Open Windows

I am so glad that I had some cleaning ladies come and help me out, especially with my bathroom. I am so embarrassed that I didn't notice before my shower that they had cleaned the blinds and window and had left the blinds open. The window is right next to the shower but outside the shower, so I sustained some bruising in trying to reach over the top of the shower to shut the blinds. My neighbor was outside, but I don't think he saw me. At least, he hasn't said anything to indicate that he has. I also haven't seen him since looking out the window and noticing that I could see him while in the shower, so...

Me: I love you, Sadie.

Sadie: I wuv a butterfwy.

During our family prayer tonight, Sadie kept reaching into Bill's shirt pocket, pulling out imaginary findings and saying, "Here's a wittow chip for me. Do you want a chip, Daddy? Oh, here's another chip. Oh, there's more chips in there. Yum. These are good chips. No, I don't want to stop it. I want another chip..." 

Avery has been working on cartwheels and handstands the last few weeks. She is not very good at either thing, and she can't really believe that I was once talented at gymnastics. I stopped right about the time I finally mastered a back handspring, and I was too scared to do it anywhere other than a gym, so I wasn't that amazing, but I wasn't bad. I even have video proof that I could throw myself back and forth on the uneven parallel bars and complete a decent floor routine, complete with perfect splits. I don't think there's proof that I once had good enough balance to do the beam, but I did, and I don't think I ever fell off. 

I have been married a lucky thirteen years. We celebrated with a nice dinner of leftovers (from two separate nights, so we had choices), surrounded by fighting children, followed up with even more fighting, then some weird game the kids played, in which they spread blankets all over the entire floor upstairs. It was so nice that they wanted us to be able to spend quality time together to clean up their giant messes. It was so amazing! I love my family!

(I really do love my family, and I am only halfway mocking all the people who have much more awesome and more romantic anniversary celebrations than we do. Plus, Bill was able to stop on the way home from work and get me some chocolates of which I was not allergic to at least a good third of the box.)

**I kind of feel bad for giving this post a name that indicates that I might relate some uplifting thought or story, (like when God closes a door, He opens a window) when I was really just letting you have a possible laugh at my indecent exposure.**

Wittow Sweetie

Carter: Daddy offended Indians everywhere by putting Greek yogurt into the curry sauce. He should have put Indian yogurt in it... Do they have that?

Sadie: I have a hiccup! Oh! I have another hiccup! I have a hiccup, too. Oh! Another hiccup. A hiccup, too...

Me: You're a cutie, Sadie.

Sadie: I'm not a cutie! I'm a big sweetie! And you're a wittow sweetie! You're just my wittow sweetie, Mommy.

Sadie keeps bringing me food to eat. It is so cute. Also, it is really hard to explain to a two-year-old about allergies and why I can't eat the food she keeps bringing me. 

Me: Sadie, do you want to come watch the Olypics with me on the ipad?

Sadie: No. It's too boring for wittow tids.

She did watch with me for a while, so it was not as bad as she thought it would be.

Sadie: Mommy, do you want a prophet?

Me: A prophet?

Sadie: I wiw det you a prophet. Here you doe. It's a prophet for you. And here's another prophet for you. It's Tarter's prophet. And this is Preston's prophet. You want another prophet?

It was a puffle, one of those weird stuffed guys that are only a head and no body from Club Penguin.

Run For Your Lives!

Sadie was sitting next to me and climbing all over me for a little while this morning. I was about to get up, but Sadie said, "Don't move, Mommy! Shhhh. Big Bird is tating a nap." I looked down on my lap, and there was a little plastic Big Bird wrapped up in a Kleenex. I carefully placed him somewhere else so I could get some things done. I was lucky he didn't wake up when I moved him...

Do you want to know how to make two-year-olds really mad? When they are hitting you over and over, just keep sticking your hands up so they keep giving you five instead. They will become furious and start yelling, "Stop giving me five! I wanna HIT you!" Why would such a small person want to hit you? Maybe you said it wasn't okay to pull your hair? That would do it. 

The hitting is much preferable to the hair-pulling, by the way. I can't seem to get those little fists out of my hair without help. She has been doing it the last few days. She thinks it is funny. It's the worst when she does it while Bill and the kids are at school because I end up losing a lot more hair when I have no help pulling her hands out of the tangled mess she creates. One day, maybe I will pull her hair back hard enough that she realizes how much it hurts.

When I was a kid, my parents were burning something in the yard. My sister was scared of the fire and kept saying, "Run for your lives!" She was a whole year older than I was, so I'm pretty sure I listened to her. Big kids always seemed to know more than I did about life and death situations.

Last night, Sadie had a BAD diaper. Carter ran down the stairs, yelling, "Run for your lives! Run for your lives! We're all going to die!" Preston listened, because Carter is more than a year older, and he joined in the stinky chaos. "It's okay to panic when it smells this bad! Panic in the basement!" he yelled, as he ran down the stairs to only mildly stinky freedom. (She initiated the dirty diaper when she was playing downstairs, so they couldn't escape the smell completely.) Avery ran away, after yelling at Sadie, "Sadie! You should NOT have done that! Now we all feel like throwing up!" It smelled exactly like the elephants at the zoo. It was so smelly. Sadie didn't like it, either. "Det it off me! It's so dross!"