bike with no pedals, pushing himself along with his one leg, we felt horrible for getting frustrated. I am sure that most people would be more understanding if I was wearing a shirt that said, "Please excuse my slow walking because I have an illness that causes my legs to be sort of paralyzed some of the time as well as making me super tired and frequently weak, numb, and abnormally dizzy. I also can't see you if you are on the left side of me. Plus, I have a bunch of kids, so that in itself pretty much explains any deficiencies in my body, mind, or character, and it also explains the twenty pounds of chocolate in my shopping cart as well as the extra twenty pounds in my booty, which I have already been informed is jiggly."

Stop judging, people. Stop judging people. For any reason at all. Your judging hurts YOU much more than the person you are judging. (I am speaking to myself here as well, but did you see my use of caps to emphasize who suffers the most damage when we judge others?) Don't judge anyone else. Ever. Unless they are different from you. Then I guess it's probably okay to judge them...

I went shoe shopping a few weeks ago. My sole purpose (Get it? SOLE purpose...) was to find some sandals that were both cute and comfortable without being grandma shoes. I even verbally stated this goal before going. Yet, somehow, I came out of the store with one pair of sandals that were the Easy Spirit brand. My first grandma shoes! (Well, kind of my second pair because of hurt feet in Paris five years ago, but I won't go into those weird shoes.)

When your two year old kid comes into the room with no pants or diaper on, the situation quickly would become less funny when you realize that her cute little bum is covered in poop. Also, sometimes this situation could happen about the same time that your little niece pees on your floor in the basement. You would probably be glad that you have a carpet spot cleaner, but you would probably feel frustrated that you have to use it. At least, that's what I think would happen if you were to find yourself in that situation.

The Magic Scepter

Things I thought I read vs. what I really read in the last few days:

10% off Opium Cereals (Optimum Cereals, which I really don't understand anyway)

Happy Father's Day to the best guy I ever married. (Happy Father's Day to the best guy I could have ever married.)

You have cute kids, but we have no idea where they get it. (Nice family pictures!)

It's weird how my brain leaves out letters and whole words sometimes or completely changes the message other times. I am working on seeing the right message, but sometimes it is hard when I still have trouble believing the good things. Maybe I need some of that opium cereal. It's ten percent off, after all. 

Carter: Mom, I know you might be a little embarrassed about this, but I think you forgot to fix your hair today since it's all fuzzy. (I had fixed it.)

Sadie: A-B-C-D-E-F-G-H-I-J-K-L-M-N-O-P... Wait. N-O-P? N-O-P? No P? No pee? That's funny! No pee! No pee! No pee or poop! No pee or poop!

We had a little time to wait today, while our driver had some business to attend to, before we could pick Carter up from his basketball camp. Preston and Avery were taking turns playing with this little stick that had a ring on one end. (It's like a hula hoop for one leg and a jump rope for the other leg. You jump over it with your other leg when the stick comes around. I have no idea if you can picture it from that description.) They were able to play with it for about ten minutes before they broke the ring off the stick. Instead of getting upset, they surprised me by saying, "Now it's like two toys! The ring works just like a frisbee, and the stick can be our magic scepter." They spent the next half hour happily playing with the broken toy.

Preston used the "magic scepter" as a cane when he pretended to be an old man. He slowly limped with his back hunched over. He came to me a patted me on the knee. "You know, sonny," he said in a pretty good raspy old man voice, "you can't milk a dead cow. It's just a little advice for you youngsters, something I learned from my father, who learned it from his father before him." 

As we were walking back to our car, Preston said, "That toy was pretty much worthless. We probably shouldn't buy junk like that, but it was really fun anyway." I think it was worth the $4.00, especially because he learned the lesson that cheaply made things often aren't worth wasting our money, but also because they had fun and made the best of their broken toy. I thought we would have instant tears when it broke. It's nice to see my kids starting to grow up.

Carter told me a little about his basketball camp today. He said that they had a few kids who got to do "money shots," where if they made the shots, they got actual money. He was chosen, and he got to shoot from really close up, just to the side of the basket. He said the pressure was just too much with 150 kids and all the coaches watching, and he missed his shot. He said it wasn't as bad as one shot he made during the game. He tried a three point shot, and he said it looked like a little kid shooting because he was so far off. He told me these things while he was laughing, which is encouraging. I'm glad to see that he doesn't take things too seriously and that he can laugh about his mistakes.

Sadie did not act mature like my other kids. She acted like a two-year-old.

Get Thee Behind Me

Right after I posted about how my kids never act like book and movie kids, they changed it up a little. The boys decided to make breakfast for everyone, which included my sister and her three kids. Preston made omelets, I think. Carter made Mickey Mouse pancakes. He looked up a recipe online, used citric acid to make the buttermilk, apparently using WAY more than he needed, according to Preston, who said they were a little sour. He even used chocolate chips for the faces. It must have taken them almost two hours to do everything. The dirty dishes I found included: six mixing bowls, three glass measuring cups, three metal measuring cups, every single measuring spoon we own, two pans, three spatulas, three whisks, and two large spoons. We had no syrup because Carter accidentally broke the syrup jar, so the kids used ridiculous amounts of powdered sugar and cinnamon and sugar to cover up the sour taste. My sister was too chicken to try food cooked by my kids, but all the kids seemed to like it. 

I know it is more than six months away, but I already have anxiety about having church at nine in the morning again. I can barely make it to church at eleven usually, and we somehow slept in and missed it completely last week. We did get back from California at midnight, and we unloaded the car and got kids to bed and didn't make it to bed ourselves until two or three. And here I am writing Saturday night after midnight. Sounds like a good omen for tomorrow's morning, right? (Can I get an "Amen!"? You know, because I'm talking about church...)

At California Adventure, there is this obstacle course and playground area. One part has a spot where you put your hand on a screen to get your "spirit animal." We all laughed at Carter's animal. We said that a skunk was fitting for him lately. When we told my sister about it a few days ago, the kids were all laughing and saying how it fit him because he toots. He said, "I don't do that anymore. That's all behind me now." Everyone laughed because they knew it wasn't true, but nobody laughed about the play on words except for me. Unintentional plays on words are funnier to me than when they are intentional. 

We went on a short date earlier tonight. Before we left, Sadie said, "I don't want you to go because I wih miss you too much! I ahways miss you when you're gone." After we got back, I asked her if she missed us or if she had been okay. She answered, "I was having too much fun to miss you."

I frequently look at real estate, including places that I am pretty sure we would never live. The other day, I was looking at houses in Hawaii with Carter. We looked first at reasonably (for Hawaii) priced homes. After a little while, we started looking at the ridiculously priced homes that are more extravagant than even my dreams. Carter sighed and said, "Ahhh. I really want to be rich someday." I think it was his first realization of what extremely wealthy people live like. Then we had a talk about how there are better ways to use money for good. He seemed to have a good understanding that it would be better to live in a more modest home and give to those less fortunate, even if we ever had money like that. Then, "Okay Mom, let's look at the $30 million dollar house now. It looks awesome!"

This is Serious, Folks!

This is just a small request from me. I love all my friends and family, so I don't want anyone to be offended by this request. The majority of reactions and comments about my life with MS are meant kindly, and I honestly appreciate that, but they pretty much always convey pity or sympathy. It is not the hardest disease to be dealing with, but I already know the difficulties that I have. The pity and sympathy give me the sense that others feel I am incomplete somehow when I can't walk or see, that I am less than when I can do those things. We always try to teach our children that people with sickness or disabilities are not less because they can't do something. When I'm in a wheelchair, strangers frequently speak to me like I am five. I'm glad my friends don't do this!

So, here is the request. If you are able, try to make light of my disease rather than expressing that pity or sympathy that you feel. It is a lifelong disease, and I will pretty much always have some problems, so I can't waste time feeling sorry for myself, and neither should you! I always appreciate a good joke anyway, even if it is at my expense. Plus, I will get enough of the pity from all the people who don't read my blog, which is most of the people I know!