I was waiting for this day to come.

This morning I went out to get my haircut, and Brad stayed home with the little lovelies.  When I got home about an hour and a half later, he had a story to share.  I've read about stories like these, but nothing like this has ever been said by our little ones until today.

Apparently, after breakfast and playtime, Brad went up to take a shower.  When he got out and opened up the bathroom door, he found Hannah Bear lying on the floor, patiently waiting for him to be finished.  She had a great big smile on her face, and she popped up, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Daddy, will you marry me?"

Now later, Brad told me that he'd considered explaining that this wasn't a possibility.  But she was so eager to ask and so happy...he thought it through and decided it was best not to crush her little heart, but to go along.

"Of course, I will, Sweetheart."

Hannah looked up, with an even bigger smile across her tiny face, and happily scampered out of the bedroom and into the hallway.  She apparently had chosen a special piece of her jewelry that she'd wanted to share with Brad, and she picked it up and came back in to present it to him as the bracelet he could wear when they got married.

When I got home, he was wearing it around his wrist.  In fact, he wore it all day, and as I type this post, it's sitting atop his dresser.  I know he'll hold onto it for as long as he lives - or until Hannah asks for it back.  It's no secret that she's Daddy's Girl :)

By Golly, I've Got It!

I'm not sure why this has never occurred to me before, but I think I've found a possible solution in regards to blogging consistently.

Stick with me here because I have to back-track a bit.

I think I have developed adult ADD.  Seriously.

I've noticed that I have a lot of projects and ideas swimming around in my head, but I have a hard time completing them, or following through.  If I'm honest, sometimes I have a hard time even getting started.  I would almost always describe myself as feeling overwhelmed.  I have a hard time completing thoughts aloud.  The list goes on...

In October, I went on a road trip with my mom and my sister, and I brought up the idea that maybe I have ADD, and they both pretty much laughed and said, "You think so?" very sarcastically.  Which started a whole conversation as to how they'd previously never brought this to my attention, but that's another story.

One thing I've noticed about myself, is that I thrive on structure and routine.  When I don't have a set routine for something - it rarely gets done.  For example, every year over summer break - I turn into a sloth.  On the weekends, if I don't have plans, I do a lot of napping.  I really have to push myself to complete tasks.  But - if I have a routine - I usually follow-through.

One of my New Year's resolutions is to blog more frequently and to finally get it caught up so that I can print the last two years of our blog.  I'm so behind that this is an incredibly overwhelming task.  Which is why it hasn't gotten done.

And then it hit me!  I need a blogging routine that is realistic.  I need to be able to jot down post ideas during the week (when I'm exhausted and have school work and shows and reading to do) and then blog those posts on the weekend when I have some more time to really focus and write.

Let's see how I do.

Sticky Fingers and Hungry Tummies

Today was not a great day.  They can't all be, I guess, but whoa.

It's been a really long week, and it's only Wednesday.  It's so hard to get back into the routine after such a long, winter break.  The kiddos are sleepy.  I'm cranky.  We have to get up when it's really dark.  I have to make lunches.  And dinner.  And it's rough.

So keep all of that in mind and then consider this:

As I was unpacking Jack's backpack and getting ready to help him with his homework, I noticed some Lego figures that were definitely not ours.  As I called Jack into the kitchen, he mumbled something about "finding things lately," but also looked incredibly guilty and already knew he was in trouble.  After a long time-out in his room and a longer chat about doing the right thing and considering how he'd feel if someone failed to return something he'd lost, he came downstairs to write an apology to his teacher.

As he was writing, I couldn't help thinking about where Brad and I had gone wrong.  How could Jack, even for an instant, think this was acceptable behavior?  I was proud of the way I handled the situation: I stayed calm.  I didn't yell, and I stressed that everyone makes mistakes and it's what we do when we make those mistakes that matters.  But at the same time my inner-mommy voice was saying that I'm not sure that taking Lego figures counts as a mistake.  It felt like a mommy-fail.

Then after a half hour of listening to Hannah Bear say she was hungry as dinner was cooking, we sat down to eat, and within seconds, I could tell she wasn't going to eat the chicken and noodle casserole I'd served.  She probably ate one spoonful collectively, and I knew she was hungry.  I'd previously told her that after dinner she could eat the fruit snacks she'd asked about earlier, but when she realized she wasn't going to get those after she didn't eat her dinner, she cried.  Oh, did she cry.

So neither little lovely was a happy camper this evening.  And neither am I.

And it's only Wednesday :(

She gets it.

Do you remember how I told you about the mama that wrote her little boy a note to be an amazing friend?  And about how inspired I was by that tiny message?

She did it again.

This morning was a little rough.  The kids are so out of their routine, and were so super-sleepy when I woke them up this morning.  Getting ready and drop-off went smoother than I expected, but I was sad that our extra time together was over, and I was missing my adorable children when I got to work.

And then I got an email from my mama friend.  She'd come across someone else's blog post, and felt like it said exactly what she wanted to say to me - so she forwarded it my way and added that I do amazing work.

See for yourself - click here to read the post.

I read it during indoor recess and before I knew it, I was crying.  Not big splashy tears because my, that would've been embarrassing, but I definitely had to get a tissue and wipe my eyes.  My horrible mommy-moment outside of Hannah's classroom came racing back - the way I'd felt like I'd failed.  Like every day I'm there for other peoples' kids, but I couldn't get to her Christmas sing-along on time.

This mom...she gets it.

I felt so appreciated.  So I sent her a link to the blog post that I'd written about her, and we marveled about how good we can make each other feel if we're willing to be a little vulnerable and tell people what we're really thinking.

Our mommy-hearts are full today.  I hope yours is, too.

A Letter to Santa

Last night, we took the kids to see Santa.  I've carefully planned our trips to see Santa the last several years, and going on a work night (especially a rainy one) seems to be the best way to go.  There were maybe two families in front of us, and we had a Fast Pass that we didn't even have to use.  It was perfect.

Preparing for the photo was, in itself, something of an adventure.  Hannah didn't want to wear the boots I'd bought to go with her dress, but her back-up pair of shoes didn't look quite right.  There were tears and sweaty curls, and Brad had to bribe her with the promise of a Pokemon card.  As we headed downstairs to leave, she looked at us expressionless, went into her room, and closed her bedroom door.  It wasn't looking good, until she sullenly came downstairs (taking the less traveled path to the kitchen) with her boots on after all.  Jack's picture shoes were a bit too big, and after some frustration about not being able to tie them tight enough, we were finally ready to head out the door.

Both kids looked adorable (they had better, after all that!), and while Hannah was very shy and never did end up telling Santa what she wanted for Christmas, Jack shared his list (which he'd jotted down on a daycare business card for fear he'd forget).

Brad and I joked about the fact that while we've already started our Christmas shopping, both little lovelies had surprises on their lists for Santa.  We're never quite as prepared as we think we are :)

After the kids sat on Santa's lap, we went to have dinner at the food court and the kids played happily on the indoor playground and the merry-go-round.  It wasn't until we got back to the car that Jack realized that not only had he misplaced the business card with his list, but he'd also forgotten to tell Santa about the ever-important Minecraft Lego sets that he was hoping to receive.  I promised to help him write a letter to Santa and he seemed to feel better.

Well, today when I picked Jack and Hannah up from school, he announced that I didn't have to help him write a letter because he'd already done it and he just needed my help sending it to the North Pole.

This is what he pulled out of his backpack when we got home:

There are so many things that I love about this letter.  I love that he just continued their conversation from last night.  I love that he's still learning where to place the punctuation when addressing a letter.  I love that he drew his own stamp and wrote the address as simply as we refer to it.

And then there's the obvious part about a second grade boy who's not quite sure what he believes, but who's smart enough to know what he doesn't want to know.  My ever-practical little boy.

He can make us smile and laugh and break our hearts at the same time.  Hopefully, he can hold onto the magic of Santa Claus for a little while longer.

Fingers crossed.

Non-verbal sarcasm

Tonight the kids rallied to read bedtime stories together.  It was some story about self aware crayons who voiced their grievances to the child who colors with them.  Well, one of the crayons felt overused and complained that he was too short and stubby.  Childhood memories of my own flashed before my eyes of the disappointment of having to use a crayon with a flattened head, and the joy of getting to use a fresh crayon with a perfectly cast writing tip... and then it came to me.  I bolted up, pausing from the story, to explain what I had just invented while reading: crayon heat molded sharpener.

It would look like a pencil sharpener, but instead of a blade to shave off pieces, inside there would be a heated metal mold in the sharpener that would perfectly melt and recast the head of the crayon to it's original, out of the box condition.  You could write with crisp line and you would never waste any of the crayon sharpening it.

Genius, right?  Certainly the best thing I've thought of all day, and the kids were surely to be impressed.  I waited form them to grasp the enormity of my invention, as this would change the quality of coloring-time for children for generations to come.  I was already thinking of how to patent the idea while I waited for them to form an awe-struck response.

That is when Jack, face emotionless, slowly raised his hands in the air and started clapping, but not good clapping.  He clapped so slowly that it was abundantly clear the message was something akin to "fantastic, dad, can we get back to reading the story now".

If you need someone to vet your great idea, look no further than a sarcastic 7-year old to deflate your sail.

Brad

Flu Shots, Cookie Crumbs, and Fancy Footwork

I love Saturdays.  I love that I don't have to get up early.  I love that we don't have to rush through our morning.  I love that the kids get a chance to relax and play.

Unfortunately, today was a day that I'd set aside to be sure that the kids got their flu vaccines.  I do not get a flu shot - every time I get a flu shot, I get the flu.  And so, I'd rather take my chances.  But Brad always gets the flu shot - every year.  And he's pretty insistent that the kids get theirs, too.  Now that they are a little bit older, I was planning on having them get the FluMist to avoid the needles they hate so much.

Except when we got to the doctor's office, there was a sign saying they were out of the FluMist.  So we turned around and headed to a local drugstore to see if they had the FluMist.  They did not.  They also did not give flu shots to people younger than eight.  At this point, I'd done a lot of driving back and forth, and now my poor, little people were going to have to have a shot that I'd tried to prevent in the first place.  Nobody was happy.

Hannah whined and fussed a bit, but she was brave and volunteered to go first.  With a few snuggles, it was done and she was fine.  Jack was a different story.  The nurse nearly had to call for reinforcements and there was a lot of crying, screaming, and restraining in order to give Jack his shot.  I was a hot, sweaty mess by the time it was done and it was only 10:15.  Not the best way to start the weekend, that's for sure!  My favorite part, by far, was when the receptionist offered my little lovelies a sticker.  They usually assume that Hannah would like a princess sticker or a pony sticker.  And then when she doesn't say anything, they'll continue to list the other choices.  Today it was Spiderman or Jurassic Park.  Hannah's eyes lit up and she quickly echoed, "Jurassic Park!" which made me smile.  So her and Jack both got a dinosaur sticker and we were off.

Luckily, everyone seemed to recover pretty quickly.  In the afternoon, the kids invited some neighborhood friends over to play, and they ended up playing a game of hide-and-seek.  Our ever-clever Jack decided to purposely mislead his friends by laying a trail of dinosaur fact cards up the stairs to his room, and then deftly hiding somewhere else.  His plan worked swimmingly :)

The kids watched movies in the basement and I had a chance to take a late-afternoon nap, which was lovely.  In the evening, Hannah wanted to have a sneak-attack dance party with Daddy.  So she and I climbed the stairs, crawled into our room, and played a little Meghan Trainor and Justin Bieber.  We danced our little hearts out while Daddy watched, and then we caught Hannah's fancy-footwork on video because we just couldn't resist:

Happy Saturday, Folks!