Keep a Smile on Your Face

I know the answer already, but I'll ask anyway. Do you ever feel like you just can't catch a break? I'll spare you all the long and probably boring story of how I spent two weeks trying to get an appointment with my perinatologist, whom I love and who has taken care of my previous two pregnancies and delivered both my girls, so it's only natural that I would do everything I can to have him take care of this one and deliver this baby, only to find out that my insurance company will NOT budge on the whole "referral" from a regular OB first, who I couldn't get into in the first place for the referral because everyone was either not taking new patients or not giving referrals or couldn't see me until January, or whatever their excuse was, so I finally told a small, tiny, little fib to get into a doctor who happened to be almost an hour away, and when I got to the office for my appointment I had already thrown up three times that morning (before 9 am), had a killer migraine headache, and discovered NO ONE was in the office because they schedule MY appointment at one office and the doctor was seeing patients at a different office (another 30 min. away) that day; and after he tells me he WILL refer me to my beloved doctor and I finally get in to see him, I discover the first doctor does not want to turn over the total care and delivery to my doctor, the one I want, but only wants me to see him periodically for higher level ultrasounds, so now I'll have to fight with him to give me up as a patient or drive an hour down to his office every couple weeks, which I'm not willing to do. Okay, so I spared you nothing. Deal with it. (My English teacher would have KILLED me for that paragraph!)

Actually, I really was talking more about The Man. He works so unbelievably hard (and long), and sometimes it seems like it's all for nothing. He spends twelve-hour days at the office, only to come home to cranky kids and an emotionally exhausted wife, lately with no dinner on the table. Then when the girls are in bed, it's off to the "honey-do" list or the office to spend some time desperately trying to accomplish the goals and dreams he's set for himself. Finally, somewhere between midnight and 2:30 a.m., it's the long-awaited and short-lived bedtime, where he battles with sleep apnea and terrible sinuses as he tries to get some quality sleep so he can wake up at 5:00 a.m. and - dare I say - be ready to do it all again. Saturdays and Sundays are usually no better as they most often begin with a raging migraine. (Aren't we a pair?!?!) He'll fight it off so that he can get up and "get something done," like the backyard (which is now done - yeah!!!!), preparing his lesson for his gospel doctrine class, take care of logo clients, and try to spend time with me and the girls.

Sound fun yet? Sound like a lot of complaining? But it's with good intentions. I write this post to let The Man know that I really do see the gazillion things he's juggling while he still manages to be a fabulous husband and daddy. I am unbelievably grateful for a man who is willing to kill himself working so that I can stay home with our children. I am even more grateful that he's a man who, after six years of marriage, still loves me, even though he probably knows way too much about who I really am. I am lucky. I am blessed. I am so proud of him.














A friend of mine and I were talking about what we would do if our husband's died. I know, morbid, but I'd like to know what my plan is just in case. Anyway, she was talking about how they've planned for her and the kids to be taken care of financially, and that her husband thinks that's the most important thing. She said he's worth more dead than he is alive. And she said how she told him, "I'd pay twice that much just to get you back." I'm sure we all would.

But it got me thinking about money and the routine of our lives and what we're actually working for. We work so that we can earn money to live in our nice houses and buy the things we need and want. If I lost The Man tomorrow, I would not care one bit about where I was living, what car I was driving, what I was going to wear that day or if I was going to go out to eat a nice dinner. My friend was right; I would have everything taken away from me - everything - if that's what it took to keep him. And I would do it with a smile on my face.

I'm Not Your Mom Anymore

Miss Priss has had quite the attitute lately. Lately? What the heck am I talking about? That girl was BORN with an attitude. Not sure exactly where she learned it, but she's recently pulled out the "I'm not your sister, then!" to Devil Child whenever she gets upset with her. I hear "I'm not your sister anymore" and "I'm not your friend anymore" ALL THE TIME. Each time we have a little discussion on how that's not being very kind, and how it hurts people's feeling to say such things. Obviously it hasn't worked so far.

The other night she was upset with me for, oh, I don't know, maybe it was because I'm the meanest mom in the entire world because I asked her to pick up her dirty clothes and get them in the laundry. Or no, maybe it's because I'm the meanest mom in the whole world because I make her brush her teeth before she goes to bed. Wait a minute. I know. It's because I'm the meanest mom in the whole world because she doesn't get dessert if she doesn't eat her dinner. That's it. Anyway, she starts up with the crying first, then the dirty looks, then the snide comments of, "That's rude, mom!" So, being the meanest mom in the world, I tell her she may not speak to me like that, and she can go up to her room until she's ready to stop crying, change her attitude, and say nice things to me. As she's running up the stairs, now hysterically crying, she yells, "FINE!!! I'm not your mom anymore!"

Do I laugh? Do I cry? No, I say, "Good. I don't need another mom." But of course I know what she means, and it does hurt me a little. My little baby girl, a child I would give all my life and more for, is so upset with me in that moment that she says she doesn't want me to be her mom. Ouch. But I'm over it because a little while later she's back downstairs, wiping away tears and ready to apologize. We have another little discussion about kindness, and how important our friends and family members are to us. All is well in Zion. I'm hoping this time she really does understand.

A few nights later The Man comes home from work, and utter chaos breaks loose in the house. I don't know why he keeps coming home. The excitement of "DADDY'S HOME!!!" lasts a whole five mintues around here. Then it turns straight into the whining about wanting to play outside, or not wanting what I made for dinner, the spilling of drinks that happens at EVERY meal, crying that they can't watch a movie, and more whining about getting ready for bed and actually having to go to bed. So after a nice bout of crying for who knows what, The Man is fed up and decides to take action. He turns to Miss Priss and tells her, "If you don't obey and get up there to get ready for bed, you'll get a spanking, and then you'll STILL have to get ready for bed, even if you don't want to!"

She turns to run upstairs, and shouts on her way up, "I'm not your dad anymore!" It's sad, but at the same time a little humorous, that she still hasn't got it through her head that that's mean, and that she's got it totally backwards.

We're Baa-aack

Whew! That was a close one. But problem solved, and pretty easily. Thanks to everyone for looking into this to help me. When I logged on yesterday to post, all I could see when I went to view my blog was a pink screen. I thought it was a fluke, or that maybe there was too much traffic at that time, causing some delays or difficulties. So I waited an hour or so and tried again. Same pink screen. Then I started to get worried. I tried again another hour later and, you guessed it, same thing. AAAAHHH!!! My blog disappeared! I typed in a couple links I knew by heart, and got to your blogs with no problem. So then I knew mine was in trouble.

I emailed Blogger this morning and told them my blog was gone, and asked if they could help. Not too long after I received an email with a couple of links to some information on fixing "broken" blogs. It also suggested that if I could get to my dashboard (which I could) but not to my blog, to try republishing the blog. I tried that and ... voila! It worked!!! I'm back up and running.

Now, for the second part of my inquiry to Blogger. I asked them if there was a way to backup our blogs to prevent completely losing them, and if there's a way to get a hard copy of them. Haven't heard back from Blogger on that yet, but a couple people have suggested some alternatives to that problem. We could write our posts first in something like Word, where we can save them, and then copy and paste them onto Blogger. In that case we would have our text, but not the pictures (which most times is what really makes the blog). But text without pictures is far better than nothing at all; right? Or, I was told that after you write your post you have the option of emailing it. So you could email it to yourself to have a hard copy. And last, there is probably a way to burn it onto a cd, in which case you would have the entire thing, pictures and all. But honestly, how often would we really do that? After every post? I don't know about you all, but I don't want to waste all those cd's by burning a new one everyday.

If Blogger comes up with a better suggestion, I'll let you all know. In the meantime, do whatever works best for you to keep a copy. What a shame it would be for any of us to lose it all.

What's Up With Us...

Miss Priss had her first day of preschool today. We were all very excited. She did great, as I knew she would; just ran into the classroom when the teacher opened the door, and forgot all about me and Devil Child, who were left standing there on the playground just waiting for a wave goodbye. I'll take that in a heartbeat over her screaming, crying, and clinging to my leg for dear life. Wow, I feel bad for those moms. We decided on afternoon school, as the girls take after their dad in their morning routines. We literally have days when I'll go into Miss Priss' room in the morning, and she groggily (is that a word?) looks at me, then scowls at me and shouts, "You woke me up, mom! I was sleepy!"

But I was happy to have the morning to get ready, seeing as it takes me ALL morning for breakfast, baths, dressing and hairstyling. We were up and outta here early (for us) to spend some time at the park before school started at noon. We've got a great park right up the street from us. The playground is awesome, but I love the scenery the most. And now that school is in, it's not crowded at all.

Here are some of the pictures we got. I've discovered that our pictures turn out better when the girls aren't looking at the camera. That's partly due to the fact that they're not completely cooperative, and partly due to the fact that our camera has like a 10-second delay. Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but still, it's terrible.






I've been feeling better the last couple of days. It's been nice. I made it to church, but really only because it was Miss Priss' very first Primary Program. Maybe it's because I'm pregnant, maybe it's because I'm a sap, but there's something about seeing your first baby up there on that stand the minute she spots you, and her eyes light up and she jumps up out of her seat and shouts hello to you while waving her arms frantically, as if you're going to miss her. I cried. Unfortunately, The Man was home with a migraine, so I was on my own with Devil Child. Needless to say, I missed the entire program. I was in and out of there at least 20 times, trying desperately to watch my baby sing and hold her pictures up right on cue. She came down from the stage twice during the program crying, "Mom, I couldn't see you. Where are you?" It was awful.

I want to send out a huge congratulations to Bama and her family. We just found out they're having twins, and we are so happy for them (and even more happy it's not us!) We wish you all the luck in the world. You're probably going to need it.

Signs and Symptoms

It's really real. For the few weeks we've known about the new baby on the way, it hasn't really seemed real yet, other than the fact that clothes aren't fitting very well ALREADY!!!

But it hit me the other day when I was in the car on the way home, and listening to the radio. I flipped to the country station and heard the last verse of a song I liked. I waited to hear what was coming next to decide if it was worth my time. Reba came on next singing 'Fancy.' Haven't heard that in forever. By the time she reached the last part of the song where she sings, "I mighta been born just plain white trash, but Fancy was my name," the tears were rolling down my face. That's right, I was crying because of a song where a mother basically turns her daughter into a hooker. When the song was over, I wiped my face and took a look in the rear-view mirror. There sat Miss Priss and Devil Child, looking a little perplexed. Sorry, children, mommy has no good reason or explanation for this one.


So here's me now (minus the cute little tanktop jammies). Luckily the throwing up hasn't started yet. I just feel like I'm on the verge all day long. Sometimes I don't know which is worse; actually throwing up (but at least getting rid of the feeling for a while), or constantly feeling like it's coming any second. And usually the thought of eating alone makes me want to hurl. But I'm in good spirits. I'm so happy to be having another one, and I know this won't last long. And it's totally worth it.

It just bites knowing that I'm barely choking down one meal a day, sometimes only a piece of toast or a couple crackers, and yet my clothes get tighter and tighter every minute I'm in them. This stage is the worst, where you feel like you're bursting out of your regular clothes, but you're not really showing, so maternity clothes look ridiculous.

So forgive me if the posts come few and far between for a while. I'm busy laying on my couch while my kids watch Strawberry Shortcake 20 times a day. Yep, mother of the year, I know.

My Mortal Enemy

Is it just me, or does the medical insurance industry drive everyone else to the brink of insanity??? Years ago I worked for a health insurance company, who shall remain nameless, and previous to that, I really had no dealings with health insurance at all. I was young and single, no longer a dependent of my parents, and perfectly healthy to my knowlege, and so I figured I had no need for medical coverage. (Did I mention I was YOUNG?) Anywho, I received medical coverage as a benefit for working for the company, which we later discovered was one of the greatest miracles and blessings ever granted to us. But my experieces with that company and learning the industry have helped me on more ocassions that I can count. And although there were some claims that weren't processed smoothly, and there were a number of people calling with complaints about their claims, I must admit, the majority of claims were handled with no problems at all.

I've come to realize that a perfectly processed claim (one that is processed and paid at 100%) is far from the norm. I won't get into details, simply because it would take me a year to go through them all, but the births of my girls have caused me literal nightmares when it comes to dealing with the insurance company and getting those claims paid. If I were to conservatively guess, I would have to say I've spent more than a month of my life (that's a WHOLE month, 24 hours a day for 31 days) on the phone being the "go between" for the insurance company and the doctor's office or the hospital, trying to resolve the issues of getting my medical claims paid.

And each time we have another baby, we have new insurance, which claims to be so great, and I figure "This time there won't be any problems." At least with the last two, the problems didn't start until AFTER the births.

So yesterday I decided to call up my perinatologist's office to get in for an appointment. I didn't bother calling a regular OB since I don't see one through my entire pregnancy, and last time I did what the insurance asked (get a referral from your regular OB before going to a specialist), and it ended up being a huge mess, so the perinatologist told me, "Next time don't go there first. Just come straight to me." Sounded good to me!

After talking with the lady in scheduling about how this would be my third baby to be delievered by the doctor, and that we have new insurance, and how he had told me to come straight to him instead of getting a referral first, she told me she'd have to call the insurance just to make sure. Well, I could have told her what they would say. "Oh, no. You MUST get a referral to see a specialist. Sorry, those are the rules." Fine. Whatever.

I proceeded to start calling the OB doctors who are covered under our new insurance. "Hello? I need to schedule an appointment. I'll see whichever doctor can get me in the soonest."

"Are you a new patient?"

"Yes. But I just need a referral to my perinatologist. The insurance company requires one for me to see him."

"Oh, we're not taking new patients until November."

November!!! What the crap?!? "Thanks. I'll try someone else."

After numerous phone calls with responses such as, "We're not taking new patients" and "We don't accept that insurance anymore" or "The doctor only sees new patients at his office in Southern Hills" (which happens to be like a 50-minute drive for me), I gave up and called my doctor again, hoping against all hope that Rosa the Receptionist would take pity on me and find a way to get around the whole referral thing.

No such luck. She offered a few other clinics that weren't in my provider directory, but assured me that they did accept my insurance. I then spent the next 37 minutes on hold, waiting to see if I could get an appointment. THIRTY-SEVEN FREAKING MINUTES!!!! And the best part? They never answered the phone. Oh, no, I got to leave them a message. And to top that off, the recording let me know they would get back to me ... within FOUR business days. Can I swear now? No, no. I can do this without profanity.

So here we are, a new day, and I have to start again with the phone calls. I wonder how much of my time will be wasted before this child is actually given life. Forget it. We're freaking moving to Canada.

The Devil Wears Denim

My sweet little Devil Child had her birthday on Friday, and we celebrated with a family party on Saturday night. Nothing big, she's just two. We decided to have the "real" birthday parties at three and five. But she was spoiled just the same, and we all had a blast.





Here she is in her new outfit from Grandma and Grandpa. They sure know how to make her look cute!













Everyone enjoyed the pink cake (especially the girls)!















Here are a couple of her fav's. She's sporting her new dress up ballerina skirt holding a Hello Kitty ball (she LOVES balls!) while seated on her Dora tricycle in front of her new playhouse. The girls spent the whole day playing in that playhouse. And at only $7, that was probably the best gift I bought! Love that Target clearance!!!















It was a great party, but we all know how it goes ... they'll cry if they want to. And boy, did she. The Dora trike was a bit of a hit! Everyone wanted a turn, and she just wasn't havin' it.




One last gift that deserves a special mention: The armband.



She has developed a little fettish, I guess I'll call it, for armbands. For Mother's Day this year The Man gave me an Ipod mini so I could listen to my music when I'm at the gym. So I got myself a little pink armband, and I use it all the time. After about a week of using it, I noticed that my Devil Child had found a little pink wristband that Miss Priss got when she got her new helmet and pads for her bike. The wristbands were never worn, so Devil Child decided they were now hers. But she only wore one, and she wore it up high on her arm. It took me a couple of days to realize she was wearing it like I wore my armband. And she has continued to put that thing on, day in and day out, for months now. I've tried to hide them, but she seeks them out. I got rid of them, and she would find a large ponytail holder and use that instead. We laughed about it because she likes to wear them out in public, which, of course, I DON'T like.

So my sister decided it would be a great idea to get her a couple new armbands of her very own. Great. Now I'll never get the things off of her. Thanks a million.

Gimme Some of Your Tots

Tonight Miss Priss decided to play a little game with me. She started asking, out of the clear blue, "Mom, guess what I'm thinking."

"I don't know, honey. How could I know what you're thinking? It could be anything."

"But you have to guess, Mom. Just guess."

"No." (Yes, for those of you wondering, I'm that nice.)

"You're supposed to say people. Just say people."

"People."

"Yep! Guess what I'm thinking now, Mom."

"Um, flowers."

"Yep! Guess what I'm thinking now."

And on and on it went, for about 10 to 15 rounds, until my guesses turned into blankets and bedtime and sleeping. Then her answers were, "No way!"

A silly game, maybe even an annoying game, but for some reason it took me back to a time when my brothers and sisters played a similar game every time we had a particular item at the dinner table. Tater tots. We would place a tot in the palm of our hand and then ask someone at the table, "Is it flat or not?"

If the person answered no, we would immediately smash it flat with our other hand and scream, "Wrong!" On the other hand, if the person answered yes, we would again scream, "Wrong!" and proceed to pop it into our mouths and eat it just the way it was. I don't ever remember any of us letting someone be right. Why we continuously played the mind-reading tater tot game, on numerous occasions, is beyond me.

As the memory flashed through my mind in a matter of mere seconds, I laughed a little thinking of how lame that was. And I thought of how annoying this game Miss Priss was playing with me was. And how my mom must have thought we were not only annoying, but completely retarded.

And then, with a smile on my face, I hear Miss Priss asking again. So I turn to her and say, "Ice cream!"

"Yep!"

Filled "OF" Great Joy

We've always had a suspicion that our little Miss Priss may grow up to be an actress or some sort of performer. She's definitely no child star, that's for sure. You need to be able to take instruction from adults well. We're not there yet. But the way her mind works, and how I constantly find her in some imaginary world when she thinks I'm not watching, just cracks me up. My all-time favorite Miss Priss moment happened a few months ago during our snack time here at home. For those of you who have heard the story before, forgive the repeat, but I wanted to share with friends and family who don't live so close. It still cracks me up thinking about it.

Just for some background, last year we got suckered into buying a set of those Living Scriptures. I won't go into detail, but sufficeth to say The Man and I ended up despising the company, their marketing tactics and business ethics, and have vowed to do all in our power to make sure no one else we know suffers the same rotten experience we did. Although the videos are great, and the kids happen to LOVE them, it's not worth your life savings. You can teach your children about the gospel without emptying your bank account. I'll get off my soapbox now.

Anywho, Miss Priss really took to the video called The Tree of Life. It was great to have an appropriate show to watch on Sunday, and she really was learning. As we would read from the scriptures about the story of Lehi and his family, she would pipe in with comments like, "This is just like when Nephi was helping everyone with the rod; right, Mom?" I was proud.

One afternoon the girls sat at the table for their afternoon snack as I cut up an apple for them. After they started eating Miss Priss said to me, "Mom, I'm going to eat this apple like on 'The Tree of Life.' "

"Okay."

She proceeded to gingerly hold a slice of apple cupped in both hands, close her eyes, and take a gentle bite right out of the middle. I laughed a little. She then finished her bite and opened her eyes wide. With a huge smile on her face, she proclaimed, "Mom! This fruit filled my soul of great joy!"

Yes, "of great joy." That's how you know it came from a 4-year-old. She has continued to enjoy other videos in the BOM collection, but she always goes back to her fav, The Tree of Life.



She loves to act out the scenes, pretending to be either Lehi or Nephi. She will find an old cardboard tube from wrapping paper and hold it out and tell me, "This is the iron rod, Mom." She will walk around the room and up and down the stairs, pretending to struggle with holding on to the rod. And she will quote the movie and then help me with my lines. "Mom, you have to be Lehi. You tell me, 'Hold on to the rod, Nephi! There are many dangers!' "

What an imagination! She's no Dakota Fanning, but she's quite a character. I can't wait to see what she comes up with next.

Where Much is Given

In our new ward (I guess it's not new anymore. We've been here for six months.) I was called to be one of the compassionate service leaders. There are two of us; one for all baby-related needs (me), and one for everything else (like sickness, surgeries, deaths, etc.). We help each other out when it's needed, but I'm basically in charge of helping out the women when they have new babies by getting meals into their homes, or getting babysitters and people to clean when they are on bedrest or too sick to do it themselves.

I was excited for the calling when I received it. I have had callings related to the Primary for the last five years, so this was a nice change (although I still LOVE the Primary and get the chance to sub in Miss Priss' class quite often). This calling has given me a new appreciation for the Relief Society and the women who run it. There is no doubt in my mind this organization came from divine inspiration. It is a perfect program, with complete capabilities to change lives and save souls.

I have been kept busy, busy, busy, as our ward currently has 18 pregnant women (that I know of), two girls on bedrest, and 16 babies born so far this year. In April a friend of mine lost her 22-month-old son in an accident, and another sister just lost her husband suddenly three days ago. This week will be a busy one with the funeral and luncheon to help plan, along with my two girls on bedrest that need babysitting and cleaning and meals, and another sister is having her baby today, which means more meals.

Most of these women aren't aware of the others, although I'm sure they know they are not the only ones receiving help at this time. And just as much as I am busy helping these women in their homes, cooking for them, or just taking their kids for a few hours, I just want to say how grateful I am for all the sisters in my ward who are also willing to serve. I have been called an angel, a blessing, and an answer to someone's prayers. I feel I am none of those, because the service being given is ten times (or more) than what I am able to do. I have been blessed in my own home and blessed with a righteous perspective as a result of this calling. But the sisters who offer their own time have not been called to do what I do. They do it because they can and because it's needed. There are times when I know of a sister who has cleaned four homes in one week, not including her own. There is a sister who has had a tragedy in her own life that has been completely unbearable, and yet she's the first one to volunteer to help someone else. These women are the angels.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to all the women out there who have helped serve, who willingly volunteer, and who have inspired me in a way I can never explain. This is the Lord's work. This is the Lord's church. I am so grateful to be a part of it. It blesses my life daily. I may never be able to do enough, but I will do all I can. And for Him, that is enough.

A "Rose" By Any Other Name ...

Our sweet little Emma Rose. This morning I've been thinking about names and if they really end up affecting one's personality or life in general. As I huffed and puffed my morning away on the ellipitcal machine, I looked up at one of the tv screens, which happened to be on CNN, and saw that the reporter's name was Richard "Dickie" somebody. Can't recall the last name now, but I think it was the nickname that threw me off.

This man, who had to be in his late 60's, early 70's, actually had them put "Dickie" up on that screen, for all the world to see. Dickie? Come on, now. I know "back in the day" there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. It was a name and nothing more. But people, the times they are a changin', and you have to go with the flow. It's no longer appropriate to name your son Dick or your daughter Gay. Sad, but true. My friend and I, upon seeing the nickname (did I mention it was on CNN - teehehe), couldn't help but giggle.

And it made me think of the process we went through to come up with Emma's name. Now, don't get me wrong, everyone. I don't want any messages from people upset that I'm making fun of a perfectly respectable name. My grandpa's name was Richard, and he went by Dick his whole life. Hence, the saga of choosing the name for our second born ...



I knew I wanted Emma for a first name. The Man had to be conviced of that one. But after meeting my great aunt, Emma Lou, she fell in love with him, and he with her. After that, it didn't take much convincing. He was totally into the idea of our daughter being Emma's namesake. The decision for a middle name was a little more difficult. We were so used to Aunt Emma's name, all we could think of to go with it was Lou. Neither of us were big on that, so we started thinking of ANYTHING else that possibly sounded good. It couldn't start with a vowel, so my middle name was out. We liked the idea of middle names being family names, but since the first name was a family name, we were okay with choosing something random that we both liked.

One evening we were with my parents over at my sister's house, and we were all trying to come up with different options that would fit.

Mom: Well, grandma's name is Margaret. You could use that.

Me: Please. I'm concerned enough as it is that she's going to think we've given her an old lady's name.

Dad: My grandmother's name is Zelema.

(That's right, it was actually suggested that we name her Emma Zelema)

Me: No response. (But probably a good roll of the eyes was directed toward him for that.)

After a few minutes of hysterical laughter, my sister decided to put in her two cents.

Sister: Since her first name is going to be after our great aunt, her middle name could be Ray, after our Great Uncle Ray. Emma Ray is cute. You could even spell it R-A-E if you wanted.

Me: Nice. So now we're choosing boys' names? Why don't I just name her after grandpa and she can be Emma Dick.

(Another bout of hysterical laughter)

Thanks to my better half's family, namely his Granddad Doug, we eventually settled on Rose for her middle name. I think it's beautiful. And so does everyone else. We still get compliments on her name, and sometimes her Grandma Darlin' can't help but call her Emma Rose instead of just using her first name. I think it's very sweet.



But back to my first question: Do our names really determine who we are or who we become; what our personality is like or how we act? I have to say no, sadly, they don't. My daughter with such a beautiful, elegent and sweet name as Emma Rose has proven that to me.

And if, by chance, I'm wrong, and our names do have some effect on our personalities, I think my daughter was misinformed. She must think she was named Emma Dick.


*** Note *** I hope you all know these stories are true, but written for your entertainment. My little Devil Child can also be very sweet and loving. I love her with all my heart and soul. She's just, shall I say, strong willed, and I love her more for it. She makes our life together fun, very intereting, and extremely hilarious. Mommy loves you very much, sweetheart.

The Cat's Out of the Bag

MAY WE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE.

(drum roll)

We didn't really have the intention on telling anyone just yet, but I've now discovered the reason people usually don't tell other people they're "trying." When I took the pregnancy test last week and the second line showed up in under ten seconds, I was thrilled. I wanted to shout for joy and laugh out loud. Just when I thought I couldn't hold my excitment in any longer, I rememberd I was in my sister's bathroom, and that I had come over without The Man. I just couldn't tell my sister without telling my husband first, could I? I had to spend the rest of the evening with her and her family without saying a word so that The Man could be the first to know. TORTURE!!!

When I came home that night, The Man was already in bed. I thought to myself, "He's getting up at 4:30 am. I really should just let him get his sleep. I'll tell him tomorrow. That would be the kind thing to do."

Five seconds later I was shaking his shoulder and repeating, "Are you awake? Can you hear me?" He sleepily said that he was and that he could, so I let him know. He also was very excited. Then we talked about who we could tell now, and who could wait until after the first doctor's appt. I asked if I could tell my friend who I would see the next morning at the gym.

"No, don't tell her yet. We're going out to dinner with them tomorrow. Just wait until then so we can tell them both," was The Man's only request.

First thing she says to me when we're working out in the morning ...

"So when are you supposed to start? Have you taken a test yet?"

AAAAHHHH! Could I lie? Just a little, tiny white lie? It wouldn't be a big deal. We were going to tell them that night, so it would only be a small fib that lasted a few hours. But apparently I need some work on my poker face. I couldn't help but smile, and so the truth was out. And although she's one of a few I know that have an extremely difficult time getting pregnant, she was very happy for me and the news of a third baby for us. My heart sincerely goes out to the women in my life that have her same challenge. We know our news is bittersweet to you, and you are always so supportive and happy for us. We truly appreciate it. And I hope you know that we constantly pray and fast for you and your husbands; that you will be blessed for the trials that face you. We love you all so much.

After I got home I got a phone call from my little sister (who just happened to find out she was pregnant about two weeks ago). She says, "So when do you find out?"

"Uh, yesterday."

"Oh. And?"

"We're having a baby!!!"

"Yeah! That's so awesome that our due dates will be so close!"

"I know! I just wish we lived closer."

"All I know is that Todd is going to be totally mad if we have another girl and you get a boy."

Ha, ha! They have three little girls and are REALLY hoping for a boy this time. They've been hoping for boys from the very beginning, but, you know, you get what you get. I don't really care either way. The Man wants a boy, and I think it would be great, but I absolutely LOVE little girls. So either way, I'm just thrilled that we're able to have another one.

Needless to say, this will be the last time we let people know we are "trying." Maybe. I have a really hard time keeping my mouth shut sometimes. I kind of feel it's a little too early to be telling everyone, but since you're all family to me, it's okay.

For those of you wondering about my health, things are going really well. Everything checked out last December, and the nephrologist said he thought it was just fine if we wanted to have another baby. After we have her -- Oops! Freudian slip -- we'll get checked out again and see how well my body dealt with the strain. He gave us the same advice we've heard before, "Pregnancy is VERY hard on your kidneys. This COULD be the one where everything goes downhill. BUT ... you've proved us wrong twice before, and I don't see why you can't do it again." That was great to hear. This doctor's a keeper.

So we're thinking the due date will be in May. And if I go early (like they usually have me do), we'll have the baby end of April or beginning of May. We'll keep you all posted when we get news of an actual due date. And we'll start polling now for your guesses on the sex. Hey, with a 50/50 chance, you'll probably be right!

Here is a pictures of our family now...



And here we are in about eight months...



Am I really ready for this? Well, I guess I better get there because ready or not, HERE COMES #3!!!

San Diego Trip - No Pictures Yet

So apparently my sisters are as good as I am at sending pictures they promise. I still haven't gotten any from the SD trip from a couple weeks ago. But before I forget about the wonderful time we had (or even forget that we went down at all), I'll fill you in on our trip.

We had been planning the trip down with my mom and dad ever since we found out that the Celtic Woman concert would be right next to the yacht club they belong to. My dad said there was a great spot where we could boat over to and see the stage right from the water. And the best part: We didn't have to pay $95 a piece to enjoy it all!!! Unfortunately The Man doesn't get to take any time off yet (started a new job a couple months ago), so it was just me and the girls. And, true to form, Miss Priss had a fever the night before we were to leave. Then Devil Child got hers in the morning. I guess they didn't want to break their perfect record of being sick EVERY SINGLE STINKIN' TIME we go stay with my sister. She's got three kids of her own. Like she doesn't deal with sickness enough. But she's a good sport, and told us to come anyway; that she wouldn't care if her kids caught it.

So off we drove down to San Diego. The drive was pretty good, thanks to the inventors of the portable dvd player and Nite Time cold medicine for kids. (Whoever you are, I will praise you till the end of my days!) After a couple viewings each of Strawberry Shortcake Dress Up Days and Barbie in Mermaidia, and most of the way through Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (the original, of course. I can't believe you even had to ask. For some reason Miss Priss has chosen this as one of her favs), we were there. The girls were ecstatic to get out of the car, and I was very grateful for a non-gas station bathroom. And lucky for me, we were in time for dinner at the Barbeque Pit. Yum!!! My brother-in-law's family owns and operates it, and I eat there just about once every day I'm down. (Todd, I'll never stop asking you to open one here.)



The concert was fabulous! These girls have THE most amazing voices I have ever heard. Literally. I loved it. And if they are ever in my city again, I will pay for tickets and actually go. I just love their music. My dad's favorite is the violin player. I won't even attempt to spell her name without having it in front of me. They're all Irish, and hers is a VERY Irish name. She's so pretty (just one of the reasons dad likes her), and she's so completely entertaining (the reason I like her). It takes an amazing amount of talent to play the way she does, and still be able to dance and jump around the stage and flip her hair around like she does. It's really something to watch. They had a lot of new songs that I've never heard, so I eagerly went into Humphrey's By the Bay after the show was over to see if they had a new album. To my dismay, nothing will be out until Christmas. So if any of you are looking for a great Christmas gift for me this year, that would be it.

The rest of the trip was just icing on the cake for me. That was the big thing I went down for. But it also just happened to be a weekend when other family members were coming down, so my oldest sister decided to have a family birthday party for her oldest daughter while we were all down there. We had a pool party at the Browning's house, and then a neighbor of theirs brought his horse over for everyone to ride. He also had a little pony that pulled a buggy that the kids rode on. These are the pictures I'm waiting on. I'll post them if I ever get them. It was so much fun for everyone! The kids absolutely LOVED the horse. And it was so cute to watch them as the horse would take off and they looked like they were about to fall. The looks on their faces were priceless. But it only took a second or two for them to start enjoying the ride. What a happy birthday it was for Haley.

We had picked out some jewelry for her gift, and when she opened it she said, "Mom, I got some bling!" It cracked me up. I wish I got to see them more. They are all such cute girls.

The rest of the trip was a lot of relaxin' and shoppin'. We did take the girls to the zoo with my dad one day, but didn't end up staying long. A few hours there feels like all day - there's so much walking to do! But it was a fun day, and the kids love the animals. My dad is such a good sport to just pick up and go do whatever we want to do with the kids. He's such a good grandpa. We all love him so much.

We are still sweatin' away here in this heat. The monsoons should be bringing in some great lightning storms. We always enjoy those during the summer. Hope you are all healthy and happy. We miss you all and are thankful for the chance we have to stay a little bit closer to you through these blogs.

Those Darn Letters!

I've discovered that I've developed in my child a well-known bad habit that all kindergarten teachers despise. Miss Priss writes in ALL CAPS!!! I thought it was so wonderful when she could recognize all the letters in the alphabet. Then came knowing all the letters in her name. Then she could actually write her name. She was on her way to a pulitzer, I was sure.

I had a discussion with a teacher friend of mine a few months ago where we talked about what info they like the kids to know already when they enter the wonderful world of kindergarten. After making my mental list of the things I would immediately run home and teach my toddler, she mentioned a few of the things they hate (with a passion, in her opinion). Number one on her list, writing their names in all capital letters. Yikes!

I was determined to rid my beautiful, intelligent, darling daughter of such a nasty habit. And I just knew I could do it on my own. We had a little discussion about "big" A and "little" a, and how when you write your name, the first letter is big and the rest are little. We practiced a few times on paper until I realized our little talk didn't really make a whole lot of sense to her.

I made flashcards, and we went over them until every time I pulled them out I heard, "Oh, I'm soooo tired of this!" My plan wasn't working. I found a reading/writing/math kit at one of my all time favorite stores (CostCo), and picked it up for her. As I opened it and read through the introduction and list of contents, I found I may have jumped the gun a little. It was for first-graders. But hey, who am I to assume my daughter isn't at that level. After all, she does have my genes.

It only took a minute or two into reading the book and I had to admit ... she's smart, but not that smart. So we've taken out the dry erase alphabet page and pen, and packed the rest away. Maybe for next year.


But I'll tell you, if for nothing else, it was a great purchase just to help her with her upper/lowercase letters. What can I say? This girl's bound to be a genious.

Fun in the Sun

Today we spent a little time outside of the house, even with the cruel heat. A trip to Target last week landed me a sweet deal on a kiddie pool (only $2.48 - go check out their summer sale where everything is 75% off!), so I figured what the heck, we could all use a little sun.

Well, I could use some sun. The girls could use some time out of the house. Trips to the library and movies and playdates aren't adding up to the "super-fun-total-blast-all-the-fun-I-could-ever-hope-for" summer Miss Priss was expecting. Translation: the girls BEG to go outside every day. And I've always got a reason not to. Or something else we just HAD to do that prevents us from venturing to the desert my children think is the great outdoors. But alas, I have relented and given in. And I must admit, I took a dip in the new pool for fear of being fried up right in front of my precious little children's eyes.

It was fun. We played games and splashed each other till our cheeks turned pink and I knew that our "fun in the sun" would turn into pure torture trying to sleep tonight with sunburns, so we all headed in.

Then it was off to naptime for Devil Child (who SSSOOOOO needed it!) and quiet time for Miss Priss and mommy. I'm sure I was asleep long before she was. I jumped out of bed a mere two hours later. That's right, two hours. Dang, that was nice! So it's Monday, my bathrooms are still a disaster, and The Man will be home in an hour. Who cares? I had a great day with my girls.

Adventures in Laundry ... Starring Miss Priss

Yes, I know, you all thought this day would never come, but I am back, and I have missed you all!!! A week in San Diego visiting the family was just what I needed. We had a great trip. Pictures and a post will follow shortly since I packed myself and therefore ended up without a camera. Wonderful. Luckily other family members were there to make up for my lacking picture-taking capabilities. Now we just have to wait for them to be sent to me (hint, hint).

A week-long vacation means only one thing when you return back to your home-sweet-home ... LAUNDRY. Loads and loads of laundry. How is it that when you get back from vacation there seems to be twice the laundry as in a normal week at home? Murphy's law, I guess.

This morning as I hauled armfuls of sheets and towels and baskets of dirty clothes down the stairs to the laundry room, Miss Priss followed along asking, "Whatcha doin', Mommy?"

"Just getting the laundry done."

"Why?"

"So we can have clean clothes to wear. Everything is dirty."

"Can I help?"

"Of course."

I love this age. The age where she thinks everything Mom does is so interesting. And she wants to do it all with you, or for you. She thinks it's so much fun to help dust, unload the dishwasher, fold clothes, and cook dinner. The age where if you let her help, all your chores take ten times longer than if you were to do them yourself. Oh, wait. That's right, TEN. TIMES. LONGER. I hate this age.

But knowing that it will help her in her quest to be an independent, responsible and capable young human being, I allow her to help.

"This is our pile for all the bed sheets and pillow cases. This is the pile for all the clothes that are only white. This is the pile for all our jeans and dark clothes. This is the pile for all the colored clothes. This is the pile for the towels. Do you think you can get the clothes in the right piles?"

"Yep!"

My daughter and I spend the next few minutes turning laundry into a fun game, and I pretend it's absolutely hysterical when she puts something in the wrong pile. She's loving every minute of it. Then she picks up a piece of clothing that The Man must have worn outside while working on our backyard in 110-degree weather.

"Mommy, what's this?"

"Just a dirty shirt of Daddy's. Which pile do you think it goes in?"

"I can't tell. This is too stinky. I can't do this."

She scoots by me and runs out to the family room to join Devil Child who is enjoying "Elmo in Grouchland." I'm left to my own devices to finish up the sorting and I think, "Why can't I get out of doing the laundry every time something is too stinky?"

Guess my mom was always right, life's just not fair.

What is Water Worth?

I'm one of those people who LOVES good water. You know, the type my brother-in-law calls a "water snob." I can totally tell the difference between bottled water and tap water. As much as I love to drink it, you can understand why I accepted the offer the other day when a water salesman came to the door and offered two months of free bottled water service just for trying out their new company.

Two of my favorite things in a single sentence. "Free" and "bottled water." I wasn't about to turn it down, even though The Man loaths the fact that I will actually pay money for something that we get for free right out of our sink and fridge. So the delivery guy shows up yesterday with my new water cooler and a couple of bottles to start out. Wasn't quite what I expected - the water cooler looked like they had just picked it up from some office that had it for a few years and wasn't using it anymore. But, it was clean and, most important, free.

We set it up in the kitchen and plugged it in to get the water cold. It's not loud, but it does make some noise that I can hear when my house is quiet. Did I just say, "when my house is quiet?" I have two toddlers. Like that ever happens.

This morning after getting home from the gym, I immediately went upstairs to shower and get ready for the day. I find that if I don't do it right away, I'll stay in my nasty, sweaty gym clothes until about 4 pm convincing myself that I'm "too busy to get in the shower yet." I hate when I do that. I figured I'd be out of the shower by the time Devil Child needed to go down for her morning nap.

When I hopped out I could hear a little argument between the girls. Nothing to be worried about, I was sure. I got dressed, combed my hair, and headed downstairs. Devil Child was soaking wet, and Miss Priss just looked at me and said, "She did it." Those three words haunt me.

I looked in the kitchen and realized my whole floor was now a small pond. "AAAAHHHHH!!!!! Why? Why? Why did you do this?" So there it was, my first bottle of fabulous free water, all cold and yummy, puddled on my kitchen floor.

Needless to say, the water cooler is now unplugged and sitting in the garage waiting for Dan the Water Man to come pick it up. The free water didn't cost me one red cent, but it wasn't worth all that.



I've apparently passed on my love of ice to my girls. They now ask for their "treat cup of ice" every afternoon. Bad habit? Maybe. But now I don't have to deal with the mess of popsicles all summer when all my girls want is a cup of crushed ice. :)

100 Things About Me...

Now that I'm 30 (yes, I'm admitting it) I thought it might be a good idea to share a little about me. I've changed so much over the last ten years. Those who knew me back when I was single (and not a mom) may be a little surprised at how much I've changed. Then again, maybe I'm not so different as I was. You decide...

1. I have a big family (nine, altogether), and I love them all to death.
2. I wish we all lived closer together. I miss them.

3. Music is a huge part of my life. It's in my soul. The right song can literally make me get up and dance. On the other hand, the right song can easily make me cry.

4. I hate my curly hair.

5. I'm thankful, though, that I have hair, and no bald spots.

6. I think I still suffer from "middle child syndrome."

7. I have two heros in my life. My husband and my dad. They have saved me from everything from a broken down car all the way to a broken heart, and everything in between.

8. I love Oprah.

9. I believe low self esteem is one of the biggest tragedies in a child's life.

10. I love to dance. My kids will either love me for it, or be completely and utterly humiliated by it. I hope it is the first.

11. I want to be skinny.

12. But apparently not as much as I wanted that rasberry zinger I ate when I got home from the gym this morning.

13. I want more children.

14. I want to be more like my mom.

15. I believe there is a better place waiting for us after this life.

16. I want to be worthy to get there.

17. I think there is nothing more hearbreaking than the abuse (physical or mental) of a child.

18. I wish I was one of those people who other people love to hear sing. I can carry a tune, but I'm no soloist. I have always been jealous of people who were "blessed" with fabulous voices.

19. I love Mexican food.

20. I've pretty recently turned into a reader, and I'm finding I really enjoy it.

21. I know money doesn't solve all your problems, but I believe it could solve some of them.

22. Like my desire to travel with my family.

23. My husband is a complete romantic.

24. And an extremely talented as an artist.

25. I wish he could attain his dream of working for himself (as an artist).

26. I believe it will happen someday.

27. I enjoy cooking and baking.

28. I wish I could play the guitar as well as my dad, but I don't spend enough time on it.

29. I'm glad I have my career, but I hate to work.

30. I'm deathly afraid of bugs and spiders. All of them. I don't care how much bigger I am than them. I hate them. All of them.

31. Sometimes I think I'm a good mother.

32. And then my children will throw tantrums in public and put me back in my place.

33. I find it easy to sympathize with others.

34. Therefore, I cry a lot.

35. Like at coffee commercials and Kodak commercials. I remember one time crying while watching Punky Brewster. (Wow, I AM old!!!)

36. I'm terrible at keeping in touch with old friends.

37. I'm so thankful for old friends who are good at keeping in touch with me.

38. I love having people come to visit.

39. My feet grew like a full size after having kids.

40. My rear end grew a lot more than that.

41. I love the rain.

42. I wish I wasn't so worried about what other people thought.

43. Since having kids, I find it very hard to buy things for myself. Not that I don't do it, it's just hard.

44. I have never found a pair of jeans that I love.

45. I used to want cosmetic surgery.

46. Then I watched a few of them on tv.

47. I don't handle pain very well.

48. I've decided to deal with what God gave me.

49. I slept with my baby blanket all the way through college and until I was married.

50. My husband probably would have let me sleep with it even after we were married.

51. I still have the blanket.

52. If I tried to sleep with it now, my husband would leave and sleep on the couch.

53. I love my new house.

54. I've secretly always wanted to try therapy. I don't know what for, but I just want to see what they would ask me about.

55. I get an adrenaline rush when I "win" an auction on Ebay. Seriously, my heart starts racing in those last 10 seconds. I love it!

56. Apparently I need to stay away from Ebay.

57. I say "freak" and "freakin' " way too much.

58. My favorite places to shop are Kohl's and Target.

59. I hate the mall.

60. I love getting popcorn when I go to the movie theater.

61. I'm finding it harder and harder to stay up late at night.

62. I'm not a phone person. It's not that I don't like talking, it's just ... say what you called to say and get off.

63. If the conversation were in person, I could talk for hours and hours.

64. On one of my first jobs as a court reporter, the attorney came in and asked me, "Are you old enough to be doing this?"

65. I told him, "Yes, I am. And you should be thankful to have a reporter that is so good at what she does that she finished school this young."

66. I didn't really say that to him, I just wish I did.

67. I often think of really great comebacks after I've left the situation. (Man, that would have been a good one!)

68. I'm not afraid of dying, I'm just afraid of leaving people behind.

69. One of my favorite quotes: "Not everyone can be famous, but everyone can be great. Greatness is measured by service."

70. I heard that quote on Oprah.

71. Tulips have always been my favorite flower.

72. But I also love lillies.

73. I love to have a clean house.

74. I hate to clean my shower.

75. I can't stand it when I know someone doesn't like me or is mad at me. It eats away at me.

76. I love it when people tell me that my girls look exactly like me, even though I don't see it.

77. I think my husband is hoping that if we ever have a boy, he will look exactly like him.

78. I'm not athletic at all, but I always wished I was.

79. In the end, I believe good will always win over evil.

80. I wish I had better fashion sense. Or a personal shopper.

81. I am a sucker for infomercials. You name it: excercise videos, skin care products, kitchen gadgets, and cleaning tools. I'll watch them over and over. But I don't believe their if-you-call-in-the-next-20-minutes-we'll-make-one-payment-for-you claims. It doesn't matter when you call. They'll give you the deal if you ask for it.

82. I can't get enough of scary movies. Even if they give me nightmares.

83. My husband thinks I'm in love with Freddie Prince Jr.

84. I mean, he's not ugly, but come on, he's no Brad Pitt. Or Johnny Depp. Or Orlando Bloom. Or that guy from Eight Below and Into the Blue. What's his name? Yeah, he's hot.

85. I love to watch musicals.

86. I can't help but sing along, even when people tell me it's irritating.

87. I wish I had bigger lips.

88. But I'm glad that I have a small nose. And small feet.

89. I like that my family always says "I love you" at the end of a conversation. We'll never have the regret that we didn't get to say it that one last time.

90. I don't think that it means any less just because we say it a lot.

91. You can NEVER tell someone you love them too many times.

92. I'll never get enough hugs and kisses from my babies.

93. I hope my girls learn earlier than I did to be grateful for parents who love them beyond measure.

94. I'm not afraid of many things, but the thought of having my girls turn into teenagers frightens me. This world is a scary place for young adults.

95. I hate that it's when you are at your dumbest and most selfish stage that you end up making the most important decisions of your life.

96. I believe that to be truly happy, you must forget about yourself and serve those you love. And sometimes those you don't.

97. I don't believe there is just one person out there for everyone, but I know without a doubt that my husband was the very best of all the ones out there for me.

98. Love may not conquer all, but it's far more powerful than a lot of us give it credit for.

99. I know it is possible to have the fairytale ending that all girls dream of.

100. I am striving for my "happily ever after." And I'll get it.

A Look Into the Future?

I've taken a few days off since having a couple extra kids at my house. My brother and his family came through on their way to California for a soccer tournament for one of their girls, and two of the five kids stayed behind at my house. We've had them for five days now, and it's been a blast! I just love these girls. I'm not sure if it's because I lived with them a number of years ago, but I've always felt like these girls are partly mine, in a way. I wish we got to see them more.



Destiny is 9 and Ireland is 8. They have been such a big help to me this weekend. They totally love my girls, and my girls adore them. The other day when they were all running around the house "practicing" their ice skating and making up dances, The Man and I watched them while we laughed and I thought, "This could be a little look into our future. Someday our girls will be their ages, and hopefully we'll have a couple more little ones." It's going to be great.



We've spent our days visiting our new library, going to the park, baking, shopping, and watching movies at night. The girls also got to go to their other cousin's house down at the other end of the valley. They have so much fun over there. K & E have a bonzai slide that the kids can't get enough of. It's one of those blow up water slides. It's awesome!!! (Sorry about your grass, guys! A worthwhile sacrifice for all the fun they've had, if you ask me. :) Don't you agree?)



Today is our last day together before their parents come back this evening. We may head over to the rec center for a swim if my neighbor isn't home to use her pool. The girls all love the water. Thank heavens for that. It's the only relief from this crazy heat.




So today is my birthday -- the first anniversary of my 29th birthday, if you can belive it. Am I really going to be one of those people who can't admit her real age and claims to be 29 for the next ten years??? Maybe just for a couple years. I just don't feel my age. That's what's important; right, how you feel? I'll just keep telling myself that.

Destiny asked The Man yesterday, "Can we go shopping tomorrow for something for The Woman's birthday?"

He said, "Sure. What do you want to get her?"

"I don't know. But I don't have any money," was her answer.

Like I said, I love those girls. Total sweethearts. I can't wait to have them come again.

A Moment with Miss Priss

BE FOREWARNED:

If you don't like poop stories or think they are in any way inappropriate, DO NOT read on! Unfortunately for you, with two little ones, our lives are filled with lots and lots of poop. For those of you who, like us, have little ones that grant you lots and lots of poop, here's a tiny glimpse of everyday life with our little Miss Priss...

Recently we had some friends over who were kind enough to bring a fruit platter to add to our dinner. They left the remaider of the fruit for us to enjoy the next day. For some reason, kiwi was not a big hit the night before, so the girls and I had plenty for lunchtime. Miss Priss was a little hesitant to partake, having never eaten kiwi before. She asked, "Mom, what's this?"

"You'll like it, I promise. It tastes like strawberries. You LOVE strawberries."

"Green strawberries???" she asked with confusion.

"Yep. Try one and let me know what you think."

Miss Priss ate a slice, and decided she did like the green strawberries. In fact, she cleaned up everything we had left of them. Later that afternoon Miss Priss went in for her afternoon, um, "appointment" in the restroom. Upon completion of her business, she hollered out, as she does every day, "Mom!!! Mom!!! I need you to help wipe my bum!!!"

Side note: Wipe your bum? Come on! You're FOUR YEARS OLD!!! Help me out, ladies, since she's my first. Does this everyday bum wiping ever end? Will she ever learn how to get everything clean by herself? I don't know how much longer it will be appropriate for me to walk into the bathroom to find my daughter grabbing her ankles.

Back to the story ...

I entered the bathroom and finished cleaning her up. She then stood straight up, pointed with her open hand right at the toilet and asked, very matter-of-factly, "Do you see this?"

"Yes, I do. Uh, thank you?" (I must add here that I did notice her poop was a little greenish, which had, in turn, changed her pee water from the normal yellow to slightly green.)

"No, mom. My pee-pee is green. My pee-pee is not supposed to be green. It's supposed to be yellow. Don't feed me those green strawberries anymore."

And with that, she pulled up her pants and left me in the bathroom with the green pee-pee. Lovely.

So about a week later I was over at a friend's house getting some sun while the kids played in the kiddie pool. My friend brought out a bunch of snacks, one of which was a fruit tray. Miss Priss took a look at the fruit and asked, "Are there any green strawberries?"

"No, sorry. But there's lots of watermelon and grapes. I know you love those."

Miss Priss decided to go for a piece of pinneapple. She picked it up, held it up to me and said, "I'll have this one so my pee-pee can be yellow now."

"Whatever works for you," I said.

She popped it in her mouth and looked as if she were deep in thought for a moment. "Yep, it works for me!" And off she ran to the pool.

How great would it be if life were as simple as it is in the world of Miss Priss. :)